"Wade Dalton was a very sharp fella, and wise too. He had experiences worth thrice as a lawyer at his age. He had seen it all, quite literally. He even survived a bullet hole on his stomach that narrowly reached his spine, which could have gotten him stuck on a wheelchair…. or a coffin."
Paul grinned. "But he survived it all. It's not surprising that so many looked up to him. One time, one of his assistants learned of the accusation of a distant relative in Los Angeles. A newbie actress was murdered in her trailer, her face peeled off. His relative was the actress' agent, the top suspect as he was caught red-handed, knife and all that."
"But he wasn't even close to this relative, mind you." Paul sighed. "The young assistant just thought it would be a fun challenge to see the Dalton magic somewhere outside New York. He said it would be too easy since NYC was Dalton's playing field, and he might not be as good anywhere else."
Roland wasn't dense, he knew that Paul must be talking about himself. He was the young assistant, otherwise he won't know this much detail on the matter.
But he let him speak anyway, retelling everything like it just happened yesterday.
"Dalton took the challenge, of course. Got an approval for pro hac vice, out-of-state attorney just for this special case. He took his assistant with him just to observe, maybe give a bit of context to his relative's character."
Roland asked: "What was the relative like? What's his name?"
"Gregory Dodger. He was a docile fella, even more docile than a woman. That's why the assistant thought his case was interesting, since Gregory couldn't even open a jar of pickles by himself, much less skin a person."
Paul described him more. "He was more than a scrawny fella, he was petite. He was only 5'0 tall and 90 pounds. Had no girlfriend, very much career-oriented as one could get. Or maybe it's because of the fact that his mother once locked him up in the basement after just putting his arm around a friend's shoulder after school that he's traumatized by girls."
Roland thought almost the same towards Felix Garcia. He had seen his picture. He was a pretty big and tall guy, standing at 6'0 and 202 pounds.
But when he met him in person, he couldn't help but be reminded of the term 'gentle giant'. That's what he was. Felix was a sensitive kid, who was more interested in physics than talking to women. He never even had a girlfriend, and had no bad records since childhood.
Roland could immediately tell it wasn't him, and there was some foul play going on. The problem was proving that, because honestly speaking….
If a Latino gets accused, or any person of color for that matter, the 'innocent until proven guilty' becomes 'guilty until proven innocent'.
The first thing they even questioned were the pills that Felix was taking. Which were actually for his anxiety after a traumatic experience of being tossed into the Hudson River inside a sack by his bullies when he was 13 years old.
"I know what you're thinking, and you're right, Faust. Gregory and the kid really are too similar to ignore, right?" Paul said. "I can tell now it's not a coincidence. Whoever this killer is…. It likes to frame those you least expect to kill."
"Dalton worked hard on this case, and brought up very valid points. Even with the hard evidence of being caught with the knife and blood all over him, he still managed to weasel his way out of the prosecutor's points. The Dalton magic worked, and the court had found Gregory not guilty….."
"Then, three years passed. Dalton is back in New York, and his assistant now handles cases on his own. Old man couldn't be more proud, and he was the loudest about it. He would throw parties for every case won by this young one as if he was his own child….."
Paul's lips lifted up a little at this memory. Then, it darkened once more.
"It was Thanksgiving when Gregory came here. He was… He didn't change. He was someone else. Tall, muscular, suave and charming. The assistant couldn't even tell if he was looking at the same person anymore. Apparently, he claimed to have limb-lengthening surgery and some other more to improve himself, get fit blah blah blah. But I just know that it's not—"
He stopped himself, as if thinking that he might sound crazy or stupid if he went any further.
"Anyway, he wasn't the Gregory that the assistant once knew. Gregory said he wanted to contact Wade Dalton to thank him personally for what happened three years ago. Ask him for some drinks at some bar called the Circus Cabaret. Dalton accepted, and that would be the last night that he was alive."
Roland saw the hair on Paul's arm stand up. "That night was….. It was really dark. The old man was brought inside the club by an ever-smiling Gregory. And when he went out, he was shitfaced and stumbling on his feet."
"Gregory wasn't with him. Wade Dalton walked the empty, dark streets, and vomited on a nearby dumpster. That dumpster was on a narrow alleyway, between two quiet buildings. Then…."
"He saw a light on the farther end of the alleyway."
"A light? Like a lamp?" Roland asked.
"No. Well, Wade Dalton wasn't sure. But it wasn't like any lamp light he had seen. It was pulsating, this bluish light. Almost as if it was breathing, flickering at a slow and steady rhythm. It compelled him to approach, and as he did….."
"He saw a shadow pass by behind him. He turned around, and called out for who's there. But nobody answered. As he continued to look around in confusion…. Under the blue light, a shadow had emerged. I was humanoid, but that was it. Tall and slender, with no features to tell what it was wearing, or if it was a man, woman, young, or old…."
Paul crumbled the last piece of bread he had, gritting his teeth. "That was it. That was the last moment he was alive. The blue light disappeared, and he disappeared as he was swallowed by the darkness and that shadow. At least…. That's what the assistant believed he saw when he followed them."
Roland thought that had he ot experience what he had with Harker, he would have been more skeptical of this story.
But he believed it, 100 percent. He remembered the important details. Changes in appearance and personality, a blue light, a shadow, ripped faces…..
"Thank you for telling me this, Paul." Roland stood up, as he had seen the Garcia family's small Civic arrive. "I do appreciate it."
Paul's eyes widened. "That's it? You're not…. You're not gonna complain that I gave you some third party account of what's basically a ghost story?"
Roland looked back at him with a fierce look in his eyes.
"Ghost story or not… Everything has an explanation. The truth will come out soon enough. And if shadows do try to hide it... I will bring it to light myself."
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