Morning light streamed down on the sleepy coastal town of Barry. Not too many people were out and about. The weekend had barely begun. The sea air held the slightly crisp quality heralding the coming fall, but the clear morning sunshine was warming.
Richard Turner snoozed in his M-class, the sun heating the black metal, green-housing the tinted glass to sink pleasantly into his old bones. After his agitated drive of the evening prior the feeling was rather nice. His phone had already begun pinging message alerts, but he had muted it. All of it could wait. Today may very well be marking the end of an era if he played his cards right. His business and the flavor of his investments could be drastically different by this afternoon. Best to keep offline until he was certain.
It could be a mistake. Henry Yorke, an employee of a seaside hotel? The name was common enough. Richard almost hoped it was a mistake. Try as he might, he could not picture his colleague here. Owning the building, yes. Laundering money through its books? Yes. But as acting "Manager of Housekeeping?" Doubtful. If he hadn't already driven across the country Richard would have been inclined to dismiss the lead altogether. Old Ones did not go about employing themselves as human, even one as eccentric as his partner. Why would he? The heavy portfolio weighing down the seat next to him was proof of enough that Henry Yorke did not need to work anywhere. All he had to do was ask.
And ask he did... "I want out, Richard."
The thought weighed heavily on Richard's mind. Perhaps ol' Henry had finally truly snapped. He had been clean, presumably for decades now. They all knew how that could warp the mind, weakening and eroding a vampire until there was nothing left but madness.
Richard glanced at his phone for the hour. The thing was peppered with notifications for missed calls, voicemail, text and email messages. And it wasn't even eight o'clock! The advancements of modernity were both a blessing and a curse; to be so free to roam and yet so tied. Richard sighed. Henry wasn't the only one who wanted out. Richard's long overdue vacation had been postponed with the downfall of the Old Ones. Investments had to be re-negotiated. Portfolios redistributed. Not to mention the crumbling stocks that would have risen with the anticipated global chaos they were now sorely lacking.
Yes, his messages could wait. At least until after breakfast.
Richard opened his door and stepped onto the street, filling his lungs with the tangy salt air. Straightening his suit and his resolve, he approached the Barry Grand.
Distant chatter and the clinking of china could be heard down the corridor along with the telltale odor of breakfast. The hotel lobby however was quiet. It was early for check outs.
'Megan' read the girl's fake brass badge. She smiled sweetly for him and he removed his hat with old-fashioned flair.
"Tell me, Megan. Is Mr. Yorke in today?"
The girl looked at him blankly for a moment with mud-brown eyes before recognition skipped across their surface, "D'ya mean Hal?"
Her Welsh accent struck him like a soggy blanket. "Yes. Hal." Richard knew Henry well enough to note the significance of his public name, but a pressing irritation distracted him from the thought. The drive had taken it's toll. The girl's fresh scent was tantalizing against the competing fry-up and coffee.
"Nay sir. Hal is out today. Friend's funeral, the poor dear," she caught herself and didn't elaborate further. Looking at him quizzically, she added, "If you're in need of housekeeping I can refer you to Mr. Edwards."
Since when did Henry bother himself with funerals? "No need to trouble yourself. I'm an old colleague of Hal's." Richard reached into his breast pocket, extracted a polished platinum case and withdrew an elegant business card. "I was hoping I could catch him while I was in Barry. Maybe next time."
"Terrible luck," the girl glanced at the card Richard had slid across the polished counter, "Mr. Turner. Will you be staying with us? Hal is due back tomorrow."
"He mustn't have had to travel far then?"
The girl shrugged. "He did'na say."
Probably a cover for something else. Richard relaxed. He could manage his business here for the day just as well as his previously arranged stay in Cardiff. "Do you have a suite currently available?"
"Our bridal suite is taken by a hen-do tonight. But we have a King overlooking the sea?"
"Why yes. That would be most convenient."
After a surprisingly refreshing shower and a shave, Richard closed the door on room service. Welsh cakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice would go nicely with the o-positive in his briefcase. After breakfast and a quick perusal of business, he would enjoy a nap. And perhaps a stroll. It was rare he allowed himself a day of respite.
Settling in at the desk with the sounds of squabbling seagulls beyond the window, Richard uncorked his flask and indulged in a hearty draught before anything else. Momentarily sated, he tucked his napkin into his collar and began the deliberate work of slicing through layers of cake and buttery cinnamon. Only once it was all ordered into bite-sized pieces did Richard return his attention to his phone.
There had been another missed call while he had showered. His secretary. Again. Ensuring the hotel notepad was was at hand, Richard chose to listen to his voicemails first. Only those closest to him had his direct number. The amount of messages, though not overtly unusual, gave him pause. It was still fairly early on a Saturday. Celine had known he would be away today...
The first message was a client requesting information on a new acquisition. Many of his clients kept less than usual hours, often forgetting the standard decorum of things like weekends and "early". Richard forwarded the message to the office for Celine to handle and made a note of it.
The second message however gave him pause. Celine, who actually did understand the concept of a weekend, had sounded almost hesitant in her short message. "Richard, call me when you receive this."
By the time he got to her second message, Richard's sunny disposition had faded.
