BELIEVE in DEMONS

by Richard Alanson

  “I don't pretend to understand God's logic,” Sosa said bitterly.

  “That's because there is none,” Carter said, slamming his locker door. He walked out of the locker room before Sosa could say anything else. He'd had enough of talking about God for the time being. Speaking of the great and powerful Lord left a bitter taste in his mouth. It had torn his family apart after Eddie. His father and mother had turned to faith because they'd had nothing else left, but for Carter, it hadn't been enough. The things he'd seen over the years...if there was a God then he was doing a poor job of taking care of the world. The only thing that made sense to Carter was justice. That was the law of the world and that was the only thing anyone needed to feel safe. Anything else was a delusion. He wasn't going to stand by and listen to people praising God when there were so many innocent people out there who were suffering. Like that homeless man he'd passed. Carter doubted that God was smiling upon him. To Carter faith seemed to be a matter of convenience and as far as he was concerned the less he had to deal with God the better. There were plenty of things he'd like to say to the Almighty if he ever got a chance though, that was for sure.

  ****

  “You know Carter; your problem is that you just can't escape your own head. There's a bigger world out there and you don't know everything,” Sosa said, sitting on the edge of Carter's desk.

  “I'm well aware of that,” Carter said. He was leaning over some files.

  “I'm just worried about you. You really should try to open your heart to God. It might do you some good. Why don't you come to my church this Sunday? It's going to be a fun day and maybe you can learn a thing or two.”

  “I appreciate the invitation but that's not going to happen. We're never going to see eye to eye on this Sosa so you can cut the crap with this little conversion.”

  Sosa seemed to bristle at this. “I'm not trying to convert you McBride, I'm just offering you another way. I wouldn't be a very good Christian if I did otherwise. I get that it's not easy to understand the way God works, but that doesn't mean we should just dismiss it.”

  “It doesn't mean we should give him all the credit either. The only things I need to thank are my own skills and the intuition of the people around me. You think God has had a hand in all the perps I've put away? No, that was all me. We're the ones who keep this world safe, so don't be surprised when I'm not going to give some mythical figure thanks.”

  Sosa sighed. Carter wondered if he had been too harsh but he wasn't going to worry about it. Getting preached to about religion was just not on his agenda today.

  “I hope one day you'll come around. We need something more. There's gotta be something more to all this otherwise what are we fighting for?” With the Sosa left Carter to himself. Carter scowled and then slammed a pen down. He'd lost his train of thought completely. The attitude of Sosa really riled him. Carter hated the thought that there was nothing worth fighting for if it wasn't in God's name. Justice was its own reward, and it frustrated Carter that not enough cops saw that.

  ****

  A dark cloud hung over him for the rest of the morning and others knew to stay away. The precinct was a hub of activity with people bustling back and forth like bees in a hive. Carter always had an endless mountain of paperwork and sometimes it felt as though he was fighting that more than he was fighting crime. In the middle of the morning, however, he received a call that took him away from the station, providing him with a break from the monotony of paperwork and from the chance of getting wrapped up in another theological discussion with Sosa. Something told Carter that Sosa hadn't finished with him yet though, more's the pity.

  Chapter 4

  T he crime scene was on the North side of Carter's jurisdiction so he took the car instead of walking, although there was no need to use the siren. He cursed as the car jerked, passing over potholes on a road that was in a perennial state of needing repair. As he looked out of the car while he was driving he saw all the dilapidated houses, the homes that had fallen into a state of disrepair. There were parts of the city that were literally falling apart and had been forgotten. It angered Carter because it would have been so easy for things to be different but all the focus was now on the center of the city with all the expensive bars and offices. The real heart of the city was being forgotten and Carter wondered what Sosa had to say about that.

  He pulled into the alley and left his car at an angle. Police tape had cordoned off the area. Carter pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a match. The end glowed deep amber and then he felt the soothing warmth enter his lungs. Smoke swirled up into the air. The alley was an ignominious location for someone to lose their life. Carter walked up and ducked under the police cape. He flashed his badge at the office on duty, an older cop who looked flustered. Surprisingly there weren't many people around. Usually, a crime scene like this caught the attention of people with nothing better to do. Maybe it was another sign that the world was falling apart that a murder scene was something that people were used to now. Carter shook his head. Sometimes it felt as though he was fighting a losing battle.

  “What have you got for me today?” Carter asked.

  “Young man, name of Paulo Hernandez,” the officer said, taking Carter to the end of the alley. There was a dumpster by the edge but other than that the alley was devoid of anything.

  “You mean the underground MMA fighter?”

  “Apparently so. I hadn't heard of him myself but I guess he's quite well-known with the young crowd.” They walked up to the body, which was lying on the ground. Carter had indeed heard of Paulo Hernandez. He'd even seen him fight a few times. The kid was good and built like a powerhouse. He had muscles upon muscles and Carter had always pitied the men who had been in the ring with him. The kid had talent and could have made it as a pro. Now he wasn't going to make it as anything. Carter took a drag of his cigarette as he crouched down and made a cursory inspection of the body.

  “What can you tell me?”

  “Not much I'm afraid. Forensics has had a look and they couldn't find anything. There don't appear to be any mortal wounds as well. I wouldn't even begin to guess at a cause of death. For all anyone knows he just dropped dead out of the blue.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Well, with all due respect sir I don't think that's the likely case. I mean, you have a guy here with ties to an underground fighting ring and he's found dead in an alley? It can't be a coincidence.”

  “Who called it in?”

  “Anonymous tip.”

  “Figures,” Carter said, exhaling a long plume of smoke. He cast his eyes on the body. It was strange to see such a powerful man be brought down to earth like this. It would have taken a lot to kill a man like Hernandez but like the officer said, there weren't any signs of wounds. It was a mystery how he had died and if there was one thing Carter hated it was a mystery. It was probably a gang hit. Maybe Hernandez had grown tired of fighting underground. Maybe he'd had ideas above his station and there were some people who had grown tired of it. With the way that crime was organized in this city, the solution wouldn't be easy to come by, but Carter would try all the time. A dead body was a dead body even if it was a man who had devoted his life to violence.

  “Get the body back to the station so we can get it officially identified. Hopefully, the autopsy will come up with something a little more conclusive.” The officer nodded and went away to make some calls. Carter stayed by his car as he smoked the cigarette down until it was just a stub between his fingertips. He looked around at the area and tried to figure out what Hernandez was doing out here. It wasn't near any of his known haunts, and it wasn't exactly an inconspicuous place to leave a dead body. That wasn't like most of Hernandez's associates. They were usually a little more discreet than this. Either it had been a rushed job and unplanned or the body had been left there to send a message. But what was the message, and for whom was it intended?

  ****

  These questions played on Carter's mind as he returned to th
e station, not looking forward to even more paperwork. It wasn't long before the body was processed and he received a call that a Father Constantine would be arriving soon to confirm Hernandez's identity. Carter wasn't particularly looking forward to this. After all, he'd had enough of talking about God with Sosa and didn't want to do the same with a priest. As yet Carter hadn't met Father Constantine, but he knew the flock well. The church on Sepulveda Boulevard was popular among the lowlifes of the city and there were many deals that occurred there. Whether Constantine knew about them or not Carter didn't know, but Constantine wouldn't be the first priest to be mixed up in some illegal activity.

  When Constantine arrived Carter was surprised at how young the man was. He appeared to be only a few years older than Carter himself. He had short black hair, neatly trimmed and which contrasted heavily with his pale skin. He was a thin man with skeletal hands and obsidian eyes. His thin lips were pale too, and he had a deathly pallor around him. Carter felt unnerved by his presence but he tried not to let it show.

  “Please, call me Vincent,” the priest said, smiling. Carter took his hand and felt a chill run down his spine.

  “Carter,” the detective responded simply, and then turned beckoning Vincent to follow him. They walked through the station into the bowels of the building where the body was being held. Vincent walked at a slow pace. His long white robe was draped over his body, and he held rosary beads close to his chest. “Were you close with the deceased?” Carter asked.

  Father Constantine sighed. “I try to be as close to all my flock as the Lord allows. In some cases, it's more difficult than others.”

  “What about in this case?”

  “I knew Paulo as a teenager. He was always gifted in the art of athletics. He was a formidable young man. I only wish that his belief in himself was as strong as his belief in the Lord. I tried to encourage him to be involved in athletics. I thought if he used his natural gifts he would be able to escape the fate that has befallen so many other men similar to him. I was hoping he would be out of the wilderness by now but it seems as though my plan failed.”

  “I wouldn't go blaming yourself. He was mixed up with some dangerous men from what I hear. I don't suppose you happen to know any of them?”

  “I'm afraid not,” the priest said in a low tone, “Paulo was a very loyal man, very loyal to his friends. I could tell he was in trouble but unfortunately, I can only do so much.”

  Carter wasn't sure if the priest was telling the truth. He thought Constantine might have known more than he was letting on. The two of them entered the examination room. Paulo's body was lying flat on the table. A sheet was pulled up to his chest. A bright light beamed down on him, casting his body in an ethereal glow. Constantine gasped as he moved nearer the body.

  “What is it?” Carter asked. Constantine started to shake his head. He waved his hands over Paulo's body and then placed his hand upon Paulo's head. The priest closed his eyes and muttered a prayer under his breath. Carter arched an eyebrow and waited patiently for the priest to be done. “All we really need from you is a positive identification,” Carter urged.

  “My apologies but yes, this is most definitely Paulo Hernandez. It's such a shock to see him like this. He was a young man in his prime. He had so many opportunities available to him...he should have been more careful with his choice of friends. If only he had made some different decisions, this may not have happened...” Father Constantine trailed off. There was a strange look in his eyes. Carter looked at the priest and the body.

  “Is there something else Father?”

  “Please, please, Vincent is fine I must insist,” the priest said as he stared at Paulo's body. The priest had backed away and was crossing his hands in various patterns. “But yes, now that you mention it there is something else. I humbly request that you release the body to me so that I can bury it on consecrated ground. There are...dark forces hanging around this body. There is a powerful sense of evil and I must take measures to keep it contained.”

  Carter blew out his cheeks and placed his hands on his hips. “With all due respect Fath..Vincent,” he corrected himself, “I can't do that. The body needs to go to forensics for an autopsy so we can figure out what killed him.”

  “You're making a grave mistake Detective McBride. Please, you do not know what I am sensing. There is a dark cloud hanging over this man and I am not sure his death is at it seems.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I first saw him I thought that he would have fallen victim to the violent life into which he has become entangled, but now after being in the presence of his body I think there is something greater at work, something more mysterious.”

  “Why don't you leave that to me? That’s my department after all. I'll find out what happened to him, I promise that, but I can't release the body to you.”

  “Then I pray that we are all protected from this great evil,” the priest said. He said a final prayer in Latin and then made his way out of the precinct. Carter walked him out and then went to sit down at his office. The detective ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was some eccentric priest trying to interfere with his investigation. Hopefully, that would be the only thing he needed from Father Constantine. He wasn't about to share the priest's concerns with anyone else either. It was just another example of how religion could play with people's minds. Carter was sure that the priest was a respected man with a good heart but it wasn't going to help matters to talk about dark forces hanging over the body. Carter had seen more death than most people but he had never felt the palpable presence of evil in his midst. There were criminals and victims and it was his job to make sure that the criminals received the justice that was due to them, no more and no less. Whoever killed Paulo had a motive, and it was Carter's duty to figure out what that was.

  In truth, it wasn't very difficult to figure out. The only mystery at the moment was the means by which Paulo had been killed, but the motive wasn't very mysterious at all. It didn't take a genius to figure out that some dodgy deal had gone wrong. Carter was aware of a lot of the seedier aspects of the city. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do about a lot of it. The underworld was a clandestine place and the criminals often had friends in high places. Carter would have loved to arrest all of them, and one of the reasons why he wanted to be the Chief was so he could actually make a difference and shut down their corrupt operations but that would take its time. Until then Carter had to work within the boundaries that had been set for him and hope that they made mistakes. Criminals always made mistakes. Maybe Paulo was one of them.

  Carter's initial assumption was that Paulo had been killed because he refused to do something that had been asked of him. Carter knew that Paulo ultimately wanted to become pro and took great pride in his career stats. Even an underground fighter liked the fact that he hadn't suffered any knockouts. The only problem was that as soon as his victories were pretty much a certainty the money for the bookies would dry up. At some point, the tables would turn and someone would want him to lose. Paulo was a true fighter though; Carter had known that from the first time he had looked into Paulo's eyes. He wouldn't take a dive, and maybe someone took offense at that. It was certainly a more reasonable explanation than any supernatural force lurking around the body. It also required evidence and Carter would have to go back out to corroborate his theory. He grabbed his jacket and lit another cigarette as he drove down towards Big Ali's; Paulo's gym. As he drove, he thought about Father Constantine's reaction to seeing Paulo's body. The religious man had been visibly shaken by something, that was for sure, but Carter shook his head and pushed away thoughts that the priest could have been onto something. There was no sense for Carter to get lost in flights of fancy. There was a logical explanation for all of this. The priest had probably just been shaken by seeing a dead body. Sure, that was it.

  Chapter 5

  B ig Ali's was a rundown building. The original owner hadn't been there for years. The ma
in man now was Seth Aguilero.

  Seth often found himself on the wrong side of the law running the illegal fights. He'd been picked up many times but was slippery enough to keep out of any real trouble. The paint was dry and cracked on the wall and doors. There was a big picture of Anderson Silva straddled over the entrance to the gym. Quite possibly the greatest mixed martial of all time and local rumor had it that at one point he had trained in the gym. Carter didn't put much stock in it though. He couldn't imagine the great man coming down to train in this dive, but it had inspired a lot of people to take up fighting as a career. There weren't many options for the local youth though, and the dream of becoming a champion like Anderson gave them a sliver of hope that there was something more to their lives. Paulo had thought the same thing. Until he'd turned up dead.

  Carter walked into the gym. The sounds of fists slamming against punching bags echoed around. There were trainers calling out instructions and fighters following the same instructions. Some were in the ring dancing around. Others were skipping or running on the spot. Carter was getting tired just looking at them. After flashing his badge to get attention, he asked for Seth but he wasn't there. What a surprise, Carter thought, not that Seth would be eager to see him even if he was there. Carter looked up at the office. If Seth was hiding he'd soon find out why.

  The musky smell of sweat hung in the air. Dried, crusted towels were strewn across the ring and the gym equipment. Buckets and mops were left around the place. Blood stained the floor. It was a disgusting mess. Maybe even the perfect scene for a murder. The rest of the people in the gym didn't seem to pay much attention to Carter. Things usually got a little quieter when he was around but he was used to that. People tended to be careful about what they said when they were in his presence. He didn't have any interest in the fighters though. He was well aware that most of them were involved in some shady dealings but they were small fry. He wanted the big fish, like Seth.