The place was grand. The epitome of massive. A huge, oddly shaped white facility with long, black smoke towers bulging out of the roof. Any spot seemingly available had these stacks. The bold black color stood out against the unusually brilliant blue sky. Plumes of thick gray smoke bellowed from inside the belly of the long stacks, adding to the overall enormity of the place, both visually, and physically. Across the top of the building, in enormous black steel letters, C.A.N.D.L. could be seen. Under the mass of bulky letters read, Chemical And Natural Development Laboratory.
This perked Walter’s curiosity. He knew that whoever was killing, whether it be The Umbras, or someone else, was using advanced chemical technology. He knew he was getting closer to the truth, closer to justice. But, he wasn’t sure what exactly he would find here.
C.A.N.D.L. was still an unknown to him. He had previously never heard of the place. He never would have found the place if he hadn’t stopped at a phone booth on the way back from the morgue and looked it up. It was located dead center in an industrial area on the outskirts of Francis City. It was surrounded by similar looking buildings. All of which seemed to spew chemicals of different types into the air simultaneously. Walter drew them in deeply, substituting his lack of cigarettes for harsh breaths of chemical filled air. It did nothing for him, except bring an exasperated sigh out from within him.
He opened the door on the side of the building that he parked his car. As he entered the room, he immediately noticed the strikingly beautiful woman. Her eyes penetrated him instantly, forcing him to revel a scarcely seen smile. Her vibrant shimmery red hair was twirled into a loose bun that hung gracefully atop her head. A row of glowingly white teeth shone brightly across the room toward Walter. Her smile took his breath away. She wore an elegant black top that was nicely covered in glittery crystals. Walter could see the overhead light dancing in and out of the crystals as she moved gently in her chair. The top had a single strand of fine silken string connecting the front to the back. Her shoulders stuck out of the sides of the top. A beautiful freckled and pale blend of soft well-formed skin graced every inch of her visible body. Her lower half faded away under the neatly organized desk she sat behind. Walter stepped close to the desk. He was unable to speak on account of the bold beauty before him.
“How can I help you?” she cheerfully said. At first, Walter heard the words, but did not say anything. He just stood in front of her desk, silent, and creepily fidgeting with his hands. “Are you all right?” she asked, followed by a cute laugh. He realized how drone and inappropriate he was being, and snapped out of it. His head shook swiftly as if actually shaking off his stupor.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,” he replied blushingly.
“It’s okay, I know how it is. So, what can I do for you?” she asked with a perky smile. Walter reached into his left pocket and retrieved the photograph from inside.
“I was wondering if you could tell me a little about this photo?” he said, presenting the picture to her. She reached out slow, and with angelic grace. Her eyes shuffled back and forth for a moment.
Then, she began to show another exquisite smile. As her full and pouty lips pulled away from her teeth like a curtain on a stage, Walter knew he was about to get some useful information.
“What and why do you want to know about it?” she asked.
“I’m a private detective investigating a murder case, possibly involving these men. I was wondering if you could tell me who these two men are?” Walter answered, pointing to the figures in the photograph. “And what this mean?” He stretched his hand out and pointed at the words, Project Begins. “Any help would be deeply appreciated.” Her eyes became wide, and a surprised look changed the original shape of her face from cheerful and smiley, to distraught and concerned as quick as lightning.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “That’s pretty intense. I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“I apologize. I don’t mean to put you on the spot like this,” Walter said.
“No, it’s no problem. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all,” she proclaimed. She paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves from the initial shock of the situation. “The man here,” she said, pointing to the man on the right of the picture. “Is Neil Darden, he was our Chief Engineer here. He was a great man, and a good friend of mine.” Walter could see a wet look developing in her eyes. The kind of look that can be felt by anyone who sees it, anyone that has lost a true friend or family member. He felt for her, he understood the deep and painful effects of losing a loved one.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I know how hard it can be,” he sympathized. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped from her chin. She wiped her face in embarrassment.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully. She took another deep breath and wiped the remaining wetness from her face. “The other man,” she continued. “Is Ed…” She was interrupted by a door swinging open and crashing into the wall.
The door was located to the left of Walter and the woman’s desk. A horde of men filed out of the door, shutting it behind them. All were dressed in stereotypical security clothes. A short-sleeved black shirt tucked nicely into a pair of perfectly ironed black pants. Each individual man had an assortment of gidgets and gadgets that adorned the gaudy leather belts they wore. Both Walter and the woman had an extremely surprised and worried looks on their faces.
“Please come with me,” one of the men said sternly. “Your trespassing on private property.” The man reached out and grabbed Walter by his arm. He squeezed tight and tried to pull Water toward the exit. But Walter jerked his arm free. “If you don’t leave the building, we will call the police.”
“We can do this the easy way of the hard way,” another man said, stepping in close to Walter.
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Walter yelled. “Calm yourselves men,” he said. He turned around and headed for the door. The men stayed in the room and watched him as he left the building. The door slammed shut behind him. He felt angry, like he had just been ripped off. He turned right and started walking toward his loaner car. “Ed?” he thought. “She didn’t mean…? No, couldn’t be.” His mind raced with questions. As he was walking he noticed an outdoor ashtray receptacle to his right. He felt that he needed a cigarette bad enough to consider scrounging in the ashtray.
The ashtray was filled will butts of all sorts. As he shuffled through them, he kept close eye out for one that was big enough and had the least amount of damage. He spotted a nice long cigarette at the bottom of the ashtray. It had only had a few drags taken from it. It looked vaguely familiar to him. The dark brown filter with diamond patterns stood out in his mind like a sore spot. But he couldn’t remember why. As he rolled the cigarette, checking for damage, the word, Fin, appeared. All at once Walter realized what he was holding.
“Oh my god,” he whispered to himself. He reached into his left pocket and searched rapidly. Then, finding nothing in the left, switched to his right pocket. His fingers dug deep in the trench coats big pockets. He felt a small cylindrical item at the bottom of the pocket. He fetched it out and examined it in his hand. “Son of a…” he said. “It is Eddie.” He held in his hand the small cigarette butt he found in the warehouse. As he compared it next to the cigarette he retrieved from the ashtray, he knew for sure it was a match. From what Eddie told him, he had these cigarettes specially imported, and they were rare and hard to find.
He wondered for a moment, standing vagrantly next to the ashtray in a state of bewilderment. All the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place for him. All at once he could imagine how the evidence fit the crime and the suspect. He knew that he needed to take some of the cigarette butts with to get them tested to make sure that they were in fact, Eddie’s. But, he knew they would be, it just made sense to him now. The only problem was, he wasn’t sure of one, single solitary thing. One key piece of the puzzle that perplexed him greatly. He suddenly felt as if the puzzle was still not complete.
“Why?” he wondered. �
�Why do all of this?” He turned and headed for his car. He knew he needed to get to a phone so that he could call Frank Barlow and have him put out an APB on Eddie. Thoughts raced through his mind like a cat chasing a mouse through tight quarters.
As he drove aimlessly around Francis City, searching for the first phone booth he saw, he couldn’t help but feel a little childish. He felt as if his assumptions and fears about The Umbras were misled. He also felt as if he fell victim to Allen Black’s conspiracy theories. He knew that he wasn’t normally the kind of person that could be so easily persuaded with rhetorically paranoid jargon. But he did, and he didn’t like the idea of seeing himself becoming so paranoid over something as mythical and imaginative as The Umbras. A certain clarity also came over him. He felt good knowing that he was about to finally have his suspect within reach.
He turned the car into a dingy looking diner off the corner of Seventh and Portland St.. The place was the kind of diner you came to when you need something cheap, hot, and kindly served. But not the kind of place you go for good, quality food. Thankfully for Walter, he only needed to use the phone booth that was next to the entrance to the diner. It had an accordion-style door that allowed the user a sense of privacy when making a call. As he walked up to the booth, he glanced up at the sign on top of the small restaurant. Written in giant, red neon letters, the words, Vern’s Diner. Some of the letters pulsed off and on, blinking endlessly in a feverish display of incandescence.
Walter opened the accordion-style doors and a loud metal scratching sound was released into his ears. He clenched his body from the noise. It seemed to pierce deep into his mind through his ears. As he stepped in the booth and closed the door behind him, the sound returned. His body once again clenched at the sound. He picked up the phone and began to dial Frank Barlow’s office. His fingers tapped the keys to the phone in a rhythmic pattern. With exception to the annoying sound he just heard, he was feeling kind of giddy about the whole situation. He knew that this was the call that would get the ball rolling. This would be the call that would bring justice to all the innocent people who had suffered or perished as a results of Edward Brussels actions. Walter understood that the families of the victims needed justice. The capture and indictment of Edward Brussels would do just that. The phone rang a few times before Walter heard a click sound.
“Hello,” Frank said in his usual raspy voice. Walter could smell the stale cigar smoke and good quality whiskey on Frank’s breath just by hearing his voice through the telephone. It certainly wasn’t unusual for Frank to be halfway through a full bottle by noon.
“Frank it’s me, Walter,” he said in a sort of calm voice. “Have you heard anything on Thomas?”
“No, nothing yet. His car is still parked at the morgue,” Frank replied.
“Well, I think I know who the killer is,” Walter said.
“Who?” Frank asked, perplexed by the sudden news. Walter heard the familiar sound of ice in a whiskey glass clinking around.
“Edward Brussels,” he answered. A satisfying breath came from Frank’s end of the phone.
“Based on what?” Frank asked.
“I followed a lead to a place called the chemical and natural development laboratory, or C.A.N.D.L. for short,” he replied. “I asked the secretary that was there about two men in a photo that I found in the warehouse where Marcia was found dead. I was following another lead. She told me one of the men is Neil Darden. Right when she was about to tell me about the other man, the building security forced me to leave. But, she did get out part of the name. She said Ed right before they busted open a door and asked me to leave.”
“Well, that’s not really enough,” Frank said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“There’s more. On my way out, I was going to grab a cigarette butt from the buildings ashtray. I noticed that the cigarettes in the ashtray were the same ones that Eddie smoke,” Walter said.
“A million people smoke cigarettes Walter,” Frank said with the kind of tone a father gives his teenage son.
“But these cigarettes are specially imported by Eddie. Plus, I have a cigarette butt that needs to be analyzed that I found at the crime scene where Marcia was found dead,” Walter added.
“Interesting. Do you have a motive?” Frank asked.
“That’s the only thing I do not have. But, what I do have should be enough to have him brought in for questioning, right. I mean, if he did work with Neil Darden and didn’t say anything about it to us, I want to know why.” Walter pleaded.
“Yeah. So do I,” Frank said.
“So you’ll put out an APB on him for me?” Walter asked.
“Yeah, I can do that. But now you owe me big time,” Frank said proudly.
“I know, I know. Don’t worry about it, you’ll get your beers and your shots soon enough,” Walter said sarcastically.
“Alright then Walter. Unless there is anything else, I’m going to get back to work,” Frank said.
“No, that’s plenty. Thank you very much Frank. Call me when you hear anything,” Walter said.
“Will do. Bye,” Frank said.
“Bye,” Walter said. He heard a click as Frank hung the phone up. He let out a deep breath of relief. He felt he had done all that he could do at this point. Now he just had to wait until Frank Barlow and his misfit crew of so called Police officers found and apprehended Edward Brussels. Soon, he hoped, he would be sitting in an interrogation room finding out the truth behind Eddie’s maniacal ways.
Chapter 10
One On One
The next day was an agonizingly long test of Walter’s patience. He spent most of the typical cold and foggy Francis City day lounging around his office. He aimlessly scanned and analyzed notes from the case, desperately searching for anything he might have overlooked. He threw down a small stack of papers onto his crowded desktop. He knew that he couldn’t stop searching, even if there was nothing to find. He needed anything. Any motive or lead that would help bring Eddie to justice would be beneficial. He was not about to let Eddie walk back onto the streets of Francis City unscathed by the talons of justice.
As the day turned rapidly into night, he began to feel somewhat diminished. The more he thought about the situation he was in, the less he felt he knew about it.
“If Eddies the killer, who was the one behind closing the case so quickly?” Walter thought. He remembered that a group of high ranking, so-called, government officials, were at the crime scene. A thick haze of confusion swept over his mind. “Who would go to such extents?” he wondered. Then, he remembered The Umbras.
“Was it The Umbras, or was it C.A.N.D.L.?” he thought chillingly. “Maybe C.A.N.D.L. is The Umbras. Maybe The Umbras are C.A.N.D.L.?” he pondered in a soft whisper. The words slipped out of his mouth like he had just had an epiphany. His eyes sat still in their sockets, dead still. He felt a cold chill run down his back, blasting the calmness from him. He thought about Eddie, and how he was probably never going to get caught. “If he is part of some elitist government agency, they’ll probably protect him,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe even delete the entire situation. Including me.” His mind flooded with thoughts. He had started biting his lip, but didn’t even realize it. The veil of fear was beginning to take ahold of him again. It drew him in fast, and with furious precision, like an arrow to a bulls-eye. As soon as the fear had built up to an almost unsurpassable amount, the phone rang. Its loud cry snapped Walter out of his daze. The fear also seemed to disappear. Reality had quickly kicked in. He suddenly felt better, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He remembered that the fear one gets when becoming involved in a case is natural, something that comes with being an officer of the law. He released the pressure off of his lip. A white imprint with a red border remained on his bottom lip. The sound of the phone pierced the air like the shrill call of a bird of prey. Walter snatched it up from its base mid-ring. “Hello,” he said.
“Walter, its Frank,” the voice replied. The tone of Frank’s vo
ice sounded rough, as usual, but, at the same time, had a hint of excitement to it. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first?” Frank asked
“Alright, give me the good news first,” Walter said hesitantly.
“We’ve got Eddie in custody,” Frank reveled. “I have some men in the interrogation room talking with him, or, trying to talk with him for that matter,” he continued. “He hasn’t said a word.”
“Is that the bad news?’ Walter asked hopefully.
“No, unfortunately it’s not,” Frank answered. He became silent. The only thing Walter could hear was the jagged sound of Frank’s breathing on the other end of the phone. “We found Thomas in the trunk of Eddie’s car,” he said breaking his elongated pause. “Eddie was trying to flee town. He had Thomas’s body wrapped up in sheets and tied in rope. The trunk also had a briefcase containing numerous syringes and vials. I’m assuming he killed him with an injection.”
“Damn it,” Walter yelled, slamming his fist unyieldingly onto his desk. The desk lamp rocked back and forth like an oversized, oddly shaped pendulum. “He didn’t deserve that.”
“They never do,” Frank put simply. The statement shocked Walter just as much as it made him respect his former partner a little more.
“Yeah, I know,” Walter said. “Where did you find him?”
“He was heading west on highway 26. He was probably going to ditch the body in the woods,” Frank replied. “Listen, why don’t you come down here and talk to him yourself. He isn’t talking to us, maybe he’ll talk to you.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I can be there in ten minutes,” Walter said.
“Okay, see you then,” Frank said hanging up the phone. Walter hung up the phone and sat motionless in his chair, stunned from the news. He was happy that Eddie was caught and in custody, but on the other hand, Thomas had paid the ultimate sacrifice for helping him. That made him a little uneasy. The longer he sat and thought about it, the more it made him furious. He needed to know why. He needed to talk to Eddie.
The Umbras Page 8
