The Man Who Walked Alone

By Claudio Hernández

A shady past. Emilio suffer from a horrible disease.Mary Angels suffered from the death of her young daughter and now she is stuck in a wheelchair. Trhirty years later in the city of Amer when the first autumn leaves comes the murders. Emilio discovers several strangled fingers coming out of a pile of leaves. The fingers are purple and the man that walk alone called the police. But when they arrive he could not remembere anything. The alzheimer shows up momentarily in his head, somtime he is lucid somtimes he is not. When he is he returns to the intelectual character he is, a psichiatrist. A few hours later when the forensics picke up the body. Emilio discovered that the body belonged to his daughter Aina. Meanwhile detective Andrés with no manners and a smoking addiction, take over the case with his unique mind. It is not a coincidense that he arrived to the city.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jul 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781547586448

Book preview

I dedicate this book to my wife Mary, who, every day, put up with my childhoodness, including this one. I hope this never ends. I also dedicate this book to my father in law who was a father to me, and I know that in heaven or right beside me, he is still laughing when I write. He always knew that I was able to do things like this, but he wanted to get a growl out of me. He has gotten all my love and I carry him inside me. For you

The Man Who Walked Alone

1

With the autumn the chestnuts and mushrooms came along, even though he never picked them. The man that walked alone, he did that, walk. The mazes of the forest were memories and peace for him, but they became a death trap when the fucking Alzheimer played with him.

Of course, he should not walk alone in the forest. Digging with his crooked body, through narrow paths, sometimes downhill, sometimes up. The man that walked alone, gets inspire by the nature, to let behind all the suffering lived by his wife tragedy; Mary Angels, who, since decades ago, sits in a wheel chair. Moreover, he has to lay her down like a rag doll, all because... because her daughter was no longer with her.

To revive those moments was painful for him and only the first lights of the sun make him feel good. Uncomfortable, but fine nonetheless. He knew that he was alive. The accident could be worse. He drove to slow, but a kamikaze in the road had drove him away from his line and launch him like a stone to the cliff.

Everything spin around, but she didn't have the seatbelt on, and went flying through the windows, like and old cloth. He thought she was gone forever. That blood, the bones cracking along with the car. The deafening scream. When the car finally stopped, inlaid with an oak, he kept watching her through the mirror that had not been move. She did not move, she was a lump in the undergrowth.

Since then, the man walked alone. To think. To forget. Because she had stayed paraplegic and nothing was the same. Nothing

Or maybe it was not like that. He forgot many memories and the accident was one of them. No. It did not happen like that. The truth was in that crash she was alone, rolling over the frozen road with his car until she fuse with tree. However, he had forgot. As many things, he forgot, although he still kept a weird clarity when he was him. His world seems unreal. As unreal as everything that would come now

It’s hard to understand a sick mind

A chestnut Emilio whispers as he remove the dead leaves with the tip of his moccasin to reveal a big chestnut – It’s bitten – he added talking to himself, to the silent birds or to silence itself, the one that only the leafy forests could create. Or maybe not, sometimes the wind cried among the branches and fill him with sadness

He looked up from the ground to the branches of the trees. It most have been a chestnut nearby. The sun tries to shine through the web of branches that look like an old carpet knit by thousands of threads. His eyes, wrinkled, did not closed. He put his head down and continued to walk alone. As he usually did since decades ago. Sometimes with his hands interlaced behind him; mostly with both arms stiff to his body and a few times with his hands sunk in his pockets, usually in his velveteen pants. Even in summer.

Emilio was 5.5 feet tall and he weigh 154 pounds naked. Far from those 190 pounds of past times, when he lifted weights, the bodybuilding. Now he was crooked and his skin is stretched like a lizard. Pale skin, and bold where there was long hair, and to the sides short grey hair.

He had all of his teeth, and he had retire from work. The nick of the five surgeries of his lifetime over his hernia, did not allow him to walk too fast, but he had a cold temper. He was quiet y cried with movies. However, he did not cry for his son, who he abandoned when he was sixteen.

His dear love, his daughter Aina

The wet ground cover by leaves cover by frost water drops drove him through the forest. Towards the discovery of the century. Not everything could go right that first day of autumn.

He step over a chestnut that cracked under his feet. A small sound that he did not listen.  He raise his other foot, he kept walking until he saw it.

Several twisted fingers came out of a mound of leaves they seemed to point in every direction, except for the sky. With 67 years, he still had a good sight, and did not wear glasses. He saw it with clarity, his heart start to rush. Just a bit. He felt how the wind turn colder that morning. More than five minutes before. He take out his hands of his jacked, it was brown and with a long zipper, that could well enough be a scar because the way it looked, it went from his neck to his belt.

His long fingers reach out like claws as he get close to his discovery. Like he was reaching for a wall to lay down. The stiff white fingers were getting bigger. The leaves covered a body. Lifeless, definitely. In one edge of the coffin like mound, a thumb of a naked foot reveal itself.

His non-existent hairs were bristled. In his head, he felt the most absurd silence in the world coming by. He had found a corpse covered by dead leaves. As the thing beneath it should be. His first tough was to call the police

And he called

He had his phone prepared with quick dials with the most important numbers, the police, firemen’s and his daughter. His print went to the police dial. He put his phone in his ear and listened to the first tone of the call

His heart kept beating, but not as fast as he expected. Emilia had been an excellent psychiatrist and he could still remember, although sometime he forgot everything.

Hello? said a feminine voice without identifying as the police. Emilio put down the phone and looked at the touchscreen, doubting if he had dial the wrong number. He was sure that he was not like that. It was one of those few times were he was right.

He put his phone up again

-  The police?

-  Yes. How can I help you?

-  I had found a dead body" he said without hesitate

––––––––

2

The police inspector Andrés Lopez was rushing his cigarette in a smoke cloud that spin around itself, twisting, like a whirlwind and later vanishing. With his long and rough fingers, he took what was left of the cigarette among his dry lips, and threw it to the ground, pushing with his middle finger like a catapult. The cigarette end landed hitting twice, like a stone sliding in the water when is throw hard.

The waitress look at him with an unfriendly face. Andrés smiled at her. It was not her. The same big woman that had endure all the smoke of his cigars some time ago, she pull out her serpentine tongue every time she pointed to the No Smoking sing. This time it was a younger girl. She had just turn 18. Her big jasmine lips, almost take the beauty out for a clown costume. She had a great body wrap inside a waitress uniform. It was a black attire, with the slogan in the right corner above his pocket, right above her bulky breast.

Coffee, something

Andrés did not longer remember it, neither had he pay attention to the letters. Marta was in front of him, in the edge of the metallic and rough surface of the table, she remember it, but she will not asked. For Andrés this bar was the entrance of the Albéniz movie theatre, so it brought him many memories.

You had not change much, said Marta, while her forefinger, the tip of it, caress the edge of a glass of hot milk. A smooth and round surface.

However, you had change a lot, daughter Andrés spur. He had call her daughter once again.

She frown and put her nose down, she smile.

Are you calling me old? She laughs like a bad girl. Her eyes shone, under the cheap light of the coffee house. Nevertheless, they shone.

"No. I’ve just said that you had change. You are older now. Just a bit. I see you more mature

She was bowing her head backward with her eyes wide open

It has been just a few months She recriminated him

"I think is your hair color is what makes you different. When I meet you, you were a scared little girl. However now, you are a warrior. How is life?  Are you still figuring out riddles?

She nodded.

I’m writing a book about it she admitted I talk a little bit about everything. Although I think I’m stuck. I don’t know if it’s going to be an essay, a guide or a novel" her eyes squinted.

Andrés put his long rough hand over the cigars box that was on the table. He had the incontrollable need to feel nicotine in his lungs.  The harsh paper of the cigar dancing in his dry lips.

You can always write our history. The cypher killer" Andrés reminded her this while the edge of the box touch his thumb. A cigarette came out like a white tongue.

Marta smiled. It was the best that she knew how to do. Smile at the man that help her out of an infinite dark tunnel that her life had turn into.  Her loneliness. Inspector Andrés had become the role model of a father for her. Now he was there, because he wanted to see his daughter.

He was back from Madrid to spend a two days with her, but he will never imagine that he will stay up to three days.

It was a lot of fun, She answered with a milk moustache under her nose. The glass tinkled when she put it on the table.

Tell me about it Andrés aid while he inhaled his cigarette, so hard that his eyes seemed to sink in his eye socket.

The murders were awful, but the riddles were entertaining for a while She added while she cleaned her mustache with a napkin.

Now they seemed awful to you? Andres wanted to laugh, but he knew he was not an easy smile man. He did not smile ¿You did not like the terror?

She nodded

Yeah, sure her finger was playing with the edge of the glass again

And coming back to your hair color Andrés said in a diversion attempt "You had rinse it, right?

You are really sharp She smiled

That’s what everyone says to me, Andrés said, letting go of a smoke cloud that later dissolve under the lamp over their table. The light was like a sun hidden by clouds

Marta put her round lips in the glass, and sipped some milk. This time with no moustache.

¿And what about that creepy Sargent? Marta had changed the subject again, she was nosey.

Andrés inhaled his cigar while one end showed the red flame of a fire.

I call him fatty

Marta laughs really hard 

"¡Great!

"He is probably behind his desk right