The Valentine Circle

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The Valentine Circle Page 20

by Reinaldo DelValle


  “Oh, I remember him,” the old woman said. “Oh my heavens. I almost forgot.”

  “Remember? You used to work at this school during the kidnappings?”

  “No. But my oldest son went to school here during that time, and that boy, the last one you have there, was good friends with my son. I remember the day when I heard about his kidnapping. It was awful.”

  “Was he a bully too? I mean, did he bully your son?”

  “No, my son never told me that he was being bullied by him. But...I never got the sense that he was that type. Though there was something odd about the boy, something off-putting. I think emotionally, he wasn’t all there. He was an orphan, living in a foster household.”

  “Oh.” Silas didn’t pay much attention to her, especially since she began to reminisce about the boy.

  “One thing I do remember about him was that he was quite the handsome boy for his age.”

  “Hmm.” Silas ignored her while he sifted through more files.

  “He had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. They were...luminous.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I was mentioning the boy’s eyes. They were lovely.”

  Silas just stared at the woman, knowing now precisely who the boy was, and calmly, he asked, “What was his name?”

  “Um, it was...Klaus. Yes...Klaus Dettweiler. It’s in his file.”

  “Klaus, huh?”

  And the woman’s eyes lit up as if she’d been hit by a runaway memory spiraling into her thoughts. “That’s right! I almost didn’t remember.”

  “What? What did you forget?”

  “There was an instance about a month after Klaus was kidnapped. Someone had anonymously told the police that they spotted Klaus with some young doctor who’d made a name for himself working with a number of orphanages around the northern part of Massachusetts. But nothing came of it. I don’t even think the police even investigated the report.”

  Not surprising.

  “Is this doctor still around?”

  “I think so,” the woman replied. “A couple of my friends were talking about him a few days ago at the hair parlor. He’s retired now and runs a clinic about five blocks from here. He lives in the same building. You think he knows something about the kidnappings?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

  “Then, if you must, be careful.”

  “Why do you say that?” Silas stood up and put the boys’ files back in their boxes.

  “He’s sort of...strange. The man’s a bit paranoid. His wife left him because of it, and I don’t think he’s seen his children in a long time.”

  “I see.” Silas made his way up the stairs with the woman. “Well, thanks for the warning.”

  “I do hope you find what you need. I think, secretly, that the town as a whole yearns to bring closure to what happened with those kidnappings, even if it was a good forty years ago.”

  “And I hope to bring that closure to them,” Silas said sincerely, heading up to the first floor and walking his way towards the exit. “If anyone comes asking, you never saw me. Understood?”

  “Why?”

  “For your protection.”

  A string of goosebumps ran up the lady’s arm.

  “Good day.” Silas escaped out into the hallway and out the front entrance.

  It was early evening when Silas finally located the county clinic where the famed doctor was rumored to have been operating for the past ten years. It looked a bit run-down, nestled in the heart of the city, between a bakery and a taxidermy shop.

  Ugh.

  Yet even though the building might have been on its last legs, inside the clinic there was a storm of busy bodies running around, frantically performing their daily duties. A group of nurses attended to the sick and needy. The lobby was jam-packed with the homeless and desperate. Crazy or not, the doctor was someone of high esteem, beloved by the city’s poor and destitute. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t have secrets. Everyone does.

  He knocked on the door and a nurse came running to answer. “Hello,” Silas said. “My name is...”

  “You don’t have to knock, you know. Hurry up and come in. It’s quite cold out there.”

  “Well, I don’t...”

  “Hurry up now,” she urged, encouraging Silas to step inside. “You can have a seat over there. We are already short-staffed, so you’re in for a long wait. I hope you brought something to read.”

  “Wait, all I need...”

  “Wait your turn, sir,” the nurse interrupted, ignoring his plea, and apparently, his badge. “Doctor Sabatini will be with you as soon as he can.”

  Good grief. Silas sat down next to a couple of homeless men with their clothes and coats torn to bits. They coughed furiously into their weathered hands. Phlegm. Cough. Snot. This was probably not the best idea.

  Patiently, he sat on his chair, observing the doctor as he moved from one patient onto the other. The doctor didn’t seem strange or out of his mind. He was nearing his late seventies, but he still diligently worked on his patients, diagnosing them and providing the right treatment. They all left with smiles on their faces. This was a good man. What did he have to do with the kidnappings?

  Finally, Silas was the last one left. It was near closing time. The doctor took off his used gloves and began putting on a new pair.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Silas said, still sitting in his chair, his face partly covered by the evening’s shadows as they peeked in through the large window.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You can put those away. I’m not ailing at the moment, at least as far as I know.” He stood up and approached the doctor. He showed the doctor his badge. “I’m Deputy Inspector de San Michel. I just wanted a quick word with you, only a few minutes. I’ll be gone in no time. I know you have to close shop.”

  “What can I help you with, Inspector? If I’m not mistaken, that’s a Boston PD badge. Why are you all the way out here?”

  “Well, that’s the thing. I’m investigating a couple of recent kidnappings in my area, and I was told the same thing happened here forty years ago.”

  “Oh.” The doctor stepped back and leaned against a wall, covering himself in shadows. “And what can I help you with? I certainly don’t know anything about any kidnappings.”

  “Oh, you don’t?”

  “Certainly not. I was just a young man back then, keeping my nose in medical journals and the like. The only thing I knew of those kidnappings were small details, and that was after the fact.”

  “I see, Dr. Sabatini. And I believe you. But the only thing I really want to know is—who is Klaus?”

  Doctor Sabatini kept silent, but Silas could hear a small gulp wash down the doctor’s throat.

  “Doctor?” he prompted.

  “I don’t know anyone by that name, Inspector. I’m sorry.” He fidgeted.

  “Think hard, Doc. Forty years ago, you knew a boy named Klaus. Isn’t that correct?”

  “I’ve never known anyone by that name. Not now, not then, not ever.”

  “There was a rumor back then that you were seen with one of the kidnapped boys, Klaus, just a few days after his supposed kidnapping. Were you not questioned about that?”

  The doctor steadily began to gain some confidence. “You’re the first one to have ever questioned me about those kidnappings...forty years later, I may add. And like you said, it was all just...a rumor.”

  Silas didn’t waver a bit. “You used to work for an orphanage back then. Is this correct?”

  “I’ve worked for many over the years, but yes, I had a place in a few orphanages when I was still doing my residency. I was helping out. I’ve always helped out. It’s my passion. Helping people has always been my love in life.”

  “So you healed and looked out for orphans when you were just starting out?”

  The doctor shifted his stance. “No, actually, I didn’t start out as a physician.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was first
engrossed in psychology and pursued my doctorate in psychiatric work.”

  “Really,” Silas replied, now even more interested. “So you counseled the orphans?”

  “Precisely. I cared for their minds instead of their bodies.”

  “I see. And did you counsel Klaus?”

  The doctor laughed. “How could I have counseled Klaus if I never knew him? You’re a slick one, Inspector. Always a distastefully charming quality found in our public servants.”

  Silas smiled. This guy is not going to budge an inch. “Well, I think you’ve answered all my questions, Doctor. It’s clear you don’t know Klaus or anything else about the kidnappings. Sorry to have been a bother.” He turned around and opened the door. “Good day.”

  Silas closed the door, and the doctor was left bewildered at Silas’s willingness to concede defeat so quickly. He let out a great gasp of air. Never had he thought he’d hear Klaus’s name again.

  A few hours after Silas had left, Dr. Sabatini retired to his upstairs living quarters. Once inside, he took off his physician’s coat and spread it out on the living room sofa. He lit up a few lanterns hanging on the wall and also one sitting on the kitchen table. He walked up the stairs towards the third level, where his bedroom and office were located, in order to undress and unwind. A moment passed while the lanterns downstairs burned in complete silence.

  A shadow crossed the living room. Silas had easily managed to scale the building and let himself in through one of the windows. He stood in the middle of the living room for a second, observing the furniture and various knick-knacks. What now, Silas?

  He took his foot and gently knocked over a large vase filled with water and a few flowers.

  Oops.

  Reacting to the commotion, the doctor came barreling down the stairs until he reached the last few steps, which he took a bit slower. He stepped into the living room, seeing the vase on the floor rolling down towards one of the loveseats. Before he had time to react, he heard a plate rattle in the kitchen. Quickly, he scurried over to the kitchen and poked his head inside. Nothing was out of place, except for a window that had been left open. Alarmed, Doctor Sabatini rushed up to the window and slammed it shut.

  With Sabatini’s focus displaced, Silas scurried up the stairs. When he first entered the doctor’s office, Silas was overwhelmed by the smell of old books, and it looked like the doctor had already taken a number of books off the shelves and slammed them down on the desk, toppled all over each other. They were mostly philosophical books, from existential philosophers to modern skeptics, except for two of them, which were clearly works regarding the science of psychoanalysis. Two large candles sat on a night table, and a hefty open lantern rested atop his desk.

  Near the eastern bookshelf, he saw a large wall-mounted vault which had been recently opened. Papers and files had been taken out; some were left dangling from the edges of the vault. The doctor had spread the papers out on his desk, looking over them, tossing one over another in disarray.

  Silas approached the desk. What’s all this? He scanned the various folders and loose papers. He picked up the first file and read the label to himself. “Eighth Level Modified Curriculum, The Factory.” Curriculum?

  He looked at some other papers. He found an application for a revision of curriculum sent in by Dr. Sabatini to some institution named The Factory. It was a suggestion of some classical philosophical courses to be offered at said institution. On the bottom of the application, in big letters, it was stamped: REJECTED. The reason?

  “Deficient of analytical humanism,” Silas whispered. “Courses may instill sympathetic tendencies in fourth-year subjects.” What the hell is all of this? He turned his focus to another folder but then heard Dr. Sabatini walk up the stairs. Damn. He hurried over to the corner of the office and stood behind the door.

  Dr. Sabatini stepped inside, and immediately he knew someone had been looking through his papers. “Anyone here?” He scanned the room and poked his head out into the hallway. “Hello?”

  Silas silently took out a small ball-like object about the size of a marble from his pocket; it was something he had constructed back at Belloc’s townhome with a bit of cloth and loose dirt. He took the ball and threw it at the first candle’s wick.

  Perfect shot.

  Instantly, the flame blew out. When the doctor stepped back into his office, he noticed the difference immediately. He could see the dead flame’s smoke trailing up towards the ceiling. “What’s going on? Who did that?”

  Silas took another of the balls and threw it at the second candle.

  Snuff.

  The light went out. Scared, the doctor stepped back, almost walking into one of the bookshelves. A few books dropped on top of him, making him yelp in shock. He fell to the floor and scurried back towards the entrance. “Who is that? Who’s here?” He stood up and approached the window, looking outside.

  Nothing but winter.

  He turned around and scanned the room, failing to notice Silas hidden deep in the shadows. He walked over to the office’s washroom, inspecting it, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

  Silas whistled faintly.

  “What was that?” Sabatini quickly jerked his head back towards the office. “Is there someone here? Is there—what do you want?”

  Silas took out one of his flat black darts and lobbed it over towards the desk. It stuck to the wood, making a thumping sound.

  “No,” the doctor said as he whipped around and quickly honed in on the black dart. He approached the object, bending over to marvel at its uniqueness. “What is that?” Finally realizing that someone was there with him, he walked over behind the desk and reached into one of the drawers. Pulling out a large knife, he raised it to the nameless intruder. “Show yourself.”

  Silas didn’t move or say anything.

  “Show yourself now!”

  Nothing.

  Dr. Sabatini thought for a moment and tried something different. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you, but you have to leave.”

  Silas pondered on the doctor’s offer, deciding whether he should make himself known. It might work. He took a step forward, but then the unexpected happened that took Silas completely by surprise.

  “Klaus? Klaus? Is that you?”

  Upon hearing that name, Silas moved back into the shadows and let the doctor say what he had to say.

  “Klaus? Is it you? If it’s you, I won’t try to hurt you.” He put the knife down. “Klaus, listen to me. I didn’t say anything. That policeman came to see me, but I said nothing. I swear to you, Klaus—he doesn’t know a damn thing.” He moved to the side, bumping into his nightstand and almost scaring himself to death. “Tell...them...tell them that I didn’t say anything. I’ve never said anything.”

  No answer.

  “Please, Klaus, don’t do this.” But after a minute of standing in the shadows and not hearing a response, he calmed down and sighed. “I know you’re in here, Klaus. I could always tell when you were in the room. You can’t fool me. You never could.”

  He thinks I’m Klaus. That’s not encouraging.

  “Klaus, if...you have to do it...then go ahead and do it quickly.” Dr. Sabatini took off his glasses and rolled up his sleeves. He loosened up his tie so he could breathe better. “Do it quickly, Klaus. Don’t make me suffer.”

  Again, no answer.

  “I’m tired, Klaus. I’m weary from keeping in all of this...secrecy inside of me. I’ve had enough. I don’t think I can stand to live any longer.” He waited for an answer. “Klaus?” His plea was only met with a silent despair. “Oh, the hell with it, Klaus. I’m not going to stand here and let you torture me. If you won’t do it, then I might as well try.” Dr. Sabatini lunged for the knife.

  Silas instantly shot out of the shadows. “Doc, no!”

  Too late.

  Dr. Sabatini had already managed to plunge the knife deep within his chest, forcing him to double over and fall to the floor.

  Silas knelt bes
ide him, dumbfounded. “Why did you do that?” Silas said as he grabbed him. “Don’t touch it. I’ll have to see if I can pull it out.”

  The doctor stared at Silas with amazement. “You’re not Klaus. You’re him, the slick policeman.”

  “Be quiet, Doc. Try not to talk.”

  “You’re not him,” the doctor kept saying. “You’re not Klaus.”

  Well, thank God for that. “Stop talking.”

  “But you,” the doctor gasped. “You—you have it as well.”

  Curious, Silas stared into his eyes. “Have what, Doc?”

  “You’re not Klaus, yet your eyes, though they’re not as luminous as his, have the same darkness. You are both...birds of the same feather.”

  Silas abruptly let Dr. Sabatini drop to the floor, shocked from what he had just heard him say. He jumped to his feet and took a few steps back. His eyes quivered, and his cheeks trembled, watching the poor doctor gasp for life. What the hell did he mean, that I’m like him? “No, you’re wrong. I’m nothing like him. I don’t murder babies and kill young girls.”

  The doctor’s eyes exploded with dismay, and as he took his last breath, he mumbled to himself, “Oh, God, what have I done?” His arms dropped to the floor, dead.

  Silas knelt down beside the doctor. He took his hat off and used it to cover the doctor’s face.

  Clearly, this man was afraid of Klaus; he knew that he was a killer. But is this truly the same man as the one I hunt, this Klaus?

  Silas stood up and walked over to the doctor’s desk. Sitting down, he began to take his time reading through all the files and papers. He came upon one folder that had a number of syllabi for different school years. Apparently, this institution named The Factory was very well organized, dividing their students into different years. He found curriculum for third-year students, and also fourth years, and following with the fifth years; it was all there. But it was all very vague, nothing specific.

  He looked inside all the desk drawers and found nothing of interest. He then decided to run his hand under the desk, and he found a large attachment with a tiny switch on the side. Disengaging the lock, the front flap of the attachment flipped open, and inside, Silas found a large binder stuffed with various pages and folders. He took it out and dropped it on top of the desk.

 

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