On Monday mornings, I send out a story via email: ultra-brief tales of 1,000 words or more, usually in genres including horror, science fiction, and the supernatural. Those stories collectively are called Once Upon A Time. I’ve also published several ebooks and compendium volumes of those stories so far.

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Here's story 206, of 240 so far.

At Your Service

Cartwright always felt relieved when he checked into the hotel. He travelled on business extensively, and this city above all was a very regular destination. Sometimes he visited for only a single night, but more often his stays would stretch to a week or even two.

Every time he arrived through the elaborate front doors, a street porter discreetly accompanying him with his luggage, he would see the face of the concierge.

The man was of that indeterminate age somewhere between forty and sixty, impeccably attired, and to Cartwright’s eye he always looked preternaturally alert, as though he had only recently began his duty shift after a long and refreshing rest. But equally, Cartwright had never known him not to be there, no matter the hour of day or night.

“Mr. Cartwright, what a pleasure it is to see you again,” the concierge said immediately, smiling at exactly the right intensity to convey warmth and welcome without straying into a lack of formality or deference. It was an art, Cartwright mused to himself, which this man had clearly perfected.

“Good evening, and thank you,” Cartwright replied, approaching the heavily polished wooden counter which glowed under the tasteful and yellow-toned lighting. Truly, it was like coming home.

“Your usual suite is ready, and I’ve taken the liberty of completing the formalities on your behalf,” the concierge said. “It would be my great pleasure to show you to your room, if that is your wish.”

“I really couldn’t trouble you with such a task,” Cartwright gently protested, but it was a performance; the next line in the prescribed dialogue. The concierge smiled once more, already moving from behind the counter.

“It would be no trouble at all,” the man replied.

The elevator was from another age, and the hallways were grand but in a decorous sort of way. On the sole occasion that the three men — Cartwright, the concierge, and a lobby porter — encountered one of the housekeeping staff, the young woman in question actually curtseyed. Cartwright was fairly sure the gesture was intended for the concierge instead of himself.

“And here we are once more,” the concierge said when they reached the door to the suite Cartwright usually stayed in. It was by no means the hotel’s largest or most luxurious offering, but Cartwright was always made to feel as if he were the very owner of the establishment, returning to a loyal and trusted household staff.

“I’m glad to be back,” he said as he was ushered into the suite, giving voice to the sentiment, and the concierge gave a small bow.

“Never as glad as we, sir,” the concierge said, directing the silent porter entirely unnecessarily, and then dismissing the younger man the moment that Cartwright’s luggage was suitably placed.

“Might there be anything else you require this evening?” the concierge asked, hands clasped in a gesture of patience and attention. “Perhaps a dining reservation, or some entertainment?”

Cartwright considered the question, thinking through his schedule. “I believe that dinner is the first priority, but perhaps here in the room. I’m rather too tired to go out after travelling.”

The concierge nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll have a menu sent up in a few minutes, or chef can prepare anything at all that you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Cartwright replied. “And then there’s the matter of my meeting tomorrow. It’s with the mayor’s cousin; the one in the construction business, by the name of Sutherland.”

“I’m familiar with the gentleman,” the concierge replied. “I can arrange transportation at any time you require.”

Cartwright shook his head now. “I apologise, but I’ve been unclear,” he said. “I’d like you to arrange the meeting itself, and I’d prefer it to take place here also. I understand that you have suitable private facilities.”

The concierge gave one of his measured smiles. “Excellent, sir. We have a well-equipped executive business centre and meeting rooms on the third floor, all soundproof and without surveillance. I’ll reserve the area, and contact the other party’s representatives to make arrangements. I assume you’d like to meet as soon as possible.”

“Quite so,” Cartwright said. “Tomorrow morning, I think, and I’d like to have the room supplied with beverages and light refreshments, and perhaps some fresh flowers to brighten the place up. Some staff to serve. And all with the utmost discretion, of course.”

The concierge placed his right hand upon the chest of his own uniform. “Discretion is our watchword always, sir. I shall see to it with diligence, and without delay.”

Cartwright smiled in satisfaction. “Splendid. I must express my sincere gratitude, and beg your indulgence with one final request at the moment.”

“I stand ready, sir,” the concierge said, fairly radiating alacrity.

“When I am informed tomorrow of Mr. Sutherland’s arrival, I should like to have him escorted to the meeting room ahead of me. I would also very much appreciate his tea or coffee being laced with an untraceable toxic substance known to cause cardiac arrest. At the conclusion of our meeting, emergency medical services should be alerted, but only after a crucial delay of several minutes. And then the proper authorities will have to become involved, I’m afraid.”

The concierge nodded again. “Of course, sir. Might I suggest the provision of an alibi, as a precaution? We offer an excellent late breakfast in the dining room downstairs, in the presence of many members of staff and other guests.”

“That would be marvellous,” Cartwright replied. “Your hospitality continues to be unmatched.”

“I am, as ever sir, at your service,” the concierge said with a final small bow, and then he departed without another word.

JINX

KESTREL face a new and terrifying enemy: an all-seeing mastermind who already knows exactly who they are, and many of their deepest secrets. Nothing stays hidden forever, and the line between privacy and liberty is razor-thin…

Book 3 in the KESTREL action-thriller series.

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