The Man in the Tall Tower

‘Who did this?’ April whispered far too loudly, waving a handkerchief soaked in God knows what wildly in front of her as I attempted to shush her through a smirk. In the two years we had both worked for this catering business, I don’t think we had worked an event like this. We had walked up the seemingly never-ending gravel path through the grounds with all our equipment, only to be completely swamped in the shadow of the mansion. The outside was impressive on its own, period windows covered the three stories of maintained brickwork, but my eyes were drawn to the left of the place, with a Disney villain-looking tower looming over it. The inside was something out of Downton Abbey, the hallways littered with paintings from artists I had never heard of, rooms covered in antique pots and busts, all framed with lavish velvet curtains and rugs made of animals I wasn’t even sure of, spaces clearly meant for impulsive, Victorian-esque proclamations of unrequited love.

It wasn’t even made clear to the company what this party was for. Whatever it was, a birthday or an engagement or whatever, so little effort had been made you would have thought this was just a normal day. In fact, there were no personalised decorations at all, the estate was left mostly as I assume it would have been pre soiree, with only a few balloons and wordless gold banners strung about in random locations around the house. But one thing these people did right for a celebration though, was the food. I don’t think I had ever worked an event where someone had asked us for our most expensive package until now, tables as long as the largest rooms strewn with steaks, lobsters, caviar, basically any food you would associate with the upper class, but all found much later half eaten on expensive china plates. The amount of china and crystal in this place was breath-taking, but the sheer number of expensive-sounding crashes heard that night would have made anyone cringe. The team had spent the majority of the night sweeping and replacing food that had been carelessly thrown away, pouring wine that cost more per glass than I was earning for the night, only for that same glass to be toppled over by an over-enthusiastic drunken mogul minutes later.

But it had finally reached the end of the night, most of the team were tiredly trudging home while a few of us had drawn the short straw, and as exhausted as we were, we had to stay behind. I had quickly realised that this was no regular clean up job, as April was already waving the next napkin she found around, coated in yet another liquid a completely different colour than the first. We had been stationed to clean up a place I had heard the guests refer to as the ‘drawing room’, just down a hallway from the industrial-sized kitchen the team had been using as a base. But now the remainder of the team were elsewhere trying to clean up the extensive mess, while the few remaining guests had taken over the kitchen with the people who lived here, muffled sounds of drinking clinking and laughter only just breaking through the music emanating down the hallway, as they presumably congratulated themselves on being such great hosts and hostesses.

The drawing room, as April and I had discovered, was an absolute state. It was somehow even worse than the main ballroom. The floor was covered in cigar ash and whiskey, from what was probably the pensive smoking and drinking that came with business conversations. The burning in my throat from the scotch-soaked carpet was still making me cough as I made a feeble attempt to mop it up with the paper towels I was provided with.

April sighed, pulling at a ripped curtain covering one of the windows, torn from a drunken escapade. ‘This is going to take fucking ages.’

‘You’re telling me.’ I waved my paper towels at her, coughing more in the process. ‘Who even are these people?’

She stopped what she was doing then, furrowing her brow, and turning to face me. ‘You don’t know?’ I raised my eyebrows at her and shrugged my shoulders. The pure speed of food and drink deliveries all night meant that we hadn’t had any time for breaks and hadn’t worked in the same section up until now, so there had been little chance to talk.

She rolled her eyes. ‘How have you not heard everyone talking all night? They’re the Langston family, come from money, businesses in mining or some shit.’ I stared at her. ‘What? I’ve been stationed in here all night! Drunk people talk loud!’

April renowned nosiness had really reached a new level, but I couldn’t stop myself from listening as she reeled off her spoils of information, scraping chicken bones into a bin bag. ‘Anyway, they give off some really weird vibes. From what I could gather, there’s like, I don’t know, ten of them? Obviously Grandpa and Grandma who own all the mines, I think their son and daughter with their significant others, and the other four are the little shits that have been running around.’ She had never been one for children in the years I had known her. She had literally pretended to have funerals for about six grandparents to avoid any kids’ parties we were working. She was lucky that the boss wasn’t exactly Albert Einstein.

‘How many guests are left?’ I asked her, thinking that there were definitely more than that last time I had to sneak sheepishly into the kitchen to get cleaning supplies. She looked as if she was trying to think, and then gave up, sneaking cartoon style out of the room. I heard her tip-toeing down the hallway, poking her head through the door seconds later.

‘Eleven.’ She whispered, far too loudly. ‘Including the family.’

‘That’s weird. Why would only one guest still be there on their own with them.’

She shrugged, still just a head and shoulders levitating through the door. ‘Maybe they are like an uncle, or a close friend or something.’

I sighed, realising I was getting far too caught up in April's busybody antics. I didn’t get paid enough to care about this sort of thing. I tried to get back to cleaning the floor. ‘I’m sure it’s fine. We need to get this done if we want to leave sometime tonight.’

She nodded, looking a little disappointed now that I wasn’t as interested in her gossip, and we cleaned with more personal, friendly conversation. The team members from the other sections kept coming in to say goodbye, their much cleaner sections taking less time than this bomb site. We had finally made a dent, playing rock-paper-scissors for who would have to tell the hosts about the ripped curtain when we heard something loud come from the kitchen.

April jumped, looking towards the door. ‘Was that a scream?’

I looked where she was looking, heart beating a little faster than before. ‘Maybe they’re just messing around?’

A second rang through the hallway. It was a man as far as I could tell, and it sounded genuine.

‘Maybe we should check it out.’ April started walking towards the door, before I grabbed her arm to stop her.

‘And why would be do that? Are you crazy?’ I was not about to go out there and experience whatever was happening out there. But when April shrugged my hand off of her, and quietly left the room to head to the kitchen, I knew that, to have a clear conscience, I had to follow her.

I built up the courage to leave the scream-less comfort of the drawing room, looking down towards the kitchen to see April hid behind a side table. I’m not sure how effective she thought that would be, since anyone leaving that room would instantly see the eyes, forehead and black ponytail sticking out, but still I speed walked down hallways to join her. We crouched together, staring at the sliver of kitchen we could see through the open door. A weird, squelching sound was coming from it.

‘Do you think this is good enough?’ A croaky, shaky mans voice made me stop breathing.

‘It has to be. It’s the only one we have.’ Another voice rang out, another man. You could hear the frustration.

‘But what if he doesn’t like it?’

‘He’s never not liked them before, I’m sure he’s not going to start now.’

April jumped forward, a determined look on her face. ‘No!’ I called out, hushed as I could muster, as she reached the kitchen door, looking back at me with her fingers to her lips. I rolled my eyes. Why was her nosiness going to get us into trouble? What if the family complained about us to the company and got us fired? But I couldn’t just leave her alone. And I knew I had to join her at the door when she backed away slightly, hand over her mouth as if stifling her own voice.

I brought myself reluctantly to the door, April backing away more as if to give me space to look. As I peered through the crack, I finally realised what she had seen: a body. It was on the floor, maimed beyond recognition, somehow unheard above the cheery music. A middle aged man was standing next to it covered in blood, holding what looked like a butchers knife. The adults of the family also stood around it, looking pensively as if thinking about what to do with it.

‘It’ll have to do. We don’t have any more time.’ One of the women piped up, obviously making their decision for them, and moving towards the body to try and pick it up. She grabbed at the legs, straining. The man with the knife put it down on the side and went over to help her.

The old man rolled his eyes, not completely happy with the decision. ‘Fine. But its my business that will suffer, not yours.’ He started to walk, slowly, towards the back of the room, and through a door, leaving it open. The rest of the family followed them, The two carrying the body close behind.

‘Are they gone?’ April was quiet, with a shake in her voice. I looked towards her to see her face had gone paler, eyes wide as she looked at me.

‘Yeah. They’re gone.’ I said softly. I tried to rub her shoulder, but it came out more as an awkward tap. ‘I think we should leave. Maybe call the police.’

‘But what are they doing with the body?’

I sighed. Even in this state she still wanted to know what was going on. ‘I really don’t think we want to know.’

‘Aren’t the keys in there?’

I had started walking away from the door, but stopped. I turned back towards her. ‘What?’

‘Your car keys. You left them in the kitchen. We need them to leave.’

I really didn’t want to go in there. The metallic smell of blood was already diffusing out into the hallway. And what if they came back? I gritted my teeth. ‘Urgh, of course. Fine, I’ll be quick.’

The door creaked as I opened it. I cringed, trying to open it as little as possible to step inside. The blood formed a splattered pool on the floor, and avoiding it became difficult the further I ventured in. I jumped about, stepping in every single clean white space available until I reached my keys at the other side of the room. My morbid curiosity made me look towards the door the body had just been dragged through, being faced with only a wooden staircase, old and scratched, reaching around into a spiral. A deep vibration came from upstairs.

‘Wait, where are you going?’ April called gently through the door. I didn’t realise I was already six stairs up, almost at the point where it starts to curve. I looked at her without knowing what to say. She carried on calling to me, the urgency and worry growing in her voice, as I began to climb the stairs again. Even as I reached a thick wooden door I couldn’t stop myself, my hand reaching out to the handle and pulling it, revealing myself to the room in a dramatic, slow fashion. The family looked at me, body now in pieces, more blood splattered across each of the surprised look on their faces. Someone floated above them, almost ethereal, covered in a black coat and bowler hat. I looked up into its eyes, realising why the family had looked so calm with that body, why they had dragged it up here, that they had held this party before. It looked towards me, evil dancing in its eyes, and smiled.