Ian then took his focus from gazing out at the docks to looking all around the restaurant as he thought, Zoey was right. There’s certainly a number of ‘regular folks’ in here, but there’s also a lot of … Ian became distracted and lost his train of thought as he glanced across the table at Zoey, who was beautiful to him in so many ways. Ian had an epiphany then; he’d been a closet bigot all of his life. He silently vowed to make a genuine effort to stop judging people based on their looks, whether conventional or unconventional. And the most shameful self-realization of all, judging on race or sexual persuasion.
Ian had been, for the most part, one who believed in judging individuals by their merits. Ian was at the core a scientist with degrees in zoology, anthropology, and paleontology, a man who understood that intellectually, racial bigotry or any form of homophobia was totally illogical and absolutely unfounded. But he also knew that once in a great while, he had his bad moments regarding usually well-suppressed, preconditioned attitudes due primarily to his upbringing. Ian’s mother referred to most people of color in less than flattering vernacular, and touted heavily biased and prejudicially spun out of context biblical scripture regarding homosexuals. Ian thought of his mother for a moment. Mom … She would have been the quintessential female version of Archie Bunker. What a loveable bigot she was.
Ian smiled slightly as he continued reflecting on how far he’d already come in his goal of trying to be a better person. I can honestly say that besides Scout, my best male friend in the world is Charlie Redtail, a Native American, and he’s without a doubt in every way ... the most honorable man I’ve ever known.
“So what’s got you smiling?” Zoey asked as she glanced up from looking over her menu.
Ian shrugged his shoulders as he replied, “Oh, I was just thinking about personal growth and the paths our lives take us. And that I’m definitely a work in progress. But mainly that ... I’m just glad to be here with you.”
Zoey smiled big as she replied, “Well, that’s pretty heavy.” She giggled for a second before continuing, “But seriously, occasionally being introspective and taking stock of oneself is a good thing ... At least that’s what my uncle Clayton tells me ... a lot. Anyway, I’m happy to be here with you, too!” Ian marveled at Zoey’s word choice and wisdom as he silently mused, There’s certainly more to this girl than meets the eye.
Zoey cleared her throat and continued. “Uh, um. Okay, you should take a peek at your menu. I’m pretty sure the waitress that keeps glancing over at us while waiting on other tables is gonna be with us soon.”
Ian didn’t reply but nodded his head in agreement as he picked up his menu and began studying it. After only seconds, he placed his menu back down on the table. Zoey did the same.
“Wow, that was quick. You know what you want?” Zoey asked as she stared into Ian’s eyes.
Ian replied, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”
Zoey happily blurted out, “I’m gonna have their fettuccini alfredo with scallops. Their fettuccini is awesome.”
Ian grinned and replied, “That does sounds good. But I think I’m going with a good ‘ole cheeseburger. The bleu cheese bacon burger to be precise. I’ve been eating so much seafood lately, a change of pace sounds good to me.”
Zoey smiled then said, “It’s a good thing I’m a seafood nut ‘cause around these parts, well, when in Rome.”
Ian nodded slowly as he replied, “Yeah, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Astoria … do as the … astronauts do?” Zoey and Ian both laughed.
“Hello. Happy Halloween. Welcome to the Soggy Dog.” the waitress exclaimed as she approached their table. She was a young gal, obviously in her early twenties, cute and petite, with long, medium-brown hair with blonde-streaked highlights, pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a black Soggy Dog logo printed t-shirt and black, denim jeans. Ian noticed right away that she was wearing large earrings fashioned to look like Jack-o-lanterns, and an inverted bull-ring style septum nose piercing.
“My name’s Madison, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you started with a drink? Today, we’re featuring our galactically famous Indian Pale Ale for just $3.75 a pint.”
Zoey glanced at Ian and flashed him a smile while nodding. Ian smiled at their waitress. “Yes. I mean, that sounds perfect! We’ll both have the special, the Pale Ales. And I think we’ve already decided on what we want to order for food.”
Madison smiled as she replied, “Sure, great. Shoot.”
Ian looked at Zoey as he spoke. “Shall I order for us?” Zoey nodded.
He continued, “Okay, the lady will have your fettuccini alfredo with scallops, and I’m going to have your bleu cheese bacon burger.”
Madison asked, “How would you like your burger cooked?”
“Uh … medium well would be great.” Ian said with a smile.
Madison continued, “Can I bring you two some salads before your entrees?”
Ian looked over at Zoey, who was nodding. “Yeah. A couple of house salads sounds good. I’ll have the bleu cheese dressing.”
Ian glanced at Zoey, who spoke up, “I’d love a light vinaigrette.”
Madison smiled as she replied, “Perfect!” She turned to go place their food orders, but then paused and asked, “Say, will you guys be staying for the band, The Stilettos? They start at 9:00. I hear they’re really good. They’re a band from Cannon Beach. I just read their promo sheet. It says they play mostly R and B. If you’re already inside before 9:00, you won’t have to pay the ten dollar per person cover charge.”
Ian smiled at Madison, “Well, much as I … we … would like to, we’re committed to being elsewhere tonight ... just down the street, in fact.” He looked outside towards Salizzar’s.
Madison nervously looked around to see what ears might be listening. Satisfied that nobody could hear, she spoke very quietly, with an excited look on her face, “Are you guys going to The Morgue tonight?” Ian raised his eyebrows before he sheepishly nodded.
Madison continued, “So am I. When I get off work at ten that is. I’m meeting two girlfriends there. I’ve never had the guts to go in there before. I mean, the stories ya hear about the place. But no way they could be true. The flyer that they’ve put all over town says they’ve got some Portland death metal band playing there tonight. The band’s called Sons A Witches. Anyway, it should be fun. I’ll see you there.”
Madison turned and briskly went off to turn in their orders and get them their beers.
Ian looked over at Zoey, who was slowly shaking her head. Ian felt as though Zoey was reading his mind; she knew that he desperately wanted to tell their waitress to stay the hell away from that place, especially tonight. But Ian also knew that he couldn’t say anything of the sort. Not without potentially seriously jeopardizing, if not totally destroying their cover.
Ian looked at Zoey as he spoke. “I guess we need to make some kind of tentative plan for once we’re in the place tonight.”
“Yeah, at least some kind of plan would be good.”
Ian took a deep breath. Then all at once, his face took on a serious expression as he spoke. “Okay, here goes.”
Zoey scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned in towards Ian in response to his hand gesture to draw her nearer so he could speak in little more than a whisper.
Ian continued, “If Salizzar or any of his cronies are behind the recent murders and rash of missing persons, then there must be a reason for it beyond just a crazy lunatic serial killer doing it for some twisted sexual gratification or to get back at his mother for … Well, you know what I mean.” Zoey nodded.
Ian took another deep breath, exhaled, and once again continued to expound his theory and plan. “Salizzar is a guy who’s such an obvious prime suspect, he has got to be up to something much larger than any killer that kills simply for the thrill of it. And I mean something much larger than just running a nightclub for Goths and vampire role players to lure in victims to kill for sick kicks. I think he’s got a specific agenda. I think
he’s in the – for lack of better description – the business of supplying blood and body organs through most likely an ultra-sophisticated black market network. I’ve even considered that he might be into white slavery, but due to the mounting body count, I think it’s even sicker and more twisted than that.”
Though Zoey said nothing in response, Ian saw for the first time a trace of noticeable fear on her face.
After a short pause, Ian continued, “I think this guy Salizzar – man, monster, or myth, whatever you want to call him – I think he’s supplying others like him all around the world, in addition to supplying ultra-rich people who can afford to buy blood products or body organs for transplants without having to go on any waiting list.”
Just then, their waitress, Madison, arrived to their table with their beers and said, “Okay, let me know if you like the beer. Your food should be up in just a few minutes.” She smiled then turned and briskly walked to another table.
Ian immediately took a sip of his beer. He winced ever so slightly in reaction to its bitter hop flavor. He’d never been a big beer enthusiast.
Ian cleared his throat then continued, “Uh, um, anyway, I think Salizzar’s got himself a factory going on in the basement of his club. With all that we saw yesterday, it would be a perfect set up. Bone saws, walk-in subzero freezer, all stainless steel countertops and sinks with high-pressure washer-sprayers. I think he’s collecting blood and body parts, packaging them, and selling them to vampire-like wackos and maybe witch covens. People into cannibalism maybe. Very likely, he supplies people who need human organs and can pay to get them totally off the grid. Little doubt he’ll sell his products to anyone who’s able to pay his price and keep totally silent lest they quickly wind up dissected themselves. My guess is he sets up a factory for a very limited time, does his thing, makes a number of fast millions, then per his pre-planned exit strategy, he and his people disappear without a trace. When a guy’s as well-funded and connected as it appears to me that he is, he can almost instantly become a ghost besides being a blood sucker.”
Zoey gasped a bit, then took a three-gulp drink of beer. She slowly set her beer glass down, her hand was trembling slightly. After a few uncomfortably long silent seconds had passed, she finally spoke. “Oh … my … God! If you’re even half right about any of it, he’s gotta be stopped. Ian, we’ve gotta do what we can to stop him.”
Ian slowly nodded as he panned his eyes around at the tables near them to see if Zoey’s small outburst had drawn any attention. It hadn’t seemed to. The music in the place was at the perfect volume to allow for discreet table conversation.
“Now, whether I’m right or not as far as a plan for tonight, I feel we’ve got to, for our own protection, operate under the assumption of worst case scenario that I’m, like you said, even half right. Under that assumption, I feel we should …” Ian paused mid-sentence as the man who had gone to the men’s room just minutes before walked past them to his table, which also sparked Ian’s thought.
Ian continued, “As for tonight, we can’t be separated any more than necessary, for lots of obvious reasons. I think at least some of the abductions probably occurred right in the club itself. I’ve been thinking that over and over in my mind. I always come up with the same …” He stopped again as Zoey, who’d been staring unwaveringly into his eyes, suddenly turned her attention behind him as she spotted their waitress, Madison, who was rapidly heading towards them with their food.
“Here, guys. I hope you enjoy!” Madison exclaimed as she set their food down onto their table. “Can I get you anything else?” Ian had already noted that there was already ketchup, mustard, and Tabasco sauce at the table.
After looking at Zoey and seeing that she smiled and shook her head, Ian replied, “No, I think we’ve got all we need, at least for now.”
Madison flashed Ian a bright smile, then turned and headed off towards the kitchen.
Ian took another even larger drink of his beer, this time with seemingly no displeased reaction to the beer’s strong hop flavor. He smiled as he glanced at his glass, then looked back at Zoey and continued, “This isn’t bad. Kinda grows on ya. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. I think we should concentrate somewhat on the restrooms. Primarily the lady’s room.”
Zoey looked at Ian with a confused expression before interjecting, “The restrooms …?”
Ian fired back, “Yeah. Where else does a person leave their date and go, usually more than once throughout an evening, more than to the restroom? That is if their date’s of the opposite sex, that is.” Ian smiled, and Zoey rolled her eyes while she giggled. Ian continued, “Granted, often women will go to the lady’s room in couples or even in groups. And presumably in a club like that, there will be couples of all genders doing all sorts of things in both bathrooms. But still … some … a lot will go alone, right? And when they do, once inside a private stall with all kinds of commotion going on and a background of loud music from the sound system or a band …” Zoey suddenly got the mental picture Ian was painting.
“My God, Ian. You might be right. What if there’s some kind of trap door or something in the bathroom stalls in the women’s … well, and maybe in the men’s room too for that matter. And …”
Ian interrupted, “People are being shanghaied at least down to the basement for exsanguination and dissection.”
Zoey covered her mouth as she exclaimed, “Good God, do you really think so?” Ian solemnly nodded twice.
He continued, “Something like that. A doorway behind the toilet that someone could grab a person from behind or a trap door in the floor that would suddenly drop an unsuspecting victim. Either way would serve as a perfect way to quickly abduct and disappear a person.” Zoey again nodded her head in response to Ian’s theory. “Oh shit ... I just thought of something.”
Zoey looked deep into Ian’s eyes as she spoke. “What?”
Ian continued, “I just remembered that I forgot that police scanner that Ned gave me. It’s back in the ... it’s in my Jeep. Oh well, we probably won’t be just sitting around listening to it anyway.” Zoey nodded in agreement.
After nearly a minute of silence, Zoey said, “Anyway Ian, about what you were talking about before. All anyone working at the club would have to say to any waiting boyfriend or girlfriend that might go looking around the club for their missing partner would be something like, ‘I think they left cause they got sick.’ Or, ‘I think I saw them leave with another person.’ Or, ‘We didn’t see a thing.’ Shit, whatever. Nobody would be the wiser.”
Ian didn’t say another word for a couple of long, silent moments. He just sat thinking over his theory. As terrifying as it was, it made sense.
After a few long seconds passed, Zoey took a deep breath, exhaled, and spoke. “Ian, what you told me before about what happened in that town … What was it called, Harmony Falls, I believe you said?”
Ian replied, “Yeah, that’s right.”
Zoey continued, “Well, I too am willing to keep an open mind about what you call extreme possibilities. For certain, I believe there’s much more going on in this world than meets the eye. And I believe in you. What I’m trying to say is, I believe something clearly unimaginably horrific happened to you and your friend Charlie. And you guys took care of business the only way you could. End of story. Now all that said, it’s time we get out of here, walk up the block, and go and kick some vampire ass. Do we, like, need any special weapons ... like wooden stakes or holy water? Stuff like that?”
Ian bit his lip and raised his eyebrows while shrugging in response to Zoey’s question all the while thinking to himself, Christ, according to Clayton, stuff like that wouldn’t even help. Although it sure as shit took silver bullets back at Harmony Falls. Let’s hope that Glock 9mm counts for something.
CHAPTER 20
All Hallows Eve (II)
Standing at the top of a long, wide, Z-shaped ramp that led up to the second floor, then forward to the front door of The Morgue, was a very tall, extremely f
ormidable-looking, middle-aged black man. He had pronounced streaks of gray concentrated around his temples, which sharply contrasted the mostly deep ebony color of his heavily product-enhanced hair.
This near giant of a man was nattily dressed in a black silk tuxedo, white wing-collar shirt, and a thin black leather bowtie. Over his shirt, he wore a long, impressively substantial, serpentine-link gold chain, which had a large, presumably solid gold pendent designed to look like brass knuckles. The mammoth-sized man also wore large, diamond-stud earrings, one in the lobe of each ear. His eyes were perfectly hidden behind very dark lenses held within also likely solid gold wire frame sunglasses. The imposing way the man posed himself with his massive arms crossed left no doubt that he was at least one of the club’s bouncers and likely one of Salizzar’s personal bodyguards.
The huge bouncer’s tuxedo coat, though an obvious nicely-tailored fit, was ever so slightly draping roomier on the left side than the right. Ian quickly deduced that the bouncer was likely packing more than just sheer muscle.
There was a very lengthy line of people waiting for their chance to get invited past the red velvet rope gate that served as a gateway to the front door and forward to the elevator beyond.
Ian quickly observed that unless you were a beautiful, Playmate-esque, pseudo Elvira Mistress Of The Dark vampiric type, or your name was among those on the clip-board list which was wielded like it had magic power by a pale-skinned dwarf, convincingly costumed from head to foot in the attire of a medieval court jester, getting inside was going to be challenging to say the least.
Ian couldn’t keep from staring at the freakishly pale, bordering on semi-transparent Lilliputian, who even in the very low light appeared to have tiny, bulging blue veins that spider-webbed all around his forehead and cheeks.
The dwarf’s appearance, though small in stature to the extreme, was to Ian nonetheless forebodingly frightening with his pointy ears, appendages that Ian reasoned had to have been surgically altered. And his teeth, though no larger than those of a child, appeared also to have been cosmetically fashioned to be like those of a shark, grotesquely filed to what appeared to be pin-point sharpness. All with the obvious intent of achieving the look of a devilishly demonic, folklorish, hell-spawn imp. There was something inexplicable about him, something mesmerizing that transcended just mere morbid fascination at the sight of the fiercely evil-looking elf.
Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2) Page 21