Authors: Thomas Fincham
Across from them sat Hyder Ali. Hyder was in his mid-twenties, with a height of around five-ten. He had a brown complexion and thick shaggy hair that was difficult to keep straight.
Hyder had been named after a Mughal Emperor from India. Hyder’s late father had wished his son would accomplish great things like his namesake. So far, Hyder had accomplished very little when compared to the Indian ruler, but he had, however, managed to bring down a very large corporation that was linked to corruption, bribery, and even murder. The story, dubbed the TriGate Scandal, had been read by almost every citizen in Franklin.
This had brought him some notoriety, but not enough where people would stop him on the street and ask for his autograph.
Hyder adjusted his browline glasses. This type of frame had been worn by his idol, Malcolm X. If they were good enough for Mr. X then they were good enough for him, he’d concluded.
“Thank you for talking to me, Mrs. Albright,” Hyder said. “I know this must be difficult.”
Francesca Albright nodded and blew her nose.
“Tell me exactly what happened?” Hyder asked.
“My husband, Leo, went out to walk our dog last night and he never came back.”
“Has he ever disappeared like this before?”
She shook her head. “No, never. Leo likes to be in bed by ten, so right before that, around nine-thirty, he takes Walter…”
“That’s the name of your dog?” Hyder asked.
“Yes, Walter is our German Shepherd.”
Hyder quickly scribbled into his notepad. “Please go on.”
“Well, when Leo didn’t show up, it was around eleven, and I got worried. It was not like Leo to be somewhere without telling anyone. I asked my son, Jason, to go out and look for him.”
“Where did you look?” Hyder turned to Jason.
He shrugged. “Everywhere. I know the route my dad walked each night and I followed it. I checked the parks in our area. I even walked through a short trail behind our house, but nothing.”
Mrs. Albright said, “When Jason came back, I started calling everyone I knew. I called our friends, family, neighbors, even some of Leo’s co-workers.”
“What does Mr. Albright do?” Hyder asked.
“He’s a regional sales manager for an automobile dealership.” Hyder quickly jotted it down. “When we had exhausted every avenue we called the police.”
“And what did they say?”
“They told us to wait. They can’t file a missing persons report until at least twenty-four hours have passed. I don’t want to sit around and do nothing. It was my daughter, Lori, who told me to call you.” The girl next to her moved her head. “We are hoping that maybe if our story makes it into the
Daily Times
then it might help us in finding Leo.”
Hyder was a reporter for the
Daily Times
. After he broke the TriGate Scandal, his story was front page news for several days.
Lori must have remembered me from that time, Hyder thought.
He chose his next words very carefully, “What if your husband just decided not to come home?”
Mrs. Albright’s face turned dark. “I’m not sure what you mean?” she said.
Hyder moved his shoulders.
She understood. “For your information, Leo and I have been married for over thirty years. We met in high school and we are still in love. We were even planning to go away on a cruise for our next anniversary.” She paused to control her emotions. “Mr. Ali, my husband never came home after a
routine
walk, one he took on a regular basis. I’m afraid that something bad could have happened to him. My children need their father back. And I need my husband back. Will you help us?”
Hyder looked at her and then nodded. “I will pass this story by my editor. If it doesn’t make it into print, I will make sure it makes it onto our online edition.”
She finally managed a smile. “Thank you.”
THREE
“Whoa, is that a nail?” Pascale said. He was leaning down over the body while spinning a toothpick in his mouth.
Detective Angelo Pascale wore a black leather jacket, tight jeans, and his hair was greased back. He walked and talked like he had just stepped out of one of
The Godfather
movies. In the police force, Pascale had a reputation for being an arrogant prick. But no one dared say it to his face. They were worried he might go ‘gangster’ on them. No one had seen him do this before, but they weren’t about to take any chances. Plus, Pascale’s father was a retired Deputy Chief, which held some weight in the force, should a situation ever arise.
“Looks like it,” Lopez said, also leaning down.
Detective Marina Lopez had brown shoulder length hair. She had olive skin and hazel colored eyes. Lopez had been with the force for over ten years. She had worked from the bottom up, meaning she started on foot patrol, walking the streets day and night, and had made her way to detective. There were rumors that she could one day be Captain. If she did, Lopez would do everything in her power to make it look like she earned it. The last thing she wanted was some jerk thinking the only reason she was in the position was because of her looks.
“It must have hurt,” Pascale said, staring at the nail in the victim’s forehead.
“You think?” Lopez shot back.
“I’m just saying,” Pascale shrugged. He pulled out the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it across the room. It hit a wall and then landed somewhere on the ground.
“That’s disgusting,” Lopez said.
“It’s only a toothpick,” he replied with a grin. He produced another from his jacket and placed it between his lips.
“You got an entire box in there?” she said.
“It’s called back up,” he said with a wink.
Lopez rolled her eyes.
They moved around the body. The victim lay on his back. His eyes were open, but they were vacant and hollow. Blood pooled underneath his body, staining the carpet a dark red.
Along with the nail in the head, they noticed two others were on the leg and the shoulder.
“Maybe bullets were too expensive,” Pascale quipped.
“What’s the victim’s name?” Lopez asked a man standing a few feet away from them.
Akume Ossai was the security guard of the building. He was also the one who had called in the murder. Ossai looked like he would throw up. He was still studying part-time at a local college, he had told them. He never expected that his second month at CIW would involve a homicide.
“It… it should be on his ID card,” Ossai said, putting a hand over his mouth.
“Go clear your stomach,” Pascale ordered.
Ossai quickly disappeared down the hall.
“What’s with these kids these days?” Pascale moved his hands. “I thought they saw this kind of shit on TV all the time.”
Lopez looked around and found an ID card along with an access card attached to the victim’s belt. “Vikram Patel,” she said, looking at the name and photo.
Ossai appeared again.
Lopez asked, “What does the T stand for on the ID?”
“Temporary,” he said. “He must have been new or here for a short time.”
“What’s that?” Pascale pointed to something on the floor.
It was next to the body and it was made out in blood.
Lopez squinted. “Look’s like symbols.”
“It’s Hindi,” Ossai said.
“You sure?” Pascale made a face. “Looks like scribbles to me.”
“I’ve seen that writing before,” Ossai said. “My roommate in college is from India.”
“Call a translator,” Lopez said.
Pascale pulled out his cell phone and dialled a number.
Lopez turned to Ossai. “Why was Patel here, in the building, this time of the day?”
“I don’t know, they don’t tell us,” Ossai shook his head. “We just get a list that lets us know who should be in the building and for how long.”
“Do they inform you when they are leaving?”
“Sure. They have to sign out. If they don’t, then we search the building.”
“Can you please show us that list?” Lopez asked.
Ossai nodded and quickly left, probably relieved to be away from the body.
Lopez moved her hand over the body. From the pants pocket, she pulled out a wallet. She looked inside and found some American dollars, a calling card, and a driver’s license.
“It’s from India,” she said.
“You think he’s a new immigrant?” Pascale said.
“Could be.”
Ossai returned with the list. He handed it to Pascale.
“Looks like our boy was supposed to leave at six,” he said.
“Yes,” Ossai said. “When he didn’t sign out at the specified time, I came looking for him. That was when I saw…” he cringed at the body.
“Who are these other people?” Pascale pointed to three other names on the list.
“Mr. Innis Shaw is the director of the CIW. Mr. Ron Hemsted is the manager of HR and Ms. Barbara Cauldean is the manager of Staffing.”
Pascale made a face. “It looks like they all left at the same time,” he said.
“They probably had a meeting or something,” Ossai replied. “They stay late quite often.”
Pascale frowned. “I guess, we can strike their names off the suspect list.”
“Can we see his work area?” Lopez asked.
Ossai took them to Patel’s desk. It was clean and organized. Lopez removed a photo of a woman with a boy from the cubicle wall.
“We have to notify the next of kin,” she said.
Pascale pulled open the drawers in the desk. He spotted a stapler, tape dispenser, a box of paper clips, pencils, pens, highlighter, but nothing particularly significant.
“Do you notice anything odd about his desk?” Lopez asked.
Pascale moved back and examined the area. “Yeah, it’s dull and depressing. I wouldn’t be caught
dead
…” he stopped. He then corrected himself, “I wouldn’t enjoy working in this environment.”
Lopez said, “If the victim was staying late to work, then where is his laptop or computer?”
Pascale squinted. “You’re right.”
“Did you touch anything?” she asked Ossai.
“No,” he looked horrified. “Why would I?”
She squinted, as if thinking. She then said, “Can we see your security tapes?”
THE ROGUE REPORTER
now available!
Visit the author’s website:
www.finchambooks.com
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OTHER WORKS
The Silent Reporter (Hyder Ali #1)
The Rogue Reporter (Hyder Ali #2)
The Runaway Reporter (Hyder Ali #3)
THOMAS FINCHAM holds a graduate degree in Economics. His travels throughout the world have given him an appreciation for other cultures and beliefs. He has lived in Africa, Asia, and North America. An avid reader of mysteries and thrillers, he decided to give writing a try. Several novels later, he can honestly say he has found his calling. He is married and lives in a hundred-year-old house. He is the author of THE PAPERBOYS CLUB, THE OCTOBER FIVE, THE BLUE HORNET, KILLING THEM GENTLY, and the HYDER ALI SERIES.
Hyder H