Sourmouth (18 page)

             
“I’m here. I’m right here with you trying to figure this out. I always have
been. It isn’t easy when I’m getting yelled at. Or when I’m working off a plan
that’s constantly being shredded and pieced back together”.

             
“But that’s part of it. The randomness of not knowing what we’re doing. That is
a perfectly acceptable reaction to all this, especially to this. But even in
that, in the confusion, at least we’re together on it. Or we’re supposed to
be”. 

             
Riley turned the key in the ignition and started off in a slow roll, gripping
the steering wheel tightly as he picked up speed. He wasn’t sure how he could
respond in a way that would smooth things out. The way he saw it, she was just
as much at fault for the tension between them as he was. The difference was
that she still wanted to blame him and he didn’t have the energy to blame her
back.

             
Violet snorted and slunk back into her seat, eyeing the book wrapped in its
garbage bag on the dashboard. Part of her wanted to chuck it out the window as
they drove to town. Part of her wanted to chuck Riley out the window if she
could fit him.

#

“Moron,” she said.

“Bitch,” he said back.

“Asshole”.

“Cunt”.

“Piss mop”.

“Piss mop?”

“Yeah. Like, a janitor’s mop after he cleans the
restroom,” Violet explained.

Riley stopped at the entryway to the museum with his
hand on the door handle, “I am not a piss mop”.

She paused and raised her eyebrows, her eyes going
from her husband to Anna who was standing on the other side of the glass inside
looking back at them with her arms crossed, a look of confusion apparent on her
face.

“Admit that I’m not a piss mop or we’re not going in,”
he said.

“I’m not going to admit to something that’s not true.
You are the
pissiest
piss mop that’s ever mopped a
piss-covered restroom floor. But if it makes you feel any better, it’s a floor
in a very upscale hotel restroom,” she replied with a smirk.

Riley moaned and leaned his back against the door as
if to imply that they weren’t going in anytime soon.

             
Without words Violet pointed over his shoulder at an old couple trying to leave
the building, and the longer they had to wait the more exceedingly mystified
they were by Riley’s choice of resting place.

             
“Oh shit,” Riley said with a jump, getting out of the way and holding the door
open for their exit.

             
“I’m sorry for my piss mop husband and his rude
demeanour
,”
Violet apologized as she swept past them and into the museum as if he had been
holding the door open for her the entire time.

             
Riley followed inside like a scorned child just as Anna greeted them with open
arms, a small smile beaming across her face. She was standing excitedly on her
toes with a cup of tea held high in her hands. She seemed to be in a much
better mood than the previous time that they had visited, perhaps simply
because she was hoping for something in return for her effort in the exchanging
of pleasantries.

             
“I thought you two wouldn’t be back again, let alone so soon,” said the woman
as she took a sip from her red mug emblazoned with cartoon kittens.

             
“We mops get around. Sometimes it takes a while though, with all of our back
and forth swaying. If we get real lucky somebody puts us in a bucket and
carries us
abou
,t
” Riley
jested at himself rather sternly.

             
“What?” Anna asked bewildered from behind her cup.

             
“Nothing,” Violet answered with a slap on her husband’s arm.

             
Anna gave her head a twist like a cat as if to shake the thought, “I’m hoping
that you brought me a gift?”

             
Riley nodded and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the book sans
barbed wire.

             
The Museum Woman reached out and grabbed away the journal, opening it with one
hand at a feverish pace to admire the contents.

             
“We were hoping that you could help us now that you can get your hands on this.
A bit more than last time at least, not that what you told us was worthless,”
Riley said awkwardly as he watched her scan the pages with a delirious smile.

             
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you desperately need my help. I heard you the first time you
asked. I just don’t know what you want me to do for you. I’ve told you all that
I know,” Anna said with her face deep in the book.

             
“You said that you heard stories about
Sourmouth
when
you were little. Obviously there are other people that might know something
else if there were people who were able to tell you,” Violet
rationalized. 

             
Anna made a little acknowledgment with the corner of her mouth, “I suppose.
There’s a small tribe that lives on the island. I wouldn’t advise you to simply
walk onto their reserve unless you fancy being shot with an old Garand. I
suggest you bother them someplace more neutral”.

             
“And how would we go about that?” Riley queried.

             
Anna raised her eyebrows, her eyes still examining the book, “There’s a small
shack of a building upwards into the mountain, real dredge to find it though.
They call it a business but between you and me, I’ve got no idea whether or not
they even make money. It’s a taxidermy shop that doesn’t even have a name as
far as I know. The thing about it is that hunting here is pretty much illegal.
Guns can’t be discharged and there’s no large game anymore. The bears and
cougars have all been killed off. And the deer have been hit by so many cars
that the RCMP has had to give them a few years to repopulate, so it’s illegal
right now to kill any of them. So you’re basically left with shooting rabbits
and birds with crossbows and only on private property. How a taxidermy shop
stays alive in these conditions is beyond me”. 

             
“How do you think the person could help us?” Violet said quizzically.

             
“Persons, actually. It’s run by two older gentlemen. They are known as some of
the more fantastical storytellers on this island. That is, when they’re sober.
Not to sound like a racist...but they’re a couple of louses if you ask me. They
spend a little too much time in one of the bars ‘round these parts. Can’t say
that I blame them, if they can’t work what else are they going to do? Fact is
that there aren’t a whole lot of activities on this island but to drink, golf
and see the so-called glorious sights. So I can’t fault them for choosing the
former of the options”.

             
“A lead is a lead, no matter how fantastical,” said Riley.

Riley reached out with his palm up waiting for the book
back, “Thank you for your help”.

Riley’s fingers hovered over the book for what felt
like ages. Finally she responded by looking up towards him with a sneer. He
could tell that she was contemplating not even handing it over. But realized
that the value wouldn’t be worth the trouble she’d get if she just decided to
create a fuss and claim it as hers. Reluctantly she closed the book and handed
it back.

             
“Would it be too much trouble to ask you for directions?” Violet asked
inelegantly, sensing the tension between the other two.

             
Anna hooted as she turned to walk away, “Do I look like your damn GPS?”

#

             
Violet rested her arms on top of the rental car, her head dropping into a
sleeping position.

             
Riley leaned against the car on the other side, his arms folded against his
chest.

             
“If you want to try to look all cool against your badass ride, might I suggest
doing it on the side of the street where there isn’t traffic?” Violet said, her
eyes locked on the back of her husband’s head.

             
He looked up and down the street and shrugged, “I’m not seeing any traffic.
Even standing still I think that we are the traffic”.

             
“I’ve got a million dollar life insurance policy out on you anyway”.

             
“How’d you manage that? I’m pretty sure I’d need to sign something for that,”
he asked inquisitively.

             
“I slept with the bank manager. It’s amazing what a man like that can
accomplish when he’s given the right persuasion”.

             
Riley turned around with a smile, “And you’re the right persuasion?”

             
Violet stepped back from the car, mocking being offended, “You’re questioning
my feminine wiles?”

             
“A little bit. After all I’m the one that wooed you,” he stated.

             
“That right? We seem to remember the past differently. I remember that I came
to work wearing a tight, short yellow dress that was practically the
colour
of the sun. And you were doing some guy’s lizard
makeup for a fight scene. And as soon as you saw me you nearly poked him in the
eye with your paintbrush. I think you might have been drooling all over the
actor’s latex”.

             
Riley licked his lips, nodding as if amused by her description.

             
“I think it went something like that but with a few minor changes. I recall you
showing up on set looking like a humanoid banana. Of course I was distracted.
Even I couldn’t come up with a monster design that farfetched. I was very
impressed, creatively that is”. 

             
Violet broke out in laugher, the corners of her eyes crinkling up like
Christmas paper.

             
Riley pushed off of the car door and walked around the hood, ending up beside
his wife.

             
“Even though you looked like you fell off of a tree, I loved you from the
moment that I saw you,” he professed, running his hands down the sides of her
arms.

             
“And you couldn’t wait until you could peel back my skin and get to the delicious
mushy center,” Violet joked as she leaned in to hug her husband. 

             
He leaned over and kissed his wife on her forehead, “My doctor did say that I
do need my potassium”.

             
With a slight pause of recognition that they were no longer going to bicker, at
least for the time being, the couple stepped back and looked around.

             
“You have any idea of what direction to head in for this mystery shack?” she
asked, squinting in the mid-day sun.

             
“I’m going to guess that it’s on the island and probably higher up than we are
now. But aside from that I’m as lost as you are”.

             
“Options then? There are a few women that have already done more than enough
for us that I’d prefer not to keep hounding even if they did answer. And I
definitely don’t want to go back to the information
centre
unless we’re burning that to the ground”.

             
“I could always swallow my manly pride and ask for directions”.

             
“Aww. You’d do that for me?” she asked with a smile.

             
“I’d do anything for you,” Riley started, “You are my main Chiquita, aren’t
you?”

Chapter 10

             
Riley asked a few people where the taxidermy shop was with little luck. It
seemed that somehow everyone he spoke to was a tourist. That was until he had
the bright idea that he should ask someone who worked in one of the nearby
businesses, as they’d in the very least frequent the island enough to know
about the place, better yet they were more likely to live there. The idea paid
off as the first man they spoke to in a small trinket store pointed them in the
right direction. The couple were given intense details on the winding roads to
the store, otherwise affectionately known as Skin N Bones. And after an almost
brisk fifteen minute ride in the opposite direction of their typical route,
they were able to find the house-turned-business which would have otherwise
been invisible to the side of the road.

             
The Skin N Bones was nearly creepier than they would have typically expected of
a place that gutted and stuffed dead animals. It was only about twenty feet
wide and thirty feet long. For a place to be both a storefront and a working
shop, breathing room inside must have been awfully scarce. Its exterior was
made up of timeworn grey wood, depressingly sapped of any of nature’s original
colouring
as it had baked in the sun over years and years.
Its few windows were boarded up with plywood, streaks of graffiti plastered
over top. The only sign advertising its services looked to have been a small
sign that hung on the front door with the business’s name written on the side
of a torn off piece of a cardboard box. 

             
“I might not be ready for this,” Violet said as she eyed the establishment
which was long beyond starting to decay.

             
“We’ll be fine. I’m sure that we’re not going to get a stuffing tube shoved
down our throats and turned into human teddy bears”.

             
She turned to her husband, “Is that how taxidermy works? I don’t think that
making children’s toys and turning a corpse into a statue is quite the same
process”.

             
“Will you stop calling me out on things I don’t know?” he asked as he started
off towards the front porch with his head pointed to the ground.

             
With hesitation Violet followed, her eyes constantly scanning the scene every
few feet for the forensic evidence that would tell of serial killers ahead. The
logical part of her brain said that it was good news that there weren’t human
fingers lying in the grass. But the crazy in her wanted to find a tongue lying
about just so she could brag to her husband about how she was right to be so
cautious.

             
“How do you want to approach this?” Violet asked as they stood awkwardly in
front of the doorway, trying to peek through the screen door like sheriffs
stumbling into a saloon to take away a pesky varmint that’s been terrorizing
the town.

             
“You could always pretend that you want to stuff your kitty so that we don’t
get thrown out on our asses for harassing the workers. Then as we’re inquiring
about their services we could ask a few questions about local history and all that
jazz”.

             
She nodded, impressed, “I did not even think about them being annoyed for us
bugging them with questions. For some reason I thought they’d just go with it”.

             
“That’s why you married me”.

             
“I married you for your money”.

             
“What money?” he laughed.

             
Riley knocked twice on the creaking screen door which begged to be ripped down
and replaced, before opening it without invitation. Immediately inside they
were hit by the strangest combination of scents. Their untrained noses detected
whiffs of alcohol combined with clay, with bits of bleach and notes of copper
that indicated stale blood. Neither of them knew anything about hunting, so
they couldn’t surmise whether or not the smells matched what they should have
been in such a place. What they were being assaulted with could very well have
been the scents to the domain of mass murderers.

             
On the thick oaken walls were plaques with the detached heads of various
animals ranging from the snarling wolves to the wide eyed coyotes. In the
corner by the entrance hovered the towering body of a Grizzly bear reared up on
its hind legs, its head scraping against the ceiling with its mouth agape in
complaint. In the background of the shop, Blue Oyster Cult played over the
static filled radio, giving the room an unwelcome ambiance. Every surface in
the store was covered in dust and grit. The floorboards were stained with brown
puddles of dried blood from hunters dragging in their fresh kills to be
stuffed.

             
About a quarter of the way in was a line on the ground, a long strip of duct
tape crookedly laid down to split the shop into sections, clearly designating
where the customers and workers were allowed to go. Behind the line was a
workshop area, blanketed with various tools and animals mid transformation. For
every
unlabelled
bottle of chemicals was a sharp tool
covered in crimson. Closest to the door laying on a metal table a few feet off
of the ground was a slab of meat, closely resembling the body of a skunk. But
close was the defining description, as it had its head replaced by that of a
small dog.

             
“What on Earth is that?” Violet asked as she craned her neck to inspect closer.

             
“That is what I call a
Skunknine
, a skunk and canine
hybrid,” said a voice from behind a cabinet oddly sitting in the middle of the
showroom.

The man who spoke was sitting in a backless swivel
stool, his partner a few feet beside him standing by a drafting table. The men
were both native and in their fifties at least, possibly even a decade older.
Both had lengthy white and grey beards that masked a lot of their faces and
made it hard to distinguish their features and age. Their noses were bulbous
and red; gin-blossomed from many years of lounging around in dingy bars. Both
wore wide ties that looked like they belonged to cowboys. And both were oddly
dressed in faint
coloured
dress suits that were far
too baggy and drenched in dry blood; based on the level of wrinkles and setting
of the stains the shirts appeared to have never been pressed or cleaned. The
two men looked so similar to one another that they could easily have been
mistaken for brothers that had continued dressing alike beyond childhood.

             
Riley stepped forward to see it better, his lead foot placed almost directly on
the line of tape on the floor, “But...why?”

             
“It’s called ‘going rogue’,” started the man behind the tool cabinet, “It’s
what we do in our free time. You take a few seemingly
unprized
animals, in this case a varmint and a wild dog and you combine the two into
something more exciting. Others like to take to the fantastical, like griffins
and chimeras but we choose to make the ordinary into the extraordinary”.

             
“Could you make me a mermaid?” Violet asked half-heartedly, her eyes flickering
as she scanned the other creatures on display.

             
“We’ve never done it before, but it has been accomplished already. Those types
of fakes are often found in roadside museums rather than humble businesses like
ours,” answered the other man.

             
“Now how can I help you two today?” asked the first man who was now standing at
attention, his eyes nearly obscured by his bushy brows.

             
“May we ask you a few questions?” Violet asked.

             
The two men cut each other a look that gave Riley the impression that they were
about to be told to go to hell. So much for their plan of attack.

             
“She has a dead cat...” Riley blurted out urgently.

             
Violet slapped her husband on the arm and ignored his stupidity, “Please. We’re
looking to ask a few questions about Squamish history which we’re really hoping
you know something about. We keep getting directed from one person to another.
And right now you’re our best bet. Or so we’re told”.

             
“We’re your best bet? You sure are in trouble,” laughed the man at the table as
he took a drink from a flask before turning back to the bird that he had been
working on previously, drips of alcohol falling from his mustache on top of the
corpse as he worked.

             
The man by the cabinet stared at both of the
Tylers
,
his expression unchanging.

             
“Come on, Bill. What else are we doing that we can’t indulge these kids for a
little bit?” he asked his partner.

             
The man at the desk looked at his friend and then back to the couple before
gesturing for them to take a seat on a small bench to the left of the work area
against the wall.

             
The
Tylers
strolled over and plopped themselves down,
putting them a little bit too close for comfort to the filthy ground.

             
“What did you want to know?” Bill asked as he stood up and approached the pair,
his size hulking over them.

             
“They want to know how we get our facial hair so prim and proper,” said the
other man with a chuckle.

             
“Shut up, Stanley,” Bill said almost strictly.

             
If Bill was serious the other man didn’t care, as he just made a playful pouty
face and dived back into his cabinet to finish whatever it was that he was
doing before.

             
“We were speaking to Anna at the museum-” Violet
began.             

             
“Not familiar with her,” Stanley barged in from afar, his voice muffled by the
metal he hid his head in.

             
“You’re not familiar with anyone,” Bill said as he looked back at his friend.

             
“For better and for worse I’m familiar with your wrinkly old ass,” Stanley
responded with an echo.

The more that the two men interacted with one another
the more the
Tylers
could tell that the vibe between
them was more akin to bickering lovers than merely friends or family. 

             
“We were trying to get information about a house or a family or a book,” Violet
rambled.

             
“That’s a lot of things to want information on,” Bill stated back as his arms
folded in front of his chest.

             
“You’ll have to forgive us, things are confusing right now,” Riley interjected,
putting their situation lightly.

             
“Is that right? And what about it all is so confusing for you?” Bill
questioned, his voice clearly mocking.

             
“Our situation is confusing because it’s not actually possible,” Riley answered
with the best combination of puzzlement and excitement that he could manage to
convey.

             
Stanley stood up from his position and came forward apparently intrigued, “You
came to two old drunkards to ask about the impossibilities of the world? Boy,
you’re either a nimrod or a genius. Which one depends on whether or not you can
believe anything that we’d even tell you”
.

             
“I don’t think we have a choice. I don’t think there are many people on this
island that know about what we need to find out about, so you two are probably
the best of the bunch,” Violet said.

             
“
Colour
me curious then,” Stanley replied as he
tipped backwards on his feet, both hands resting on the back of his head over a
bald spot as if he were trying to keep it warm.

             
“I believe that ‘curious’ is a bright shade of red if you’re looking for that
particular
colour
of paint,” Bill hinted.

             
Riley’s eyebrow shot up, “I don’t understand”.

             
“He’s asking for a bribe, kid,” Stanley explained with a sigh directed more so
at his partner than the
Tylers
.

             
“How was I supposed to understand that?”

             
“A fifty dollar bill is
coloured
red, is it not?”
Bill chuckled as he looked down at the pair.

             
“We’re American, our money isn’t
coloured
the same.
And what the hell? A fifty is a bit much,” Riley complained as he reached for
his wallet.

             
Stanley extended his hand in a stopping motion, shaking his head softly, “Just
ask your questions”.

             
Violet took that as her cue to bring the men up to speed on the situation.

             
“Do you know a woman named
Poyam
?”

             
Bill nodded and Stanley shook his head once more.

             
“We rented her house a few days ago”.

             
“The rickety one up at Killarney?” Bill questioned.

             
“The haunted one, you mean?” Stanley piped in, honestly asking for himself. He
might not have known the owner but he seemingly knew of the house.

             
“It’s not haunted, you fool,” Bill responded plainly.  

             
“It might be, based on the things that we’ve seen,” Violet said just as her
husband finally chose to stand up, probably because he felt like a child being
scorned by his parents.

             
“What exactly have you seen? Ghoulies and ghosts?” Stanley chuckled in a way
that made his whiskers twitch with delight.

             
“I don’t think we can say for sure what we’ve seen”.

             
“Try,” Bill replied simply, annoyed by the dancing around that the pair was
beginning to do as they searched for a way to talk about it.

             
“Something seems to be living in our mirror, some sort of animal-man,” Riley
answered bluntly, his face stone still.