Shadow Walkers

by R L Delaney

  “I don’t think he had a manager.” Harry shook his head. “I understand that you own this place together with your associate, Mister Billows…?”

  “Correct. What about him?”

  “He admitted to organizing illegal prize fights.”

  Rodeo’s eyes flashed. “I am sorry, but I don’t know anything about that.” Then he looked at his watch. “Sorry, but my time is up. You should go now.”

  Harry, again, was not impressed. “If you’d rather come to the station, that’s fine with me. I am investigating a murder and I have no time for foolishness.”

  “A murder? I thought Ironbark died of heart failure.”

  “Sorry,” Harry answered. “He did not. And it is quite possible his death had something to do with the illegal fights your associate was organizing.” Harry leaned forward. “In fact, he told me he was organizing these fights with somebody else… It seems logical he meant you.”

  Rodeo’s eyes darkened.

  “Now let’s stop beating around the bush, Mr. Rodeo.” Uncle Harry’s voice was impatient. “I am not here to investigate your illegal prize fights. I am here to find out who murdered Mr. Ironbark. If you don’t want to cooperate, I will take you in.”

  Now Rodeo’s face began to turn red.

  Uncle Harry didn’t seem to notice. “Tell me… everything.”

  To Justin’s shock and horror Rodeo’s calm and collected demeanor was gone. A furious expression had taken its place. Harry still seemed unaware and continued his investigation. “So… what’s your role in all this, Mr. Rodeo?”

  Then it happened.

  Very fast and very unexpected. Alfred Rodeo exploded.

  Justin’s heart began to pound, and he pushed himself as far back in his seat as he could. Right after Uncle Harry had demanded to know Rodeo’s role in organizing the illegal prize fights, Alfred Rodeo just completely lost it. His face turned a deep, scarlet red and his eyes were no longer just dark, but turned glossy and shone with a strange unfamiliar glance, almost as if someone else was peering at them from an entirely different dimension.

  "Whoa," Uncle Harry stammered. "Calm down, Rodeo… I am just investigating."

  But it appeared he was no longer talking to Rodeo. The face of the man had become a mask of enraged and frenzied terror, his cheekbones tensed, and his whole body shook violently. Then, all at once, Rodeo's mouth flapped open and he began to yell in a deep, low voice, clearly not his own. "Quid mihi et tibi ad animam meam in conspectu meo: Tempus" *

  Uncle Harry cast a helpless glance at Justin, but Justin was no help, as he much preferred to be at home right now, in the safety of his familiar surroundings where he would be greeted by Mom and Dad and the soft eyes of Balthazar.

  “He’s on drugs,” Uncle Harry whispered to Justin. “On a really bad drug. It’s the only explanation. I will just have to take him in.”

  Rodeo pushed his chair aside, clawed his fingers in the desk, and as he got up he towered over his desk, glaring at Uncle Harry, who reached for the gun that hung on his belt, next to his badge. Rodeo leaned forward and then spewed out more words.

  "Odio omnibus estis, et ego non quiescitis, donec penitus consumantur omnes. Nos, vehicula umbra, et praeessent.

  Both Harry and Justin stared at the man dumbfounded.

  And then, just like that, Rodeo's normal face returned. The blood drained from his face, the stiffness in his fingers disappeared, and he began to wheeze as if he was having an asthma attack. While he supported himself by heavily leaning on the desk, he mumbled, "I-I am sorry. He looked up with tired eyes and stammered, “Must have been something I ate.”

  Liar, Justin thought. You had more than greasy pizza. You've been snooping around the illegal candy jar.

  Uncle Harry seemed uncertain as to what to do and stared at Rodeo for a few long seconds. Then, when he was convinced the man was back to his normal state, he pulled out his handcuffs and in one swift move, slid them around Rodeo's hands.

  "W-What's that for," Rodeo said with difficulty. "I've done nothing wrong."

  "Maybe you haven't," Harry said, his voice still trembling, "but I am not taking any chances. I am taking you in." He hesitated, then asked, "What was it that you were saying? Was that Latin?"

  "I did not say anything," Rodeo shot back. "Neither am I talking to you without my lawyer."

  "Suit yourself," Harry said in a calm voice. Then he turned to Justin who still sat in his seat, feeling less than cheerful. "I'll be driving back with Rodeo to the station. You think you can make it home from here?"

  Justin nodded. "Of course, Uncle… I-I am happy to go home.”

  “The life of a detective is not always a bed of roses, Justin,” Uncle Harry chuckled as he pushed Rodeo out of the office, and led him into the hall while several people cast them a curious stare.

  Betty Carrington gulped when they passed by her desk, but Uncle Harry didn’t feel the need to explain what was happening and shoved Rodeo out the glass door.

  “Get a good night’s rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Uncle Harry said once they were outside. “Say hi to your parents from me.”

  Justin nodded, and as he saw Uncle Harry pushing Rodeo into the police car, he stuck up his hand to wave goodbye.

  The sun was just sinking behind the distant mountain peaks as Uncle drove off and Justin turned around to go home.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day it was time to face Sternfoot once again.

  Chemistry was the first lesson of the day, and as Justin entered the classroom he sat as far to the back as he possibly could. Amy was sitting somewhere in the middle of the classroom. She noticed him coming in, and she cast him a wide smile. It was like a ray of sunlight on a dark, cloudy day.

  Sternfoot, dressed again in his typical smelly white lab coat, stared at the students before him and cleared his throat. “I have been very sick. I had the flu. We were supposed to have the test, but I couldn’t make it, as I had a high fever. We will have to do our test next week.” He paused for a moment and blinked as Amy raised her hand.

  “Yes, Miss Stenson… you have a question?”

  Amy licked her lips. “How high was your fever, Mister Sternfoot?”

  Sternfoot narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to know, Miss Stenson?”

  “You might still be contagious. A regular flu lasts at least two weeks. We really don’t want to get as sick as you did, Mister Sternfoot. We also wouldn’t want you to have a relapse.” Amy's voice was as soft and gentle as the fur on a fawn, and she gave Sternfoot a concerned smile. Justin couldn’t help but chuckle as he listened to her. That was a daring move Amy made. She was probing around and it seemed Sternfoot fell for it.

  “It was not a regular flu, Miss Stenson,” Sternfoot answered her with his usual scowl. “It was the Aichi/2/68 (H3N2) virus, related to the Hong Kong pandemic virus of 1968, but it has been crystallized which means I am no longer contagious. Anything else?”

  Now Justin raised his hand.

  “Mr. Ames?”

  “How did you get it, Sir?”

  Sternfoot curled his lips. He was clearly suppressing his irritation. “This is not a biology class, but I assure you, I am fine. If it’s all right with all of you, I would like to start my class.”

  “But how did you get it?” Billy Bratmeyer jumped on the chance to irritate the teacher. He spouted out the question without raising his hand. Justin doubted very much Billy was interested, but at that moment he was grateful for Billy's insolence.

  Sternfoot scowled some more, but then, no doubt just to get it over with, he answered the question. “You get it like you get any other flu. People cough in your face, you shake hands with dirty people. You mostly get it in spaces with lots of people.”

  Justin knew he shouldn’t be asking the question, but he just wanted to see Sternfoot’s reaction, and he couldn’t resist. He raised his hand again.

  Sternfoot nodded. "Mr. Ames?"

  “You mean, places like barns and hangars where lots o
f strange people gather and watch prize-fights, and things like that?”

  A clear tremor coursed through Sternfoot's body. His lip began to tremble and his eyes flashed. "What did you say, Mr. Ames?"

  Justin’s heart was pounding. He knew he was pushing Sternfoot in a corner, but he just wanted to see what the man's reaction would be. He felt Sternfoot’s harsh, stony eyes boring into him, and as he locked eyes with Sternfoot, he felt a deep, dark hatred, so hot and so real that it caused him to shudder. At that moment Justin also knew that his chance of ever getting a good grade for chemistry had gone straight out the window.

  He should have known better.

  He should not have said a thing.

  But then, right before everyone's eyes, Sternfoot's face turned a bright red and the man began to shake, much like the way Alfred Rodeo had acted the day before. Scary, weird and far from normal.

  The whole class gaped at the chemistry teacher who was reeling back and forth in his lab coat, trying to regain control. But whatever it was that had gotten into him was too strong and at that moment, Sternfoot’s mouth flopped open and he said in an unfamiliar voice, “Vos foeda squilla.”

  What was that?

  It sounded just like the language Rodeo had uttered yesterday, and Justin shuddered. But Sternfoot seemed to have better control over his emotions than Rodeo. He raked through his wild hair and fell back on his chair and without looking up he mumbled, “Maybe you are right. I still feel sick. Class dismissed.”

  The students stared at each other, not knowing how to react to Sternfoot’s strange behavior, but then Billy Bratmeyer jumped up, grabbed his bag and ran off while joyfully shouting, “All the best, Mr. Sternfoot. See you when you are all better.”

  Within seconds, all the others grabbed their supplies and streamed out of the classroom, happy for the unexpected freedom. Within seconds the class was empty.

  Once Justin was outside as well, it took him a moment to recover from the shock, and he heaved several deep sighs. Then he noticed Amy who was waiting for him, leaning against a pillar in the hallway of the school.

  He shook his head and said, “This is getting stranger by the minute, Amy.”

  She gave him a small nod. “Today, Sternfoot was almost as weird as he must have been in that dream of yours.”

  Justin raised his brows and raked through his hair, while glancing at Amy. “Thank you Amy,” he said.

  Amy turned, surprise on her face. “For what?”

  Justin shrugged his shoulders. “For asking that question. That was quite courageous.”

  Amy pressed her lips together and pointed to an empty table in the main hall of the school. "Let’s sit down.”

  "Good idea," Justin mumbled, still feeling a little shaky.

  After they sat down, Amy peered deep into Justin’s eyes. Then she did something that caused Justin’s heart to take a small leap. She grabbed Justin’s hand and whispered, “I asked that question in class, because I wanted to see how Sternfoot would react. And… I didn’t like what I saw, Justin. I sense something is very wrong in the spirit. There’s a pervasive evil in the atmosphere.” She pulled her hand away.

  Justin wished she had not done that, but he understood. They were sitting in the middle of the hall, and people like Billy would love to send distorted stories around using the gossip mill. But Amy was right. Justin felt it too.

  He licked his lips and asked, “Did you hear him say that strange phrase, Amy?”

  Amy nodded. “I did. It was Latin.”

  “Latin, huh? Just like yesterday,” Justin said as he narrowed his eyes.

  Amy frowned, and Justin explained.

  “When I was with Uncle Harry yesterday at the gym, and he was questioning Alfred Rodeo, the man broke out in weird Latin too. He almost became violent. It was so strange and scary. Uncle arrested him on suspicion of illegal drugs. It would be nice if we knew somebody who speaks Latin?”

  "What good is that going to do?" Amy asked. "You have no idea what that man was saying to you and your uncle."

  "Actually, I do," Justin replied as he pointed to his iPad. "I recorded the whole conversation."

  "You did?" Amy's eyes widened. "And your uncle knows that?"

  Justin shook his head. “I didn't get a chance to tell him yet, but it's no use since nobody speaks Latin." He chuckled. "I even tried to use Google Translate, but it just gave me nonsense. Maybe it was just drivel."

  Amy’s face brightened. “I know someone who speaks Latin.”

  “You do? Who?”

  “Father Tobias Gálvez speaks it.”

  Justin had never heard the name. “Who is Father Tobias Gálvez?”

  “He’s a priest. Actually, he’s quite a nice fellow.” Amy replied. “When I was a kid, my mother sent me to his catechism, every Saturday night. She wanted me to have a religious upbringing.”

  Justin grinned. “Did it work?”

  Amy looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “Well… eh…,” Justin had the feeling he had stuck his foot in his mouth and he blushed. “Did the influence of Father Gálvez help to make you a better person?”

  Amy shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. He told me about God. He was nice.”

  Justin looked up, surprise in his eyes. “God? You mean you believe in God?”

  Amy stared at him blankly. “Don't you?”

  Justin was taken back for a moment. “I-I don’t know. I told you I like Christmas.”

  Amy drew little circles with her fingers on the tabletop. “I guess there’s something up there. But I am not going to church or anything.” She stopped and looked up at Justin. "In my case,” she continued, “my mother just wanted me to hear Bible stories. You know, stories like Daniel in the lion's den, and Moses parting the Red Sea. Stuff like that. You've heard those stories.”

  Justin shrugged. "No, I never heard those stories."

  Amy raised her eyebrows. "You never did? I guess you never went to somebody like Father Gálvez.”

  “No,” Justin said while pressing his lips together. “My folks are not religious. My Dad always told me I should figure these things out for myself, and now, considering all the crimes that are being committed in the name of God, I can’t say I am unhappy about my father’s choices.”

  Amy’s fingers were now playing with her hair. What would it be like if her fingers would do that to his hair… Justin rejected the thought. Not here in the middle of the school.

  “What’s more,” he continued, “most people don’t even agree. I mean, look at all the different religions. There are Presbyteriars, and Seven Days Advantaged… Others are Jova Witnessers. It’s just stupid.”

  Amy’s eyes lit up and she burst out laughing. “I don’t think you pronounced thos names quite accurately.”

  “Whatever…” Justin shot back, feeling dumb. “You get my drift.”

  "Don’t worry about it,” Amy replied. "The point was that Father Gálvez is fluent in Latin, and he may help. Actually, I haven’t seen him in years.”

  Justin liked the plan. "Do you think he would like to listen to my iPad? It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

  Amy smiled again and her face lit up. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you introduce me to your Uncle Harry after school? And then we’ll ask him if he thinks it's a good idea. If he agrees, I’ll see if I can talk to Father Gálvez.”

  Justin’s heart warmed. It sounded great. The only thing he did not like was that he had to still sit through art and biology before they could leave and introduce Amy to his Uncle Harry.

  Harrison Ames looked distraught and discouraged, when Justin and Amy entered his office later in the day.

  "Hello, Justin," he said in flat tones without looking up.

  Justin frowned. He was not used to seeing his uncle like that. "Is everything all right, Uncle?"

  Uncle Harry looked up, his face tired, and it seemed all the energy had drained out of his body. "Not really," he answered. "Alfred Rodeo is gone."

  "Gone
? What do you mean?" Justin did not understand.

  Harry looked up and raised his arms in frustration. "Gone… Footsy, as in no longer here."

  Justin licked his lips as he stared at his uncle. "Well… where is he?"

  "I wish I knew," Uncle Harry said while he shook his head and lifted his hands in desperation. "A few hours ago we went down to his cell to check on him, and he was… gone. The jail cell was still locked, but Rodeo was nowhere to be found. He just vanished."

  Justin understood his uncle's frustration. How was such a thing even possible?

  "We've got a recording, Mister Ames," Amy spoke up.

  Harry looked up, not understanding what Amy meant. After he had studied the young girl for a moment he turned to Justin and asked, "Is she your girlfriend?" Justin blushed, but said nothing. Amy answered for him. Her words surprised him, and made him feel warm inside.

  "I am, Mister Ames," she said, "but as I said, we've got a recording of the Latin words this man Rodeo spouted off yesterday when you and Justin were questioning him.”

  Harry's eyes widened. "A recording?"

  Justin cleared his throat. "Yesterday, when we visited Alfred Rodeo, I made a recording with my iPad. I figured it could be helpful."

  Harry nodded and thought for some time. "But nobody here speaks Latin."

  "That's why we came," Amy said. "I know someone. But we figured it was best to consult with you first before we do such a thing."

  Harry cast Amy an admiring, grateful smile. "That’s good thinking. I could use a bit of good news.” He nodded to himself and then, as he looked up at Justin, he mumbled, “I told you there's a real detective in you, Justin. Actually…” he said as he turned to Amy and gave her a warm smile, “…in both of you. You two make a good couple, and are excellent snoops.” He smiled warmly at her. "So… who is this person that speaks Latin?"

  "Father Gálvez," Amy answered.

  "He's a Catholic priest," Justin explained.

  Harrison smacked his lips. "Well, it's worth a try. Who knows, maybe it sheds some light on the whole thing.” He thought for a moment, and then said, “I’d like to meet this Father. He may be needed after we have caught Rodeo again. The whole police force is on the lookout for him. Would you mind asking him if he wants to give us a hand?”