Wolf Hour

49 The Masterpiece, October 2016

‘It’s lovely,’ said Jill Patterson as she stroked the dog. ‘Absolutely lovely.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mike Lunde.

The two of them and the children, Siri and Simon, sat in the store in a little circle around Quentin. Jill kept stroking him, she said the Labrador’s coat seemed so glossy and bright. Outside, on the other side of the street, their Chevy stood parked, with their private bodyguard Hector Herrer inside. From where she was sitting she could see that the other one, the extra security man from the JTTF, had taken up a position outside the car and was monitoring the street in both directions. The JTTF man had wanted to come into the store with them, but Jill had explained that Mike said they should always be alone in the store whenever they were looking at Quentin. The JTTF man had said OK, but he asked them not to be too long. Jill hadn’t replied. After all, this might be the last time they would ever see this nice taxidermist, whom everyone in the family had become so fond of. Mike had been to their home in Dellwood and listened as she and Kevin and the children talked about Quentin. The Labrador retriever had been their beloved companion until the day he ran out into the road and got run over by the neighbour’s Lexus. The children had insisted that Quentin be buried in their own back garden, and they had even had a priest for the burial. But so great was the children’s grief that after just one week Jill said to Kevin that they had to do something, the kids wouldn’t leave the grave, they spent every evening weeping there. Kevin’s first response had been that maybe the grave had become a place for the kids to get rid of all their frustrations, that maybe it wasn’t just about Quentin, maybe what was happening was good for them. But Jill said it was grief, and that children shouldn’t grieve, that could wait until later. She’d spoken to a friend who knew a friend who’d had the family’s pet rabbit stuffed and spoke of it like a resurrection. She was the one who had recommended Town Taxidermy to Jill.

Of course, neither Jill nor the children had been present when the grave was opened. After a mere fourteen days the fur was still pretty much unchanged, and Mike had said it wouldn’t be a problem to repair any damage. They agreed to use as much of Quentin as possible, not just the teeth but the whole skull. That way she felt she could tell the children it wasn’t just a copy of Quentin, it really was Quentin. Mike took the dog’s measurements for the mannequin he had to make, and he studied the family’s photographs and home videos showing the animal. The better to capture Quentin’s character and personality, as he explained.

Siri sat next to her mother and began stroking Quentin too. Because it had turned out just as Jill hoped, it really was Quentin. Mike hadn’t just captured the dog’s personality, he’d caught the way he walked and had frozen their beloved pet in mid-stride. And the look in the eyes! It was Quentin’s look exactly. It really was an exercise in pure magic. Simon, their youngest, stood up and ran across to the fox. Felt its teeth. Then ran over to the wolf and tugged at its tail. She hoped he wouldn’t break anything, he was a bit of a handful. But Mike took it all calmly enough. Simon came running back and put his arms around Quentin’s neck.

‘Simon, be careful!’ his big sister called.

Simon obediently let go.

‘But he doesn’t move,’ Simon complained as he stood in front of the dog and called out: ‘Quentin! Wake up!’ He hit the unmoving dog on the snout. ‘Quentin!’

Jill laughed what she herself heard was a slightly nervous laugh. ‘Simon, sweetie, don’t do that. Quentin is a... he’s a... still dog now.’

‘But I don’t want a dog that stands still! Man!’ Simon stood in front of the chair Mike was sitting in. ‘I want a living Quentin!’

Mike cocked his head to one side. ‘You know what, Simon, it’s actually completely impossible to get back someone who’s dead, no matter how much you loved them. You see, death...’

Jill could see that Simon had been about to lose patience and run off again until Mike said that word — death — with such weight. Now the boy stood quite still and stared at Mike.

‘Death...’ said the taxidermist, ‘death is a door with a spring lock.’

Simon blinked.

‘And the pain,’ Mike went on, ‘the pain of losing the one you love, or all the ones you love, well, that’s enough to drive anyone out of their mind.’

Jill was a little shocked at Mike’s choice of words. After all, this was a child he was talking to. On the other hand, he had such a good way with the kids, so maybe he was getting through to him with what he was saying. But no, he had lost Simon’s attention, and now Simon was tearing about inside the store again.

‘Don’t touch that!’ she called as Simon approached the rifle leaned up against the wall directly behind Mike. She’d seen it as soon as they entered, and if it had been anywhere else she would certainly have said something. But here, among all these stuffed animals, it seemed natural, just another of the many tools of Mike’s trade. They had to have used something to shoot that large deer and that bear, she had reasoned with herself. But now that Simon stood staring in frozen fascination at the gun it gave her a bad feeling. She saw his little child’s fists clench and open, could see how he itched to reach out and touch it, dangerous and tempting. What was it about guns that made them so irresistible — and to small boys in particular? It was like the ring in that movie the kids loved, she thought. The Lord of the Rings. Jill got hold of Simon and pulled him onto her lap. He pretended to resist, but she knew how much he liked it when she coddled him. Especially with his sister looking on.

‘Now we all have to say thank you to Mike for making Quentin look so fine,’ said Jill.

‘Thank you, Mike,’ the children said almost in chorus.

Mike just sat there and smiled. He looked almost sad. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be parted from Quentin. It was almost enough to make you feel sorry for him. Jill leaned forward and said in a quiet, comforting voice: ‘I want you to know that this is going to ease a lot of the pain in our family. I’m really looking forward to when my husband gets to see Quentin.’

Mike nodded. ‘I hope I can repay all he’s done for so many other families in Minneapolis, Mrs Patterson.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you, that’s true. Kevin has done so many good things as mayor.’

‘Like opposing anyone who’s tried to limit our God-given right to carry weapons,’ said Mike.

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Jill. She felt the smile stiffen slightly on her lips.

‘This military sniper’s rifle here, for example.’ Mike picked up the rifle. ‘It was purchased illegally, but it wouldn’t have been difficult to buy it legally. Isn’t it reassuring to know that we are such a well-armed people that everyone, absolutely everyone, is able to defend themselves against everybody else?’ He smiled broadly.

Jill Patterson swallowed. ‘Of course. It wouldn’t be fair if only a few of us could.’

Mike’s eyes had grown more intense, his voice higher. He was speaking more quickly. She could see that Siri had noticed it too, she’d stopped stroking the dog.

‘We’re able to defend our families,’ said Mike. ‘Because dying yourself isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing is to go on living after the people you love have all been killed. Don’t you agree?’ He nodded in the direction of Quentin, at the same time doing something with the rifle that made a metallic, oily sound. She assumed he was loading it.

‘Since it’s your husband who makes all this possible, as I said, I’m going to do for him exactly what politicians like him have done for families such as my own.’

Jill felt Siri take hold of her hand, and Simon stopped wriggling about in her lap. Jill’s mouth was dry and when she spoke her voice sounded hoarse and strange:

‘What would that be, Mike?’

‘What he and people like him did for me,’ said Mike Lunde as he looked down at the rifle, ‘was to put weapons in the hands of those who took from me everything I loved.’ He raised the rifle to his cheek. ‘So now it’s my turn.’