The Valentine Circle

by Reinaldo DelValle

  “Oh, I see,” Posy said.

  “At any rate, if we must go, we best get a move on it,” Belloc continued. “If we leave now, we can get there by morning time.” He motioned to the driver. “Take us to Hingham. It’ll be a long ride. Are you up for it?”

  “Always, sir. It’s what I do.” The driver made sure his covered driver’s seat was nice and tight. “Ready then, sir?”

  “Let’s go.” Belloc tapped the side of the carriage.

  Off they went, riding into the arms of the winter moon, breaking through a pale vision of a silver night glowing against a hazy horizon. Posy slept most of the ride down there. Belloc would doze off once every four minutes and then snap his head up to continue the cycle. Silas didn’t sleep for the majority of the ride, sitting back and thinking of lost memories, but they usually never came when he wanted them to. To him, the best part of the ride was when Posy carelessly let her head slide down to rest on his shoulder. Thinking it was a pillow, she hugged his arm tightly and made little noises of comfort, enjoying the warmth of his body.

  Hours later when she finally awoke, seeing that she had virtually molested Silas’s arm while letting a bit of drool slip out, she nervously backed away and sat up, wiping her mouth and fixing her hair. Good thing Silas was finally asleep. She sighed in relief.

  That is, until she came upon Belloc’s eyes staring back at her, smiling, as if she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Sleep well?”

  Posy cleared her throat. “Well enough.” She fiddled with her fingers. “How long has Silas been asleep?”

  “He only finally fell asleep about an hour ago. He’ll be out until we get there. He let you sleep on his arm for the whole night, even when it eventually went numb on him.”

  “Oh, I see. He could’ve told me.”

  “Yes, he could have.”

  Posy blushed. “Oh...well...are we almost there?”

  “Almost. Just a few more minutes.”

  The carriage rode on for another twenty minutes or so until it finally reached the town of Hingham, crossing into its borders and setting itself on a long road down towards the coast. Countess de Morangias’s manor was located right at the coastline, on top of a great mountainous hill. During the summer months, it was a glorious sight, beautiful and awe-inspiring, like some fancy hotel in the middle of paradise. But in the winter, snow covered the whole area. The gray skies made it seem like a dreary place, and the manor came off as something from a ghost story, covered in snow atop a white hill, secluded and cold.

  Once they reached the bottom of the hill where the driveway began, Silas woke up. He looked around at everyone.

  “Hi there,” Posy said, smiling.

  He grinned at her devilishly.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Your hair; it has the most pleasant smell. It’s like soap with a bit of lavender and vanilla.”

  “Is your arm still numb?” Posy asked.

  “Um, yes, it’s still a little numb,” he replied, wondering why she asked him. “But it’s better now.”

  “Good. This won’t hurt as much then.” She punched him in the arm. “Stop smelling my hair.”

  “Okay, okay. I surrender. I’m sorry. I’ll keep my olfactory senses to myself.”

  “Just...shut up.” She shook her head and crossed her arms.

  The carriage began its trek up the hill, winding up the narrow trail, slowly traversing up the snowy surface.

  “I don’t think the carriage is going to make it,” Silas remarked. “The road is too steep, and the snow will just make it slippery.”

  “You might be right,” Belloc said.

  “You think if we stop you’ll be all right in walking the rest of the way using your cane?” Silas asked.

  “I’ll be fine. I have a renewed sense of energy after sleeping a good bit last night. Come on.” He tapped the carriage, informing the driver to stop where they were. “We’re going to walk the rest of the way.”

  “Good idea, sir,” the driver replied. “I was just about to inform you that this is the farthest we can go.”

  “I understand.” Belloc gestured for everyone to get out of the carriage.

  For about half a mile they walked up the steep, winding road. To them it seemed that with each passing step, the ground was covered with more snow. The further they made it up towards the manor, the more snow seemed to come down on them as well. The wind grew stronger, giving out a weird howl whenever it blew against their coats.

  “I’m thinking this was a bad idea,” Posy said, shivering.

  “It’s too late now.” Silas put his hand on her back.

  “Thanks for the comforting words,” Posy replied. Though the warm hand was a nice surprise.

  “Don’t worry, Posy.” Silas rubbed her back. “Don’t let the house get to you. I won’t let anything happen to us in there.”

  Posy felt as if he truly meant it, and it made her feel safe. She smiled. “But what about out here, though?” she said, joking around.

  “Out here?” Silas looked around. “Oh, out here you’re on your own.” He laughed, but Posy didn’t.

  “Looks like we only have a few more yards to go,” Belloc said as they finally broke the horizon, seeing the large hotel-like manor come into view.

  “Good heavens.” Silas took in the magnitude of the house. “Who needs a place like that?”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Posy said as she reached the beginning of the driveway leading towards the grand estate.

  The Countess de Morangias’s manor was “L” shaped, constructed out of a brick and stone mix, looking more like a resort lodge than a manor. It had two chimney stacks, one on each end of the structure. In the middle, where the building split into an “L”, was a massive vaulted roof stretching up to a tall point with a bell tower on its peak. The front entrance was covered by an archway made up of all brick and stone. The grounds were vast and wide, with an extensive amount of landscaped bushes and trees, all covered in thick snow.

  The three stood there in silence, marveling at the eeriness of the home.

  Silas suddenly crouched down. “Do you hear people screaming?”

  “What?!” Posy exclaimed, her eyes full of dread.

  Silas just laughed as he stood up and started walking away from them.

  “Oh, you...”

  Belloc snickered as he began following Silas.

  Posy stood still for a second, watching them go on ahead. “There’s no way I’m going inside that place.” A coyote howled in the distance. “Okay, fine, fine!” Posy said out loud to anyone who could hear. “I’m coming.” She sped up her pace in order to catch up with the rest.

  Once they reached the front door, Silas knocked on its thick wood. The knock echoed throughout the large structure. They waited for a minute.

  No one came.

  “What now?” Posy said.

  Silas sighed. “I’ll be back.” He took off running towards the rear of the manor.

  “He’s not really doing what I think he’s doing, is he?”

  “Good girl, haven’t you learned yet?” Belloc said. “Just let Silas be Silas.”

  “You think that’s wise?”

  “Wiser than coming here without backup in the middle of winter?”

  “Good point.”

  The door suddenly opened. A loud creak broke the silence.

  “Oh, looks like someone is home,” Belloc remarked.

  An overly tall butler answered the door, and with a baritone voice, he said, “Can I help you?”

  “Um, yes, good sir,” Belloc said. “We’re here to see the Countess de Morangias.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I personally do not.” Belloc took out his badge. “But I believe the city of Boston does. There are a few questions I’d like to ask her, nothing too meddlesome. Just routine work to cover all our bases.”

  The statuesque butler hesitated at first but then let the door slide
open. “Come on in, and do make sure to wipe your feet on the mat. We just had the floors cleaned.”

  “Of course.” Belloc stepped inside the house.

  Posy followed. “What about Silas?”

  “He’ll come to us soon enough.”

  “Right this way,” the butler boomed.

  “Yes, of course.” Belloc turned to Posy. “Come on, and stay alert. Oh, and let me do the talking. Keep your mouth quiet.”

  Once the two of them stepped inside the manor, they soon realized there was some sort of music coming from the next room. Crossing into the room, Belloc spotted the origin of the music: a grand concert music console about four feet high, playing a spirited waltz.

  “Ugh, that music is making me cringe,” Posy whispered.

  “I said no talking.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “This way.” The butler continued to motion them along.

  After exiting the room, they crossed into a large waiting chamber adorned with a number of exotic rugs. The wooden desks were quite ornate and the couches very stiff and proper. Artwork of past family members lined the wall, all of them with dour faces. On top of the desks were porcelain figurines of children at play. There was even a life-sized marble statue of one child standing near a corner, looking out the window, as if yearning to escape his solitude.

  “The countess is in her breakfast room,” the butler said. “Just this way.”

  The breakfast room was about three times as big as the waiting chamber, with ceiling-high, wall-to-wall windows on the outer wall. There was a long, shiny wooden table in the middle of the room. The countess sat at the far end of it.

  She was dressed up in her finest morning clothes, and she was a striking woman, for even though she was nearing her sixties, she still had the beauty and body of someone half her age, short brown hair with almond eyes, cheekbones that signaled a long-lost royalty, and a smile that could still captivate the youngest of men.

  “Wait here.” The butler approached the countess carefully.

  “What is it, Allard?”

  “You have visitors, your ladyship.”

  “At this time in the morning? Funny, I don’t remember scheduling any appointments for today.”

  “It’s an Inspector Belloc, your ladyship.”

  She swallowed her last bite and smiled. She wiped her mouth. “I see,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let them through, Allard.”

  “As you wish.” He turned to Belloc. “The Lady will see you now.”

  The two of them approached the countess. Belloc took his hat off and nodded to her. “Good morning, Countess de Morangias.”

  “Mmm hmm. And to what do I owe the honor, Inspector?”

  “Well, that would be...murder.”

  The countess smiled. “Well, as you can see, there is no murder here.”

  “No, of course not. Actually, your ladyship—”

  “Oh, please,” she interrupted. “Mrs. de Morangias will do for you.”

  “Very well. This visit is merely a formality. You and I both know that I have to follow certain leads so I could then...dismiss them from my case.”

  “Yes, yes. I do understand all of that. What worries me is what lead led you to my peaceful home?”

  “Just a confidant of ours dropped your name.”

  Her eyes soured. Who would dare do that? “Is that so, Inspector?” The countess pushed her plate aside. “And why was my name...dropped?”

  “It seems you know something about the Valentine Society. You see, my present case involves them in a certain way, and I was just curious as to the nature of the group.”

  “I’m sorry, Inspector. I know nothing of a Valentine Society.”

  “I see. Then what would you know of the recent murder of the Decamps girl?”

  “Again, I know nothing of any Decamps girl.” She fidgeted in her seat. “Inspector, you have to understand that I rarely leave the confines of my home. I don’t see a need to. I have all I want here. I don’t see why I would be tied to some strange group back in Boston.”

  “Neither do I. Which is why I’m here.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for you to have wasted a trip.”

  “Oh, it hasn’t been wasted. Not at all. Say, who is Mr. Factory?”

  The countess’s cheeks sunk in a little. “I know no one of that name, Inspector.”

  “Hmm, another dead end, perhaps?”

  “No, not perhaps...but certainly,” she said, motioning with her finger towards his notepad, which he had brought out. “So it seems you can cross this lead off your list.”

  “I want to, Mrs. de Morangias. I really do.”

  “I could help you. In fact, I could even do it for you.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you could.”

  “Well, I know people.”

  “Which is precisely why I want to keep talking to you.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, for I do have a busy day ahead of me that I must prepare for.”

  Then all of a sudden a scream rang out from one of the outer rooms. Both Mr. Allard and the countess were startled.

  A few seconds later, Silas entered the room via one of the side doors. “There you guys are. I must have circled this room about six times.” He turned to the countess. “You must be her, the lady empress herself.”

  Belloc lowered his head.

  Silas turned to his friends. “By the way, from what I saw sneaking in here, nothing really seems suspicious.”

  “Thank you, Silas. That would be all.”

  “So you’re him,” the countess said.

  “Pardon? You know who I’m supposed to be?”

  “No,” she said. “Oh dear, no; no one knows that. What I meant is that you’re the one that keeps swimming into some of my parlor gossip, an Officer Silas de San Michel.”

  “I’m sorry, I swam into whose gossip? You’re saying that there’s a group of older women who sit around babbling about me while drinking their afternoon tea?”

  Belloc lowered his head even further.

  “Sometimes tea, sometimes something a bit stronger.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “You certainly are quite beautiful, aren’t you?” The countess smiled. “The rumors were true.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Now, you see, Inspector, this man here I would love to ogle at for the rest of the morning,” the countess said, her eyes sparkling.

  “Pardon?” Posy blurted out. Belloc hushed her.

  Silas walked up to the countess. For a middle-aged woman, she was certainly attractive. It was a first for him to think that. But enough of the small talk. “You have quite a palace here.”

  “You’re welcome to stay and tour the place.”

  He smiled, ignoring her obvious flirting. “A tour would certainly help. One could get lost inside this maze of hallways. I almost did. I was about to go crazy, not being able to find my way around. You’d probably know something about that, don’t you?”

  “About what?”

  “Crazy.”

  “I don’t understand, Officer de San Michel. Do explain.”

  “Crazy, as in psychopaths and the mentally insane.”

  The countess scowled. Clearly she understood that Silas knew something, certainly more than Belloc ever could know. “Yes, I know something about that. My husband was a psychopath. That was what killed him in the end.”

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” Silas replied. “It must get lonely inside this massive place. If you ever do get lonely, you can always keep me in mind. I could come over for lunch, and we could talk.”

  The countess’s eyes lit up, full of life, loving the idea of staring at him for countless hours. They smiled at each other.

  Posy instantly got a bad taste in her mouth.

  Silas continued, “As a matter of fact, we could even spend some time discussing Fabricae Nova Scotia.”

  The countess’s patience grew thin. “Oh, I see. Well, I wouldn’t know what to say, since I have no id
ea what you’re talking about. But we could still get together and talk about other things, and if we grow tired of talking, we could find...something else to do to fill up our time.”

  Silas straightened up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “But now I have to excuse myself, for I do have to prepare for the rest of my day. Mr. Allard, could you show them out, please?”

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  Belloc sighed, disappointed with the outcome of the interrogation.

  Silas kept his eyes on the countess, studying her demeanor. She knows something.

  “I hope to see you again.” The countess stood up. “Sooner rather than later, I hope.”

  Silas watched her walk away, and as he did, he unexpectedly noticed a large vase full of some suspicious flowers. Curious, he walked over to the vase. “What pretty flowers you have here.”

  The countess turned around in order to entertain his inquiry. “Yes, they are. Thank you.”

  “A present?”

  “I suppose. I don’t receive them; my staff does.”

  Silas’s eyes lit up. “They’re quite exquisite. These are actually very special. It’s a tropical flower, did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “It has the most decadent of smells. In fact, I’ve never come across anyone who knows about this particular flower.” He took his time smelling one of them. “Well, come to think of it, I have come across two people recently that are familiar with this flower. The first person sells these flowers in a flower shop called Rutherford’s Flowers, in Andover City, up in Essex County.” He crossed his arms behind his back, as if thinking of what to say next. “The second person...rode a train last week from Essex County all the way down to Boston.” He stepped away from the flowers. “And we all know who that is.”

  The countess was left dumbfounded.

  “Good day, your countesship.” Silas tipped his hat, making fun of her prestigious status. He turned around and proceeded to walk away. As he passed Belloc, he spoke to him confidently, “Come on, Inspector. I think we may have just hit the bottom of the rabbit hole.”

  The countess watched them go, her eyes narrowing, full of spite and malice.

  *

  “ARE YOU READY YET?” said a young man’s voice deep within the confines of a dark bedroom.