The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

  “Try me.”

  He stepped closer to the moonlight. His eyes glowed against the silver eventide, shocking Posy with a sense of danger.

  “Get on the ground.” Posy cocked her pistol’s hammer.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Perhaps we can arrange some other type of solution to this unfortunate meeting.”

  “How so?”

  “Back away, and I’ll let you live a few more days.”

  Posy took a few steps closer, aiming the revolver right between the man’s glowing eyes. “I won’t ask you again. On the ground. Now.”

  “Miss Chapman, how do you feel?”

  “What?”

  “I know there are a number of emotions running through your head, any of which I can play to my fancy.”

  “Get down on the ground now!”

  “I can see you’re really upset about this. Don’t be. It’s not good for you. Perhaps you could put your weapon down. It’s rather difficult to speak to you like this, with all this animosity between us.”

  “One. Last. Time.”

  “Miss Chapman, I know what’s inside of you.”

  Posy jerked her body, as if she was just suddenly punched in the gut. Her grip loosened, lowering the pistol towards the ground. “What did you say?”

  “I know what grows inside your belly.”

  Posy inhaled a deep breath; her eyes bloomed.

  “YES. I know. No one knows, do they? But I know. I can smell it inside you. And like you, Miss Chapman, I’m afraid its days are numbered. Let’s think about this. It’s not going to happen. You haven’t told him yet, have you? I don’t blame you. It’s rather difficult to tell a man like him what he would loathe to know. He won’t let you keep it. You will have to give it up. It’s rather...sad. What a sad life you have. No real love. And soon...no real baby.”

  Posy dropped her shoulders, loosening her grip on the pistol. Quickly, the man took off running into the shadows. Snapping back to her wits, Posy raised the revolver and fired a number of shots, emptying out her chambers.

  Back at the Grants’ manor, Silas heard the echoes of the gunshots just as he stepped inside the mud and coat room. Noticing his hat and coat gone, a nervous energy bubbled under his skin, and he turned to look at Mr. Grant, who stood there frozen stiff. “Did you take my coat?”

  “I did no such thing,” Mr. Grant replied nervously. “But...I did notice the outer door had somehow been opened even when I had closed it shut a few seconds earlier. Someone might’ve come in and taken your stuff.”

  Worried, Silas took off running out the door.

  ***

  Three houses down, inside the Reilly mansion, things were wrapping up. For the most part, the mansion had stayed in a deep slumber, with only the east wing, especially Darcy’s room, coming alive with the sound of footsteps and hushed voices. No one would dare to go up above a whisper, lest the truth of the situation slip into the wrong hands and create a disturbance among Boston’s social scene.

  Only a small force of Boston’s finest arrived at the house, seemingly ready to inspect and wrap up the scene before dawn arrived. A couple of high-level officers stood outside the main entrance, patiently waiting for the rest of the officers to finish cleaning the bedroom.

  Darcy sat on her bed. A doctor had already arrived and had inspected Darcy for any life-threatening issues. There were none except for the serious bruising and tearing after experiencing a c-section in those times; she only had to rest in bed for a few weeks or so and take some necessary prescribed medicine.

  Belloc walked the mansion’s opulent hallways. He felt the officers’ beady eyes dig into him, as if he was someone unwanted, some wrench in their overall operation. He had always felt this way whenever he was called to one of these types of crime scenes, the type that occurred in grand, elaborate houses with families that were more worried about their so-called “immaculate reputations” than anything having to do with the actual crime. Belloc knew that he had to tread softly, even though he was technically the official investigator assigned to the case. He was always assigned to these types of cases. Belloc was a smart man. He knew when to talk and when to keep his mouth shut. He would always glide in and out of these types of scenes, taking notes and keeping his findings to himself. Later, when the rumors had died down, he would do his best to solve the cases, keeping everything under the radar. Still, it was quite obvious that his presence was always unwelcome.

  As he reached Darcy’s bedroom, everything seemed to play out in slow motion. Darcy was crouched down, still crying over her murdered baby. Lucy stood over her, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear. The faster she got Darcy to calm down, the faster she could stop crying, and then finally the family could put the tragedy behind them. So quick to forget a terrible crime, he thought.

  Near the corner were the parents. The father was overcome with grief, and he stood there staring at his little girl with tears gushing down his face. Belloc found nothing suspicious about him.

  On the other hand, Mrs. Reilly was acting strange. She was sitting down in a small chair near Darcy’s study desk. Calm and detached, the mother waited patiently for everything happening around her to be over, as if annoyed by the whole thing. Belloc took note of this. For a few minutes he kept writing his notes down, making sure he captured the scene in its entirety, before finally being courteously asked to leave, for the crime scene was soon to be cleared and closed. He willingly complied, making his way down the stairs and out the front door.

  Once Belloc stepped outside, he was met by Silas and Posy. “You two look like you’ve been into something interesting.”

  “He was still here,” Silas replied. “The one I think did this, who made the footprints in the snow, our suspect—he confronted Posy.”

  “What?” Belloc said, suddenly worried about his dear assistant. “Are you all right, Miss Chapman?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What happened? That man you saw in the woods, the one you went after, that was him, the killer?” he asked Silas.

  “No,” Silas replied. “It was actually the Reillys’ neighbor, Mr. Grant. He was lingering around their property.”

  “Did he see anything?”

  “He saw quite a number of things, which I’ll have to explain to you on the way back to Boston.”

  “And Posy, how exactly did you run into our suspect?”

  “I thought he was Silas.”

  “He looks like Silas?”

  “No, he was wearing my coat and hat,” Silas interjected. “He must’ve taken them from the Grants’ coatroom as I spoke with Mr. Grant inside his study.”

  “He led me around the back of the Grant mansion until I caught up with him.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “I had him in my sights, but he managed to use the shadows to escape,” Posy said this while keeping her eyes a bit lowered and to the side.

  Belloc stood silently for a moment, studying Posy’s disposition. “I see. Well, what’s important is that you’re safe. Were you able to see his face?”

  “No, just his eyes. They were bright and eerie.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “That’s all I have. And he spoke with a bland, monotonic voice. He had a weird accent, a mix of American and British.”

  “Hmm.” Belloc ran his hand down his beard.

  “Say, where are the two characters that I brought with me for questioning?” Silas interrupted. “The old siblings? Are they in custody?”

  “The police took them,” Belloc replied. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. I have a feeling they have friends in the department. People like them usually do. They’ll be out by morning.”

  “Wonderful,” Silas uttered sarcastically.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Belloc said. “They’re not a threat.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Come on, we have a case to solve. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Silas followed Belloc a
nd Posy back to their carriage, Posy dragging behind, her face sour and her knees weak. She held her tummy tightly, her thoughts on something quite dear to her. Silas noticed Posy’s constant obsession with her stomach but kept his mouth shut, somehow instinctively figuring out what Posy had inside of her. After boarding the carriage, they sped off on their way back to Belloc’s home.

  ***

  A few hours passed. Dawn seeped into Boston’s horizon as the people began with their morning rituals. Lights turned on, windows opened, ovens baked, and horse-drawn streetcars rumbled through the streets. A man walked within the shadows of a back alley until he met the brightness of the main streets. He turned the corner and kept himself close to the buildings as he walked along the sidewalk connecting all the buildings together in the downtown area. With his head lowered, no one could see his face. Better for him, for the last thing he wanted was to attract attention. Yet, unfortunately for him, he failed at his attempt to remain incognito.

  “Good morning, Officer,” one old woman said as the man passed her.

  “Hello there,” another city dweller said.

  The mysterious man grumbled.

  Two officers came upon the man, and he slowed down, doing his best to avoid contact with them.

  “Good day, Officer,” one of the two officers said. “Good luck on your beat today.”

  “Mmm hmm,” the man said as he passed the two officers. He looked at his coat and caressed his hat. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to steal Silas’s clothes after all. He walked onward, zigzagging through the steadily growing crowd of city dwellers, until he reached a vibrant red-bricked building situated at the corner of one of the city blocks. The man sighed with relief, but it was a sigh that was entirely premature, for before he was able to reach the front entrance to the shop, a female patron burst out of the store, almost running into him.

  “Oh, pardon me, Officer. I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry.” She walked down the steps and stood in front of him. He didn’t say a word to her, but just gazed at her face. She nervously laughed. “My, I do have to say, you have a pair of beautiful eyes. So exotic.”

  Again he said nothing, but just smiled.

  The woman stared into his eyes and soon found them to be hollow. Their color was only a superficial shell of something that wasn’t there. There was an awkward pause of silence as they looked at each other.

  “I rather like yours as well,” the man finally said.

  The woman gave him a nervous smile.

  “Can I have them?”

  She struggled with her words. “W-what?”

  “Can I have your eyes?” he said calmly.

  She said nothing.

  He smiled, noticing her accelerated heartbeat slightly moving the left side of her neck. “You don’t think I’m serious, do you, Miss?”

  The woman stepped back. “Uh...no, of course not. Um, have a nice day, then, Officer.” Hastily, she turned around and sped off.

  He watched her go as he smiled, and then he put away the knife he had in his hands. “I really did like them.” He turned to the door and made his way into the building.

  “Nice of you to show up early for work,” a voice was heard lingering inside. The door closed behind the man, and the sun broke against the sky, signaling the start of a new day.

  *

  IT WAS A LONG CARRIAGE RIDE FOR SILAS. Not only was the carriage on its last leg, making due with a makeshift axle and struggling to get back home in one piece, but inside it, a play of somber faces glowed against the backdrop of an orange dawn.

  Belloc hadn’t said a word since they departed, keeping his eyes lowered and glued to the empty space next to Silas. His bloodstained suit and shirt were a reminder of the tragedy he’d discovered just hours before.

  Posy sat next to Belloc, keeping close to her corner of the carriage as she stared out the window. She used her right hand to keep her head propped up. She wasn’t weak or sleepy, just unmotivated to stay consciously awake; she’d rather close her eyes and escape from the world, if only just for a few hours. Her left hand she kept resting on top of her stomach. It never moved.

  Silas soon realized that he wasn’t the only one with problems. All three of them were broken, filled with emotional aches and pains that chipped away at their troubled hearts.

  The carriage finally made it to the heart of the city, and turning the corner, it pulled up in front of Posy’s apartment. Once the carriage stopped, Posy sat still for a few seconds. It was obvious that she didn’t want to get out.

  Silas wondered why.

  A moment later, Horace came bursting out of the building’s front door. The look on his face said it all. He wasn’t happy.

  “Oh,” Silas mumbled.

  Posy sighed, rolled her eyes, and opened the door with a kick and a bump. She stepped outside, only to meet the disheveled fiancé at her doorstep.

  “Where were you?” Horace demanded.

  “I was working, like I told you.”

  “I asked you to be home early.”

  “I am.” Posy raised her hands up, as if demonstrating the beauty of the morning sun. “It’s early.”

  “There’s no use talking to you. You’re just a child in men’s pants. You don’t even look good in those clothes. Do you know how strange it is for a woman to wear something like that? Would it kill you to wear a dress once in a while?”

  “You’d like that, for me to wear a dress as I wait for you to come home and tell me all about your day.”

  “You mean instead of staying out all night?”

  “It’s called doing my job.” Posy crossed her arms.

  Horace turned his nose up as he walked away.

  “Are you coming back today?” Posy asked.

  “I don’t know!”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Silas sat back, trying to pretend he didn’t hear anything, yet failing miserably at doing so. He looked at Belloc and saw him taking in the whole thing; his weary eyes betrayed his thoughts. He certainly didn’t approve of Horace. He wished better things for Posy.

  “She shouldn’t be alone right now,” Silas commented.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Trust me.”

  Belloc just stared at Silas for a moment, sensing something troubling swimming inside his thoughts. “Then go get her.”

  Silas jumped out of the carriage and intercepted Posy before she was able to open the door to her apartment building. He grabbed Posy’s hand. “Don’t go in.”

  “What are you doing?” Posy asked, giving him a look.

  “I think it’s better if you stayed with us...for at least a night.”

  “Is this what you think?”

  “No, Belloc agrees.” Silas let go of her hand. “It’s better for us this way. There are a lot of things we have to talk about. Plus, it’ll be safer for us if we stay together.”

  “You don’t think I can handle being by myself?”

  “I think you can, but I’d rather you not. I’ll let you be proud, but I won’t let you be proud and stupid. That’s a deadly combination.” Silas turned around and made his way to the carriage, opening up the door for her.

  Reluctantly, Posy stepped away from her apartment building and walked back towards the carriage.

  “Thank you, Posy,” Belloc said to her as she sat down. She smiled at him as Silas jumped in. “Driver, take me home.”

  “Yes, Inspector.”

  The carriage broke away from the curb and began making its way out of the heart of the city.

  An hour passed. What was once a bright morning had now turned to a dance of gray clouds smothering a dull sun. Rain poured down as a slow-moving fog crept its way into the city’s outer areas.

  Inside Belloc’s townhome, Silas opened the door to his room. “This is where you’ll sleep.”

  “This is your bed,” Posy replied, put off a bit.

  “And now it’s yours for the time being. Don’t fight me on this. I don’t sleep much during the wee
k, especially at night. I’ll stay out here and work on the reports, unless you want to help me fill them out.”

  Posy quickly changed her mind. “No, I’ll let you handle that for now. Just don’t mess anything up.”

  “I’ll be careful. Now go to sleep. You look quite tired.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Posy made her way to his bed, sitting down. Silas watched her for a second, knowing quite well what ailed her. She laid her head down on his pillow. “What is it that I smell?”

  “Cherry blossoms. I have a bag of their petals next to my lamp. I found the petals in a hidden pouch inside the bag I had on me when I was first discovered. I must’ve brought them over with me from Japan. I don’t really know why.”

  “They smell nice,” Posy replied, breathing softly and letting her eyes droop.

  “Yes, they tend to calm me down whenever I have them around.” Silas stood there for a moment, watching her fall asleep. He liked the way her long blonde mane washed across her shoulders, resting on her bosom. Her pouty, cupid’s-bow lips were inviting, and her pale skin glowed under the dimly lit lantern hanging in the far corner. How could someone not love this woman with all of their heart?

  “You can go now,” Posy abruptly said, surprising Silas.

  “Oh, right...of course.” Silas awkwardly stepped back and closed the door.

  For a moment, Posy kept still, making sure Silas had truly gone. Feeling safe, she suddenly jerked up, full of life. She was sleepy, but she was even more curious about Silas, and now that she was alone in his room...hmm.

  She stood up, being very careful to not make a sound. She looked over the whole room, diligently observing every single object.

  How could someone be so neat? Even though she found Silas’s obsessive neatness to be strange, she was quite pleased with it. The room smelled clean and proper—just like Silas.

  She walked over to his wardrobe, opening it and finding only a group of police-issued suits and boots. There was nothing really personal about his clothes to satisfy her curiosity. She sighed in disappointment. She then moved to his night desk and opened the drawer. Inside, she found an envelope, which she grabbed and read.