The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  Isidore’s face hardened, and in that moment, he seemed to expand ever so slightly. There was something menacing just below the surface, struggling to break free. It was becoming apparent that he was a very dangerous man, and completely loyal to my uncle. I had a sneaking suspicion that whoever, or whatever, had upset Andrew had better pray that Isidore didn’t bury them for it.

  Andrew motioned for me to follow him upstairs. I glanced back at Isidore and frowned. Needless to say, I was concerned about the man, but Isidore’s reaction had me thinking there might’ve been more to my uncle than being a purveyor of books.

  My voice came out flat, and perhaps a little cold. “What’s wrong?”

  He stopped short and turned to me with a curious look. His gaze tracked up and down me for a moment before he shook his head. “I need to check a few things before we talk.” He pivoted, and his pace quickened as he took the stairs two at a time.

  He crossed the living room, removed the contents of the box, and set them on the table. After searching the bottom of the parcel again, he pulled out a small jeweler’s bag. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, and he took a deep breath. His knees started to give out, and he quickly plopped into the nearest chair. Turning the bag over, he dumped the contents, and there was a soft hollow thud as metal struck the cover of the book.

  Heartache was written all over his face, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the tiny platinum and sapphire ring. He wiped away a tear and kept the rest at bay while he struggled to catch his breath.

  The familiar combination of fear and grief on his face told me all I needed to know. I’d seen it often throughout the last three decades. Someone close to him was either in trouble, dying, or dead. His was the look of a man who knew the truth of something, yet didn’t want to believe it.

  Refusing to look at me, Andrew fumbled for the phone. “I need to make a call,” he whispered as he dialed a number. He held the receiver to his ear and sat there quietly as the loud ringing on the other end of the line reached me. After nearly a minute, he hung up, and I could almost see the prayers on his lips. With great reluctance, he picked up the receiver again and dialed another number.

  Seconds later, his eyes closed and his voice dropped. “Hello, this is Andrew. Is Martha available?”

  His body tensed, his face reddened, and the tears fell. “I see. Thank you,” he replied blankly.

  Pain etched into the lines of his face—the look of a broken heart, of being left behind.

  Andrew nodded, his voice barely audible. “I’ll be there. Thank you again.”

  He hung up and slumped in the chair, his eyes fixed on the ring.

  There was nothing I could say or do. I left him alone long enough to go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water then placed it next to him.

  I sat down and bowed my head. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  His head snapped up, confusion on his face. “How do you know someone died?”

  Swallowing, I bit my lip and tried not to let his grief overtake me. “I’ve seen that look a lot over the years. I assume it was someone close.”

  He reached out and picked up the ring. “She was my wife, a lifetime ago. We’ve remained friends, but after… Well, we split a long time ago, is all.”

  He clearly wasn’t used to talking about her, but that didn’t stop the guilt from building in the pit of my stomach. He’d been married and divorced. This shouldn’t have been news to me—the man was family, after all—but I’d run away after graduating and never looked back. If there was a shittiest family member award, I’d be the proud recipient of it.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  The words felt hollow, but they were all I had. I wasn’t emotionally equipped to provide comfort. Most of my extended family had died long before I was born. And right after my parents died, I went to work for the DoD, who weren’t exactly big on teaching us how to deal with our feelings. Which was great for the job, but left me lacking in the support department when it came to other human beings.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Andrew shook his head. “No, not right now.”

  I grimaced. “All right… Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  He frowned, and his voice turned hard. “From what I’m told, she was found this morning, and according to the coroner’s office, she died of natural causes.” The tone of his voice made it clear he doubted that was the case. “The funeral will be tomorrow morning.” He glanced over at me. “We’ll need to attend.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to come home to this, but I’m eternally grateful you’re here. Thank you.”

  I forced a smile onto my face. “You’re welcome, and I’m sorry you have to deal with this. It’s never easy to lose someone you’re close to.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “True.”

  After that, we sat in silence until there was a knock at the door. I held up a hand to stop my uncle from getting up. “I got it.”

  He returned to his seat.

  When I opened the door, Isidore was standing there holding two boxes of pizza and a bag of assorted po’boys.

  He handed them to me as his gaze swept past me to Andrew. “Wasn’t sure what you two might want so I guessed. Hope you like meat-lover’s pizza.” His voice dropped, and he asked, “What’s going on?”

  Perhaps I was overstepping here, but he needed to know. “He got news that his x-wife, Martha, passed away.”

  Anger clouded Isidore’s features. “When?”

  I frowned. “They found her this morning. Why do you ask?”

  He shook his head. “Her job wasn’t the safest. Did they say how she died?”

  “According to the coroner, it was natural causes.”

  Isidore tensed, and his voice came out flat. “Unlikely.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?”

  He gestured at Andrew. “Not my place to say. When he’s ready, I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

  I nodded. “Understandable…oh, and the funeral’s tomorrow morning. I’m guessing you’ll be attending.”

  The man actually growled and gave me a curt nod. “I’ll be there. Let me know if he needs anything.”

  Isidore’s cheerful smile, pleasant demeanor, and contagious joy were all gone, replaced by something primal and predatory.

  I gestured at him with the pizza boxes. “I really appreciate this…and let me know when you leave, so I can walk you out.”

  He flexed his jaw, and his gaze swept over me. “I will…especially now.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head. “As I said, not my place.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to make my rounds downstairs. I’ll be back a little later to check on you two.”

  Without as much as a goodbye, he turned and left.

  I locked the door behind me, carried the food into the kitchen, and dropped it on the counter. Then I grabbed a couple of the sandwiches, returned to the living room, and placed one in front of Andrew.

  I pointed at the po’boy. “You need to eat.”

  Andrew gave me a blank look. “Huh?”

  I nudged the food toward him. “Since Isidore went to the trouble of ordering it, the least you can do is eat it.”

  He glanced down at the wrapped sandwich. “I guess so.”

  We sat in silence for several minutes, just eating, drinking, and breathing. At some point during the evening, he tottered off to his room, and I did the same.

  Chapter 4

  Friday May 29th

  Sleep evaded me, so I spent most of the night scouring the Internet for information. Everything I found told me that New Orleans wasn’t the picturesque city portrayed in the movies. If anything, that was the thin façade that hid dark and inexplicable things.

  There were theories, of course, most of them centered around the supernatural or, even more farfetched, aliens. While the city did appear to be an anomaly, I wasn’t ready to crawl down that rabbit hole…yet.

  When I glanced over at th
e clock, it was 2:45 a.m. Time to wind down my evening’s activities and start my day. After creating a hidden partition on the internal drive, I tucked away my notes and searches. The last thing I needed was for Andrew to find them and think I’d lost my mind.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and on my way to the kitchen. Thankfully, it was vacant. It took me a couple of minutes to orient myself, but once that was done, I set to work prepping breakfast.

  Sadly, I’d only gotten the ingredients out of the fridge when Andrew meandered in. He pulled the tea pitcher out of the fridge, poured himself a glass, and sat at the table without saying a word. In an effort to expedite breakfast, I whipped the eggs into a fluffy mixture for ham and cheese omelets. Andrew smiled and thanked me as he mechanically took a fork and ate his meal.

  He tried to hide it, but grief made his voice come out hollow and flat. “That was surprisingly good. Thank you.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder when he passed on his way to the sink. “I need to get dressed for the funeral, and so do you.”

  I got to my feet and followed his lead.

  Back in my room, I pulled my black suit out of the closet. It had taken some doing, but with Isidore’s help, we’d been able to get the wrinkles out, which meant I’d at least look presentable this morning. With my height and size, running out to buy a new suit was impossible.

  It took a few minutes of fumbling with the tie to realize that if anything went wrong today, it would only be a hindrance. Hopefully, a suit minus a silk noose would be okay with my uncle.

  When I stepped into the living room, Andrew was at his desk, looking lost in thought. He held an intricately carved wooden box, which he kept thumbing open and closed. It quickly became clear that he wasn’t going to look up, so I cleared my throat to get his attention. Andrew’s gaze slowly tracked from the object in his hand to me.

  He pushed himself onto his feet, and a quiet power washed off him as he palmed the box with a determined look on his face. A thousand tiny details had transformed him from my elderly uncle into someone who could’ve been mistaken for my older brother.

  What struck me most, though, was his regal authority. His demeanor was similar to some of the men I’d encountered during my time away…the ones who actually ran the governments of the world. Not the politicians or generals, but those in the shadows who pulled the strings.

  I prided myself on being highly observant and, typically, the smartest person in the room, but I’d missed this…or more accurately, kept dismissing and forgetting about it. That simple fact frightened me. I’d survived more lethal encounters than I cared to count because I saw people for who they really were…until now.

  Andrew sighed. “We have much to discuss, but most of it will have to wait until after the funeral.” He glanced down at the box, and an old hurt crossed his face. Lifting his gaze to mine, he handed it to me. “This belonged to your father. He would’ve wanted you to have it.”

  Forcing my mind back into gear, I stepped forward, and took it before sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “What is it?”

  He collapsed into his chair and let out a long breath. “This would’ve been so much easier after your parents’ deaths, but you disappeared.” He looked frail again as his eyes met mine. “Where did you go?”

  Staring guiltily at the floor, I nervously palmed the box. My voice shook, and came out barely above a whisper. “I needed to get away.”

  Andrew’s voice softened. “Twenty-eight years is a long time.”

  I glanced up at him, and shame rushed over me. “I’m sorry…”

  With tears in his eyes, he asked, “Where did you go?”

  I slumped in the chair and sighed. “I started off on Parris Island.”

  He blinked in surprise. “You were in the marines?”

  Sadness threatened to overwhelm me even as I fought to maintain control. “Not exactly. The Department of Defense offered me a job before I finished basic.”

  Andrew folded his hands and placed them on his chest. “And what did you do for them?”

  Memories of the last three decades rushed to the forefront of my mind. In an instant, I relived my time in cities broken by war, the scent of burning flesh, and the screams of the dying. I forced them back into the locked room where they lived. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to tell him what I’d done or where I’d been. All I could do was lie. “I solved problems. Paperwork, mostly.”

  Andrew’s eyes narrowed and focused on me as if trying to divine the truth. He winced and rubbed his forehead. “Open the box.”

  I blinked and glanced at the carved wood in my hand. “What’s in it?”

  He wiped sweat off his brow. “There’s a simple way to find out.”

  With a gentle push, the top flipped up to reveal an intricately carved platinum band with two gemstones. This had belonged to my father, and memories of him swam through my mind. I ran my finger along the edge of it, and gooseflesh erupted all over my body. It was as if I’d found a part of me I hadn’t realized was missing. The feeling subsided, and I slipped it onto my finger.

  Andrew didn’t say a word. He watched and waited for me to process my emotions.

  “I hadn’t realized I missed him so much. Thank you.”

  Andrew forced a smile onto his face. “I have a few other odds and ends for you as well, but it’ll take some digging to find them.”

  A voice in the back of my head whispered that he was hiding something. “I’ve got plenty of time. Maybe we’ll find them on that tour you promised.”

  Andrew leaned his elbows against the desk. “About that…”

  I waved him off and forced a chuckle. “I’m joking. The tour will come in time, and I’ll finally discover what you’ve got hidden over there.”

  Andrew glanced at his watch. Shaking his head, he stood. “It’s after eight…we should get going. Services will be starting soon.” He paused for a moment. “I know you probably want to get behind the wheel of your new vehicle, but since you don’t know the way, would you mind if I drove?”

  I pulled the keys out of my pocket and tossed them over. “I’d be grateful if you did.”

  It took us about twenty minutes to cut through the broken, battered streets of New Orleans. All things considered, the ride to Jacob Schoen & Son Funeral home was smoother than it should’ve been, given the dated suspension of the Tucker. And while it was thick, clammy, and wet outside, I never once felt uncomfortable in the car with the windows rolled up. It wasn’t like the thing had air conditioning.

  As expected, Andrew wasn’t in a talkative mood, so we made the trip in silence. When we got there, the gated parking lot was nearly full. Martha must’ve been a very popular woman. Normally, when you attended such events, you could guess the deceased’s social standing by the predominant types of vehicles found outside. It appeared she was an exception, however. There was a little of everything, from pickup trucks to high-end BMWs, Mercedes, and several NOPD police cruisers, not to mention a plethora of unmarked vehicles.

  Andrew pulled into a space at the furthest end of the lot. He sat there for a moment, as if he were trying to work up the nerve to walk inside. I kept my head on a constant swivel, counting more than two dozen police officers in dress blues with a black band across their badges. Finally, he stepped out of the vehicle, and quickly shut the door.

  I got out and gestured at the nearest cruiser. “What’s with the massive police presence?”

  The question pulled Andrew out of whatever memory he’d been walking through. He glanced around the parking lot before nodding at me. “Oh, Martha was a vigil for the archive.” Confusion must’ve been written all over my face, because he shook his head. “Think of her as a civilian who helped oversee the Uncommon Crimes Division.”

  I wasn’t sure what a vigil or an archive were in this context, so I filed it away as something to look into later. Frowning, I let my gaze wander over several officers to find a clue as to their purpose—other than the obvious—but got nothin
g. “Uncommon Crimes? Aren’t all crimes uncommon?”

  Andrew grumbled. “Not in this city. But this isn’t the time or place to discuss her work.”

  Guilt ran through me, and I closed my mouth and let go of my curiosity. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  Andrew clapped me on the shoulder then guided me toward the front door. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You’ve always been naturally inquisitive. But right now, I need to focus on laying my wife and friend to rest.”

  That was sort of shitty on my part. I’d completely forgotten about Martha when the first shiny piece of information came my way.

  “Of course.”

  I caught sight of Isidore’s back before the funeral home door swung closed. Andrew continued to steer us in the direction of the main entrance, which was guarded by a very fit middle-aged, female NOPD officer. She barely glanced up at Andrew before waving him through then scanned the clipboard in front of her and marked him off the list. I was following close behind, but obviously not close enough as she reached up and placed a hand on my chest. Her deep nut-brown eyes were bloodshot, and a thin, dangerous smile crossed her lips. “Name?”

  Even though she’d only spoken the one word, it was clear that if I wasn’t on the list and I tried to bypass her, I’d be fortunate to wind up in a cell instead of a body bag. She was the kind of officer who thoroughly enjoyed the violence her job afforded her. She’d bait someone and use her authority as an excuse to justify whatever came next.

  I did my best to keep my tone respectful. “Gavin Randall.”

  The officer huffed, scanning the paperwork and apparently praying my name wasn’t there. Those prayers were answered. She took a half-step back, puffed out her chest, and put a hand on the hilt of her weapon. A hint of excitement tinged her voice. “This is a closed event, and you’re not on the list.” With a nudge of her thumb, she unsnapped the nylon strap on her holster. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”