The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

“And illegal,” the captain mumbled under his breath.

  Silas didn’t say a word to her, not because he was arrogant, but because his shyness made it difficult to say anything at all. Well, maybe a little arrogance, just a little. It was his defense mechanism. “Can I continue?” he said to Belloc, ignoring Posy.

  “If you must,” Posy said. “What were you saying about the floor?”

  “I was saying...for my demonstration, I need everyone to stay still and be extremely quiet.”

  Belloc turned to the captain. “Could you have your men comply for just a second, if only to humor me, please?”

  “As you wish, Inspector.” The captain turned his eyes to Silas before walking around and asking his men to quiet down for a moment. “Please, officers, stop what you’re doing and be still. We’re to be entertained in a few moments, so please give this rookie your utmost attention.” He tipped his hat to Silas.

  “Very well, then,” Silas said. “Everyone stay here as I make my way into the next room and pretend to be the intruder. Please shut the door.” Inspector Belloc obliged him.

  They all stood waiting for something to happen when they began hearing a noise.

  “Shush,” Belloc said. “Listen.”

  Once Silas had made his way to the window, he began walking towards the little boy’s bed. Next door, Belloc and the others could hear his footsteps clearly, and even more severely, the creaking of the floor. CREAK. CREAK. It was quite obvious.

  “I will try it again, this time with a softer step!” Silas shouted. Silas doubled back until he reached the window, and began heading towards the boy’s bed once more, this time using his tiptoes to muffle the sound. Still, the creaking of the floor was audible in the next room, not as much as the first time, but definitely noticeable. A kidnapper coming in through the window would’ve obviously been heard.

  “So, what’s the point?” the captain added. “The children heard the man walk in. I would assume that’s why they got up to investigate the boy’s room.”

  “No, but the children only heard the yelp of their sibling,” Belloc replied. “They didn’t hear the man come in.”

  “Where are the children?” the captain said, looking around. “Come here, please.” He motioned for the older sister to step up. “When you and your brother were playing on the floor, could you hear squeaking, as if someone was walking next door?”

  “No, not at all, sir,” the little girl replied. “We only heard the scream.”

  “Interesting,” Belloc said.

  Out of the blue, Silas opened the door and stuck his head in. “I’m going to try it one more time. Let me know if you hear anything.” He shut the door. A moment passed, and then the group heard Silas yell, “All right, I’m starting!”

  They waited, yet they heard nothing. They waited some more, yet still, no creaking.

  “I’m at the boy’s bed!”

  “But how?” the captain said. He rushed to the door and opened it. Stepping in, he saw Silas standing next to the bed. Belloc and Posy followed the captain.

  “I see,” Belloc said with a smile.

  “How did you manage to sneak in without making a sound?” Posy wondered.

  Silas grinned, and with his eyes, motioned down to the floor. Everyone turned to what he pointed to, and there they saw his pale, bare feet. He wiggled them for fun. “No shoes. He was barefooted.”

  “Barefooted?” Posy said. She flipped her hair, as if dismissing his deduction. “A barefooted kidnapper? That’s quite the story and quite the imagination.”

  “The imagination is always a good place to start,” Silas countered.

  Belloc narrowed his eyes in thought, knowing his new friend could be put to better use in his personal service.

  “It’s a possibility that he couldn’t have been truly barefooted,” Silas continued. “A pair of soft soles could have done the trick. Yet a barefooted menace lurking about the streets of Boston at night would inflict fear into the city, especially children. It’s abnormal. It’s unorthodox.”

  “Yes, it’s about as abnormal as your theory,” Posy said.

  “Miss Chapman,” Belloc interrupted. “Give the boy a chance.”

  “Boy?” Silas whispered.

  “I think you’ve given us enough help here on your first day, Officer,” the captain said, not impressed with his antics. “You are excused from the scene.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  “If he’s to be excused for the night, then perhaps I could have his counsel?” Belloc asked.

  “Do whatever you want, but it’s off the clock.”

  “If you say so,” Belloc said, turning to Silas. “What do you say, lad?”

  “Well, it’s a bit sudden, but I’ll do anything to help you, since you’ve so graciously helped me.”

  “Splendid.”

  The captain and the sergeant moved away from them, the sarge giving Silas one last disapproving stare.

  “I have to say, young Silas, your methods are quite unusual,” Belloc said. “Maybe that could help us to learn who you really are?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Unusual is a good word,” Posy remarked, joining them. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything of your former life?”

  Silas was shocked to find out she knew his secret.

  “Yes, Belloc told me all about it,” Posy admitted.

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “I just find it strange that you can’t remember anything about your life, yet you obviously know a few things about detective work.”

  “What I know just suddenly comes to me, as if it’s some type of intuition,” Silas said while he put on his shoes. “But I don’t know why these ideas fill my head. I’m just starting to learn who I am, and it’s a bit overwhelming at the moment.”

  “Then maybe this job is too much for you to handle.”

  Silas just gave her a cold stare. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  “You two stop it,” Belloc interrupted. “Silas is here to stay, and he’ll assist me whether you like it or not, Miss Chapman.”

  “Fine.”

  “And Silas, once you get settled into your new position, you’ll have to speak more about this intuition you have.”

  “Wait a minute, settled into his what?” Posy asked.

  “My new position?”

  “That’s right, Silas,” Belloc said. “I’ve decided. I’m appointing you to my task force.”

  “Task force? What task force?”

  “You’re what?” Posy interrupted, shocked beyond belief. “But he’s just a rookie with amnesia. You can’t be serious.”

  “Pipe down, Posy,” Belloc countered. “We need a fresh perspective on our new case. You know this.”

  “And this is it? Him! After all the prep I’ve done for this case. I won’t see it mishandled by some rookie.”

  “It won’t be mishandled, Miss Chapman. I want to hear no more of this. What’s done is done. You’ll work with Officer de San Michel, and he’ll assist you. Heed my orders. Put your faith in me.”

  Posy just stood there, arms crossed, grinding her teeth and breathing out her nose.

  “I don’t know if I’m able to be on your team,” Silas said sincerely.

  “Nonsense,” Belloc said. “If I want you on the task force, you’re on it. It’s as simple as that.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to be a third pair of eyes and ears, good lad. We’ll need it.”

  “So what exactly is it that your team does?”

  Posy rolled her eyes.

  “Homicide,” Belloc replied.

  Silas winced.

  “Especially those involving young women. That is our specialty,” Belloc further explained.

  Silas sighed. “It’s not exactly what I imagined doing, but since you’re the only friend that I have, I’ll do anything to help. So, I guess I start first thing tomorrow morning?”

  “No,” Belloc said with a grim face. “
You start now. Follow me, please.”

  *

  Claudia Annabelle Decamps, 1868-1885

  “WHERE ARE ALL THE OFFICERS?” Silas said as they pulled up to a grand suburban mansion nestled comfortably atop a handful of green acres.

  “We’re a few miles from the city,” Belloc said. “Out here in Brookline, most families that are part of prominent societal groups like to keep these matters private. The less noise, the better, and quite frankly, I agree.”

  “Valentine Lane,” Silas muttered as he glanced at the polished street sign near one of the light posts.

  “I know you’ve only been here a week, but have you ever heard of the Valentine Society?” Posy asked.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Well, they’re one of the most powerful social cliques in all of Massachusetts, and the Decampses are longtime members, so please don’t do anything to make us look bad in front of them.”

  “Oh, please,” Belloc said, obviously disgusted with the whole idea of social hierarchy.

  “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you, Miss Chapman,” Silas said sincerely.

  Posy gave Silas a fake smile before jumping out of the large, black carriage. Belloc soon followed his assistant, gently placing his feet on the ground before using his cane to secure himself upright. Lastly, Silas stepped out, leaping forth as if forced to by some type of innate skill, landing squarely on the ground. To her amazement, Posy noticed that Silas had failed to make the least bit of a sound as he landed on the coarse gravel.

  Calmly, Silas took in his surroundings. The night sky buzzed with life. The patches of woods surrounding the house were a private circus of woodland critters; their beady, yellow eyes poked out of the blotches of shadows found in between the tall trees. There was an odd smell of flowers lingering atop the dampness of the manicured grass.

  “Flowers?” Silas whispered to himself. “In this winter?” He took a few steps towards the mansion. Already, his instincts were kicking in. He searched the crevices of the well-laid bricks covering the house, quickly realizing how easy of a climb it would be for him. He also noticed how simple it would be for anyone escaping from the premises to lose themselves in the blackness of the forest just behind the mansion. “Lots of shadows here.”

  “Hurry now,” Belloc whispered. “Let’s make our way in.”

  The three approached the grandiose home, marveling at the long windows stretching towards the sky. The glistening red bricks accented the various turret-like towers, and there was a massive archway leading to the front entrance. Silas stood in awe for a second, admiring the spires poking forth from the sturdy roof.

  “So, Belloc said you are American,” Posy remarked as she walked towards him. “That makes sense, since you sound like one. Where exactly are you from?”

  Silas looked at her in disbelief. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

  “Oh, right...amnesia,” Posy quipped as she passed him on her way to the door.

  “Don’t mind her, Silas. She’s a very private person, and she’s not much for strangers.”

  Overhearing them, Posy added, “Nor do I like arrogance.”

  “Arrogance?” Silas replied.

  “You don’t even know who you are, yet you’re so confident you can solve the case with your hidden superpowers.”

  “I never said anything like that.”

  “How do we know you aren’t making the entire thing up?” Posy crossed her arms.

  “You don’t, and if you don’t want me here, I’ll be glad to go.”

  “Both of you!” Belloc said. “That’s enough! Nobody is going anywhere except inside the house.” He turned to Posy. “You need to be a little more courteous.”

  “I just don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

  “I can very well take care of myself. But I appreciate the concern. Don’t worry. I have a feeling about Silas. It’s a gut feeling. Trust me on this.”

  “Fine,” Posy whispered as she stepped up to the door, the first to knock.

  The door of the mansion creaked, and a long face attached to an impeccable suit opened the door. It was the butler, and when Belloc showed him his credentials, he just sneered at them disgustingly; the inconvenience of an investigation was just as bothersome to him as it was to the owners of the mansion. “Come in, and please be quick about it.”

  “Well, he’s certainly a charmer,” Posy said, stepping inside.

  “Just be prompt about it, Posy,” Belloc replied as he followed. “And keep the comments to yourself.”

  “You used to be more fun.”

  “I was less of a serious man back then. I can hardly remember fun.”

  Silas followed them in. The front entrance of the mansion was expansive, with the first floor opening up to the second and the third. Thick and richly detailed columns were spread apart, holding up the edges of the subsequent levels. The floors were spit-shine marble with a few long and elegant rugs strewn about the place, rugs that were clearly worth more than ten times an officer’s yearly wage. The opulent dark woods of the accompanying furniture gave the mansion a feel of the old world, tradition and heritage, warmth and stability. Wailing could be heard stemming from one of the bedrooms on the third level.

  “Follow the cries of the heartbroken mother,” Belloc said as he walked towards the stairs.

  “Try not to knock anything over,” Posy said to Silas. “Only touch the things that I tell you to touch.”

  “Maybe I just won’t touch anything at all.”

  As Silas made his way to the stairs, he sensed something odd, a sort of urge to search around the main room, stopping him dead in his tracks. In his mind, he could see the various routes he would take if he were in a situation where he had to move about the mansion in a stealthy manner. And that was what troubled him, for it seemed too easy, as if all the furniture and correlating decor was perfectly placed as to provide the most minimal of obstructions to a wandering thief. Either the owners of the manor were imbeciles when it came to practical security, or someone had prepped the house for invasion.

  Silas’s hairs flickered on his left arm, giving him a slight chill. He turned his head and saw the butler partly hiding in the shadows, staring him down as if Silas were some sort of unwanted intruder. He kept his eyes on the butler for a tense second then pulled them away as the butler slipped into the darkness of the shadows. “Be careful what you say in this house. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

  After fifty feet or so, the long hall on the third floor began to narrow some. The decor and furnishings became less extravagant, and right at the end of the hall, where the bedrooms were kept, it was all too plain and homely. There, sitting next to a guard, were the mother and father of the victim in question. The mother cried profusely, tears drenching the soft fabric of her husband’s dainty handkerchief. The father knelt next to his wife, doing his best to console her, whispering softly in her ear, patting her on all the right places. It seemed he was quite experienced in that sort of thing.

  “Good evening. I’m Inspector Belloc, special investigator for the city of Boston. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “Yes, I know who you are,” the father said. “We’ve been waiting for the past hour for an investigator to arrive. The police have already been here. How long will it be before the body…” the father stumbled, “before my daughter is taken away? We need to clean the room as soon as possible.”

  “In good time, sir,” Belloc said, incredulous. “Let us do our job. We’ll be quick about it. In the meantime, my assistant here will have to gather some necessary information.”

  “I’ve already explained everything to the officers. They’ve taken our statements. How much longer do we have to have our daughter lie there?”

  “What else do you want from us?” the grieving mother said. “Just find the person who did this.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Decamps,” Belloc said. “My apologies. Let us tend to our duties, then.” Belloc departed from the parents
, grabbing Silas by the arm. Posy stayed behind, taking out a small journal and pen.

  “What happened to all the officers?” Silas said.

  “They’ve come and gone. I’m surprised they allowed me to view the body at the actual scene.”

  As Belloc and Silas entered the girl’s bedroom, they instantly recognized a sound coming from the corner of the room. It was a small music box playing a fuzzy and brightly tune, something like a lullaby.

  “Why is that still on?” Silas said.

  “Odd,” Belloc added.

  “It was her favorite song!” the mother’s voice came ringing forth from the hall.

  “Silas? Do something about that, will you?”

  Turning his focus away from the body in front of him, Silas sidestepped to the right and made a small leap into the corner. He took a handkerchief out of his uniform jacket, and with it, grabbed the top of the box, stopping the music. He turned around slowly in order to calmly take in the scene in front of him.

  Spread out on the wooden floor was the body of Catherine Annabelle Decamps. A large part of the floor underneath her body was smashed completely through, with the girl’s lower half buried deep into the floor. Her top half was exposed from torso to head with her arms close to her body. A nightgown was all she wore. Patches of blood were painted across her hands and pale face. Silas could see straight through to the second level, where her lower half hung.

  “Her name is Catherine,” Belloc said. “From what it says on the initial report given to me, she’s only seventeen years of age.”

  “God almighty. What could have caused the floor to cave in?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out. There’s no apparent sign of struggle. Everything is quite neat. There aren’t any signs of tumbling or rummaging.”

  Silas pressed on the floor. “It seems sturdy enough. Only a massive amount of pressure could have made that hole in the floor. To be able to crash through the floor, it would take more than one person jumping on it.”

  “If someone was jumping.” Belloc bent down, grabbing the nearby bed frame for support. “See here.” He pointed towards the edges of the hole. “They’re quite smooth, not jagged. No, this hole’s not here because of a break. It was sawed off.”