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Dark of the Moon
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello
Six
What?
I decided to make light of it. I tried to be as deadpan as possible and said, “Look, I'm flattered, but you haven't proposed yet."
Michael growled at me. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Why do your folks want me to come to dinner?”
He rolled his eyes. “They want you to meet my sister.”
I just sat there, blinking, for a moment. I’m not a virgin, by any measure; my first was a girl in my senior year of high school. Hell, I’ve been married before, but Doris left me while I was in France, and of course there was that German girl.
I drained my beer and signaled for another round for the two of us before I leaned forward and said, “This isn't a hundred years ago."
"I know that," my sometimes-furry friend said, "but Mary asked to meet you. She reads the World-Telly. Every day."
"A lot of werewolves do."
"But she saves your articles."
I must have looked like a fool, sitting there with my mouth open and one finger raised to object. It was the one weakness of every writer; a fan. I lowered my hand. “She – she does?”
Michael nodded. “My kid brother Danny reads the Journal-American – mostly for the Wolf Queen comic,” he added with a sour smile. The bartender waved, and Michael got up to get our beers.
Figures. The Adventures of the Wolf Queen appealed to a lot of kids. She was a werewolf but used her human form as a disguise. The comic grew out of another daily and eventually eclipsed it. I had to admit that her werewolf form appealed to adult guys too, as well as kids either furred or human.
Really nice figure, if you know what I mean.
Michael gave me my beer before going back to the bar, returning with some hot, soft pretzels and mustard. I tore part of a pretzel loose and ate it, still thinking. “When do they want me over for dinner?”
“Mom and Dad asked me to ask when you’re free.”
“Oh. Hmm, tomorrow night, maybe? About seven?”
“Okay.”
I pointed at the envelope. “Fine. But I need you to take that to the Widow Terhune, and bring me back the answer, okay?”
It was his job, after all. Michael nodded after taking a swallow of his beer. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
***
It didn’t take long for Michael to call me while I was at work. “Walshe.”
“Hey, Knocko.”
“Hi, Michael. What’d they say?”
“They said four this afternoon, the Belvedere.”
“In the Park?”
“Yeah.”
“Got it. Thanks, Michael.”
***
The Belvedere’s one of the landmarks in Central Park. It’s what they used to call a folly, something built just because whoever had the money for it decided they could do it. Looks like a castle, but it’s open for anyone to walk in, and it’s got some good views of the Park. The building has a tall tower that the City uses as a weather station.
It had started raining again when I got there a little before four, and I stood at one of the windows for a while, looking out over the grass and trees.
I heard footsteps and looked down as a guy came around a corner and up the path toward one of the open doorways. He was carrying an umbrella, and I could see rubber covers on his shoes. “I was wondering if you were going to show,” I called out.
He chuckled and glanced up at me, and I recognized him as Tweedledee, one of the lawyers I’d seen when I spoke with Mrs. Terhune. “Only inefficient associates miss appointments, Mr. Walshe." He stepped into one of the ground-floor rooms and he was closing his umbrella as I headed downstairs to join him. He was wearing a black overcoat and matching fedora, and he set the umbrella aside before walking up to me, one hand outstretched. “Nathan Adams, of Adams, Kennedy and Pounds.”
Hm, this guy was a big fish. That firm was down on Wall Street, and this was one of the senior partners. Since he was representing the Terhunes, it made sense.
I shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. How’s Mrs. Terhune?”
“Good of you to ask, Mr. Walshe. She’s as well as can be expected. The funeral will be in about ten days.” He removed his fedora and set it on the windowsill. Strong profile, jet-black hair combed back, horn-rimmed glasses. “You’re invited, of course.”
“I had planned on being there to represent my paper.”
He nodded. “Of course, but Mrs. Terhune wants you there.”
“That’s very nice of her.” I scratched the back of my head. “Will the kids be there?”
“Of course. John Junior is already on his way down from Harvard, and Olivia from Vassar. Their youngest, James, has the farthest to go.”
“Oh? Where’s he coming from?”
“Susquehanna University.” I blinked and Adams added, “Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania.”
“What the hell is he doing out there?”
“Divinity degree.”
“Oh.” I glanced at the rain coming down. “You got my questions.”
Adams nodded and stepped forward to stand beside me, looking out the window. "I enjoy visiting the Belvedere. Quiet place; it helps when I need to think - and the Ramble's nearby."
I nodded. "Nobody to bother you. Must be nice for a moonlight run."
The lawyer's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Among other things."
Best not ask, I said to myself. “Any answers?”
His smile fled. “We talked to some contacts we have in certain areas,” by which I understood he meant the same people Joe della Croce was talking to, “as well as spread the word among the other pack Alphas. The Commission disclaims all knowledge of the matter, but they’ve assured us that the truce Mr. Terhune brokered during the war still stands.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “Pardon me for asking, but how are you selecting Terhune’s successor?”
Adams paused before replying, “His son will take over as Alpha of his family, probably of his Pack; the other Packs will elect a new Alpha in a conference after the funeral.”
“I take it that this is something new.”
“The idea of having a multi-Pack hierarchy was new as well,” Adams said, “but Mr. Terhune got all of them to agree to a democratic process.” He chuckled softly. “Modernizing things.”
“Some of the other Alphas objected to it?”
“Good question,” he said, “and we had one in Trenton and another in Philadelphia complain that this wasn’t how things were done. But he convinced them.” He shook his head at the memory. “John was very persuasive.”
I nodded. I was going to have my work cut out for me, writing this conversation up. Of course, whether I could use any of it remained to be seen. “Mrs. Terhune mentioned something about some plans Mr. Terhune had.”
Adams nodded. “You were in the Army, Mr. Walshe?”
“Yeah.” Of course he already knew that.
“I was Navy myself. Judge Advocate.” He chuckled. “My eyesight wasn’t good enough for flight school.” I laughed, and he said, “Right? Of course, I couldn’t fly Shifted. Anyway, I’m sure you heard stories about the Battle of Vinnitsiya, hm?”
I nodded. “I heard ‘em.”
“Have you seen that new building, over on the East River?”
“Sure I have. It’s the new United Nations . . . “ My jaw fell open. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.” The rain had stopped. “Imagine it. Packs sending representatives from everywhere, settling differences without violence. A lofty dream.” He gave a short sigh. “I have a question for you now, Mr. Walshe.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know if the police have found the barber?”
“He was a werewolf?”
“Yes. Mr. Terhune would occasionally arrange an after-hours grooming.”
“I know that the police have been asking around, and they have his apartment staked out – “
“We know.”
“Heh.” Armbruster would have said something like “The barber had gone to ground,” but I was raised better and I wasn’t going to offend anyone. “If the police can’t find him, and you’re not hiding him, he’s either dead or running.”
“Or Mr. Green is hiding very well,” Adams pointed out.
“Yeah, he could be,” I said. I stuck out my hand. “Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Adams. I’d like to do a writeup about our talk – in general terms, of course.”
He smiled as he shook my hand. “There should be no objection. Go ahead. If there are any other questions, you can have your friend Michael relay it.”
“Sure.” The lawyer put his hat back on and retrieved his umbrella, and I said, “Um, I do have a question – nothing about this, though. Just something I’ve been curious about, but never got up the nerve to ask.”
“Yes?”
“How do you and – well, feral – wolves get along?”
Adams laughed. “We can’t understand each other, Mr. Walshe. The wolves at the Zoo just look confused when we walk past their cages, Shifted or not. The scent throws them off.” He tipped his hat to me and walked off.
A short while later, I left the Belvedere and headed back to the paper. I had an article to write before the deadline.
And a dinner date tomorrow.
<PREVIOUS>
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
© 2024 by Walter Reimer and E.O. Costello
Six
What?
I decided to make light of it. I tried to be as deadpan as possible and said, “Look, I'm flattered, but you haven't proposed yet."
Michael growled at me. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Why do your folks want me to come to dinner?”
He rolled his eyes. “They want you to meet my sister.”
I just sat there, blinking, for a moment. I’m not a virgin, by any measure; my first was a girl in my senior year of high school. Hell, I’ve been married before, but Doris left me while I was in France, and of course there was that German girl.
I drained my beer and signaled for another round for the two of us before I leaned forward and said, “This isn't a hundred years ago."
"I know that," my sometimes-furry friend said, "but Mary asked to meet you. She reads the World-Telly. Every day."
"A lot of werewolves do."
"But she saves your articles."
I must have looked like a fool, sitting there with my mouth open and one finger raised to object. It was the one weakness of every writer; a fan. I lowered my hand. “She – she does?”
Michael nodded. “My kid brother Danny reads the Journal-American – mostly for the Wolf Queen comic,” he added with a sour smile. The bartender waved, and Michael got up to get our beers.
Figures. The Adventures of the Wolf Queen appealed to a lot of kids. She was a werewolf but used her human form as a disguise. The comic grew out of another daily and eventually eclipsed it. I had to admit that her werewolf form appealed to adult guys too, as well as kids either furred or human.
Really nice figure, if you know what I mean.
Michael gave me my beer before going back to the bar, returning with some hot, soft pretzels and mustard. I tore part of a pretzel loose and ate it, still thinking. “When do they want me over for dinner?”
“Mom and Dad asked me to ask when you’re free.”
“Oh. Hmm, tomorrow night, maybe? About seven?”
“Okay.”
I pointed at the envelope. “Fine. But I need you to take that to the Widow Terhune, and bring me back the answer, okay?”
It was his job, after all. Michael nodded after taking a swallow of his beer. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
***
It didn’t take long for Michael to call me while I was at work. “Walshe.”
“Hey, Knocko.”
“Hi, Michael. What’d they say?”
“They said four this afternoon, the Belvedere.”
“In the Park?”
“Yeah.”
“Got it. Thanks, Michael.”
***
The Belvedere’s one of the landmarks in Central Park. It’s what they used to call a folly, something built just because whoever had the money for it decided they could do it. Looks like a castle, but it’s open for anyone to walk in, and it’s got some good views of the Park. The building has a tall tower that the City uses as a weather station.
It had started raining again when I got there a little before four, and I stood at one of the windows for a while, looking out over the grass and trees.
I heard footsteps and looked down as a guy came around a corner and up the path toward one of the open doorways. He was carrying an umbrella, and I could see rubber covers on his shoes. “I was wondering if you were going to show,” I called out.
He chuckled and glanced up at me, and I recognized him as Tweedledee, one of the lawyers I’d seen when I spoke with Mrs. Terhune. “Only inefficient associates miss appointments, Mr. Walshe." He stepped into one of the ground-floor rooms and he was closing his umbrella as I headed downstairs to join him. He was wearing a black overcoat and matching fedora, and he set the umbrella aside before walking up to me, one hand outstretched. “Nathan Adams, of Adams, Kennedy and Pounds.”
Hm, this guy was a big fish. That firm was down on Wall Street, and this was one of the senior partners. Since he was representing the Terhunes, it made sense.
I shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. How’s Mrs. Terhune?”
“Good of you to ask, Mr. Walshe. She’s as well as can be expected. The funeral will be in about ten days.” He removed his fedora and set it on the windowsill. Strong profile, jet-black hair combed back, horn-rimmed glasses. “You’re invited, of course.”
“I had planned on being there to represent my paper.”
He nodded. “Of course, but Mrs. Terhune wants you there.”
“That’s very nice of her.” I scratched the back of my head. “Will the kids be there?”
“Of course. John Junior is already on his way down from Harvard, and Olivia from Vassar. Their youngest, James, has the farthest to go.”
“Oh? Where’s he coming from?”
“Susquehanna University.” I blinked and Adams added, “Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania.”
“What the hell is he doing out there?”
“Divinity degree.”
“Oh.” I glanced at the rain coming down. “You got my questions.”
Adams nodded and stepped forward to stand beside me, looking out the window. "I enjoy visiting the Belvedere. Quiet place; it helps when I need to think - and the Ramble's nearby."
I nodded. "Nobody to bother you. Must be nice for a moonlight run."
The lawyer's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Among other things."
Best not ask, I said to myself. “Any answers?”
His smile fled. “We talked to some contacts we have in certain areas,” by which I understood he meant the same people Joe della Croce was talking to, “as well as spread the word among the other pack Alphas. The Commission disclaims all knowledge of the matter, but they’ve assured us that the truce Mr. Terhune brokered during the war still stands.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “Pardon me for asking, but how are you selecting Terhune’s successor?”
Adams paused before replying, “His son will take over as Alpha of his family, probably of his Pack; the other Packs will elect a new Alpha in a conference after the funeral.”
“I take it that this is something new.”
“The idea of having a multi-Pack hierarchy was new as well,” Adams said, “but Mr. Terhune got all of them to agree to a democratic process.” He chuckled softly. “Modernizing things.”
“Some of the other Alphas objected to it?”
“Good question,” he said, “and we had one in Trenton and another in Philadelphia complain that this wasn’t how things were done. But he convinced them.” He shook his head at the memory. “John was very persuasive.”
I nodded. I was going to have my work cut out for me, writing this conversation up. Of course, whether I could use any of it remained to be seen. “Mrs. Terhune mentioned something about some plans Mr. Terhune had.”
Adams nodded. “You were in the Army, Mr. Walshe?”
“Yeah.” Of course he already knew that.
“I was Navy myself. Judge Advocate.” He chuckled. “My eyesight wasn’t good enough for flight school.” I laughed, and he said, “Right? Of course, I couldn’t fly Shifted. Anyway, I’m sure you heard stories about the Battle of Vinnitsiya, hm?”
I nodded. “I heard ‘em.”
“Have you seen that new building, over on the East River?”
“Sure I have. It’s the new United Nations . . . “ My jaw fell open. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.” The rain had stopped. “Imagine it. Packs sending representatives from everywhere, settling differences without violence. A lofty dream.” He gave a short sigh. “I have a question for you now, Mr. Walshe.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know if the police have found the barber?”
“He was a werewolf?”
“Yes. Mr. Terhune would occasionally arrange an after-hours grooming.”
“I know that the police have been asking around, and they have his apartment staked out – “
“We know.”
“Heh.” Armbruster would have said something like “The barber had gone to ground,” but I was raised better and I wasn’t going to offend anyone. “If the police can’t find him, and you’re not hiding him, he’s either dead or running.”
“Or Mr. Green is hiding very well,” Adams pointed out.
“Yeah, he could be,” I said. I stuck out my hand. “Thank you for talking with me, Mr. Adams. I’d like to do a writeup about our talk – in general terms, of course.”
He smiled as he shook my hand. “There should be no objection. Go ahead. If there are any other questions, you can have your friend Michael relay it.”
“Sure.” The lawyer put his hat back on and retrieved his umbrella, and I said, “Um, I do have a question – nothing about this, though. Just something I’ve been curious about, but never got up the nerve to ask.”
“Yes?”
“How do you and – well, feral – wolves get along?”
Adams laughed. “We can’t understand each other, Mr. Walshe. The wolves at the Zoo just look confused when we walk past their cages, Shifted or not. The scent throws them off.” He tipped his hat to me and walked off.
A short while later, I left the Belvedere and headed back to the paper. I had an article to write before the deadline.
And a dinner date tomorrow.
<PREVIOUS>
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Werewolf / Lycanthrope
Size 116 x 120px
File Size 65.3 kB
Listed in Folders
This is the mid-1950s, and there are certain attitudes toward gays that reflect the time period. Michael's a bit offended by the implication, while the lawyer hints at goings-on in the Ramble (IRL, a wooded section of Central Park that's been a clandestine cruising spot for decades).
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