The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  St. Charles Avenue bustled with heavy traffic. The lazy Sunday drivers I remembered from my childhood were obviously on vacation. Today, the cars zipped by, occasionally highlighted by the blaring of a horn when someone wasn’t moving quickly enough. Another childhood memory gone…

  After crossing the street, I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped the sweat from my brow. How did anyone live in this sticky mess without needing a shower every five minutes? Continuing my trek, I paused long enough to check the addresses before making a right onto Coliseum.

  The houses here were owned by the city’s elite, the oldest of old money. Every house looked like it was straight out of a painting, or off a movie set. The attention to detail, from the fleurs-de-lis on the black wrought iron fencing to historic color schemes, was evident in every house for the next several blocks. Bronze plaques adorned the more famous homes, but I didn’t stop to read them. Crossing the street, I checked my watch…4:45. I needed to hurry before they closed for the day.

  The giant house before me was an old plantation style, white, two-story home. A black wrought iron fence topped a short cement wall that lined the front of the property. The giant green hedges behind the fence had obviously been allowed too much freedom, as they’d shattered bits of cement and warped the fencing.

  Still, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Tentatively, I put my hand on the gate, and a jolt of energy ran through me. Or more likely, my nerves were getting the better of me. I hesitated for several long seconds before I strode through, closing the gate behind me. Ten feet in, I padded up the triple-wide gray cement stairs leading to the wraparound porch. Corinthian-style columns supported the expansive second-story balcony.

  My footsteps made a low thud on the polished hardwood as I came up to the extra tall French double doors filled with the most spectacular stained glass I’d seen in years. Faded gold letters painted atop the smooth glass overlay read: Old & Rare Books since 1965.

  When I glanced at my watch again, it was 4:55. I cleared my throat, straightened my shirt as best I could, and pushed. The dark, oak-framed door swung in, and a bell rang, announcing my arrival. The cold air from the oversized AC washed over me, and a chill ran up my spine. When the door swung shut, the bell pealed shrilly again. Reaching up with one hand, I silenced it.

  The store was much like I remembered it. Antique books filled the cases lining the walls. Tables and shoulder-high shelves dotted the floor, showcasing things particularly special or unique. Bits of metal and glass glinted in the afternoon light. I nearly lost myself in the smell of old leather and pull of shiny objects until someone cleared their throat loudly.

  The man was in his late twenties or early thirties, a light-skinned Creole with wild, unkempt charcoal curls swept up in a mess that actually looked good on him. It wasn’t a style many men could pull off, and something I would never try. I kept my straight black and white hair short on the sides, and combed back on top.

  With a nod, I raised my hand to wave, but he ostentatiously ignored me, checking his watch. Disdain was written all over his handsome features. When I didn’t turn and leave, he let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly came toward me. His movements struck me instantly; every step was an exercise in grace, power, and confidence. Somehow, I’d seriously miscalculated his build. What I’d thought was a thin, lanky frame was actually heavily muscled; even so, he was about forty pounds lighter than me, despite being the same height. He moved with the intensity of a beast stalking prey, and before I knew it, he stood about four feet away from me, body angled and poised to strike out if necessary.

  His voice was even, yet filled with contempt that his heavy southern accent only accentuated. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re about to close, and you obviously don’t have an appointment.”

  Translation: I don’t care who you think you are, you are unworthy, unwelcome, and should really get the fuck out of this store before I throw you out.

  He was clearly the watchdog, and his little act had undoubtedly run off more than a few people who didn’t belong. Plastering my best smile on my face, I gave him a quick wink. “You’re right, I don’t have an appointment, but I need to speak with Andrew before you close.”

  The young man, thoroughly unimpressed with my charms, literally scoffed at me. “I don’t know who gave you that name, but the owner doesn’t meet with random people off the street.”

  I dropped my bag, which earned me an even more condescending expression, then shoved a hand into my front pocket and pulled out my wallet. I grabbed my government ID and handed it to the man. “If you’ll give him this, I’m sure he’ll see me.”

  He glared at my bag again before reluctantly snatching the ID. He read it then reread it before holding it back in my direction. All the haughtiness in his voice faded, along with the accent. “This is you?”

  I shook my head in disbelief and barely resisted the urge to say duh. “Last I checked.”

  He eyed my belongings again and simply nodded. His voice was tight as he struggled to remain calm. “Wait here.” He scurried off to the back of the building and vanished.

  Tension knotted between my shoulder blades, and unease built as my stomach twisted. Not knowing what else to do, I picked up my bag and waited, making sure not to disturb anything.

  My parents had last brought me here when I was maybe eight or nine, and I wasn’t sure my uncle would remember me. He obviously knew he had a nephew, but we hadn’t seen each other since my parents’ funeral, a few weeks before I graduated high school. Over the years, I’d sent him the occasional card and emails here and there, but we weren’t exactly close.

  A few minutes later, the young man reappeared, minus the ID. His voice was an octave higher, and he was sweating slightly. “I’m Isidore Chauvin. Andrew will be down in a moment.”

  Isidore fidgeted with the nearest bauble, which was evidently in desperate need of polishing. He worked his way around the room, not taking his eyes off me for more than a second or two, when he stole glances at the rear of the store.

  Then a deep, rich baritone voice rolled over me like a warm memory, with only the slightest hint of a southern accent. “Gavin. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  My uncle looked surprisingly well for a man in his mid-seventies. The dingy white shirt and charcoal tweed slacks appeared a few sizes too big, giving him a gaunt, frail appearance, but otherwise, he seemed healthy. Even with a slight stoop, Andrew was an inch or two taller than me. His sapphire blue eyes sparkled behind the gold, wire-rimmed glasses, and the chiseled good looks I remembered had only become more refined with age. His once salt-and-pepper hair was now white, along with his well-trimmed beard, which gave him the appearance of a scholar or professor. Considering his profession, it kind of made sense.

  Feeling like a kid again, I smiled and wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug. “It’s good to see you.” I lifted him and squeezed, encountering a wall of solid muscle.

  Why would he want to hide a body like that under baggy clothing? If I were his age and in such good shape, you couldn’t have paid me enough to dress like a dowdy old man.

  Andrew flashed me a smile, and I returned it without a second thought.

  He grunted and, wincing, ran his hand across his forehead. He recovered almost instantly and patted me on the back. “You’ve filled out.” Andrew gave me one last embrace before releasing me and turning. “Isidore, this is my nephew Gavin. Gavin, my assistant Isidore.”

  Isidore eyed us suspiciously, looking like a jealous lover. He formally held out a hand in my direction. “Pleasure to meet you. Andrew didn’t tell me you’d be dropping by.”

  I glanced between them and grinned, holding my hands out to keep the peace. “Hey, if this is a problem, I’ll get a room for the night and come back tomorrow. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

  Isidore’s eyes widened in horror, and he nearly choked on his own spit when he saw the look on my face. “Oh, dear God in heaven, no!” He shook his head furiously. “First things first. I
’m young and handsome, and he’s an old bag of bones. So not my type.” He eyed me again. “You, on the other hand, are tall, beautifully tanned, and those green eyes of yours…Yum.” Biting his bottom lip, he grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with you that a hot shower, new clothes, and a good polish wouldn’t fix.”

  I blushed. “Well, thank you very much.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Isidore...”

  He smirked. “What? I can’t admire?”

  The man’s easygoing nature was contagious. “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m afraid you have one too many appendages.” I chuckled. “Sorry, but I’ll have to pass.”

  Isidore sighed longingly and dusted off his shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “Your loss.”

  And just like that, he was over me completely. “I’m sure.” Patting Andrew on the shoulder, I smiled. “He didn’t tell you because I didn’t know myself till yesterday.” I shrugged. “I’ve been away for a long time, and I thought a visit was in order.”

  Isidore gave me an appraising once-over as he circled me. “Too clean to be prison, so I’m guessing military.”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow at him and shook his head. “Don’t be messy. I’m sure Gavin will tell us everything in his own time.” He waved a hand at the front door. “Would you be a doll and lock up on your way out? Gavin and I have a lot to catch up on.” Andrew glanced back at me. “You look like you’ve had a hard day. Care for some dinner?”

  The mention of food made my stomach rumble, and, from what I remembered, Andrew was a fantastic cook. “Dinner sounds great. All I’ve had today is three fingers of rye whiskey for brunch.”

  Andrew snorted and thumbed toward the back. “You go ahead. I’ll be up shortly.”

  Holding my bag close, I swept by Isidore on my way to the stairs.

  Andrew cleared his throat to get Isidore’s attention. “Make sure the front gate is locked. We don’t need any of those tourists getting on the grounds again.”

  Isidore rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

  My amusement faded quickly when I glanced back at them.

  Andrew advanced on the younger man, towering over him when he spoke. His tone was low and calm, yet every word carried weight. “I mean it.” Isidore shrank back. “I have a guest, and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  Isidore quickly stammered, “I was kidding. I’ll make sure everything’s locked up tight. I promise.”

  Satisfied, Andrew stepped back, turned, and waved me onward. “You do remember the way, don’t you?”

  Surprisingly, I did. The third step from the top creaked every time someone stood on it. When I was a child, I’d made a game of trying to make music with it, much to my parents’ annoyance. Andrew was suddenly right behind me, closing the oversized door as we stepped into the massive living room at the front of the house. Across from the entrance were four large windows that went nearly to the ceiling, and a set of French doors led out to the spacious balcony overlooking the tiny front yard.

  Deep reddish-brown hardwood floors ran throughout the apartment, and the vaulted ceilings rounded out the comfortable setting. The living room was huge, and a massive burgundy Persian rug covered most of the floor. A comfy looking deep brown leather couch sat against the wall. At the far end were four wing chairs, three of which were clustered around a small table overflowing with beautiful leather tomes, notebooks, and pens.

  At the other end of the room was a large oak desk with a red leather office chair and two others in front. The desk was clean, with a box holding a few papers on one side, three framed pictures on the other, and a centerpiece of a glass case containing what looked to be a sapphire about the size of my fist.

  I took in the photos on the desk with a curious glance. The one on the far left was of my father, mother, and me. The second was a black and white photo of a dark-skinned woman with amazing eyes, clean jawline, and delicate features…one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. It was hard to take my eyes off her. Finally, though, I moved on to the next, where my uncle, the woman, and a man I’d never seen before were having dinner.

  Andrew pointed toward the stairs and smiled. “If you plan on playing the National Anthem tonight, let me know so I can find my ear plugs.”

  I chuckled. “No, don’t worry. I haven’t got it in me this evening. I’m beat…but you’d mentioned something about the possibility of food.”

  Andrew nodded. “I did. Are leftovers okay?”

  It had been a very long time since I’d had real food on a regular basis. “That sounds divine.”

  Andrew stopped suddenly and turned. “I’ve got to ask.” He was quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’m really glad you’re here, but it’s been awhile since your last visit. Is everything all right?”

  I felt an impulse to unburden myself and tell him everything, but that wasn’t going to happen. Still, I struggled with the urge for another second before I could focus and form a complete thought. “I’m sorry about not visiting before, but my work’s kept me very busy.”

  Beads of sweat popped into view at the edge of his hairline, and he frowned slightly. He waved for me to follow as he made his way to the kitchen. “And what kind of work is that, exactly?”

  There it was again, the compulsion to tell him everything…but how could I? I hadn’t exactly been employed by the warm and fuzzy bunny brigade. “Just work. Overseas, mostly…” Exclusively. I hadn’t been back on US soil in nearly twenty years. “But that’s over now. That’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

  The kitchen was spacious, with a massive restaurant-sized stainless-steel Viking gas stove and a double-wide matching refrigerator on the opposite wall. Terracotta tiles covered the room. In the far corner, next to the window overlooking the neighbors, was a small breakfast table and four chairs. Again, one was against the far wall and three sat around the table.

  Andrew set to work pulling leftovers out of the refrigerator. “I hope you like red beans and rice.”

  I patted my stomach. “If you made them, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

  He ladled rice and beans into two bowls and placed them in the microwave. “Okay, son, tell me what’s going on.”

  Again, the need to come clean swept over me. What the hell? Was this what happened around family? Whatever the reason, it’d already gotten old. I wasn’t about to confess my sins to anyone, but especially not him. If he ever found out about me, I’d lose the only person I had left in my life. And yet, I couldn’t stop the next words from falling out of my mouth. “I got fired.”

  Andrew blinked at me in disbelief. “Care to elaborate?”

  My mind wanted to betray me, but I quickly locked that desire in a small room without a key. “The world around me changed, and I didn’t.”

  Andrew raised an eyebrow, but painted a smile onto his face. “That’s remarkably vague.”

  I fought back a frown at the disappointment in his voice. “I suppose it is. Can we just say that my services were no longer needed?”

  The microwaved beeped, and Andrew turned to pull the bowls out. Setting one in front of me and the other next to him, he nodded as he put his hand on mine. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”

  I sat back, looked at the food then at my uncle, and lied. “I’m fine.”

  He smiled. “You’re sure?”

  I pulled the bowl closer to me, unconsciously wrapping an arm around it. “Yeah, but I could use a place to sleep. I don’t have a house here, and I’d rather not stay at a hotel.”

  Truth be told, I didn’t feel safe anywhere else.

  He reached out and patted my arm. “Not a problem. I have a spare room you could use.”

  I blushed. “It’s not a matter of money. I’ve got three decades worth of pay I haven’t touched, so I can afford a place, but I’d rather be here, if that’s okay.” Andrew frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I continued. “And before you ask again, yes, I’m fine. I’m healthy, I’m not dying or anything. I just miss
...” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. It was silly to say I missed family. My parents had died long ago, and I barely knew my uncle.

  Andrew took a bite of his beans and grinned. “It’s good to have you home. Besides, there are a few things around here that need tending to. That is, if you have the time.”

  Relief swept over me. “I’ve got plenty of that. Thanks.”

  Andrew beamed. “I have one more question.”

  “Shoot.” I shoved another spoonful of food into my mouth.

  Andrew didn’t take his eyes off me. “You obviously could’ve gone anywhere in the world. Why here?”

  I took a deep breath and thought how best to answer the question. “I needed to see family, and you’re all I’ve got. I’ve missed the feeling of being at home, of being safe.” Shit. That last bit had just slipped out.

  “No wife or kids?” Andrew asked.

  Right. I shook my head. “There’ve been women, of course, just no one special, and as far as I know, no children.”

  Andrew nodded as a big smile slipped into place. “I’m glad you’re here. Finish your food, and the guest room is down the hall on the left.”

  Shoving another bite into my mouth, I nodded. “I remember.”

  Andrew eyed my bowl. “Want some more? I have plenty.”

  My stomach was already feeling stretched to its limits, and I rubbed my gut. “I think I’ll save my appetite for breakfast.”

  Andrew grinned and gestured at the door. “Go put your bag away, grab a shower, and meet me in the living room for a civilized dessert.”

  Groaning, I leaned back in my chair and shook my head. “I’m not really into sweets.”

  Andrew pointed. “That wasn’t a request. Get cleaned up, and come see me when you’re done.”

  I chuckled and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Andrew shooed me out. “Well, get going.”