Chapter 31
"Face it. She's not coming," JD said as we hung out at Sand Bar, waiting for the costume contest to begin.
"Care to wager on that?"
Jack grinned. "You're on. How much?"
"Name it.”
"Hundred bucks?”
We shook hands.
"She’ll be here," I said, trying to sound confident, though I had my doubts.
The rain had finally stopped, and the clouds parted. The moon peeked through, almost fully ripe. The stars twinkled overhead. The bar was packed. After being cooped up last night, revelers were ready to get out and blow off steam.
The MC finally took the stage and belted into the microphone. "Are you ready to howl at the moon!"
The audience cheered.
"I can't hear you. Are you ready to howl at the moon!"
The statement was met with howls and cheers, along with guttural barks and growls. Plenty of werewolves mingled through the crowd. Some costumes were little more than a rubber mask. Others were full-on werewolf suits with lifelike hair and animatronics worthy of a Hollywood movie.
"Competing for $10,000 in cash, I'm proud to present the inaugural Hounds of Hell costume contest. Thanks to our sponsors, the Coconut Key Costume Company, the Halloween Factory, Scream Key Haunted House, and the Fright Time Horror Convention. Please be sure to visit all of those before you leave the island.” He paused and looked over the crowd.
"Now, without any further adieu, let's get this party started!”
More barks and howls filled the club.
The DJ queued up a familiar spooky Halloween song from a pop icon in the ’80s, and the MC announced the first contestant. "Please welcome to the stage the Terrible Travis Turner!”
The crowd went wild as Travis took the stage. In a latex mask, wearing street clothes, he sauntered around, beer in hand, dancing like an idiot. Not a serious contestant.
People loved it, but he didn’t have a shot at winning. He’d probably gotten on stage as part of a dare.
It wasn't long before he pulled a buxom blonde on the stage. They started performing lewd simulated acts, doggy style, which drew more howls from the audience and probably upped his chances of placing in the finals.
Preoccupied with the stage, I didn't notice Taryn as she weaved through the crowd. She pulled up beside me and grabbed my arm. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.”
With a smile, I said, "I've been here the whole time.”
With my elbow, I nudged Jack. "Told you she’d come."
“He doesn’t look happy to see me,” Taryn said.
Jack’s frown turned into a smile. “I’m very happy to see you. But you just cost me a hundred bucks. Which I’m more than happy to pay.”
“He didn’t think you’d come,” I said.
“Ye of little faith,” she teased. “In truth, I thought about canceling, but here I am.”
“What are you drinking?” JD asked.
“Cosmopolitan.”
With a smile, JD replied, “Coming right up.”
Jack darted away, leaving Taryn and me alone in the crowd for a moment.
"I'm glad you decided to come.”
"It's against my better judgment," she said in a playful tone.
"I promise you'll have fun.”
"Searching for a suspect?"
"Why not look in the obvious places?”
The DJ introduced another contestant. This gentleman's costume was a little better, but it was still just a guy in a suit— a cheap one at that. He pranced the stage, showing off his costume, but wasn't nearly as entertaining as the previous character.
"Do you really think you’re gonna find the killer here?" she asked, looking around with doubtful eyes.
I shrugged. "Never know until you try."
The music continued, and the DJ called up another contestant.
This costume caught my eye. It was impressive.
The guy was on stilts that were integrated into the costume.
The oversized paws were lifelike and realistic.
The fur fine and textured. The creature was big and muscular.
With the stilts, he easily stood 7 1/2 to 8 feet tall.
The snout was ferocious, with glistening fangs.
Yellow eyes moved with servos. The lips and ears moved.
I’m not sure how the guy coordinated it all from inside the suit, but it must have taken a lot of programming.
The suit had long, sharp, black claws that looked like they could do damage.
I glanced around at the other contestants. This guy was a shoo-in for the prize. It was the best costume in the house by far.
“Mrs. Crowe,” a young man said as he approached. “Funny seeing you here.”
Taryn smiled. “Well, I do have a life, and sometimes I get talked into living it.”
The young man laughed.
“Oren, this is my friend, Deputy Tyson Wild. Tyson, Oren.”
I smiled and shook the kid’s hand.
He was a slender guy with wavy dark hair that hung to his ears, brown eyes, and a narrow face. He wore thick, black-framed glasses and was dressed casually in a polo shirt and jeans.
“Just here to see the show?” Taryn asked.
“I thought I’d come out and see who takes the prize.”
“Oren is a costume designer,” Taryn told me. “He took my class last semester. He wants to go to Hollywood after graduation and work for the VFX studios.”
“Sounds exciting,” I said.
“It will be exciting if I can get a job out there. The industry is kind of in a slump right now. Will be interesting to see how things develop.”
“What do you think of the costumes here tonight?”
He made a disappointed face. “Meh. They’re okay. I mean, that one is good,” he said, pointing at the one that was sure to take the prize. “But he could have done better.”
“How so?”
“It just seems a little stiff. And I don’t know how that guy can see out of that thing. It looks like the animatronics are on some kind of loop that does the same thing over and over again. So, he’s really not controlling anything.”
“Why didn’t you compete?”
He laughed. “Do you know how long it takes to put together a suit like that? Source all the materials, build the armature, wire all the electronics. I built one for a client recently. Guy had a lot of money. But how often can you prance around in a werewolf suit?”
“Pretty much once a year.”
“There’s always a horror convention somewhere,” he said.
“Out of curiosity, who was the client?”
Oren shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t really divulge client information.”
“I understand.” After a brief pause, I said. “This suit you built for your client. How realistic was it?”
“Of course, I’m going to tell you it looked great. Better than anything here. It could totally be a hero prop in a movie.”
“I’d like to see pictures.”
“I wish I had some. It was some of my best work. But my client wanted complete confidentiality.”
“Surely you took a few for yourself.”
He looked offended. “I take my work and my commitments seriously.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think this suit you built could—“
“Have been used by the killer?” He frowned and shook his head. “No. It was just a prop. No real claws. Painted acrylic teeth. Nothing that could do what’s been done to the victims.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime,“ I said with a disarming smile.
Jack returned with our drinks and passed them out.
I introduced him to Oren.
The two shook hands.
I continued with my line of questioning. “If you were going to design a functional suit, how would you do it?”
Oren shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s possible.
It would have to be a pretty damn good suit.
Made of lightweight composite materials.
Titanium claws. Razor sharp. You’d need to maintain agility and great visibility.
You could make teeth with zirconia, fixed with titanium posts and abutments.
A hydraulic jaw. I’d put cameras in the eyes and feed them through goggles to the user inside.
Keep it agile with aerospace-grade blade running prosthetics.
The spring action would enhance each step? ”
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” In a casual tone, I asked, “Could you build something like that?”