My Favorite Souveni- Penelope Ward , Vi Keeland Page 0,45

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?”

“Three Blind Mice?” Milo answered.

Wyatt smiled. “Very good.”

“They look more like rats,” I whispered to Milo.

“What about this one?” Wyatt pointed to three stuffed cats. “The clue is on the ground.” On the floor, there were several pairs of mittens by their feet.

Milo cleared his throat. “Uh, the three little kittens who lost their mittens—or whatever that one is called.”

Wyatt snapped his fingers. “You got it!”

“Who knew you were an expert in nursery rhymes, Milo?” I laughed.

Wyatt went over to a single stuffed owl. “What about this guy?”

Neither of us knew the answer to that.

“A wise old owl,” Wyatt finally said.

“What got you into this interesting hobby?” I asked.

“Well, since the Mrs. died, I have a lot of time on my hands. I always collected taxidermied animals, but I got the idea to create these scenes one day out of the blue. Started laughing to myself in the kitchen when it came to mind—even startled the