The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) (7 page)

Hyder never paid much attention to the way she dressed.  She had always been pleasant to him, which he appreciated.  Also, whenever possible, she made sure to bake cookies and cupcakes for him. 

Hyder had tasted so many of her sweets that he was beginning to feel physically sick just thinking about them now.

Hyder smiled. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Parker?”

“There’s a phone call for you,” she said.  Mrs. Parker worked at the front desk, which meant she answered any and all direct calls made to the paper.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Hyder said.  “You could have just forwarded it to this line.”

“I wasn’t sure where you’d be sitting today,” she replied.  “Plus, I needed the walk.”

“Do you know who it is?” he asked as they made their way.

“She wouldn’t tell me her name.”

A woman?
Hyder thought.

He followed her to the first floor, where she handed him the receiver.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hyder Ali?” a female voice said.

“Yes, may I know who’s speaking?”

“It’s Jessica Freeland. I’m…”

“I know who you are.  What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could meet.”

“I remember, for coffee.”

“No, not for coffee. I would prefer if we met somewhere public.”

“Okay, where do you have in mind?”

“Do you know where Rosetta Park is?”

It was a twenty minute walk from his building. “Sure.”

“Can you meet me there in an hour?”

“I can.”

“And please come alone.”

The line then went dead.

EIGHTEEN

Nolan took the elevator up to the fifth floor where the detective division was located.  He hoped no one would notice him on his way there. A few gave him an odd look as they entered the elevator but no one said a word to him.

Nolan was wearing dark sunglasses. His shirt was untucked under his blazer and his pants were creased. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten to wear socks. When he pulled his pants up, he noticed that he was wearing them, albeit in different colors.

One can’t be too perfect
, he thought, and shrugged.

The elevator doors opened and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked his way.

He casually walked in. 

He scanned the familiar faces but didn’t bother greeting any of them.

He moved past them and went all the way to the end.

He knocked on a door and waited.

“Come in,” a voice said from inside.

Nolan didn’t respond.  He just waited.

“I said, come in,” the voice grew louder.

Still, Nolan did nothing.

A female officer stood nearby watching him.

He gave her a smile.

The door swung open.  “Didn’t you listen, I said…” Sergeant Halton’s face was red. “Nolan?” he said, blinking.

“Reporting for duty, sir,” Nolan replied, giving Halton a salute.

“You have some nerve showing up now,” Halton demanded.  “I’ve been trying to contact you for God knows how long.”

“Sorry,” Nolan said.

“Sorry?” Halton’s face was red again.  “You’re sorry?”

“Um… very sorry,” Nolan mumbled.

“Get in!” Halton slammed the door behind him.

Nolan looked around Halton’s office.  It was exactly how it was when he was last here.

“Sit,” Halton said.

“Yes, sir.” Nolan did.

Halton gave him a stern look. “Take those Goddamn glasses off, Nolan.”  

“I can’t, sir,” Nolan said.

“Why not?”

“I have a prescription for those.”

“You what?”

“I had cataract surgery. Doctor told me to keep them on.”

“You're always trying to be a smart-ass, aren’t you?”

Nolan didn’t say anything.

Halton went around and sat behind his desk.

“Listen, Nolan,” Halton said.  “I don’t like this situation any more than you do.  You don’t want to work for me and I don’t want you to work for me.  If it was possible I would rather you quit, but as you are in my office, I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“You can always fire me,” Nolan said.

“I wish, and believe me, I would like nothing better than to do that,” Halton said.  “But, knowing what you’ve been through, I would have the union up my ass. Not to mention have the Police Association Board questioning my decision.  Plus, the Captain seems to think you are worth something, so I guess my hands are tied, as they say.”

Nolan smiled.  Halton couldn’t do shit to him.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Halton growled.

“Just happy to be back to work, sir,” Nolan said.

“I’m sure you are.” Halton shook his head. “Now, what’s going on with the Freeland case?”

“Who?”

“The suicide!” Halton nearly yelled.

“Right.  I’m on top of it.  I’m following all leads. We’ll have a suspect soon.”

Halton was about to lose his temper. “It’s a Goddamn suicide! Write the report and close the case.”

Nolan nodded. “Gotcha.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out.”

“Right away, sir,” Nolan got up and left.

Outside he spotted Detective Lopez.

“What was that all about?” she said. “It sounded like Halton’s head was about to explode.”

Nolan smiled. “Five more minutes and it would have.”

NINETEEN

Rosetta Park was in the center of the city.  It was close to 400 acres, which included sporting facilities, a restaurant in the middle of the park, nature trails, gardens, playgrounds, and even a large pond on the west side of it.

Hyder entered from the north entrance.

He regretted not asking Jessica where they should meet.  Actually, he never had a chance to ask her much.  She sounded like she was in a hurry and before he could say anything, she hung up.

Also, what did she mean by
come alone
?

Was she in trouble? Hyder couldn’t think why.

Maybe she needed someone to talk to.  She had just lost her father, after all.

Hyder kept moving deeper into the park.  There were oak trees on both sides of his path.  The air was cool and crisp.  The branches rustled in the wind.

The temperature wasn’t chilly or cold, it was just right.

The sun was coming down at full strength.  At certain points of the path, where there was little or no shade, Hyder could feel the warmth of its rays.

He stopped and let it hit his skin.

Hyder wondered why he never bothered coming down here more often.  It was only a twenty minute walk from the
Daily Times
to Rosetta Park.

Life, like everything else, had gotten in the way.  Hyder was too busy trying to create his own path that he never bothered to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.

That was why he now stood admiring the beauty and nature of the park.

The phrase that popped into his head was
Mashallah,
an Arabic phrase for praising the magnificence of God.

He was about to keep walking when a hand grabbed him by the elbow.  “Just follow me.”

He looked back. It was Jessica.

“What…?”

“Please,” she said.

They hurried down the path. They looped around the trail, which took them an extra ten minutes to do so, and finally came to a stop at the children’s playground.

They found a bench opposite the sand pit, sat.

“What’s going on?” Hyder finally asked.

He noticed Jessica’s green eyes were even brighter in the sunlight.

“My father did not commit suicide,” she said right away.

Hyder didn’t know how to respond.

“I know they found a note on his study table,” she continued.  “And also medication pills, but I am telling you he was not depressed.” She bit her lip. “My dad would never have taken anti-depressants… he… he was a bit paranoid about those things.”

Hyder was aware Freeland was skeptical on any medication that altered the chemicals in the brain.  He thought those drugs were created by the government to control the masses.  He had once listened to Freeland speak non-stop for an hour about how true the movie
The Manchurian Candidate
was. 

Hyder was never one to make too much of conspiracy theories.  He had found them to be a fun alternative to the truth. 

Freeland, however, was a fervent believer in them.  Hyder never thought Freeland was cuckoo or anything, he just placed him as being eccentric.

“Jessica,” Hyder chose his words carefully.  “I’m truly sorry that your father is gone now, but you have to consider that he may have been suffering severely.  People change their beliefs, their thought process, even their habits, when confronted with such pain.  We have to accept that your father took the alternative he thought was best for him at the time.”

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.  “How well did you know my dad?”

Hyder shrugged.  “Well enough, I guess.  I was at Franklin University for four years.”

“Did you know my dad kept a diary?” she asked.

Hyder nodded.  He had seen him scribble something in a book once or twice before.

“Well, I can’t find it,” she said. “I have searched his house and it is not there.  He always kept it on him.  I tried contacting the detective working on the case and he is nowhere to be found.”

Hyder scratched his head.  He tried to remember the detective’s name.

“It’s Tom Nolan,” Hyder finally said.

“Yes. That’s the name they gave me.”

“Maybe, he has it.”

“I hope so, but why would he take it if it’s a suicide?”

Hyder had no response.

“Hyder,” Jessica said, but stopped.  She then looked away.  Children were laughing and giggling as they played on the playground equipment.

“What is it?” he asked.

When she looked back at him, her eyes were moist.  “I feel I can trust you.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“My dad did. He trusted you and I trust him.  So I’m going to tell you something.”

“Okay” Hyder said, not knowing how else to respond.

“I think my dad was murdered.”

Hyder’s mouth nearly dropped.  “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I don’t believe my dad was depressed.  Even if he was, he would never have taken his own life.  It would have gone against everything he stood for.”

Hyder nodded. It
was
out of character from the Eric Freeland he had come to admire and respect.

“Also, he had been acting strange the last couple of weeks.  I couldn’t tell anyone, not even my mom. If I did she would have gone on and on about why she had left him in the first place.  My mom blamed his strange antics for the end of their marriage.  Anyway, it does seem odd that around the time my dad’s behavior changed, he suddenly decided to commit suicide.”

“He may have been suffering from mental illness,” Hyder blurted out. He suddenly felt sheepish, regretted saying it.

Jessica wasn’t offended.  “I thought that too, but there’s something else.”

“What?”

“I think someone’s following me.”

Hyder nearly jumped out of his seat.  “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.  In the last day or so I have seen a black sedan parked not far from my apartment.  The engine is always running, like someone was inside, watching.” 

Hyder thought about it.  “Is that why you wanted to meet me alone, in this park?”

She nodded.

Hyder rubbed his temples.

This was too much—a murder?  He wasn’t sure he was ready for this.

“What can I do?” he asked her directly.

“I need your help to find who killed my dad and why.”

“I don’t know.” Hyder stood up.

“Let me ask you this,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.  “Did my dad mean anything to you?”

“Yes, he did,” Hyder replied without any hesitation.  “He made me who I am.”

“Then will you help me? Please?”

He nodded, said, “But first we have to find Detective Tom Nolan. We have to speak to him.”

TWENTY

Nolan had been given a desk in the middle of the room.

It was not the desk he was hoping for.  The one he wanted was located at the other end of the room, near the windows.

Prior to his leave he would sit and sometimes watch the city below him.  It gave him a sense of purpose that he was doing a job that provided some form of security for those walking the streets.  If anything ever happened, they were assured that he would do his utmost to find the perpetrator.

Right now, he felt no purpose in his job.  In fact, he felt like a prisoner.  He was stuck in a room, surrounded by detectives and police officers who were watching his every move.

Somehow, his reputation had preceded him.  They were waiting to see what Tom Nolan would do next.  Would he pass out at his desk, only to be berated by Halton? Would he explode at another colleague, which would start an altercation of some sort?  Or, would he give up and start drinking right where he sat, which would pressure the Captain to sack him once and for all?

Nolan would do none of those things.

Earlier, a clerk had handed him the file on the suicide. 

Nolan would go through the details, write up his report, and close the file as instructed.

He flipped the cover over and his head began to spin.

The mere thought of doing anything remotely related to work made him physically ill.

He got up and headed straight for the washroom.

He felt a dozen eyes on him.

He entered and made a bee-line straight for the cubicles.  He sat on the toilet seat and put his face in his palms.  He wasn’t ready to be back, he needed more time to recover. 

What he really needed was another drink.

He had a bottle in his car.  He could quietly sneak out and take a sip.  Just one sip and he would be good to go.

He licked his lips.  That was a great idea. 

After everything he had been through so far, he deserved it for sure.   Until a day ago, he was sitting in his home and resting his delicate body.

Captain Ross had shaken him out of his daily schedule.  It would take Nolan several days, or even weeks, to get back into the groove.

It was wrong to jump into another case, he told himself.  It was not good for his mental health.  He needed to ease himself into it one baby step at a time.

He clapped his hands together. The noise reverberated throughout the washroom.

He was excited. He had a plan, and it was a
brilliant
plan if you asked him. 

He would go down to his car, take a sip or two to control his nerves and he would return and close the file before the day was over.  He had never closed a file in less than a day before, but he was certain he could do so now.  All he needed was a boost from the stash in his car and he would have the energy to complete his goal.

He left the washroom.

He was heading for the elevator when he saw a man and a woman standing by the main entrance.  They were talking to an officer.  The officer pointed in his direction.

Nolan froze.

The couple approached him.

“Detective Nolan,” the female said.  “I’m Jessica Freeland and this is my friend, Hyder Ali.”

“Ok, yes, hi,” Nolan said. 

“I know you are working on my dad’s case,” Jessica said.  “And we were hoping to talk to you about it.”

“Now?” Nolan said. 
God I need a drink
, he thought. 

“Yes, please.”

“I’m actually very busy,” Nolan lied.  His found his vision was blurring.  Under the dark shades, which he still refused to take off, he was glad they couldn’t tell he was seeing double.

“We won’t take long,” Jessica replied.  “Please, I’ve been trying to speak to you ever since my father was found dead.”

Nolan had a feeling they wouldn’t leave until they had spoken to him.

He finally nodded. “Okay, sure.  Please come with me.”

He escorted them to an interview room.

He gave them a feeble smile. “Have a seat and let me get the file,” he said.

He shut the door behind him and took a deep breath.

He rushed back to the washroom, turned on the taps, and splashed cold water over his face.  With the shades no longer hiding his eyes, he saw that they looked glossy and distant.

He rubbed water on his eyeballs and covered them with the shades.

He grabbed the file and returned to the room.

“Sorry about that,” he said, taking a seat.  He placed the file before him.  “First, let me extend my deepest condolences about the loss of your loved one.”  Nolan had spoken to the next of kin of so many victims that he was now well versed in the phrase.  This was never done insincerely. He meant every word of it, and he wanted to do everything to provide some form of closure to them.

“Thank you,” Jessica said.  She and Hyder sat opposite Nolan.

“So, what would you like to tell me about your father?” Nolan said.  

“We feel that he was murdered,” Jessica replied.

Nolan paused.  “You believe this or you know this for a fact?”

Jessica looked over at Hyder.  “We believe it and we know it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Okay, I’m listening.”

Both Hyder and Jessica proceeded to lay out what they knew so far.  They mentioned Freeland’s behavior days before his death.  They mentioned the missing diary, the bottle of anti-depressants and why Freeland never took such medication.  They finished by telling Nolan that someone was following Jessica.

Nolan listened attentively. At times his mind wandered off but he willed himself to focus.  He finally said, “I know how difficult this must have been for you, to lose your father in such a way, but nothing you have told me proves that he was murdered.”

“He was!” Jessica said, raising her voice.

“Okay, what was the motive for his death?” Nolan asked.

“We don’t know,” Hyder replied.

“What about the murder weapon?” Nolan leaned forward.  “There was none, I’m afraid. If there was a knife then we would have something to work with, blood stains, maybe.  What about a gun? If there were shots fired, then we could use ballistics to match them to the weapon.  In this we had a noose.” He paused to let this information sink in.  “Also, we found a suicide note.”

He opened the file and pulled out a sheet of paper.  He slid it across to Jessica.

She read without touching it, looked up at Hyder. Her eyes were moist.  He pulled the sheet closer and read it himself.

“I’m sorry,” Nolan said.  It was never easy for the victim’s family.  None of the answers they ever received were satisfactory.  If someone was murdered, then they wanted to find out who did it and why.  When someone committed suicide, they wanted to find out if there wasn’t someone else who pushed them to do it.

“It’s just not possible,” Jessica said, still not believing it. “My dad would have never killed himself.”

“Is that his signature?” Nolan asked, pointing to the blue scribble at the bottom of the page.

She examined it.  “I think so.”

“Then we will assume it is.”

She got up.  “I have to go.”

Nolan stood up too.  “Again, I’m sorry.”

She left the room.

Hyder followed after her.

TWENTY-ONE

Nolan felt terrible for Jessica Freeland.  He wished he could have given her better news.  Suddenly, his thirst for alcohol was somehow mitigated.  He no longer felt like going and getting a drink.

He went back to his desk and placed the file before him.

It was now or never, he thought.  If he didn’t start work on the file right this minute he may never close it.

Nolan desperately wanted to be done with it and move on.

He flipped through it and quickly realized that pages were missing.

“What the hell?” he muttered.  Where was the coroner’s report?  Even though it was a suicide, the coroner had to examine the body and verify that it was so.

He grabbed the file and left the division.

The coroner’s office was only two blocks away, so Nolan decided to walk.  He figured it would do him some good. 

Nolan was fully aware the lifestyle he had chosen now was not conducive to good health.  He didn’t care, or maybe he didn’t have anything to care for.  Regardless, it was taking a toll on him.  The walk, which wouldn’t have taken him long before, was now becoming tiresome.

When he reached the granite building, he found himself out of breath.  His collar was sticky to the touch and he saw stars in his eyes.  He leaned on the wall and composed himself.  He either had to cut back on his drinking or take the car the next time he came here. 

He went inside and took the elevator to the basement.

The coroner’s office was a dingy looking place.  Most found it suffocating.  Nolan was indifferent to it.  He had quickly realized that it wasn’t supposed to be bright and welcoming. 

This was where the dead were brought to be cut up and dissected. It was a serious place that provided a serious service.

There was no one behind a desk to greet visitors.  There was a ledger where each visitor was required to sign in and sign out.

Nolan scribbled his name and entered a set of doors.

He went down a short hallway and peered inside a room.  He spotted Dr. Herb Lafferty at work on a cadaver.  Lafferty was in his sixties.  He was bald, slightly overweight, and he walked with a limp.

Over the years Nolan had gotten to know Lafferty and during one visit Nolan had found out that Lafferty had had a skydiving accident that had shattered his left leg in multiple places.  His leg had been put back together, but it was never the same as before.

Nolan tapped on the door.  Lafferty looked up and waved him over.

Nolan entered the cool room and a chill went up his spine.

Lafferty smiled. “Well, look who’s here?”

“Doc,” Nolan replied with nod.

“What brings you into my establishment?” Lafferty said.

“I missed seeing dead bodies so I figured I’d see if you could hook me up with one.”

Lafferty laughed.  “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

Nolan adjusted his dark glasses.  The room already had less lighting and with the shades he could barely see much from far away.

Reluctantly, he removed them.

Lafferty looked at him, but made no comment.  It was why Nolan was comfortable coming down here. 

“What’re you working on?” Nolan asked.

They walked over to a table.  “Victim was only sixteen. She was been shot right through the head.”

“Wow,” Nolan could only say.

“Exactly.”

“Perpetrator?”

“Looks like it was the stepfather.  He had apparently been abusing her for years and now she was willing to press charges against him.  I guess he didn’t like that too much.  He’s saying she did it to herself, you believe that?”

“I’ll believe anything if the evidence backs it up.”

“The evidence is overwhelming against him.  He won’t be able to squirm out of this one.”

“Glad to hear that.  Doc, a body was sent here a day or so ago, the victim’s name was Eric Freeland.”

“I remember, the professor, right?”

“Yep.”

“What about it?”

“The file’s missing—your report, in particular.  I figured I’d come and get it myself.”

“I don’t have it.”

Nolan was confused.  “Then who does?”

“I don’t know.  Someone came by and picked it up.”

“Who?”

Lafferty shrugged.  “I didn’t catch his name.  He said you guys needed the report ASAP and so he was sent to retrieve it.”

“Did he sign for it?”

“Sure.”  Lafferty went to the other side out of the room and pulled out a binder.  He flipped through it.  “There.”

Nolan leaned down and squinted.  The signature was nothing but a scribble. There was no possible way to decipher the name of the signatory.

Lafferty said, “Maybe it’s sitting on someone’s desk and hasn’t made its way to you.  It’s happened before, you know.”

“Sure,” Nolan said.  But something told him that wasn’t the case this time.

“Can you tell me something from the report?”

Lafferty shrugged.  “Sure, I guess, what do you want to know?”

“Was it a suicide?”

Lafferty shook his head.  “I couldn’t say conclusively.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I examined the body I found ligature marks around the wrists. Those marks indicate the victim had been tied up.”