by R L Delaney
For some time Justin was quite unable to speak as his mind was filled with turmoil and conflicting thoughts.
At last he stammered, "So… that's why Sternfoot has been acting so weird."
"And that's why Principal Rigby is covering for him," Amy added.
"Now I understand why Billy Bratmeyer was acting so weird," Justin went on. "Rigby put some sort of spell on him."
Amy looked up at Brother Perpetiël. "How come you know all these things? I thought you only found out about this when Father Gálvez called on your help when Detective Ames had to deal with Alfred Rodeo?"
Brother Perpetiël shook his head and even though it was too dark to clearly see his eyes, Justin could tell the man was almost overcome by sadness. When he spoke his voice had a somber ring to it. "We've known these things for quite some time. But we are not as powerful as you may think. We are always bound by the choices of men and cannot do as we please." He turned his glance to Justin and said, "It was only when you and your Uncle Harry got involved that we could start working. Do you remember the dream you had?"
Justin swallowed hard. "You mean that horrible dream about Sternfoot? I'll never forget that dream."
"We influenced your mind, young Justin. We gave you a glimpse of what was happening in the spiritual realm."
Justin's mouth hung open. He could not believe his ears.
"The Shadow Walkers had climbed into your house that night." Brother Perpetiël went on. "They were planning on messing with your mind, but we stopped them by causing a street dog to fall into the basement of your house."
Justin wasn't sure he was able to hear more and his eyes held an incredulous stare. "You caused Balthazar to fall in?"
Brother Perpetiël couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, Justin, we did. That dog caused so much racket that it woke up your father, and the Shadow Walker that was busy in your basement had to flee the scene."
For a long while nobody spoke.
At last Justin spoke up again. "W-What were they doing in our basement?"
"Messing with chemicals to influence your mind and to open you up to their vibes," Brother Perpetiël answered matter-of-factly. "But since that night, they realized breaking into houses was way too complicated, so they opted for a much easier way."
"What's that?"
"Monday night meetings for interested students."
Justin moaned and Amy let out a deep sigh. At last, Justin cried out, "We are in deep trouble…"
Brother Perpetiël raised his bushy eyebrows. "And that, my dear young ones, is why I was asked to bring you to the monastery."
"Why would you need us? What can we do?"
"Because we need the strength of youth to defeat the Shadow Walkers."
Amy tilted her head. She did not understand. "Why?" she asked. "Who has such power as you manifested?"
"We were looking for a faithful, enthusiastic young person who could stand in the gap, and instead of one… we found two."
"What do you mean 'stand in the gap?'" Amy asked.
Brother Perpetiël licked his lips and smiled. "I am asking both of you to be patient. When we are at the monastery, Brother Ezekiel will explain it all to you. He can do these things much better than I can."
"Who is Brother Ezekiel?" Justin queried.
"He's our Abbot," Brother Perpetiël answered in a simple manner. "The monastery consists of twelve monks of which I am the youngest. And we are led by Brother Ezekiel."
"You are the youngest?" Amy asked. "You are remarkably fit, but I wouldn't call you 'young.'"
Brother Perpetiël had to chuckle. "You are right, Amy. And that may explain in part why we are looking for enthusiastic young persons, such as Justin and yourself." He stopped and collected his thoughts before he went on. "You have the strength of youth. It's for those reasons the Shadow Walkers are also seeking to infiltrate the young people of Dewsbury."
"But what can we do? We are nothing." Amy objected, her voice so low Justin could barely even hear it.
"She is right, Mr. Perpetiël," Justin piped up. "To be honest, I am quite frightened by these Shadow Walkers. I don't think I can be of any use."
In spite of the darkness, Justin could see Brother Perpetiël's lips curling into a smile. The monk nodded and then spoke; his words soft. "I don't expect you to comprehend it all at this point. But trust me, we've had our eye on you, Justin, for quite some time now, and we do need your help to stop the dastardly plans of the Shadow Walkers."
Justin pressed his lips together. He still wanted to ask more, but he understood from Brother Perpetiël's words he should be patient, and for some time nobody spoke, and in the stillness that followed he realized the rain had stopped.
Brother Perpetiël noticed it too. He turned around and stared outside. "Look," he said in a cheerful voice, "The storm is over. We can continue our journey."
Without further ado, he got up and walked to the entrance of the cave. Just before he stepped outside Amy called out after him. There was one question she still wanted answered.
"Mr. Perpetiël."
"What?"
"Alvaro Ironbark…," she asked, "… what was his role in all this?"
Brother Perpetiël turned around and gave her a small nod. "He was one of the Shadow Walkers. But, he wanted out. He no longer wanted to play along with them. His conscience started to bother him. He became an obstacle and they had to get rid of him."
Amy let out a sigh. "Poor man."
It made sense.
Everything was becoming clear. All the puzzle pieces were falling into place, although Justin wasn't sure whether he should rejoice about his present circumstances, or whether he needed to run away as fast as he could. When he stared into Amy's eyes he could tell she was of the same opinion. But there was no time to think about these matters. Brother Perpetiël had already stepped out of the cave, and urged them to follow him. "Come on, young Justin and Amy… We still have a long way ahead of us."
When Justin stuck his head outside of the cave, the desire to run away or hide under a pile of rocks only became greater as he saw with his own eyes what had happened to the dry river bed. It no longer represented a safe gully through which one could travel. The storm had changed it into a wild, foaming stream, cascading down the mountain.
*Proverbs 27:20
* Ezekiel 22:30
Chapter Six
After Harrison had stumbled into the Police station, he dropped himself into the nearest chair he could find while he raked his hand through his hair. Poppy Alberts looked up from her desk, concern filling her eyes. "Are you all right, Mister Ames?"
Harrison cast her a droopy glance and nodded. "I-I suppose so."
Poppy Alberts got up and shook her head in such a determined manner that her long braid almost knocked down the pencil holder that was standing on her desk. "I'll get you a strong cup of coffee," she said, and without waiting for Harrison's approval she stepped over to the coffee machine and set to work.
Just as she was finished and handed Harrison the steaming brew, the door opened and Captain Devonshire entered. When he saw the detective slouched in the chair he raised his eyebrows, and a scowl formed on his face. "Come on, Harrison… we're all working ourselves to death, and you are just sipping coffee. Where have you been anyway?"
The detective did not even have the energy to properly answer the captain and just shrugged his shoulders. "Been visiting a suspect."
Devonshire, clearly not in a good mood, balanced impatiently before him. "What suspect?"
"Richard Sternfoot, the chemistry teacher at Dewsbury High."
Devonshire stared at Harrison for an instant and tilted his head. "Why would you go see Mr. Sternfoot? He's a well-respected member of our community?"
Harrison sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. "So was Alfred Rodeo, wasn't he?"
"Sternfoot is doing a lot of good," Devonshire shot back. "I never liked Rodeo."
Harrison scratched his forehead. How could he expect the captain to understand? For a m
oment he wondered whether or not he should tell him about the terrifying experience he just had at Sternfoot's house, but then he would also have to explain that he illegally broke into the place, and knowing how much of a stickler Devonshire was for doing things by the book, he decided against it. The worst thing was that he had no solid proof that Sternfoot was involved. All he had was speculation, nothing more. He looked up with tired eyes and mumbled, "Just thought Mr. Sternfoot might know something. That's all."
"And did he?" Devonshire fired back.
Harrison shook his head and mumbled almost inaudible, "He wasn't there."
Devonshire shook his head, irritation dripping off his face. "You are a good detective, Harrison, and what you did at the shoot-out was commendable, but I urge you to keep your mind focused on the things that really matter." He wrinkled his nose and pointed at his office. "Get up… This is not a time to sit back and slurp coffee."
Poppy Alberts, apparently feeling sorry, (or was it guilt?) stepped up. "I-It's my fault, Captain," she mumbled in an apologetic tone. "I thought he could use a cup. W-Would you maybe want a cup too?"
"No, Poppy," Devonshire hissed while he narrowed his eyes. "I do not."
Harrison gave Poppy a wry smile and handed her his empty cup, after which he followed Devonshire to his office.
Once there the captain raised both of his hands in utter frustration while pacing back and forth. "What are we going to do now? We still have no clue as to who killed Alvaro Ironbark, our only suspect has been shipped off to some weird monastery in the mountains, and this afternoon I am supposed to meet with the widow of Brian Ruiz. What am I going to tell her, huh?"
Harrison did not respond. He understood the pressure Devonshire was under.
"Well?" Devonshire tilted his head, expecting Harrison to bring some good news.
"Have you been to the Gym?" Harrison asked at last.
"To the Gym?" Devonshire stared with angry eyes at the detective. "Why would I go to the Gym? This is not the time to do work-outs either."
"I don't mean work-outs, Captain." Harrison licked his lips. It was clear he was not thinking straight. "Alfred Rodeo and Carl Billows are running the Gym. Carl Billows has acted rather shady from the day I first met him, and although I hardly believe he'll be around, we could get a warrant and search the place."
Devonshire stopped pacing, and thought it over. "Good thinking," he said at last. "Why don't you go down there and check the place out?" I'll get you the search warrant. Any other place we should look?"
"Dewsbury High," Harrison said without wavering. "Something sinister is brewing down there."
Devonshire narrowed his eyes. "What's that fascination you have for Dewsbury High? You've already been trying to talk to Mr. Sternfoot. Sometimes I think you are trying to make something out of nothing. There's just children there."
Harrison wrinkled his nose. "You may be surprised, Captain. My nephew told me about some really weird children there and—"
"—Of course there are weird children there," Devonshire bellowed. "It's a High School for crying out loud. Focus, Harrison! Focus! This is not about some unruly kids, Harrison. This is about a shootout and two killings."
Harrison pressed his lips together. Clearly the stress was getting too much for Devonshire. Telling the man all he had heard, witnessed and experienced would be useless at this stage. If he were to solve the mystery at all, he would have to solve it alone. He let out a sigh, and secretly wished Justin and Amy and the humongous monk were back to help him again.
"By the way," Devonshire continued, "there have been some reports trickling in about a strange hippie in a nightgown who is carrying a broomstick around and is screaming weird warnings."
"I have seen him," Harrison answered.
Devonshire raised his brows. "You have? What did he scream?"
Harrison licked his lips and told the inspector. "The dark one is coming. Save your children for they will be the first ones to go."
Captain Devonshire's expression changed from frustrated anger to one of disbelief. "Great. That's just what we need at this time. Some junky with a flipped-out mind." The captain stared at the ground for a moment and played with his wedding ring, while he thought things over. At last he said, "Go to the Gym, Harrison. See what you can find, and then arrest that lunatic with the broomstick. The people in Dewsbury are scared enough as it is. They do not need this kind of excitement."
Harrison pressed his lips together and sighed. "I'll go to the Gym, Captain… Just get me the search warrant."
Harrison really despised the pungent smell of sweat, mixed with scents of creams and healthy body lotions that overwhelmed him the moment he stepped through the glass door of the local Gym again. The noise of Crunch machines and Butt blasters, mixed with the grunts of sweaty exercisers, who were whipping their bodies into a better condition by tiring their overweight bodies, filled his ears. His brother's wife had told him on more than one occasion he should go to the Gym himself, as he was apparently getting a bit of a belly. Harrison, however, was convinced that the Gym was not for him. He didn't like these machines, he didn't like the music they were playing, nor the smell, and he didn't like having to walk around half naked so everyone could see the flabby skin he was trying to hide even from himself. Maybe he should get a dog like Balthazar.
Betty Carrington was again right at her post behind the reception desk, and stared with empty, bored eyes at Harrison when he walked in. This time she was dressed in a blue training suit sporting the logo of Equinox, the power drink the gym was advertising.
"Hello, Betty," Harrison said while he forced a grand smile on his face. "How are you today?"
She stared at him with suspicious green eyes and twirled a lock of her blond hair in between her fingers. "What can I do for you, Detective?"
"The same thing as last time. I was hoping to speak with Carl Billows."
She shook her head. "He hasn't been around for some time. Ever since the day the police arrested Mr. Rodeo, I have not seen him."
"You don't know where he is?"
"No," she answered in a flat tone and began studying her nails. "And since Mr. Rodeo is in jail, there's nobody else you can talk to." Then she leaned forward and put on a coy smile. "Tell me, Detective… Is Mr. Rodeo all right?"
Harrison pressed his lips together. "Can't say anything about that, Betty. We are still in the middle of the investigation."
She nodded a little bit disappointed. Then she batted her long, dark eye lashes and tried one more time. "Is it true that he was having an affair with Pastor Biggin's wife…, you know, an affair that turned sour? I heard they had quite a thing going in the back of her car."
"Excuse me?" Harrison narrowed his eyes. "Where did you hear that?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Here at the Gym. I hear a lot of stuff. So it's true then?"
Harrison shook his head in disgust. "No, that is not true. That is just a bunch of rubbish. Harmful gossip, and you would be smart to not listen to such garbage."
Betty rearranged her blue training jacket and acted offended. "Calm down, Detective. I was just asking."
Harrison ignored her defense. "So, besides you, there's nobody I can talk to here?"
"That’s right, Detective," she said. She leaned back and forced her lips into what was supposed to look like a smile, but resembled a tortured grimace. "I am the one you will have to deal with today."
"Then I would like you to show me his office. I want to look around."
"You can't," she stubbornly replied.
"Why not?"
"You need a warrant for that."
Harrison sighed, and pulled out the warrant from under his coat. "Satisfied, little Miss Quidnunc?"
Betty Carrington blushed, and while she pointed towards Carl Billow's office she refused to look up. "Door is open."
"Thank you Betty," Harrison said while he wrinkled his nose and folded the warrant back in his coat pocket. "I would also like to have all the keys to his cupboards."
>
"Nothing is locked. See for yourself. We are legit. We've got nothing to hide."
Harrison stepped away from the front desk and walked in the direction Betty Carrington had indicated. Soon he stood in front of a massive door with a name plate that spelled: 'Carl Billows.'
The oak door swooshed open, and as Harrison entered the office, the smell of leather and wood filled his nostrils. So this was Carl Billow's little kingdom, that chubby little man that had been so nervous the night Alvaro Ironbark had been killed.
As Harrison looked around, the first thing he noticed was that the place was almost identical to the office of Alfred Rodeo he and Justin had visited before. Except, everything was just a wee bit grander and more luxurious. A rich, plush carpet with an intricate pattern covered the floor, and just like in Rodeo's office, two of the walls were entirely made of tall glass windows. Right before one of the sliding doors that led to a sunny terrace with the view of the distant Wintervale Mountains stood a massive mahogany desk. The wall on the opposite side was covered by a book case full of books on fitness and a wide array of folders.
Whether or not Harrison liked the Gym, it was clear these folks made good money. Certainly, a whole lot more than he did as Dewsbury's only detective.
Where would he look first and what actually was he looking for?
He had no idea, but he had to try something. Maybe he could start with the ledgers, if he could even find them.
He walked over to the desk and planted himself in the leather swivel chair and opened the drawers. Judging by the mess he encountered he concluded that Mr. Billows was a messy, disorganized person. Books, folders, cards, some computer wires… all were stashed together, and Harrison sighed. This was going to take a little time.
Just as he pulled out a black book that could be a finance book, the door opened and Betty Carrington entered. "Mr. Ames…" she began. Her eyes were twitching in a nervous fashion.
