It was the wee early hours of Tuesday, November 3, 2015* in Moon Lake as Rebecca Hansen sat behind the reception counter of the town's only hotel, bored out of her mind.
The werepanthress would love to be out and about this fine early autumn night, but that wouldn't have helped with either her studies nor her college expenses, so Rebecca maintained both her human form and her part time job as the hotel's night receptionist.
The college student, in her last year studying computer programming and other IT related matters, had already finished her homework and was just reading for pure pleasure now as the front door chime of the lobby rang.
Rebecca looked up from her paperback and saw an adult male enter.
He was easily in his early thirties, if not older, with brown hair and eyes. The man was lean, but not muscular, and she guessed his height at about 5' 8. He was wearing a rumpled but nice enough suit while carrying a travel suitcase in one hand and what looked like a tablet or laptop case in the other.
"Excuse me," he said with a yawn, "but the Vacancy sign outside is still lit and I sincerely hope that isn't a mistake."
"No sir, it isn't," replied Rebecca, setting her book down and rising to greet the new guest. "How many in your party and how large an accommodation would you like?"
"Me and nothing fancy, since I'm paying for this out of my own pocket until I get reimbursed," he replied, setting his stuff down on his side of the counter.
"Okay," replied Rebecca, not knowing what to make of his statement. "All the rooms on the third floor are basically the smallest. Any preferences in regards to location?"
"Somewhere quiet. Otherwise, no," he replied.
"Smoking or–"
"NON," he emphasized.
"No problem," said Rebecca, trying to be polite.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just been a long day. In fact, a long weekend," he added, as he signed the register and paid for three days in advance, which would keep him in town until at least checkout time Friday morning.
"Long journey?" asked the receptionist, in a more caring than nosy tone of voice.
He stared at her. The woman had to be in her early twenties at most, with long black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to bore deep into his soul.
Shake it off man. You're punch drunk from lack of sleep.
"Sort of... Rebecca," he said, reading her name tag. "Just finished a convention in Seattle and then wrapped up some telemeetings before my editor sent me here."
"Editor?" said Rebecca, looking at the register.
Then she recognized the man's name.
"Lawrence Cooke!" she exclaimed. "I'm reading one of your books right now!" before reaching down and picking up the paperback.
"Brock Stone, Private Eye: The Harder They Fall," said Lawrence, looking at the cover. "It's a good series, but I'm afraid you're a couple of novels behind."
"I have them, and everything in your Space Quest series too; but I don't like to read a series out of order and college takes up a lot of my time as it is."
"Oh? What are you studying?"
"Computer technology," replied Rebecca.
"Good subject. Regardless of the economy, there will still be plenty of jobs in that field for decades to come," replied Lawrence.
Rebecca agreed. Considering the average were lifespan...
"So, if I can ask..."
"Would you like an autograph?" is what Lawrence figured the question would be, as he reached for the book.
"Sure!" Rebecca said with a smile. "But what I was going to ask was: what brings a big time author like you to such a small town as Moon Lake?"
"Weres," was Lawrence's reply, as he handed Rebecca the signed book.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Now at this point folks, there is both an innocent reason and a reason for Rebecca Hansen to be greatly concerned about Lawrence Cooke visiting Moon Lake about weres.
I will post the next two episodes in this story line, one covering each potential reason, but then the rest of this adventure is up to YOU!—tmw.
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*Because the entire Moon Lake series began with its first post in September 2015 on CYOC.net.—tmw.