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Authors: Tracy Barrett

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BOOK: The Beast of Blackslope
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“Can't you do that some other time?” Xander asked.
Trevor shook his head. “No, it wouldn't be fair to Gran. I've already put it off twice.” His face suddenly brightened. “The shed! I completely forgot to tell you. We have a couple of bikes in the shed. You could borrow them if you want and take them to look for the film crew. It'll be faster than going on foot.”
They walked back with Trevor as fast as Xena's sore ankle would allow them. While Xander ran inside to ask Mrs. Roberts to tell their parents they'd gone for a bike ride, Trevor set Xena up with the two bicycles and helmets.
The road was flat and smooth and the day was beautiful. Xander joined her and they wheeled the bikes out.
“Your ankle okay?” Xander asked.
Xena nodded. “It's just a twist. I've done a lot worse in a soccer game and still scored a goal!”
Xander threw one leg over the smaller bike and pushed off. “Isn't this great?” But there was no answer. He turned and saw Xena sitting on the bike seat, one foot on a pedal, the other on the ground. Her mouth was hanging open.
“What is it?”
Xena didn't answer him for a second, but then she turned shining eyes on him. “Xander! I think I know who's pretending to be the Beast—and why!”
“What do you mean? Who is it?”
“Remember how Trevor told us all this started when the college students arrived?” Xena said as she put on her helmet. They started to ride a little way down the street. “They use lights when they make movies, right? That birdcall came from a different part of the forest than the light. So the light must have come from one of the other groups from their school. Why would someone come out here to this little town for a film project? Only if there's something here they can't find anyplace else.”
“Like that kite,” Xander said. He thought he could see where Xena's thoughts were heading, and he started pumping the pedals faster as his heart sped.
“Right. Or the Beast of Blackslope!”
They came to a red light, and a young woman on a motor scooter wearing a hot pink helmet was waiting for the cross traffic to stop. She was talking on a cell phone as her scooter pumped smelly dark gray smoke into the air.
Xena didn't want to keep talking about their investigation in front of a stranger, and anyway, she could never resist eavesdropping. Besides, if someone has a conversation right out in the open, it isn't really private, she reasoned. She leaned in a little closer, trying not to breathe in deeply because of the fumes.
This time she heard even more than she was hoping for. The woman was saying, “But what am I supposed to do? Don't you think I should run and scream? It's scary enough with those fangs and that ratty-looking fur. I don't understand why—” At that moment the light turned green and she gunned her engine, the noisy scooter drowning out the rest of her words as she sped through the intersection.
Xena and Xander took one look at each other. “The Beast!” Xena said, and she took off, Xander pedaling madly to keep up with her.
Luckily the road went slightly downhill as it left the town, and they were able to keep the motor scooter in sight. Even when it rounded a curve they could keep on the trail as its noisy engine announced its location.
They were gaining on the woman when she turned down a country lane. Xander stood on his pedals for a burst of speed and managed to pass
Xena, who was slowed by her ankle. They were close enough that if the scooter hadn't been so noisy, they could have called out and asked her to stop. But before they could do so, a flock of sheep suddenly appeared, bumping into one another and baaing and making a commotion.
“Quick! Let's go across the field!” said Xander, puffing.
“No use.” Xena stopped and balanced herself with her good foot. “It's too bumpy and uneven. We'd have to walk the bikes around the rest of the flock and then wheel them over the field. It will be quicker to wait. The sheep can't cross the road forever.”
But it
seemed
like forever before the last few stragglers were hurrying across the lane to catch up to the others, bleating pitifully as though to say “Wait for me!”
“Go!” said Xena, and she pushed off, Xander close behind.
They arrived at a fork in the road and paused. Xena cocked her head and listened: nothing. No beastly howling, no racket of the motor scooter's engine. “Where could she be?” she asked in frustration. Xander hopped off his bike and bent over, looking down.
“What's the point?” Xena asked irritably.
“There are so many tracks here, how could you figure out which one is the scooter's?”
“Look!” He pointed at the road. “A drop of oil! Remember how much smoke her scooter was making? I bet there's an oil leak, like when our car had one and Dad called it Old Smoky!”
“I bet you're right!” Xena said. “Let's go!”
They took off down the left-hand fork. But this time they didn't have to go far.
Leaning against the hedge at the side of the road was the scooter. The woman's hot pink helmet lay on the ground next to it. Xander jumped off his bike and ran to the scooter. “What could have happened to her?” he asked.
At that moment the underbrush shook, and something stepped out. But it wasn't the motor-scooter woman. It was a huge, hairy beast, and it was growling. Xena and Xander cried out and clung together as it lifted its massive clawed paws above them.
“
C
ut!” someone cried from the bushes.
The Beast stopped in its tracks and lowered its arms. In the daylight it was easy to see it was a person wearing a costume. Torn patches of the shaggy light brown fur were roughly mended, and the eyes were blank glass. The shoulders were obviously padded, giving it an ape-like appearance. Vicious fangs stuck out of its mouth. Rubbery-looking paw pads ended in long plastic claws. A strange sound came from the head of the Beast—could it be a muffled laugh?
“It's just a movie.” Xena's voice wobbled. She couldn't tell if she was about to laugh too, or if she was on the verge of tears. Even though she'd figured it couldn't be real, when the Beast jumped out at them it seemed completely believable.
“Why did you yell cut? Did I miss my cue?” came a voice from the bushes, and out stepped the woman who'd been riding the scooter. Only
now, instead of jeans and a denim jacket, she was wearing a long filmy gown and high heels. She wobbled on the uneven ground, and a redheaded young man who had also just emerged from the underbrush grabbed her arm.
“Steady, there!” he said with a laugh. “Can't have Lady What's-her-name break an ankle!”
“What's going on?” Xander asked, but Xena said, “I bet I know!”
The couple turned to her. “What do you know?” asked the man.
“You're making a movie, aren't you?”
“Yes,” said the man. “We're calling it
Death on the Downs
. Good title, don't you think?”
A third person hurried up to them. She looked about the same age as the others, college students like Katy and Emma. She was smiling at Xena and Xander. “That was great! You two looked terrified. Marvelous! I'd like to keep that shot in the film. I'm Susan, the director.”
“We weren't
really
scared,” Xander said.
“No, just startled,” Xena confirmed. “We already figured out that the Beast was a person in a costume.”
“Still, it's one thing to know and yet another to have it pop out of the bushes at you, isn't it?” Susan said with a grin.
“Are we taking a break?” asked a muffled voice from inside the Beast. “Because if we are, I want to get out of this thing. It's hot in here.”
The scooter woman undid some snaps around its neck and pulled the head off. Then she unzipped the back of the costume and pulled down the shoulders, revealing a blond young man whose hair was plastered with sweat. He must have been looking through holes in the chest of the Beast, since its head was well above his own.
“Phew!” he said. “That's better.”
“We're making one of those mockumentaries,” the redheaded man explained. “You know, it will look like it was filmed by a news crew as it happened, but really it's a regular film, with a script and actors and everything.”
“I play Lady Periwinkle,” said the woman who had been riding the motor scooter. “It's the starring role!”
“No, the Beast is really the star,” teased the blond man.
“You've got to be joking,” said the woman. “You don't even use your own voice for the howl!”
“What is that sound anyway?” Xena asked.
The redheaded man seemed eager to explain. “I made it out of a mixture of effects. There's a bloodhound and a peacock—”
“A peacock?” Xander asked.
“Yes, that's the screech. And a train whistle and a beluga whale. I mixed them all. I'm the technician.”
“So you're the one in charge of lights and things?” Xena asked. He nodded.
Xander walked over to one of the tall spotlights. With his hands he measured the distance between its legs. “I was right! It was the tripod that made those holes!”
“We saw one of your lights this morning around dawn,” Xena said to the red-haired man. “It was really bright.”
“It has to be when we're filming in dim light,” he explained. “Otherwise you lose a lot of detail. We use a filter to keep it from looking like the middle of the day.”
“But the other nights when we heard the howl, I didn't see any light,” Xander said. “And it's so bright that we would have seen one.”
“Early this morning was our first time filming in the dark. It's hard enough getting around in this costume without stumbling over things.”
“You mean like the post near the rosebushes in the village?” Xena asked.
The blond man groaned. “Yes. The first time I tried on the costume was our first night in the
village. I lifted my arm and one of my fingertips got stuck on the wooden slats! The costume's arms are at least a foot longer than my own, and they're hard to control. I had to tug at it until the end ripped off. How on earth did you know about that?”
“We found some fur,” Xena said.
“And you took the newspapers from the library to get details about the Beast sightings a hundred years ago, right?” Xander added, eager to confirm all the details.
“Newspapers? I didn't take any newspapers.” The technician looked puzzled. “Did you, Susan?”
The director shook her head. “Not me. I finished my share of the research before we came.”
“Derek?” The man in the Beast costume shook his head, and for good measure shook the Beast's head in his hand too.
“Maggie?” But the woman playing Lady Periwinkle denied it too. Understandable, Xena thought. Nobody wants to confess to it in front of us. It's pretty sneaky, taking something from a public library.
“So why've you been making all that noise at night?” Xander crossed his fingers, hoping they'd slip up and admit they'd been out late.
“We haven't been,” said the director. “I told you, early this morning was our first time out in the dark.”
“But wait a second,” Xena said. “If it wasn't you, who was it?”
“Maybe there is a Beast after all,” Xander said. He tried to sound like he was joking but his nervousness must have come through, because the others fell quiet.
Xena broke the silence. “I bet someone's using your costume!”
Susan considered this. “That other team, maybe. The ones doing that bird film.” Her voice was scornful. “They're so competitive—they'll do anything to get their film done first. Maybe they're stealing the costume at night. Remember that morning when we found some rips in it?” she asked one of her crew.
“But why would they?” one of the other students objected. “And how? Our props are locked up in the shed every night. Nobody in the crew would tell anyone the combination to the lock.”
“Hmm.” Xander thought about this. The film would account for some Beast sightings, maybe, but there was no reason for the students to lie about whether or not they'd been making
the noises at night. Someone else must have been doing that.
“Where's this shed?” Xena asked.
“On the estate,” Susan said. “Blackslope Manor. On the end of the stable where the old man keeps his dogs.”
Xander drew Xena aside. “I bet that's not a shed!” He was practically dancing up and down with excitement. “I bet it's the apartment that Adeline the cook lived in with her husband!”
“
B
ack to work,” the director said. “Places, everybody! And you two—seriously, I'd like to use that shot in the picture. Do you think your parents would sign a permission form?”
“Sure,” Xander said, and he told her where they were staying.
“And there's one more thing,” Susan said. “Our film is in a competition with the other team that's shooting here in Blackslope. We've been telling everyone we're filming a nature documentary. No one knows what we're really doing, and we're trying to keep it all very hush-hush.”
“No problem,” Xena said. “We won't tell.”
The Beast put his head back on, and soon all the actors were running around and screaming and getting caught. Xander and Xena turned to go. Normally they would have loved to stay and watch, but they were burning to get over to the manor and check out the stable.
“Race you!” Xander said.
“No fair!” Xena said. “I'm injured.”
So they rode their bikes at a steady pace. Soon the wide sweeping drive of the estate opened in front of them, and they turned into it. “I hope nobody comes and tells us to get out of here,” said Xander, feeling naked in front of all those huge windows.
“That's a chance we have to take,” said Xena.
As they neared the house they saw someone leaning a sign against a post in the drive. Xander slowed down. “It's Ian!”
Ian turned around. When he saw who it was, he raised a hand in greeting. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Oh—well—” Xander couldn't think of anything to say, but Xena leaped in.
“We borrowed these bikes and couldn't think of anyplace to ride to, so we thought we'd come out here and see you. What are you doing?”
Ian stood back and let them see the sign. SALE CANCELED, it said.
“The auction's been canceled?” Xena asked. “But why?”
“Lots of people who were going to bid on things left because of the Beast.”
“Wow, sorry,” Xander said. “Your family must be really disappointed.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Xena said.
“They're still selling the house though.” Ian kicked at the gravel. “They say that some rich person from another country probably won't have heard about the Beast, or they won't care.”
“I guess since you don't really live here you won't be too upset about that,” Xander said.
“I do so live here,” Ian said. “I lived here year-round when I was little, and I've spent every summer and most holidays here ever since I went to school.”
Xena and Xander felt awkward, but they didn't know Ian well enough to know what to say. He seemed uncomfortable too and after a few moments he said, “Well, I have to go. Feel free to look around.” He raised a hand to them again and turned back to the house. He tripped over the step but kept his footing this time.
“Let's go look at the shed or apartment or whatever it is,” Xena said. They walked their bikes around to the other side of the house. There was the stable, and there too was Mr. Whittaker, sitting on a wooden bench and smoking a pipe. He didn't look angry this time—he looked sad.
They propped their bikes against the wall of the stable and sat down next to him. He seemed surprised to see them.
“We're sorry about the sale,” Xander said in a soft voice.
“Thanks, son,” Mr. Whittaker said. “I won't deny that it's breaking my heart, the idea of leaving my old home. I thought I'd live out my days in my cottage back there and be buried in the family graveyard when my time came. It's easy for young people. They don't have the ties to the place that we old folks have.”
“Sorry,” Xena said. “Will you be able to raise your dogs in your new place?”
This turned out to be the right thing to say. The old man's face lit up. “Aye, that's one blessing. There's a nice little garden and I can put up a fence.”
“A little garden?” Xena was surprised. “Don't your dogs need lots of room?”
“Oh, no, just a brisk walk every day and a bit of a garden to run in,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Here, come and see for yourselves.”
He must have decided that we're not dog spies, Xena thought as they followed the old man around to the front of the stable. Mr. Whittaker pulled open the heavy door, and out
bounded three small silky brown and white dogs with long ears and furiously wagging tails. Xena squatted down and held out her arms, and one of the dogs pranced up to her, put its paws on her knees, and licked her face frantically.
“What are they?” she asked between dog kisses. “They're so cute!”
“Cavalier King Charles spaniels,” the old man said proudly. “Champion bloodline. That one there is Blackslope's Bonny Sultana. I call her Bonny. Haven't you seen Cavs before?”
“No, I don't think we have many of them in the States.” Xander picked up a wriggling dog.
“That one's Chimington's Dandy Darling,” said Mr. Whittaker. “Her pups are almost ready to find new homes. Come see them.” He walked ahead of them, leaning heavily on his cane.
“He's like a grandpa with his new grandchildren,” Xena whispered as they followed him into the stable.
They blinked to accustom their eyes to the dim light. The sweet scent of straw mixed with the pleasant smell of well-kept horses. The speckled white face of a small pony looked out curiously at them from one stall, and in the next a large brown horse munched on something, its long tail swishing.
Mr. Whittaker was leaning over a wooden pen. “She can't have gotten out,” he muttered, his forehead creased in a worried frown.
“Are you missing one?” Xander asked. Two puppies were dancing all over each other in the pen, their big brown eyes sparkling, their tails wagging in a blur.
“A little female,” he said. “Tricolor. Where can she be? They're not big enough to climb out of their pen.”
“We'll help you look,” Xena said. They pawed through clumps of straw and lifted the black and red blanket to peer under it. After a minute Xena noticed that Xander was no longer helping in the search.
“What, did you give up already?” she asked him, and then looked closer. With his finger Xander was tracing a pattern in the dust of the stable floor.
“Xena,” he said, “look at this.” He had drawn a rectangle with a little square on the end.
“I don't get it.”
“Don't you remember?” Xander asked. “From the notebook?” Xena shook her head impatiently. Sometimes Xander seemed to think everybody had his photographic memory. “Sherlock drew the manor house,” he explained.
“This is the stable, and it looks like there's a door at the end of it. And if Sherlock didn't turn the drawing around”—he stood and pointed to the wall that blocked off the puppy pen—“the door is over here.”
They pulled aside the heavy bales of hay as Mr. Whittaker watched, leaning on his cane.
Sure enough, there was a door. And the gap between its bottom and the floor of the stable was big enough to allow a puppy to wriggle under it, as Xander discovered when he pulled the door open and a little black, brown, and white puppy came hurtling out to join its mother and siblings.
“Well, I'll be!” Mr. Whittaker said. “I'd forgotten about that door. It goes to the room where the coachman and cook used to live, early in the last century. My old dad used it as a shed and so do I, but we've always gone into it from the outside.”
Xena and Xander walked away to confer.
“Did you see anything in there?” Xena asked.
“There was a lot of gardening stuff piled against the door. And there was a big boom box. I bet that's the one they use for howls. There was a lot of junk too, like piles of old paper and a
garden hose and some tools. But there was also other stuff that looked like it could be used in a movie.”
“So now we know that the Beast costume is probably stored in there and also that somebody could have gotten into the shed, even with the door locked. All they'd have to do is come through the stable.”
“That's not so easy,” objected Xander. “Remember how ferocious Mr. Whittaker was when we came here the first time? He wouldn't even let us touch the stable door. Maybe someone could sneak past him once or twice, but I bet he'd catch them sooner or later.”
“True.” Xena thought a moment. “So it must be a person he trusts or someone he's so used to seeing around that he wouldn't notice them coming and going at different times.”
“Ian!” breathed Xander.
BOOK: The Beast of Blackslope
12.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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