The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

  “What wounds, Inspector?” the mother replied.

  Instantly, the father shot up like a jack-in-the-box and got between the mother and Belloc. “That will be all for tonight, Inspector. She doesn’t need to be hearing about any more wounds. We’ll discuss that privately.”

  “Very well, we won’t take up any more of your time.” Belloc stashed his journal away and grabbed his cane. “Do be aware that we will call on you if any more information is needed, regardless of any certain ‘privacy privileges.’ Again, my condolences for your loss.” Belloc turned and made his way down the hall.

  “So you say,” the father countered back.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Posy said, her Southern upbringing slipping out of her. She slung the camera bag over her shoulder and walked away.

  Silas just stood there, watching the tears flow down the mother’s cheeks. “Fifty-seven since I arrived. You’re a strong woman.” The mother looked up at him with wonder. Noticing her worn tissue, he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She dried her cheeks, sensing a delicate and pleasant smell emanating from the cloth.

  “It has a lovely scent. What is it?”

  “Petals from a cherry blossom. Keep it, please.” Silas then set his eyes on the father.

  “And just what are you looking at?”

  “Your face. Every single detail.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Good day.” Silas turned and walked down the hall, reaching his fellow companions within seconds. The three of them made their way down the stairs towards the first floor.

  “Silas,” Belloc said, limping with his cane, “now would be a good time to use that strange sense of yours. Take a look at the first floor and see what you can discern.”

  Obliging him, Silas discreetly scanned the spacious main floor as he walked towards the front entrance. “This would be a great place to break into. There are lots of edges, lots of corners. There’s also a great deal of open space, as if everything has been placed strategically in order to not make it difficult for an intruder to pass through the room in the dark.”

  And there is an open window at the end of the hallway, near the guest lavatory.

  Reaching the front door, Silas remained still for a second, letting the others go on ahead of him. He turned to the butler, who had been quietly leaning against a thick column near one of the corners of the room, and nodded to him. “You might want to close that window near the end of the hall,” he said with a smile. “You wouldn’t want any more unwelcome visitors.”

  As Silas made his way outside, the butler turned his head, frustrated that he’d failed to close the aforementioned window.

  Belloc and Posy waited next to the carriage. Reaching them, Silas offered Posy some help with loading up the camera. She refused, so he gave her some space as she packed the camera inside. Finally, the carriage departed from the estate.

  As they traveled, Posy kept her eyes on Silas, studying him, wondering how an American could end up all the way in the East and then back again without even knowing who he was except for his name and a few strange visions. She didn’t know why it troubled her so much. She was very protective of her longtime mentor, Belloc, and she wanted nothing more but to be wary of Silas. Yet, even though she could sense that Silas held a number of dark secrets, Posy also, by way of intuition, knew him to be someone who could be trustworthy. And lastly, her instant attraction to him didn’t ease the situation.

  Silas felt Posy’s gaze burn into him, yet he kept his eyes focused on the passing trees, as if not noticing her blatant curiosity.

  “So, we start with the family,” Belloc said.

  “Easier said than done,” Posy replied, scratching her arm.

  “But ultimately it must be done. This is just the beginning for us. Regardless of what the girl did to herself, willingly or unwillingly, there is a killer out there, and we must catch him as soon as possible. This is why I’m glad we have a third person in this task force. The fact that you’re a rookie is perfect, Silas. You’re yet to be tainted by the incompetence and loyalties of the department. I appreciate your cooperation with all of this.”

  “I don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Silas said as Posy let out a soft snort.

  “Quite the gracious one, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting to be caught up in all of this. I don’t even know where I came from, yet I’m supposed to figure out who somebody else is before I can even learn the truth about myself.”

  Belloc sighed. “I want you to know that I haven’t given up on figuring out who you are. I have made it my utmost priority.”

  “I believe you, Inspector. It’s just hard to come to terms with who I am at the moment.” He lowered his eyes, as if in thought. “But you won’t hear me complain about this again. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s a relief,” Posy quipped.

  “This girl,” Silas mumbled under his breath. He then turned to Belloc. “Inspector? Seeing that we won’t necessarily have much luck with the family, I suspect you want us to work ourselves in?”

  Posy raised an eyebrow. “In?”

  “He means start from the outside circle, my dear girl, to focus on the family’s friends and acquaintances.”

  “And what do you mean, we? I investigate papers, not people.”

  “I’m afraid, Posy, that I’ll have to call on you to assist Silas for this particular investigation,” Belloc said. “I think you two will make a great team.” Belloc smiled to himself as he saw Posy squirm and Silas roll his eyes. “Begin with finding out the identity of the child’s father and what led young Catherine to get pregnant. What influences did she have? What was the nature of their relationship? What crowd did she run with? I suspect it was a crowd that her parents vehemently disapproved of, especially the father.”

  “And the butler?”

  “That butler gave me goosebumps,” Posy said. “It’s like he leaped straight off a page from a horror story.”

  Silas grinned.

  “Just leave him to me,” Belloc said. “Silas, I have a feeling this case is going to be more than we can handle. I’m not expecting much progress with witnesses.”

  “Or a motive.”

  “Oh, there’s always a motive. If you look in the right places, one will always reveal itself.”

  “I hope so.”

  They rode on for an hour or so in silence, contemplating the scene they had just encountered. Finally, they reached a row of red-bricked buildings near the outskirts of the city.

  “We’re here,” Posy said, knocking on the carriage wall to alert the driver. Posy’s home was located in a newly built apartment building characterized by its vibrant Victorian elegance. The robust cobblestone pathways cut through rows of black and gold streetlights. It was close to ten at night, and the majority of Posy’s neighbors were already fast asleep. The street was quiet, yet every now and then a turbulent wind would abruptly pass through.

  “Well, I can’t say it’s been fun,” Posy said, smiling and reaching for her camera.

  “Silas, be a good man and help her with that.”

  “I’ve tried, and I’ve gotten better reception from a rabid dog.”

  “Your charm far exceeds your detective work,” Posy replied. “But seeing that you are the grunt of this team, I might as well let you do all the work.” She motioned to the camera. “If you please.”

  “Posy, don’t be so crass,” the inspector scolded.

  “Not to worry, Inspector,” Silas said. “I actually find her very charming in a peculiar sort of way. It’s been a while since I’ve traded wit with another, especially one who is obviously more capable at it than I am.”

  Posy didn’t know what to make of his compliment, yet there was a warm feeling of happiness somewhere slightly north of her bellybutton. Where did that come from? Fighting this feeling, she made a beeline to the door, quickly jumping out of the carriage. Silas followed her, lugging the camera behind him.
<
br />   “Good, then,” Belloc said. “I’ll see you two on the morrow.”

  “Wait, what about me?” Silas asked.

  “You’re staying with Posy for a couple of hours. I want everything down on paper as soon as possible. Brainstorm with her and hand me a list of possible leads tomorrow. When you’re done, take a carriage back home. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “Hold on there,” Posy said. “Who’s doing what?”

  “You heard me loud and clear, Miss Chapman. Nighty-night.” He closed the door and motioned for the carriage to depart. Once it did, Silas stood silently, holding the camera bag, which had now become quite cumbersome.

  He turned to Posy, whose face was ghostlike. “I’m impressed. You’ve actually turned a different color.”

  Posy angled her face and pointed to her front stairs. “You’ll work from here.”

  “I was just joking.”

  Posy jetted into her apartment building. Silas clumsily followed.

  They made their way up the stairs, Posy flying up them while Silas did his best not to get lost in the expansive building. Posy lived on the uppermost level, the ninth floor, and suddenly lugging that camera bag all the way up took Silas by surprise, forcing him to remember a certain memory of days past. All he could see in his mind was himself traversing a steep mountain. Rain poured down on his wet, dark clothes, and thunder cracked in the distance. Across his shoulders was a long stick, and hanging from the ends were large buckets filled with huge rocks. In his vision, he looked around, hoping to see or remember something familiar, when all of a sudden he was accosted by a shrieking voice behind him, as if there was someone ordering him to keep going. And then it all stopped.

  “Silas?” Posy asked as he stood frozen like a statue. “Silas, are you okay?”

  He locked eyes with Posy. “I...sorry... I was just thinking.” He continued climbing up the stairs. “I didn’t mean to lose myself there. It’s been a long day.”

  “That was...strange. A little less of that, please.” Posy turned and made her way to her apartment, which was located at the end of a long hallway. She burst inside and shut the door behind her.

  A knock sounded. She opened the door. “You’re still here?”

  “Not my first choice.”

  “Just hurry up and get in.”

  “Thanks.” Silas stepped through the door, holding up the camera. “Where do you want me to put this?”

  “Over there is fine.”

  Silas moved to the corner of the room and placed the bag down.

  “So, I assume you want a tour of the place?”

  “Well...sure.”

  “Wonderful.” Posy put one hand on her hip and raised the other like she was holding an invisible plate. “This is my home.” Then she walked away from him. “Now go away.”

  “But Belloc asked us to start on the case reports.”

  Posy came back and let herself fall into one of her comfy chairs, sighing from complete exhaustion. “Fine, I guess we’ll both have to do it.”

  Silas watched Posy catch a moment of rest. Her long, blonde hair draped over her prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were pursed, as if in thought. Such a beautiful woman.

  Silas felt an air of discomfort swirl inside his gut, and found the sensation to be an unwelcome bout of insecurity, the same feeling he experienced when he first laid eyes on Posy. And right then he realized something about himself: he must’ve certainly been unpopular with women, with that type of insecurity swimming through his veins. Silas was indeed an attractive man, but it was slowly becoming apparent to him that he didn’t grow up that way; he must have been socially awkward and shy around girls. Yet, knowing all of this, he still did his best to make small talk. “So, you live here all alone?”

  But before he could get the last word out, Posy had already reached inside her pocket, pulling out a small object. She placed it on her finger. It sparkled. “What did you say?”

  “I...was just wondering if you lived here alone,” Silas reluctantly mumbled, turning away from her.

  “Of course I don’t live here alone. What kind of woman do you think I am? My fiancé is out of town, and I know living with a man who’s not my husband can seem very unorthodox to most people, but…I’m not necessarily someone who…puts up with societal norms, much to the chagrin of my parents.”

  You don’t say? Silas took a few steps away from Posy. And of course you’d have someone.

  Posy glanced at her ring. “I usually don’t wear this to the crime scenes.”

  “Good idea.” Silas paused in silence to gather his thoughts, a bit embarrassed, feeling silly for trying to make small talk. “Well, you have a nice place.”

  Posy just snorted, dismissing his remark. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

  Silas closed his eyes. He felt the sudden urge to be somewhere else. “So, are we going to start on these reports?”

  “Yes, sure,” Posy said, stripping off some of her layers. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Some tea would be nice if you have it.” He said this without thinking, as if he’d been drinking tea all of his life.

  “Tea?” Posy curled her nose.

  “Ah, never mind.”

  “Suit yourself. Just don’t fall asleep on me.”

  “I won’t.” Silas made his way towards the window. He stared out into the quiet neighborhood. A multitude of things ran through his mind.

  Posy kept her eyes on Silas as she made the coffee. She found herself glancing at him quite often, curious as to what he’d look like without the uniform. He wasn’t the tallest, but she could tell he was quite muscular. She was fascinated by his demeanor; it wasn’t like most men’s. Silas always stood still, serenely, as if masking his presence. He was very calm in his movements. He didn’t jerk around like most brutes—well, at least when he wasn’t carrying a camera bag up a flight of stairs. She liked how he handled things as he put them down on the table. He would first touch the surface with his hand and then gently lay the object on the surface of the table, making no sound. He did this with everything. So mysterious, yet so appealing. “Tell me about yourself, Silas.”

  Silas angled his face at her.

  She giggled. “You know what I meant. Tell me what you do know.”

  “I’m glad you think it’s funny.”

  “You have to make light of this situation, Silas, for your sake.”

  He didn’t want to admit this, but Posy made him feel at ease, especially when she made fun of him. “I guess it does seem comical from a certain point of view.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Silas moved away from the window and walked towards a chair near a night desk. He sat down. “I don’t know much. It’s hard for me to remember my life. I can’t think of my parents, of my childhood, where I grew up, even the friends I once had.” He lowered his head. “I’ve tried all this past week to figure out who I am. I tried to at least remember what made me jump on that ship and sail back to America, unconscious, almost bleeding to death. But I get nothing when I close my eyes at night except the inkling of certain memories, of the mountains in Japan, of my days there...of my nights full of terror.”

  He sighed. “Whatever it was that I was fleeing from, there are times when I don’t wish to know. There are times when I fear knowing who I was, as if there was a certain darkness that I belonged to, something I freed myself from, something that may possibly hunt me now. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I fear becoming the man who I once was. It’s like I don’t want to remember.” He turned to Posy. She was a few seconds away from falling asleep. “Incredible,” he murmured.

  Silas watched her sleep for a moment. He liked how her blonde locks fell against her pale skin. The more he stared at her, the more he felt the urge to remember something, and as he looked on, his memories took over. He had a vision of a blonde girl staring back at him with her sparkling blue eyes. Shocked, Silas stood up, his hands shaking. “Lucy?” he mumbled under h
is breath. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the empty envelope he’d found in the bag he had with him a week ago. “Lucy Reilly. How do I know you?”

  He walked up to Posy and grabbed the coffee from her hands. She didn’t budge. Well, no one would have—it was like a ghost had swept the coffee away. He found a blanket that was draped over a sturdy sofa and placed it on Posy. So much for the reports.

  As he walked around the room, he said to himself, “What to do now?” He had learned from the past week that he didn’t sleep well, that he was something of a night owl. It was under the midnight moon when he was the most alert and aware of the things around him, buzzing with energy, as if he had drunk a handful of cups of tea all at once. He walked up to the window and opened it. It’s windy.

  He stuck his head out and smelled the wintry breeze. Instantly, he felt an urge to do something: something inconceivable to him, yet it felt so right. His eyes grew in size as he looked all the way down towards the snow-covered street. “But how?” he whispered, mesmerized by the feeling rushing through him. He sighed and decided to go where his instincts led him, and turning back to Posy one last time, he grabbed the edges of the cracked windowsill and gracefully jumped out the window.

  *

  ACROSS TOWN, AN OLD INSPECTOR PACED INSIDE HIS SPACIOUS STUDY. Belloc glided back and forth within his disheveled sanctuary: a two-story room held up by tall wooden shelves filled with an endless amount of worn books. He circled his large chair, where he normally spent most of his nights reading into the wee hours of the morning, only to fall asleep until it was time to head to work. Belloc hadn’t slept in a normal bed for quite some time, ever since his wife died a few years earlier.

  He stepped up to his antique dresser and looked into the mirror. Staring back at him was an old and wrinkled face, weathered down by his long life full of hardship and pain. He reached for a decanter filled with his favorite scotch and poured himself a glass. He took a gulp and breathed out a long sigh, exorcising all of the day’s troubles. He had seen too much death in his lifetime, and it was finally beginning to take a toll on him. He hated it. He had wanted to retire a long time ago, yet he couldn’t. He was much too good to quit. For all of the nameless, voiceless victims he’d served throughout his career, he was their only hope for retribution.