This place looks like it's been ransacked, Circe thought when she peered into the bedroom of the missing werewolf.
Dresser drawers were left pulled out. Clothes were strewn all over the floor (Circe tried not to look at the white briefs too much). Both the dresser and table tops were littered with tiny, colorful action figures (many laid down at odd angles), strewn with sheets of papers (probably homework or school notes), and stacks of books turned lopsided. Blankets and sheets laid scrunched across the bed which had a corner of blue mattress exposed. A pillow leaned against the bed's frame where it had slipped to the floor.
At first, she thought Benjamin or the police might have turned the room upside down looking for clues to Roger's whereabouts like she had come to do. Either that or this was a sign of a darker conspiracy.
But all suspicions were laid to rest when Morgan said, "It's just like I remember it. It's as if he never disappeared."
Circe gave her a glance. "You mean to say Roger's room is always like this?"
"It is every time I've been over," Morgan said, shrugging. "It's not as bad as it looks. It usually takes maybe thirty minutes to tidy up."
Surprised, Circe turned. "Wait, you actually CLEAN this mess?"
Morgan nodded.
"Every time?"
Again, Morgan nodded.
"Yourself?"
"Yes," Morgan said irritably.
"Seriously?"
Morgan frowned in dismay. "Is it really that hard to believe?"
"Yes," Circe replied bluntly. She never thought Morgan would, or could, clean her own room, much less someone else's.
"Well, excuse me for not looking like a good wife," Morgan pouted with her hands on her hips. "Anyway, have you found Roger yet? What are those witchy senses of yours telling you?"
Circe was utterly confused. "My what?"
"You know," Morgan said. "That thing witches have that lets them find stuff while not really looking. Sometimes they use a crystal ball. Sometimes they use a pot of water. And sometimes they just close their eyes, and they can already see what's happening far away. That sort of thing."
That's when it dawned on Circe. "Wait, is that why you brought me here? To use some kind of psychic power on Roger's room or some of his stuff to find him?"
"Well, yeah," said Morgan. "That's how witchy senses usually works, right?"
"I don't know," Circe said. "I don't have anything like that."
Morgan cried out in disbelief. "What? What kind of witch doesn't have witchy senses?"
"This one, apparently," said Circe. She never learned anything about "witchy senses" from Donatello Putts, and she doubted he ever had any power like it either.
"Well, this sucks," Morgan groaned in disappointment. "It means we came here for nothing! Some help you turned out to be."
Circe scowled. "You're the one who dragged me here because of an assumption you made on your own!"
"Whatever," Morgan said dismissively. "Since we're here anyway, we may as well pick Ben's brain for ideas."
They found Benjamin in the kitchen just as he was about to go to them with two mugs of steaming hot tea. He was surprised to see that they were already done and asked the girls if their investigation bore any fruit. When the girls answered no, he gave a consoling, "Well, at least you tried your best."
Circe was sure he never believed they would find anything. He probably never really believed that lie Morgan spun about Circe being a detective and was just humoring them. That annoyed Circe because it felt like she and Morgan were being treated like children doing play pretend. But graciously, she took the mug of tea offered to her and sipped it carefully. As she savored the taste in her mouth and the warmth spread to her fingertips, she thought back to the meeting she witnessed between the man standing in front of her and the two members of the police station from earlier, both she knew to be involved in serious crimes of strange natures beyond the realm of science.
There had to be a reason for those two, that accountant in particular, to be visiting this house, she thought. Maybe it's because Roger is a werewolf that Tom Waller's lending a hand, but Circe seriously doubted that was the case. There was no way they knew the Nettles had werewolves in the family when the Nettles themselves didn't know about it.
Wait, did the Nettles know there are werewolves in the family? Now that Circe thought about it, Roger's ignorance of his powers was just an assumption Daisy made from Morgan's story. And Morgan hasn't exactly proved herself to be a reliable source of facts.
But whether or not Benjamin Nettles was aware of his werewolf lineage, it did not change the chances that he could transform into a hulking, vicious beast at any moment with claws that could tear Circe and Morgan to pieces. When that thought crossed her mind, Circe thought, I really shouldn't have stepped foot in this house.
She glanced up nervously at Benjamin, but the young man of the house just smiled back, looking ever harmless.
Still, why did Arnold and Mr. Waller come here? She wondered as she took more sips of tea. She debated with herself whether or not to ask. But before she could come to a decision, it was made for her by Morgan who abruptly blurted out, "So what did you talk about with that chauffeur?"
Benjamin looked at his brother's girlfriend with confusion. "Chauffeur?"
"Yeah," Morgan said. "I thought you were going to go out, but you ended up not. Were you just making plans in person or something. Now that's some dedication to his job that chauffeur got."
Benjamin looked to Circe for clarity.
"She's talking about those guys you met at the front door earlier," she explained. "When we came, we saw you guys talking. It looked important and we didn't want to interrupt, so we hung back and kept out of the way."
"Oh, is that why we were hiding behind the garbage bins?" asked Morgan.
"Geez!" cried Benjamin. "You were there the whole time? You must have been freezing!"
"Tell me about it," said Morgan. "I told Little Miss Dumb-o here that there was no need to be so polite. But noooo. She just had to have her way."
Circe threw her a scornful glare. Before she had a chance to tell the liar that she did no such thing, that liar got the discussion back on track. "So, anyway about the chauffeur . . . "
Benjamin hesitated.
"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Circe told him. "But you should know that, unlike this moron here, I know the guys you talked with were not chauffeurs. They were cops."
Morgan was astonished. "They were? Why didn't you say so? Was it about Roger? Is that why they were here? What did they have to say."
Still, Benjamin was uncomfortable. But after a bit of contemplation, he spoke, choosing his words carefully "Yes, those guys were cops. But they weren't here about Roger. It was about something else."
"Something else what?" asked Morgan.
Benjamin hesitated some more before sighing in resignation. "Well, it's not exactly something pleasant to talk about with a pair of kids. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt. The cops had questions about a lawyer who worked with Dad, mine and Roger's. A guy named Jim Drake. I don't know him that well myself, so there wasn't a whole lot I could tell. Not that there'd be a lot that the police need to look into."
"How come?" Circe asked. "What happened to the lawyer?
"Well, apparently, Jim had a run-in with a bear. A fatal one."
**********
After quickly finishing up the rest of the tea, Circe and Morgan bade Benjamin farewell. He offered to drive the girls home, but Circe quickly declined for both herself and Morgan. She had something she wanted to talk to Morgan about alone. She didn't expect Morgan to get a clue and was prepared for her to make a fuss about walking out in the cold.
But surprisingly, Morgan stayed quiet. Even as they headed down the winding road cutting through the suburbs, enduring the now harsher winter gales, she spoke not a word. Surely it must be because she had the same thought that Circe had when they heard Benjamin speak of the lawyer who had met his end by the fangs and claws of a mighty beast.
A bear attack seemed too farfetched a cause for Jim Drake Jr.'s demise when knowing that there wasn't a single bear habitat within miles of the city. Not to mention nothing on the news about bears escaping from any of the local zoos.
But then what did attack that lawyer if not a bear? There was only one creature that Circe could think of that could be the culprit: a werewolf.
"Say," Circe started. She could not allow the silence to continue. What she had to say had to be said. "I don't think we should be doing this anymore."
Morgan stopped. "Roger didn't do it. He had nothing to do with that lawyer."
"That lawyer was his dad's," Circe pointed out.
"It could still be another werewolf," Morgan countered. "From what we heard, there are probably lots living in the area. Any one of those could have attacked that lawyer."
"But there's only one werewolf we know so far with a connection to him," Circe said. "Roger."
"Why would Roger do that?" asked Morgan. "Why would he even go to that lawyer in the first place? What would be the point?"
"It could be that he went to the lawyer for help."
"Over coming home to his family?" went Morgan. "The people most people would turn to for help first?"
"There are people out there who won't turn to family for help first because they're family," Circe argued, speaking partly from experience.
"You heard that Daisy lady," Morgan said. "She said that there's no way that Roger would go crazy."
Circe shook her head at Morgan's misremembrance. "No. Daisy only said that it SOUNDED like Roger didn't lose control, which means there's still a chance that he could."
Morgan crossed her arms and remained stubborn. "He wouldn't."
Losing patience, Circe sharply snapped, "Look! This could be dangerous!"
"If you don't want to help, that's fine!" Morgan shouted. She also had enough. "You've been useless since the beginning, anyway. I don't know why I let you stick around."
"LET ME!? You're the one who asked me for help in the first place!" Circe yelled back.
"Whatever!" Morgan huffed, rolling her eyes and irking Circe further. "Just go home. I don't need you anymore. I'll find Roger on my own! Hmph!"
She turned at her heels and began marching back to the Nettles house. Circe watched her back for only a few seconds before continuing down the way back home. Neither girl looked back.
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