My Favorite Souvenir(39)

“Yeah. Of course I know exactly what you’re talking about because I sit around watching Hallmark movies on the weekends.” He snorted before stopping a man next to us. “Excuse me. Do you know of any nice place to stay in town?”

The man laughed. “Wyatt Manor.”

Why did he laugh?

“That’s a hotel?” Milo asked.

“A bed and breakfast.” He pointed. “You’ll see it about a mile down the road on the right.” He smiled. But the look on his face seemed like he might have been kidding us.

After the guy walked away, I asked, “Why did he give us that look with the recommendation? Was that my imagination?”

Milo shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Hmm…

He gestured with his head toward the parking lot. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah. Sure. Always up for an adventure.”

After only a few minutes, we arrived at our destination. We parked right in front of the property. There were no other cars in sight, so I wondered if we would be the only guests. It looked like a typical bed and breakfast from the outside—a yellow house surrounded by a series of large oak trees. A porch wrapped around the entire thing, and mounted to it was a sign that read Wyatt Manor.

We approached the front door, and Milo knocked.

An old man answered. “May I help you?” He looked to be in his nineties.

“Yes,” Milo said. “We were told this is the place to stay in town. We were wondering if you had two rooms for the night.”

The man’s mouth hung open. “Who told you that?”

Milo pointed over his shoulder. “A…man at the carnival down the road?”

“Wow.” The old guy’s mouth curved into a huge smile. “Wish I could thank him. I haven’t had a guest here in months. This is far from the most popular place in town.” He stepped aside to make room for us to enter. “But come in. Please. My home is your home.”

Milo and I exchanged suspicious looks before we stepped inside. I really wished we could have turned around and gone to a normal hotel, but I felt bad leaving now. The man seemed so happy to have us.

The interior of the house was dated, with dark wood paneling and furniture upholstered in mismatched floral patterns. There were clocks everywhere—cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks—and also a plethora of figurines on shelves.

But perhaps most notable were the dead, stuffed animals hanging throughout the place. A deer, a fox…and one particularly scary-looking raccoon.

Milo’s breath grazed my ear as he whispered, “Is this a dead-animal museum or a bed and breakfast? Say the word, and we can beat this joint.”

“So, two rooms will be one-hundred eighty even,” the man said.

Milo looked at me, and I shrugged, giving him the okay to pay for the rooms.

He reached into his pocket. “Do you take credit cards?”

“Sorry, no. Cash only.” He grinned. “I’m Wyatt, by the way.”

Milo opened his wallet and emptied it.

After the man took the cash, he asked, “What brings you two to Bumford?”

“Just passing through town on our way to Atlanta. We saw the fair off the highway and had to stop,” I said.

“My wife used to work the ticket booth there years ago. She’s been gone now five years.”

I frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s still with me.” He walked over to one of the clocks. “See this time, one o’clock?”

I stopped in front of it. “Yes?”

He wandered over to another clock. “See this time? What does it say?”

“One o’clock as well.”

He moved to the clock next to it. “What about this one?”

“One.”

“My wife passed away at one o’clock on the dot. And wouldn’t you know, every single one of these clocks, at some point in time, stopped at one o’clock and never moved again.”

Wow. If he was telling the truth, that was certainly amazing.

“A lot of people, including my kids, think that’s a bunch of malarkey. But I know the truth. I know it’s my Bernadine. I just know it is.”

Milo looked at me, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Then he turned to Wyatt. “I might have been doubtful myself if it weren’t for something that happened to me recently. But I definitely think your wife is still with you.”

Chills raced through me.

Wyatt led us through the house for a little tour.

As we entered a second living area, I jumped at the sight of more dead animals. These weren’t hung on the wall. They were standing on tables. What the hell? It quickly became apparent that Wyatt’s taxidermy hobby wasn’t limited to just preserving animals. Apparently, it involved some theatrics, too. These animals were…dressed in clothing and posed.

What on Earth?

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Well, first of all, I want you to know that no animals were harmed. These guys all died accidentally or naturally. Same goes for my boys hanging up in the other room.”

He walked over to three stuffed gray mice lined up on a table. They were wearing suits, ties, and sunglasses.

“Want to take a guess what this is called?”