A Key, An Egg, An Unfortunate Remark

by Harry Connolly

  “Goodness!” Marley answered. “I forgot you don’t know. We’ll be visiting Shady Lawns. Of course Jenny knows where it is, but you aren’t her, are you?”

  “I’m the one with short hair.”

  Marley typed something into her phone, and the dashboard GPS came to life. Albert followed the directions to a small building on the northwest slope of Queen Anne hill, tucked between rows of apartment buildings and the SPU campus.

  “Pull into the spot marked ‘Director,’ darling.”

  He did. “Won’t the director be angry?”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  He got out and opened the door for her. Together they went to the front of the building. Marley swiped a security card through a reader and a light above the door handle turned green. Albert opened it and they went inside.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Unusual Invalids

  The walls had been painted an institutional white, and the vase on the end table was filled with plastic flowers. The older woman with the angry scowl and strangler’s hands greeted them in the hall with a curt nod. She wore an old-fashioned collared nurse’s blouse and hat, but her shoes were black rubber clogs.

  Albert stopped just inside the doorway, suddenly unable to go further.

  Marley turned toward him. Her expression was strange; she searched his face as though looking for a sign of something important, but he couldn’t imagine what it could be. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Mother spent six months in a place like this once. To sober up. I visited her, once. I must have been six or seven.”

  “I didn’t know. Was it awful?”

  “It was like there was a huge machine,” he said, “just on the other side of the carpet and wallpaper. Like it was beaming a normal person’s thoughts into everyone’s head, hoping they’d push out what was already there. That’s how it seemed, anyway. I was just a kid.”

  “Some situations are extremely difficult for people with a lot of imagination, especially when they’re young. However, there’s no one here who needs to get sober, I promise; this is a place for people who can’t get along in the modern world. Besides, you already know my opinion of the way supposedly normal people think. Come along.”

  His skin tingling, Albert followed Marley down a hallway. They moved by open, empty offices to the entrance of a large common room. The furniture was chrome and leather, and the north wall was all storm glass. It could have offered a lovely terrestrial view of Fremont and Ballard, except the windows were so heavily tinted that only faint gray lights were visible through it. Marley stood silently in the doorway and followed her lead.

  At the far end of the room, a woman in an angora sweater and poodle skirt lounged on a couch, flipping through a copy of Vogue. Albert gaped at her. He had expected an elderly person—maybe in a wheelchair—but she couldn’t have been older than nineteen and she was so incredibly beautiful it took his breath away. She had huge blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, and the long, graceful limbs of a dancer.

  “What is this supposed to be?” she said as she flipped through the magazine. “Because it’s not fashion. It’s practically pornography!”

  “Don’t knock pornography, Betty,” a man said as he entered. His long dark hair was carelessly parted in the middle, hanging partway in his face like Jim Morrison. He wore a Nehru jacket and pointy-toed boots with heels, and he was just as gorgeous as the woman in his own way—tall and slender, with wide eyes and mouth and perfect pale skin. “It’s very freeing to be comfortable with our bodies and what they can do.”

  In response, Betty turned the magazine toward him. “Is this what you mean, Neil?”

  Neil grimaced at the page she showed him. “Aw, whoa. That’s not natural.”

  “Of course it isn’t.” A third man entered the room. He looked older than the other two—maybe twenty-five years old—and he wore a double-breasted blue suit with a gray and yellow tie. With wingtips, of all things. His hair was combed straight back and he, of the three of them, was the most tall, slender, pale and beautiful.

  “Nothing is natural nowadays,” he continued. “Do you see the way they wear their pants? All hanging down with their underwear showing! In my day, we wore belts! Or suspenders!”

  “You’re right, Clive.” Betty said. “What’s so awful about a belt?”

  Neil shook his shaggy head. “It’s the music that bothers me.”

  “Yes!”

  “Exactly!”

  Neil continued his complaint. “In my day, man, the music was about something. The music kids listen to now...”

  Clive broke in: “It’s a bunch of noise!”

  Betty shook her head. “I don’t even understand the lyrics.”

  The scowling nurse came around the corner with a dark-skinned woman who was no more than four and a half feet tall. She wore a charcoal pantsuit, coke-bottle glasses and running shoes. Her graying hair partly covered her bindi.

  “Hello, Naima,” Marley said. Everyone startled at the sound of her voice.

  “Marley, always a pleasure.” Naima had a faint British accent. “Let’s talk in my office.” She bustled down the hall toward one of the open office doors.

  The three tall slender people stood out of their chairs with startling speed. They appeared to be a little nervous, as though Marley might punish them for bad manners. “It’s so good to see you, Miss Jacobs,” Clive said.

  “Hello, darlings,” Marley called to them. “Everything well, I trust? How was the museum?”

  “Wonderful!” Betty said. The others nodded in agreement. “Miss Jacobs, would you like to come to our picnic on Thursday?”

  “Yes!” Neil said. “We’d love to have you.”

  “Oh, darlings, I don’t know. Something serious has come up. Maybe next time?”

  The three of them agreed that next time would be fine. Marley thanked them for understanding, then led Albert toward down the hall.

  Albert was sure something odd was going on, but he couldn’t quite get his mind around it. In a low voice, he asked: “Who are those people?”

  “You tell me, dear.” She stepped into Naima’s office.

  “Please sit,” Naima told them as she closed the door. They did. “I hope you’re visiting because you’re impressed by the budget reports I’ve been submitting.”

  “If I did that, I’d be here every day. No, I’m afraid there’s been trouble.”

  “Like summer 2007?”

  “Oh yes. Last night a man had his throat cut. His body was found on the Burke-Gilman trail, just under the Aurora Bridge, lying over a storm drain.”

  Naima took off her glasses and cleaned them. “And you suspect that not all that blood drained into the canal.”

  “Naturally.”

  “This facility has been secure, but I’ll check with the staff anyway, just to be sure.”

  “Naima, the victim was my nephew.”

  Naima was so startled she dropped her glasses onto the desk, then scrambled to put them back on. “Oh! Oh, no.”

  Marley was brisk and businesslike. “Oh no, indeed. We’re going to be moving quickly on this.”

  Naima pulled her phone close. “I see. No time to flirt with the beefcake, then. Let me make some calls.”

  “I’ll let you get started.” Marley checked her watch and stood. “Excuse us.”

  Albert opened the office door for her then followed her through the common room down a flight of stairs. The three guests watched Marley—and him—with strangely tense expressions. Clearly, they were charity cases of some kind, afraid of something Marley might do if she were displeased. Evict them? Albert couldn’t imagine.

  There was a kitchen on the bottom floor, a walk-in fridge and a door leading to a small loading dock. They went into the alley.

  A cargo van was parked beside the dock, and a large woman in white coveralls was unlocking and opening the back. She stood over six feet tall, weighed nearly three hundred pounds, and moved like John Wayne. When she saw Marley, s
he raised both arms in the air in greeting. “Hola, Marley!”

  “Hello, Libertad. How is your knee?”

  “My knee is just fine now. I am kicking asses one hundred percent.”

  “Wonderful! Albert, be a dear and handle Libertad’s delivery, would you? I need to bend her ear and her schedule is tight.”

  Albert shrugged, hopped down to the ground, and lifted the hand truck onto the dock. Libertad patted two Styrofoam coolers and said “Straight into the walk-in. And wear this.” From her pocket, she took an old pouch on a braided leather cord and tried to hang it around Albert’s neck.

  “Whoa!” He backed away from her, his nose wrinkling. “What is in that thing and how long has it been dead?”

  “This holds necessary things,” Libertad said. “You must wear it for your health.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll have a salad later instead.” Albert lifted the coolers onto the loading dock, then set the hand truck under them. “Back in a few.” He started toward the door.

  Alarmed, Libertad looked to Marley, who waved him off with a placid smile. “Hope so.”

  Once he was inside, Marley took Libertad’s hands and helped her onto the dock. They embraced. “I don’t see enough of you, my friend.”

  Libertad nodded in return. “You have so much to do. I understand. And now you have some new problem, I suspect?”

  “Yes, dear. I’m afraid so. Has your grandmother heard anything recently? Any new, beautiful, young faces at the Bingo hall?”

  “No, Marley, not for months.”

  Something about the way she answered prompted Marley to move close. “Has anyone come to you about your special deliveries? Has anyone tried to buy from you?”

  “Not from me, no, but I got a call today from a man named Sylvester. He works for PSBC and, while they were at Fatima Church Hall yesterday, a man offered him five hundred dollars for three pints, half then and half on delivery. The man gave Sylvester the money and an address, then told him to make the delivery at 10:30 that night.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes. Sylvester, he was stupid enough to make the deal, but not so stupid that he kept it. He dropped off the pints at seven, shortly before dark, and decided he did not need the rest of the money too badly. He called me today because he said someone is watching his house.”

  “May I have his address, dear?” They took out their phones and Libertad transferred the information. “Thank you so much. We really must have dinner together again. It’s been too long.”

  “Yes, but at my place,” Libertad said with emphasis. “Isabeau wants to cook for you this time.”

  Marley smiled and clasped her hands. “Of course, dear. Now let’s see what has become of my nephew.”

  Libertad opened the door to the darkened hallway. They heard low voices, like the murmur of lovers.

  Marley put her hands into her pockets and went into the hall. Albert and Betty stood in the corner by the open refrigerator door, close enough to kiss. Albert leaned against the wall, his expression blissful and vacant. Betty laid her hand on his chest and moved her face near his cheek. She whispered something that made him sigh. With her other hand, she pulled her shawl closed.

  “Hello, Betty, dear. You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

  Betty brushed her lips against Albert’s jaw. “I’m tired of drinking from plastic. I want the feel of a man on my lips.”

  At a gesture from Marley, Libertad took her hand truck and retreated to the van. “You can drink from a man if you want, dear. You just can’t do it here, in my city.”

  “Or what?” Betty turned away from her victim and hunched her shoulders like a cat about to pounce. Albert stared vaguely at the ceiling. “You won’t do anything. You never do anything!”

  Marley was still smiling, but her face was downturned and her expression wolfish. “Would you like to guess what I have in my pocket?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Young Man Discovers A Larger World

  “Lint?” Betty said, her tone challenging and a little unsure. “Nothing?”

  “It’s a little beam of sunshine, dear. Shall I take it out and show you?”

  Like a swarm of startled moths, Betty’s confidence fluttered away and deserted her. She glided back, releasing Albert and leaving only a smear of pink lipstick on his throat. “You don’t have sunlight in your pocket.” Her high, strained voice didn’t have the bravado she’d hoped for. “You’re nothing but an old woman. A useless old woman! You don’t have anything!”

  Marley’s expression hadn’t changed. “You’d be surprised what I carry around, dear. And any time you’d like to start feasting on people again, you just let me know. I’ll arrange to have you and your things moved to any city you choose, just like poor Sterling.”

  “Sterling isn’t dead!” Betty couldn’t help it. She’d begun to wail. “He’s going to visit at Christmas. I have his letter.”

  Marley sighed. Threatening her charges always made her feel sour. “Dear, that was three years ago.”

  “Three?” Betty squeaked.

  “Yes, dear. Bring today’s newspaper to your room and compare the dates. After he left us, Sterling… Well, he was gone before Memorial Day.”

  Betty slumped against the open fridge door and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t sob or shed a tear, but her grief was genuine.

  Hasty footsteps squeaked from the hall. Marley took her hand from her pocket as Naima bustled around the corner. “What is going on?!” she demanded. The nurse was close behind.

  “Betty and I were reminiscing about Sterling, the poor dear.”

  Clive and Neil loped into the hall like school kids about to see someone get detention. Everyone needed only to glance at Betty—and at Albert, still standing against the wall, entranced—to know what had happened. Naima sighed and took Betty gently by the elbow.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Jacobs,” Betty said. Her cheeks were dry, but Marley knew her anguish was real. “I shouldn’t have said those things. It’s just...”

  “Don’t worry, Betty. I understand. You’re under a lot of stress. Take a few days to rest and think things over. I’ll visit again so we can talk about what you want for the future. Would that be all right?”

  Betty nodded gratefully. Naima and the nurse led her up the stairs. Everyone followed except Marley and, of course, Albert.

  Marley pinched him and he came awake. “What’s going on?”

  “You didn’t wear the pouch. Now close the refrigerator so we can go.”

  He did. Marley didn’t follow the others up through the building, so Albert opened the back door for her. They went into the alley. Libertad’s van was already gone. Marley led Albert up a set of concrete stairs on the outside of the building.

  “Aunt Marley, who were those people? They talked like senior citizens but they looked like they’re about my age. And I peeked in the cooler. It was full of bags of blood.”

  “What do you think they are, dear?”

  “Hemophiliacs?”

  Marley stopped and turned around. Even though she was several stairs above him, they were eye to eye. “Oh Albert.” The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable; Albert was surprised by how much it stung.

  Back at the car, Albert let her into the back seat, then got behind the wheel and started the engine. He didn’t shift out of park. He just sat there for a moment, his hands in his lap, staring at nothing at all. “I almost died, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “They’re vampires.”

  “Of course they are.”

  “But the way they talked, like a bunch of crotchety old people...”

  “They are old. Clive is over ninety.”

  “Vampires. Whoa. Vampires! I’m... What about being young forever and going to nightclubs every night?”

  “Oh, goodness,” Marley said. “Nightclubs.”

  Albert shut off the engine and placed his trembling hands on the wheel. “I need a moment.”

  “Take n
ine or ten moments,” Marley said with all sincerity. “They’re a good investment.”

  He took out his phone and opened a game of Tetris. They sat unmoving in the dark car, and the only sounds were the beeps of the game. After about ten minutes, he shut it off and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  “This is a rest home for vampires, and you’re paying the bills. You have your own squad of vampires.”

  Marley sighed. “They’re hardly a ‘squad’, dear, although you’re not the first person to make that insinuation. They’re my guests.”

  “They’re killers. Aren’t they? Aren’t vampires killers?”

  “Yes, when they have to be. It’s how vampires survive.”

  “Doesn’t that make them evil?”

  “Albert, until just a few short months ago, you were a soldier. You volunteered for a job where you might have to kill. And I think you did kill.”

  “Aunt Marley—“

  “I’m not criticizing you, and I’m not saying you’re evil. Far from it. Risking your life to serve your country is a noble choice. You had your reasons for signing up, for swearing an oath to serve, for taking the uniform and weaponry of our nation at a time when you knew we were fighting overseas. You had your reasons, and I don’t question them. I know you well enough to know you’re an honorable young man.”

  Marley sighed, then added: “Besides, I’ve killed, too. With guns. With knives. With... other weapons. Oh, it was many years ago, when I was a young woman—and I may not have had a uniform or sworn an oath, but I was doing what I thought was right.”

  Albert looked into the rear view mirror at his aunt. A security light from across the street shone into back window, highlighting her gray hair and casting her face in shadow. He couldn’t judge her expression, which made it hard to understand the point she was making. For an uncomfortable moment, he was sure she wanted it that way. “So,” he said, “we’re no better than them?”

  “No, dear; we’re worse. Whatever our reasons, good or bad, we chose to kill. Vampires, almost without exception, are victims. They don’t get a choice. Picture it: A cab driver, waitress, or other average person is attacked on their way home. Murdered. They awaken in their own grave and suddenly find themselves thirsting for blood. It’s not a choice on their part and doesn’t have to be justified morally. That’s why it’s wrong to call them evil.”