Chuck Roasts

Margaret bit enthusiastically into her burger, eyes almost rolling as the smoky flavor of the meat filled her mouth. Lines of red juice ran down her chin and dripped to the picnic table below but she was too absorbed to notice. She barely managed to stifle a groan at what was possibly the best burger she had ever eaten before she swallowed eagerly and continued her assault.

Charles Graymore, or Chuck, as his friends liked to call him, peered over the lid of his steaming BBQ with satisfaction. The sunny lawn was filled with people devouring his food; fat hot dogs and sausages, burgers, dripping ribs, and thick-cut steaks were in the hands of almost all his guests. Dark pleasure washed through him at the sight and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. His friends, neighbors, and co-workers were blissfully wolfing his deepest secret without a care in the world. The evidence was dribbling down their chins and smearing clean hands.

His smug contemplation was broken by his friend Tom who cuffed him on the shoulder while wielding a hotdog.

“I knew you were a great butcher, Chuck, but this takes the cake,” he said, the last few words disappearing around a huge bite. His face crumpled in a moan of enjoyment. “Where do you get your meat from again? It’s really something else.” The words came out a little thick.

“Here and there,” Chuck replied lightly, flipping a steak and listening to the hiss of juices. “But I can’t give too much away.”

Tom adopted a sobering expression.

“It’s hard to believe that just last week Annie and Harold were here. I feel so sorry for her. I guess the police haven’t been able to find any new leads on where Harold disappeared to, it’s the strangest thing.”

Chuck turned his head slightly so his friend wouldn’t see the unnerving smile that flashed for a moment. He knew exactly where Harold was. Turning back with a look of contrived dejection, he shrugged a shoulder.

“It is awful. I honestly didn’t know him too well; Annie introduced me last week. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I remember he kept complaining about the food.”

Tom looked uncomfortable.

“He wasn’t the most flattering of people, but –”

He was abruptly shoved out of the way by Margaret, who was brandishing her burger with an expression close to that of betrayal.

“A fingernail,” she hissed, shoving the half-eaten sandwich towards Chuck’s face. “Everyone spoke so highly of your cooking, Charles, but this is…this is…” in her indignation she seemed to be at a loss for words. Looking like a child having a tantrum, she threw the food at Chuck’s feet and stormed off, red-faced.

Chuck turned to Tom, who was looking bewildered at the exchange.

“A bit of gristle and this is how she behaves?” the butcher said, frowning at the woman’s rudeness.

It looked like he found the ingredients for next week’s BBQ.