A Walk by the Bridge (part 2)

A Walk by the Bridge (part 2)

It looked like it would rain any moment as the grey clouds were hanging low from the sky and a chilly breeze bellowed on the people mourning for the death of someone they knew. A thick fog covered the feet of those near the grave while some were slowly walking away, deeming it time to go to their homes but still crying on their way. Some opted to stay, wanting to be with the dead one a little longer as they cannot accept their untimely death. Umbrellas ready and their handkerchief by the hand, sobs and wails continued to echo in the cemetery as the time went on.

However, all the people present at the funeral of John Albert Tristan failed to realise one thing: someone was missing. Someone who they thought would not be absent to such an event… was actually not there, not even for a little while. They only realised when everyone was gone from the funeral, “Where is she?” the cameraman asked, ready to snap a picture of her mourning face to put it on the tabloids. When the cameraman uttered those words only the remaining people turned their heads left to right but failed to see red eyes and brown wavy hair. She is simply just not there.

People who are close to John Albert Tristan were disheartened at the absence of the woman, thinking that the heartbreak might have been too much for her to handle and that she cannot go to his funeral. It might be that seeing her late fiance go down six feet under the ground would make her insane— just like Sisa from Noli Me Tangere— and she opted to not go. They sympathised with the poor woman. But the media saw this as an opportunity to create another booming headline for their papers. Exploitative bunch they are.

Behind all the still present people at the grave, a certain tall man was silently taking in all the buzz of the conversations and the wail of the crying persons, offering a handkerchief to those who do not have one and offering his lighter to those who wished to smoke the sorrow away. Although he was tall, they failed to fully notice his presence until he spoke, “What an unfortunate chap that he is,” his voice a bit of a grumble as he tried to be silent still. But that caught the attention of the people around him and he regretted it that very moment.

At that very moment, he looked like a prey at the nest of predators. With no moments wasted, media reporters, journalists and cameramen came flocking to Azrick as if he had all the juice and gossip. Flashes went on and off, temporarily making him blind even though he tried to shield his eyes. Their voices were overwhelming the other.

“Did you have a lead yet?”

“Any clues about the killer?”

“Where is Miss Auria Martinez right now?”

“Is it true that the actress is unwell?”

But out of all those questions being thrown at him, “Who will be the next victim?”

caught off guard by the question, Azrick quickly looked around the sea of reporters and journalists, despite the flashing lights, trying to catch whoever uttered the question. “Stop, stop talking.” Azrick’s rough voice was barely audible between the constant babbles of the people around him. He was starting to get irritated.

“Just stop! Stop talking!” he said once more, but louder this time and yet no one heeded his request. “Just stop, I said! SILENCE!” he shouted with all his might, his voice thundering throughout the cemetery, stopping everyone from their tracks and looking at him. “Stop talking and stop crowding on me! Let me breathe!” Azrick motioned his hands to go away, prompting the media to move away from him. Slowly, footsteps started to move, the media moving away from him and going to their respective groups.

“Now, who asked that wretched question?” Azrick looked around them and waited for someone to fess up and surrender himself to him. But no one did, rather, they looked at each other, oblivious to what the famous detective was asking. They all looked quizzically to the famous detective, not sure of what Azrick wanted to happen. Their raised brows sent a signal to the man. Azrick let out a sigh and spoke to them again, “I said, there is some foolish person who asked who will die next. Now, who said that?” The detective’s searched the crowd, his eyes squinted as he looked at every single one of them.

Murmurs started to grow amongst the media personnel as they theorised who could have said such a thing. True that they wanted the latest gossip and issues, as well as the truest news, but to ask such a question is simply rude and disrespectful— and with no concrete foundation at that. What could have compelled the person to ask such a thing? “There are no known death threats for a while, so we were led to believe that it was really an obsession case,” whispered one of the journalists.

“And people are still mourning for the death of John Albert Tristan,” one of the cameramen uttered. They continued to whisper among each other while a few still tried to get any information from the tall detective, only to be shoved aside and ignored the same. Azrick grunted as he struggled to get past the sea of reporters and cameraman, still flashing lights to his eyes. His hands were hiding his eyes from the flashes of the lights around him, until he arrived at the grave of the late John Albert Tristan. The grave was halfway full of dirt, the casket no longer visible, just the flowers that were thrown before the first particle of dirt ever fell from his casket.

Azrick granted once more, irritated that he seemed to be at the dead end, and the constant murmurs of the media people and journalists—- their speculations and theories of their own. As a detective who needs to see things based on the facts that he had collected and was given to, he needs to see things in an objective way and without the meddling of those people.

After he watched the flower be buried under the dirt, the raindrops ever so slowly wetting the ground, turning the dirt into mud, he looked and observed every person slowly, deducing if they are good or bad:

A man holding a camera in his hands, his index finger put at the trigger and ready to

snap a photo if opportunity presents itself. He was happily talking to fellow cameramen and shared some of his stories and how they can take a photo better.

Another man can be seen standing by the side of the walkway, silently scanning the crowd passing him. His huge build and noticeable muscles were an indication that he is some sort of a bodyguard or a butler at least. His black tie suit and piercing eyes were a clear indication that he is watching out for danger and will be ready to strike if need be.

Then there was a woman who was meekly waiting by the side. Based on her attire— pencil skirt, blouse and a blazer, as well as a veil covering her face, all in black— she seemed to be working in an office, but an office that is not connected with the dead whatsoever. She might have had to leave her work for the funeral. But why would she be waiting by the side and not going on her way?

A child can be seen amidst the sea of adults walking their way and going on what they have to do. The child does not seem lost, not looking around for a parent or a guardian that was with her. Maybe she was here on her own? A great fan of the late John Albert Tristan and wanted to see him on his final day? “What a devotion. If only such devotion exists in other pursuits.” Azrick regrettably noted himself.

Nonetheless, he had enough observations of anyone. The great detective had concluded that there was no harm in the crowd, not even the criminal was there, he was sure of it. He saw no sign nor any clue of the culprit being among the crowd. Letting out a sigh one more time, he made his way out of the dispersing crowd and into his car. His huge build was an advantage, his shadow looming over the people and them looking behind. They will then part like the Red Sea and let him pass with no hassle at all.

As he entered his car,his defences rose up as his eyes seemed to trick him. There were two shadows behind him, at the back seats. His instincts told him that he needed to grab the knife from the glove box and defend himself using the knife. His muscles twitched and with the speed of light, he opened the glove box and grabbed the knife, swiftly turning around and facing the shadows at the back.

“WAH!” screamed the voice from the back seat of the car. The scream was followed by some scarf being thrown and another scream, but from a male’s voice. Once the fright died down and they all saw each other, did the famous detective bring his guard down as he saw the familiar faces of the people from the back seat. The woman gathered her scarf which was thrown off the floor of the car. “Christ on a stick! What are you doing in my car?” Azrick said, putting his blade back to the glove box.

But instead of answering the detective’s question, Auria retorted with another inquiry. “And why do you have a knife in your glove box? Isn’t that illegal?” Fixing the scarf back to her neck, she eyed the glove box closing, curious as to what other things might be in there that are illegal. “Also, I did not bring my car. You said it was dangerous, remember.” 

Knowing he will not win alone, Azrick sighed and looked at his assistant from the rear view mirror for some kind of support, but he received none as Jack was on Auria’s side of the conversation, “Of course. What did I ever expect.” Mr. Tevyat rolled his eyes at the fact. Azrick wanted nothing more at the moment but a cup of fine coffee in his office— that freshly brewed coffee with a hint of chocolate— balancing the flavours. He started his car engine and drove off from the funeral. 

While driving, he looked at the rear view mirror checking his passengers at the back of the car: Jack was staring outside the window, watching as the raindrops race against one another on who gets to go down first; Auria on the other hand, was busy fiddling with her scarf and bracelet, her eyes going from the bracelet and outside the window. That is when he noticed the puffed eyes of the actress, her tear-stained cheeks and how her face was devoid of any beauty products. However, he did not dare ask why, it would be like reopening a closed wound. He rather asks Jack who was with the actress the entire time she was gone at the funeral. 

Once they are inside the office, Auria flopped down at the comfortable single sofa chair and let out a sigh of relaxation. Azrick went straight to the pantry and brewed the coffee he so ever craved while Jack also grabbed a few snacks and tea for their guest. Mr. Tevyat took that as an opportunity to ask his assistant of the happenings and why the actress was not at the funeral. 

“She did not tell me why. She just said she'd rather be far from her love  or else she would break down again. I did not press further because she was already crying herself out,” Jack said. “Is that all?” Azrick inquired more. 

Jack paused for a moment, his motions stopping from grabbing another cup for tea. “She also said that she would rather be far away, in concern that the culprit might be among the crowd, or that her presence might put someone in danger.” He then grabbed the final cup of tea and went back to tend to their guest. Azrick continued brewing his coffee. 

Meanwhile, Auria was comfortably slipping into slumber. She only ever felt safe and sound in the presence of the famous detective and his assistant, and when she was in their office. She feels that no one can harm her inside those four walls. She heard Jack offering her some refreshments and snacks, but she was too tired to even reply or to look at the young apprentice. Maybe she got tired from all that crying, that she wanted to sleep at the moment. The last thing she heard was, “Let her sleep. Must be tired.” 

Deep in her slumber, Auria could not help but fall into the void her mind had created, warm but still dark, and with the situation at hand, she’d rather stay there than deal with the circumstances. The void and darkness was not too long though as pictures began appearing from all sides and places; whether such was created by her mind to entertain or that she was going on another train ride of memories, she can’t distinguish.

“I am much too tired to think.” She thought to herself as she let those memories and pictures succumb to her. Playing like a slideshow of pictures. 

She thought she was done reminiscing about the past, done with remembering her and John Albert Tristan, done with the lovely moments they had and they could have had. Yet, she was back there again, back the bridge on the lake, back at staring at her reflection by the water. Back at barely hearing the conversation of the two men, back at letting her tears slowly fall from her cheeks and to the water, creating ripples and distorting her beautiful reflection. 

Then, a voice called out her name, a bit quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder each time her name was called. But when she turned, she suddenly fell into the water and a splash was heard, but Auria was much too tired to be startled at this point. She is much too tired to worry about her well-being. In truth, she would rather drown in the water and be with John, wherever John is. She would rather meet that kind of end than live in a world where she is not with her lover. 

But as she slowly descended in the cold water, she noticed that her breath was yet to end, she does not seem to drown at all. Bubbles of air come out of her mouth, but she can breath still. “I just want to be with him.” She thought to herself as the darkness kept on surrounding her as faint voices was heard. All around her. Different voices echoing different phrases. 

“Look at that, Auria! The petals are falling!” The voice said out loud. Aura recognized the voice all too well, she knew where she heard that sentence from. And when she looked, she saw a scene that she hoped to not remember at all, as it would only break her heart further. Back in Japan, from three years ago. It was the season of blooming Cherry Blossom Trees and the place was packed with tourists. She was there too as it was her lifelong dream to see the trees. She was with her manager and a few relatives for a vacation. While enjoying the view of the falling petals being carried by the wind, she then heard squeals from the crowd. That attracted her attention and she looked at the commotion. There, she saw John— who was supposed to be at a photoshoot back in Los Angeles— but then there he was, carrying a little box and kneeling on one knee. That was when they got engaged. And turns out, her relatives were in on it. 

“Auria, do you trust me?” another voice said and she looked at the other side. And there he was, holding his hand out for her to grab while the other was holding a rope. They were practising a scene for a theatre play, they were rehearsing. And yet, when John said those words to her, he could not help but fully trust the man. She knows that she should be acting, she knows that this is supposed to be an act, and yet her emotions were true. She even received an applause from the crew at how true her emotions were at the time, not knowing that her emotions were genuine. She fell for him at that scene.

“Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.” John said, rehearsing his lines for the play of Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride. It was a big production and it was projected that many would come to the play, so John rehearsed to the fullest— even practising his singing parts. All the while, Auria was sitting at the front row of the theatre, watching John do his best at rehearsing. In her eyes, John looked so cool doing his best. He always does his best, one of the things that she likes about him.

“When I saw you on the balcony, silently sipping a glass of champagne.” John confessed under the shadow of a tree one summer’s day. He and her were relaxing and hiding from the scorching heat of the summer sun and eating ice creams, when the topic of love surfaced, then led to their relationship and then led to the embarrassing memories of their relationship. She was laughing at the fact that John once slipped on ice during their skating date last December when their conversation went into the first time they realised they were in love with each other. “I saw you on the balcony, basking in the moonlight as you sipped your champagne. The loud sounds coming from the party inside became a background noise as I stare at you. You were simply… ethereal. That is the first time I knew I was in love with you.” Auria could not help but smile at such a poetic confession. Well, it can’t be helped, John Albert Tristan is a poetic person. 

Auria was awakened by the sound of cars passing by. She jolted up from the single sofa and looked around, alert of her surroundings and current happenings. Noticing that it was already dark outside, she presumed that it was night already, possibly late at night at that. “How long was I asleep?” she asked herself while fixing her hair and shawl around her. A blanket then fell from her lap when she stood up to go to the window to know why it was so loud at that time, most of the people were asleep at this point. “Maybe the two went outside for a bite.” She said to herself, noticing that she was alone at the office. 

“Hello?” she asked to no one, confirming that she was alone. Auria walked around the office, looking around the plain light green painted walls, the sofas and cabinets stacked with files and other things, the desk of Jack which was clean and organised compared to the messy desk of the famous detective. She noticed that the curtains were a bit thick, yet still letting the street lights seep through. She then noticed the little plants scattered around the office; most of them were cactus and small aerial plants hanging at the pantry side of the office. 

Auria was still roaming around the office, looking through papers and some folders, even taking a biscuit from the pantry. She soaked in all of the details that were inside the office. She was particularly interested in Azrick’s office, its messiness attracts her and her urge to arrange everything is overwhelming her. Finally, her urge won and she began putting things into order. Sorting through papers upon files, envelopes and some litter, she managed to go through things one at a time. It was a perfect distraction for her. “If his desk is like this, then what about his house?” She thought to herself as she picked up another envelope. A familiar one.

The colour, an off white shade; the texture, smooth on the front where you write the address but rough at the back where the flap is; the scent, that familiar sweet yet masculine smell. It was all too familiar for her that she did not even need to read who it was addressed to, she already knew. But why would the letter end up on his desk? She stopped all letter services, and all the past letters she had were packed in a neat box by Jack. Why is there a new one on Azrick’s desk? 

The familiar rip of paper was heard inside the office as she opened the envelope, revealing a thick stack of paper folded together. But before she could read the contents, she heard footsteps near her. She thought it was the two men finally back from who knows where, “Oh great, you’re back.” she said as she looked at the door, but no one entered. “Hello?” she asked again, trying to confirm that Jack and Azrick were on the other side of the door. 

Another footstep, but it did not come from the door. It came from somewhere else, somewhere near her. Another step, and then another. Then a knock… not from the door, but it sounded like glass. “But where?” She looked around for anything that was glass. Then she turned to the thick curtains— the windows. The curtains were so thick that she could not see if there was a shadow, all that she could see were the lights that were seeping through the cracks and not a dot went through the thick curtains. “Why does he have thick curtains anyway?” She walked towards the curtains and was close to opening the curtains were her instincts kicked in. 

Now fully awake and aware of the possible danger she might be in, she stepped back away from the windows, glad that she did not move the curtains at all or else who knows what horror might welcome her. Footsteps resumed from outside again and a shadow crossed one of the lights. The person was moving. Auria’s breath was short and shallow, she was trying to get more air inside her by breathing fast but it only worsened her condition. Then a floorboard cricked at her step, that is when the footsteps of someone outside stopped too. Then she heard the voice. 

“I know, I know you are there Auria. I saw Azrick and Jack go outside, leaving you alone. I know you will answer me, hi Auria. How I longed for this conversation. I missed hearing your voice. When will you sing again? Have a concert? I missed you so much. Did you get my other letters? Did you read them? You better follow my orders from now on. BECAUSE IS NOT, THEY WILL END UP LIKE John Albert Tristan! HAHAHAHAHA! But Auria, why so silent now? Come on, speak to me. I missed your voice. I can see you right now. Why do you look scared? And why are you trembling? Come on, don’t be like that. I’m not scaring you, am I?” laughter followed the monologue of the person from outside. Hands kept on banging the glass but not the point of breaking it. He laughed again and again until he heard Auria let out a yelp of scream.

“Are you okay, Auria? Did you hurt yourself? Come here and let me see you, let me take care of you. John can’t do it anymore anyway.” the person said and laughed again. Panicking, Auria moved back some more until she felt cabinets at her fingertips. She hid behind the cupboard. Her breaths were quick and shallow, her eyes darting from left to right, top to bottom and she turned in circles, scared and confused. The sinister laughter from the person outside did not help at all. “I can still see you.” said the person, then she noticed eyes from the slits of the curtains, directly staring at her. “Please stop. Please leave me alone.” Auria pleaded, though her voice was not loud enough for the stalker to hear from that distance. Tears began to flow from her eyes and sobs emerged from her mouth, which the stalker was able to hear. His voice became caring and empathetic as he begged to be let in. “NO!” Auria shouted.

Then, the door knob moved. She looked at the entrance of the office and saw that the door knob was rattling. Is someone trying to come in? Is he trying to come in? Break in and harm her? She is not safe right now, no one was there to protect her. Auria looked around and searched for a better hiding place, noting that under the desk of Azrick would be the best hiding spot at the moment. With a quick movement, she ducked under the desk and tried to make herself silent, not wanting to attract the attention of whoever was trying to break in. Right at the time, the door opened and footsteps came in, then she heard a voice,

“Where is she?” a panicked voice sounded. It sounded familiar. “Maybe she is just in the comfort room.” reasoned another voice. Familiar voices. 

She stood up from her hiding place and revealed herself. Her eyes wide with fear and her trembling state, she revealed herself to Jack and Azrick who were searching for her. “There she is.” Azrick pointed out to the panicking Jack. Jack let out a sigh of relief, but he raised a brow once he noticed the state of the actress. “What’s wrong?” Jack inquired as he slowly approached the trembling woman. But instead of saying something, she pointed to the window,trembling with fear still. 

But when Azrick opened the thick curtains, there was no one there. It was as if the person tormenting Auria simply disappeared. 

His face was red and his ears looked like steam would be released from it if not for him taking a deep breath, Azrick put down the pen and paper and looked at the still trembling actress, helplessly clinging to his assistant who was diligent in trying his best to calm the woman. He thought back to the incident as Auria told the. “Auria,” he called the name of the woman, “Do you perhaps have a past lover who has yet to move on?” Azrick blurted out, his mouth without any filter nor any consideration at what the woman was going through at the moment. All he wanted to do was to solve this mystery and put everything to rest. And with him being a private investigator, he knew how messy a case can be when there is ”love” involved and so he tries to stir away from such. 

He and Jack already considered the angle of a ‘past lover’ for this case but did not give it any weight. But now, it changes things. 

Meanwhile, Auria picked up the letter and was about to read it when Jack came back. With curiosity in her mind, she hid the letter inside her shawl and drank the water. All the while this was happening, someone was smiling with glee at what they had caused.