“Yes, it me,” Carlisle said. “What did I do wrong? Why do you need to have a talking-to with me? I’m not late, am I?”
“No, no, Mr. Burrows,” Max said. “At least, I hope not. You weren’t the one chasing this poor girl, were you?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t chasing anyone, sir. You have to believe me.”
“The girl here said she saw someone trailing behind her, staying in the shadows, as if spying on her. Was that you?”
“Well,” Carlisle said, thinking about it. “It might have been me. I think I remember seeing her walking up ahead, but it was just a faint image. I didn’t mean to scare her if she thought that I was stalking her, which of course I wasn’t.”
“Very well, then, Carlisle. This young girl here just happens to be Lucy Reilly from the Boston Evening Globe.”
“Oh, are you really Miss Reilly? Tremendous! I’ve been waiting for this interview the whole week. I couldn’t sleep last night. I mean, I know it’s no big thing to be interviewed for a local paper and all, but no one really ever wants to know about my service during the war. Not many people ask. I’m just excited, is all. I even bought a new suit.” Carlisle looked her over and noticed that she had stained most of her pretty dress. “Did I make you do that?”
“Yes,” Max said.
“No,” Lucy replied at the same time. “Well, yes, but it’s really my fault. I shouldn’t have taken the wrong turn, and I shouldn’t have run like that.”
“Well, it wasn’t really a wrong turn,” Carlisle said. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s true.” Lucy felt a lot better than she did ten minutes earlier.
“Well, let’s not stand out here all night,” Max said. “Come on in. Come, come.”
Lucy went in first, followed by Max, who already had one foot inside the shop.
“Mr. Burrows, please be so kind as to lock the door once you’re in,” Max said, retreating towards the front of the shop.
“Of course, boss.” Carlisle looked back towards the darkened alley one last time before stepping inside the building. He waited a few seconds for Lucy to break away from him. He then shut the door and put his hand on the doorknob, twisting it in such a way as to make it look like he had locked the door, but in reality did no such thing.
Carlisle rushed into the front of the store, which was quite grand for a taxidermy shop. The whole place was lit up by a number of lanterns hanging from the ceiling. It had a split-level design, with the bottom floor separated by only a few stairs, and the same with the second level.
The bottom level was the showroom, decked out with loads of antlers and real stuffed animals displayed all along the desks and counters, ranging from dogs and cats to cougars and cheetahs. Most of the animals had animated faces with their teeth showing, as if ready to take a bite out of an unsuspecting customer.
To Lucy, it all seemed a bit creepy. The smell was unique, and it bothered her greatly.
On the second level was the workshop, full of machines and beaten-up tables. That was where the owner’s office was located, and it was where Max headed up to in order to finish closing for the day.
Carlisle took his hat off but left his coat on. Apparently, he was still cold from being outside for so long. “Sit down, please, miss,” Carlisle said.
“You can call me Lucy.”
“Oh, okay, wonderful! Lucy it is, then. Please sit down. Is there anything I can get you? Some coffee or mineral water? Perhaps some tea?”
“A mineral water will be fine, thank you.” Lucy took her coat off and draped it over her chair’s rail. She sat down and took out her small journal and pen she had packed away inside her big coat pocket. While Carlisle went into the break room to gather some water for Lucy, all she could do was stare out the window and wonder about the shadowed man she knew was stalking her.
Carlisle came out with the water. “Here it is, Miss...er...I mean, Lucy.” He caught her staring outside. “What’s the matter? Did you see something?”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just, I could’ve sworn someone was following me.”
“Well, you know, it was probably me. That’s the most likely case.”
“I want to believe that, Mr. Burrows. But I have this feeling that it wasn’t.”
“Oh, well, that’s not an encouraging thought, that someone is out there spying on us. If you want to do this at another time, maybe at your home or place of work, we could always do that. I don’t want you to be, um, how can I say this, not focused on the interview. And, please, I’m not trying to make it sound like that’s all I care about, the interview that is, I mean—Oh, look at me, I’m all nervous.”
“And so am I. It’s quite all right.” She then realized that this was her first interview and she had to do right by it. “I’m ready to go when you are. You have my utmost attention.”
“Oh, very well, then, Lucy,” Carlisle replied, smiling but keeping himself in the shadows. “I was hoping you’d say that. And you can call me Carlisle.”
“Carlisle it is, then.”
“Good. You’ll be all right here.”
Max came down the stairs. “What’s that I hear? Is there something the matter?”
“She’s worried about the person she saw outside. She thinks he’s still out there.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, Miss. This place is like a fortress. No one can get in. Trust me.” Max turned to Carlisle. “You did lock the back door?”
“Um, yes sir,” he replied as he sunk more into the shadows.
“Great. And for Pete’s sake, what are you doing lurking around back there? Come inside and sit next to Miss Reilly.”
“No, thanks, boss. I kind of want to stand.”
“Oh? Is it your leg again?”
“Yes, boss, unfortunately.”
Max turned to Lucy. “You see, Carlisle has a lot of scarring in his leg, and it tends to go numb on him for some unexplainable reason. He has to walk it off for the blood to flow again, and it usually takes a while. Sorry about the inconvenience.”
“No problem at all.” Lucy turned to Carlisle. “I’m sorry about your leg.”
“Aren’t you sweet? It’s all right. I’m used to it. My apologies for acting so weird.”
“No, you’re fine.”
Max went over to get his coat. “Well, I’ll be off.”
“No, where are you going?” Lucy blurted out without thinking. “I mean, you can’t go out there. What if that man is still outside? I’d rather have you here.”
“What purpose do I serve staying here?”
“Well, if that man does come back, then I’d feel safer with you here. Three of us against him is certainly better than two.”
“She has a point,” Carlisle added. “I say you stay.”
“No, Mr. Burrows, there’s no need.” Max walked up to Lucy. “Look, you’ll be fine. Mr. Burrows is a war veteran; he’ll protect you.”
“He’s right, Lucy. I may not look it, but I’m tough as nails. Whoever wants to get to you will have to get through me, and that will be quite difficult. I was the best fighter in my battalion—at least, that’s what I was told. I don’t like to brag much.”
“So you say,” Max countered.
“What does that mean?” Carlisle replied.
“At any rate, I have to go,” Max said. “I have a long day tomorrow. We have a new sale going up. Remember that, Mr. Burrows.”
“I’ve already prepared.”
“Don’t stay out too late. I need you here real early to start work on those pigeons.”
“Ugh,” Carlisle said. “Who stuffs pigeons?”
“Uh, you will, Mr. Burrows, starting early tomorrow.”
“Had to ask, didn’t I?”
“Well then,” Lucy said. “If you must go, I bid you good evening, and do be careful.”
“I will, Miss.” Max grabbed his cane and hat. “Try to make my friend there look good. It’s good for business, you know.”
“I hope I don’t
let you down,” Lucy said.
“You won’t.” Max turned around and exited the shop through the front entrance, locking the door before walking out into the cold winter evening.
“Well then, Lucy, should we start?” Carlisle paced in the shadows, trying to get rid of the pestering numbness.
“Um, sure.” She opened her pad and picked up her pencil. “This interview will be regarding your experiences in the war, especially the more memorable ones.”
“Memorable ones? Lucy, they’re all memorable to me. There’s nothing about the war that I have forgotten. I have a clear recollection of everything.”
“I’m sorry then for assuming.”
“No, it’s fine. How could you know what I went through?”
“Very well, then.” She fidgeted in her seat as she watched him pace back and forth. All she could see of Carlisle was that he was tall and athletic with brown hair and thick glasses. “We could start with your leg. You can tell us how that happened.”
He stopped pacing and took in a deep breath. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m also going to take my boots off; it’s better for my circulation.”
“Um, okay. Go right ahead.”
“Thanks.” He took out a match and lit up a cigarette. Taking a puff, he exhaled with great pleasure. “I never used to smoke, not until after the war. It’s weird what the war can do to you, both physically and mentally.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through it.”
“Oh...I was quite prepared for it; yes I was, quite prepared for it.” He began pacing some more. “War is a terrible thing, and unfortunately for me, as if the fighting wasn’t enough, I was taken prisoner during the First Battle of Bull Run.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. That’s quite horrible. Is that when you suffered the injuries to your leg? Did they do that to you?”
“No, not exactly.” Carlisle took a puff of smoke while he stared out the window. “No, the Southern Army took decent care of me for the time that I was captured. No, they didn’t do this to my leg.” He paused to let out a sigh. “I did.”
“You?”
“Yes, Lucy. I was the one responsible for scarring my leg.”
“Why on earth did you do that, Mr. Burrows?”
“Carlisle.”
“Yes, sorry, Carlisle.”
“Because...I was punishing myself.”
“Why?”
“For not being a good soldier.”
“But why would you scar your own leg, even as a punishment?”
“Because that was what I was trained to do. The pain only made me stronger.”
“Trained to do?”
“Yes, Lucy,” Carlisle replied, pacing back and forth. “When I joined the Union Army, I was selected to partake in a secret operational group, one that was trained in special combat tactics, the first group of its kind. Our training was very unorthodox, and our combat skills rode on an undulating wave of good and evil. Out of the two hundred selected for training, only five passed. I was one of them. I actually excelled in this type of specialized warfare. My test scores were ten times better than the rest.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I was...special,” he replied with a gleam in his eye. “Because, Lucy, before I even enlisted in the army, I was reborn into…the super man.”
“The super man? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to. Not right away, at least. It’s okay. You don’t really need to know all about that.” He paused.
“Are you okay, Carlisle?”
“Do you mind if I put on some music? It’ll be something soft.”
“Well, I guess it’s all right.” Lucy wondered why he would want such a thing.
Carlisle moved up to the front counter and opened up a small music box. “My good friend sent me this from Germany.” He opened up the box and music began to play. It was a mellow, beautiful tune, and it made Lucy smile. “I knew you’d like it.”
“What is it?”
“It’s The Flower Duet from Léo Delibes’s opera Lakmé, first performed in Paris a couple of years ago.”
“It’s quite nice.”
“It’s magnificent.” Carlisle returned to the shadows, finally taking his coat off. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Lucy noticed he had a tattoo on his forearm.
“Is that from the war?”
“Huh?” he said as he was caught off guard. He looked at his arm. “Oh, this? No, this was much earlier in my life.
“What is it?”
“It’s a phrase in Latin.”
“What does it say?”
“The result justifies the deed.”
“Oh,” Lucy said, becoming uncomfortable by its meaning. She cleared her throat. “Does it have any significance?”
“Absolutely, especially during my time in the war. It was what helped me come to terms with what I did.”
Then Lucy threw him a curveball. “Carlisle, can we talk more about your upbringing?”
“Oh,” Carlisle whispered as he paused for a moment. Then, in a weird monotonic voice, as if suddenly changing his manner of speaking, he said, “I’m afraid that might be all too boring.”
Lucy was taken aback by the change in his demeanor, as if Carlisle had suddenly transformed into a different person. “Well, I think it would help me write a good background of who you are, or who you were coming into the war.”
“Very well. What is it that you would like to know?”
“Just some specifics.” Lucy loosened up her dress’s collar a bit. “Um, we can start with where you were born.”
“Somewhere in Germany. Where specifically, I don’t really know. I don’t remember much about my childhood...or my parents for that matter. The only thing I know about them was that they were American.”
“Oh. So you never really knew them?”
“Such is life.”
“Well, so...who raised you?”
“Hmm, well, Miss Reilly, it’s rather difficult to explain. I was raised in an orphanage.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, Miss Reilly. I was well cared for, and my education was top-notch.”
Lucy took a sip of water as her mouth started to dry up. “So then I assume you were an only child? Did you have any brothers or sisters?” She could tell he was smiling.
“That would depend on your definition of brothers. Being an orphan, I didn’t have any immediate siblings, but at the orphanage, I inherited an army of brothers. But becoming brothers was all part of the plan. You could say it was inevitable, for all of us learned to become brothers, to work for the whole, as a bee works for its hive.”
“And did you have many friends growing up, outside your brothers, I mean?”
“Unfortunately, Miss Reilly, I was never really allowed to venture out into the real world, not until we came of age. I suppose you can say we were locked inside in a way, as if being imprisoned, but it was never like that. I’m afraid it’s quite difficult to explain, but we were a very close group, learning and working together, spending every hour of our time in each other’s company. We had no need for friends.”
“Oh, I see.” Lucy wrote in her journal. “That’s interesting.” It was more strange than interesting, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
“Hmm, I believe my leg is all better now.” He stepped up to her. “Do you mind if I sit down, Miss Reilly?”
“No, go right ahead.”
He walked up to the table and sat down in front of her. He took off his thick glasses.
Lucy softly gasped.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes...it’s just...your eyes—they’re quite striking.”
He gave her a huge smile. “I’m flattered.”
“I’ve never seen a color like that before.”
“I’ve been told it’s sort of a light mint green.”
“Indeed.”
“So, where
were we, Miss Reilly?”
“Right.” Lucy shifted in her seat. “Well, just one more thing before we go into your experience in the war, and this is just to get an idea of who you are as a person, but, um, during your time at the orphanage, did you have any particular interests or hobbies? Actually, that question was a bit generic.” She was getting flustered; he was quite intimidating. “What I meant was, what was the one thing that interested you the most, something that you loved to do?”
He leaned over to her, and with an eerie, dark, and monotonic tone, he asked, “Do you really want to know?”
“Humor me.”
He grinned. “I see. Well, Miss Reilly, it’s quite difficult to explain, but I have a penchant for picking flowers, always had.”
“Flowers? You like to pick them?”
“Yes, especially when they are in bloom in the bosom of spring.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I guess that sounds...quite nice.”
“Does it, now? You see, Miss Reilly, I have a habit of picking every flower I can get my hands on until there are no flowers left for me to pick, until all is bare and vacant, and the fruits of spring have been banished and eaten.”
“Why would you…why would you do such a thing?”
“Oh, why would I, indeed? Why do I do a lot of the things I do? I’m afraid that’s all too complicated for you to understand, and it’s a pity you never will. At any rate, Miss Reilly, that is the extent of my rather strange interest. I am but a simple man with simple pleasures.”
Lucy gulped some water down, and her palms began to sweat. She looked at her journal and at all the questions she had prepared for the interview. She kept flipping back and forth from page to page, trembling a bit from feeling overwhelmingly nervous. “Um... I guess...um, the next thing we can talk about...hold on one second.”
“Take your time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right.”
“Um, okay. Here we are. You said you were sort of isolated inside the orphanage, never really venturing out into the world?”
“That’s correct.”
“Did you ever, that is, before participating in the war, experience the world? Did you ever travel the country? Did you have any jobs? I guess what I’m trying to say is, was there ever a point where you weren’t isolated within a group, but set out to roam free and explore, meet new people and try new things?”
The Valentine Circle Page 29