F3 Cycle 57 "All in a night's work"

Flash Fiction Friday Cue: Use a bottle of ketchup in your story.
Word limit: 1000
Genre: Open

 “It’s not a fit night for the living to go outside Mr. Chevalier,” the old doorman Thomas said while opening the ornate glass and metal door leading outside my apartment building.

Lost in my own thoughts when I finally comprehended the words Thomas said I found them so odd they froze me in place on the edge of the foyer. I pondered the possible meaning, praying to a God I had long abandoned that this gentle and kind man was not implying anything. Standing there watching the wind and the rain from the stalled tropical storm hovering just off the coast, battering the city of Savannah, Georgia dispelled any foolish doubts that had momentarily crossed my mind.

“Yes, Thomas,” I said adjusting the collar of my trench coat and pulling my safari-style fedora tightly down on my head. “This night is not fit for the living; unfortunately I have important business with someone tonight.”

“Opening another restaurant sir, how many do you own now?” Thomas asked innocently.

“Maybe, if fate continues to be kind to me, and I own four” I said absentmindedly then stepping out into the weather. An awning stretching out from the door to the edge of the street prevented the worst of the weather from pelting me as I walked the distance to my waiting car. Feeling guilty for my brief paranoia I quickly turned around. “Say Thomas, it has been ages since I saw you and your lovely wife at my café on Bay Street. Call Sonya and make a reservation at your convenience, everything will be on the house.” The smile and thumbs up Thomas gave me in thanks soothed my troubled soul, if I have one, allowing me to focus my thoughts on the unpleasant task ahead.

My appointment was with a man in his private residence across the state line in South Carolina. Mere minutes after leaving the city behind the rural nature of the area along with the inclement weather combined to make the night pitch black, so deep was the darkness I began to feel myself transported in time. Driving the empty county roads with the undeveloped woods and marshes fleeting images briefly illuminated by my headlights I felt as if it was possible that anything could jump out in front of me. For various reasons I found that thought strangely funny.

Before long, the GPS system mounted on the dashboard of my car signaled my pending arrival. Turning off the main road, I was greeted by two huge horse statues on either side of the ornate gravel driveway. Minutes later, I was pulling up in front of a similarly ostentatious gate that was no mere ornamental fixture. The gate itself was over twenty-feet tall and was accompanied by what had to be a fifteen foot fence that I easily guessed would run the entire length of the estate. Security cameras, which strangely point both out and inward on the property, ran at intervals along its length.

“State the nature of your business here,” barked from a speaker mounted in a brick column beside the driveway.

“I’m Simon Chevalier; I have an appointment with Mr. Parker.” I responded beginning to feel the hairs on the back of neck tingle.

“When the gates open follow the driveway to the manor, do not stop. When you arrive someone will be at the door to let you in.” The person speaking to me from the speaker said.

With my destination in sight, I cheerfully followed the instructions, which soon had me inside the house and sitting in a comfortable chair in a study whose walls were lined with books. A cup of tea and a fire burning in the fireplace were very dignified touches of hospitality. Mr. Parker even had the dignity to allow me a few minutes to enjoy my surroundings.

“I trust the drive here was not too inconvenient,” Anthony Parker said storming into the room dressed in a very casual polo shirt and slacks, “and that the staff has met your every need while waiting for me.”

“Yes, everything has been fine.” I said, again making a mental note of the staff, they were loose ends that would eventually have to be dealt with.

The exchange of pleasantries was typical but Parker decided to come to the point first. “Please, Mr. Chevalier explain to me who pointed you my way and why I should do business with you.”

“Mr. Parker, we are both successful business men having friends on both sides of the law, which precludes me from disclosing where I heard your name. Just let me assure you I have… tastes that I am sure you can help me satisfy and I am willing to pay handsomely to have them met.“

From the minute I saw Parker walk into the room I knew my information was correct and that I was in the presence of an utter evil monster. The huge book he pulled down from one of the shelves with pictures of little boys for me to choose from only pushed me beyond my limit of endurance. I held back when I slapped him across the room just so he could see my eyes turn blood red and my vampire fangs extend from my upper and lower gums.

***

A few nights later, I am relaxing in the private dining room of my favorite restaurant. The stew placed in front of me is not exactly to my liking, the chunks of meat were stringy and I had failed to add enough red wine to the base leaving it rather bland. When my culinary skills fail, it depresses me but the arrival of Chief Detective Altman of the Savannah police department raised my spirits.

“So,” he began taking a seat at my table, “how did it go?”

“Robert, it went so well that I am now having Mr. Parker for dinner, or at least his remains.”

“His friends and benefactors are in a panic, the governors of three states and a certain United States senator are all asking the FBI to look into his mysterious and very sudden disappearance.” Robert said coyly watching me eat my dinner.

“Well that is why you ask me to look into these indelicate matters from time to time,” I replied after wiping my mouth with my napkin.

“Yeah,” Detective Altman said, “I just want you to know how much I appreciate your help on these problems we are unable to solve.”

“I did them for your grandfather, your father, and when your son ascends to your position I will do my best for him.”

“You’re a good man Simon,” Robert said getting up from my table and given my abilities, I knew he truly meant it. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” he said while fishing something out of his coat pocket.

He placed a bottle of Heinz ketchup on my table, a very old joke that went back to his grandfather. One that never fails to make me again feel my lost humanity.