Thomas P. Scott

Introducing the detective of the story.

 

“It’s vampires alright.”  Nodded the retired officer, as his bushy gray eyebrows furrowed while the almost white blue eyes reread the paper clippings that Scott had brought to his house.  “I can’t figure out why they’re doing this though.  Usually they keep a low profile, but this one, well he seems to be going out of his way to make the paper.”

 

Scott leaned in on his knees from where he sat in the leather armchair in the older man’s study.  “They’ve all been minor things, purse snatchers, robberies, a few women harassed.  They weren’t violent.  But this one,” he tapped the article that had been taken from today’s paper.  “It was brutal to say the least.  I just don’t get it.”

 

Malarm reread the article and the report that had been brought along with it.  “Might not be the same one.” 

 

This was not what the detective wanted to hear.  He was anxious enough about possibly dealing with one of these creatures, but two, maybe more, well that was more than what he had bargained for.  “What do you suggest?  I can’t just let this go, especially this last one.” 

 

The gray haired man furrowed his brow, accentuating the deep creases found there and around his eyes that were now covered by his bifocals.  “You need to talk to Chris.  He’s the one who helped me.”  He pulled open one of the side drawers on his mahogany desk and rifled through the contents until he found what he was searching for.  “He’s the man you need to talk to.”  He slid a napkin across to the detective, a stamped silhouette of a busty woman on the front.

 

“Do you think he’s up to this kind of work still?”  Asked Scott doubtfully as he picked up the folded napkin and flipped it over, looking at the numbers scrawled across it in blue ink. 

 

Malarm laughed at the question, his smile showing off slightly yellowed teeth that came from too many years of drinking coffee and smoking cigars.  “Let’s just say Chris is ageless.”

 

The detective arched an eyebrow in question but took the old man at his word.  “Thank you for your help, captain.”  He said respectfully as he began to gather up the clippings and reports he had brought with him.

 

“You just take care of yourself, son.  Don’t take these folks for granted.”  He warned, watching as his desk quickly became cleared of papers.

 

Detective Scott nodded his head and after a farewell, left the moderate sized house and the neatly manicured lawn behind.  No sooner was he out of the drive did he have his cell phone in hand, punching in the digits that were scrawled across the napkin.

 

*    *    *    *    *

 

Detective Thomas P. Scott sat in a booth inside a nearly empty diner, watching through the window as a young couple laughed and joked while walking arm in arm.  Sipping at the cup of black coffee that the waitress had brought to him a few minutes earlier Scott wondered about the unusual hour to which this meeting was taking place.  Glancing up at the large white clock above the kitchen he noted that the man should be arriving just anytime now, the black hands reading two minutes before one a.m.

 

At precisely one o’clock a young man standing 5 foot 8 inches with jet black hair slicked back into a stylish ponytail stepped into the diner.  His faded blue jeans and art deco t-shirt that was viewable from the open brown leather jacket lead the detective to believe he had just left one of the local clubs that spotted the area.  What he was not prepared to see was the young man coming towards him and sliding into the bench seat in front of him.  “Detective Scott.”  He said extending a hand for the detective to shake.

 

The balding man crinkled his brow in question, wondering how this punk knew his name or even that he’d be here.  Not taking the offered hand he fired his first question.  “Who are you?”

 

The young man smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth that were perfectly aligned.  “So like an officer to be distrusting.”  He chuckled with amusement.  “You called me and yet you have to ask my name.  How amusing.”

 

“Chris?”   The detective asked looking even more confused if that were possible.   He was certain that this couldn’t be the same man who the captain had referred him to; he had said that this fellow helped him back when he was on the force.  This man looked barely old enough to legally drink.

 

“Correct.  Now when you are through questioning my identity, please fill free to inform me of the situation.”  He leaned back against the seat, laying his hands flat upon the table, revealing well manicured nails and a black onyx ring in the shape of a square that was offset by two tiny diamonds.

 

Scott sat still for a moment, trying to push aside logic for the time being, after all there was nothing logical about this case.  “I have a situation. Captain Malarm said you might be able to help me.”  He slipped a manila folder onto the table between them, the contents nearly pushing it open.

 

The young man pulled the offered pack towards him, opening it with slow precise movements as his dark eyes scanned the information within, no emotion flickering over his perfect features.  “Vampires.”  He said when he had read the last scrap of paper within the folder. 

 

The detective nodded his head.  “Captain Malarm said you had helped him some years ago with a similar situation.  I was hoping you could do the same for me.”

 

The man glanced up, his ivory complexion competing with the darkness of his clothing as his nearly black eyes studied him.  “Like the captain, detective, you must be sworn to silence about everything that is seen, said, and heard.  Do you understand?”

 

Scott frowned, unsure of what he was about to get into but trusting his old captain enough to agree.  “You have my word.”

 

“I assure you, detective, I will know if you break it.”  Something in the man’s eyes told the detective that he meant this.  A cold shiver shot up his spine as he had the feeling that he had just made a deal with the devil as he nodded his head to signal that he understood the unspoken warning. The corners of Chris’ mouth twisted up in a satisfied smile.

 

“Very well.  Let us get down to business then.” He announced, spreading some of the newspaper clippings out in front of him.  “From what I am reading, it looks like you have at least one vampire on your hands, maybe two, but I don’t think more than that.  They seldom travel in packs anymore for it brings too much unwanted attention.  The one thing vampires try to avoid is attention.   What I can’t figure out is why he, we’ll call him he for now though it could just as easily be a she, is doing this.”  He paused and shook his head, reading through the articles here and there, talking through his thought process as the detective attempted to follow.  “I’d have to see your actual reports to determine if they are feeding off these criminals or, if it is truly what it appears to be, a vampire with a do-good spirit.”  He shook his head again, rifling through the clippings and laying the most recent report on top.  “This one here shows me that despite his best efforts, he still suffers from primal instincts.  Though again I’d have to read your report to see if what occurred here was blood lust or something else.”  He neatly stacked the clippings back inside the folder and pushed it towards the detective.   “I need to see the police reports, coroner reports, and if possible the bodies, including those who are now serving prison time.  There are signs from a vampire attack that a human would not pick up on.”

 

“There weren’t any puncture wounds on the necks.”  Interrupted the detective, his remark eliciting an amused laugh from Chris.

 

“There are other things to look for, detective.  I will show you everything I find, talk you through my process, and answer your questions, but I must have your trust in my tactics.  I assure you everything I do is for a purpose.”  Again he leveled his dark eyes upon the detective as if measuring to see if he was man enough for the job.

 

“Long as it’s not illegal.”  Stated Scott, this time he received a genuine smile and nod of approval.

 

“Fair enough.”  The man stood up, and turned to face the detective.  “We will meet here tomorrow night precisely an hour past sunset.  Have the reports when you come.”  Not waiting for a word of argument or confirmation he turned and left.

 

Detective Scott sat in baffled silence watching the man through the window as he worked his way down the now empty sidewalk.  He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a person he was dealing with.  Was he an ex-con, a psycho, or something much worse?  Something told him he would find out soon enough, but he wasn’t so sure he really wanted to know.  Finishing off his coffee, he left a dollar on the table for a tip and then stood up, taking care to gather up his file before heading to the counter to settle his bill for the coffee and going home.