WHEN THE MUSIC DIES (MUSIC CITY MURDERS Book 1) (21 page)

“Is there a chance Daran could have had a relationship with someone you two wouldn’t know about?” Mike asked.

“I do not think so,” Tomar said.

“There is a girl,” Hoshyar said as he looked at his brother. “Sarah is her name; Sarah Jennings. She and Daran became good friends, and they spent time together.”

“Was this a romantic relationship?” Norm asked.

Hoshyar looked down then back up at Norm. “Daran did not talk to us much about her, but I am sure he talked with Zena.”

Mike turned to Norm. “I think it’s time we talk with Zena.”

Daran Hamid’s Apartment

Nashville, Tennessee

Tuesday Evening

As they promised Hoshyar, Mike and Norm allowed the cousins almost a half hour to share the dreadful news with Zena, and to allow her to grieve briefly with her family. The detectives knew this was not enough time to absorb the tragic event or to mourn. It wasn’t fair. But, they needed to gather all the information they could while it was fresh and while it might still offer them answers to the increasing number of questions which always followed a homicide.

Norm knocked on the apartment door. The light in the peephole went dark for a moment, then two deadbolts retracted. Tomar opened the door and stepped back to allow the detectives to enter.

After nodding their thanks, they walked to the sofa where a young woman dressed in a dark floor length dress with a colorful scarf over her head, sat next to Hoshyar. Another young woman, dressed similarly, sat on her other side. Hoshyar stood.

“Detectives Neal and Wallace, this is my cousin Zena, and this is our neighbor and friend, Lana.”

“Slaaw—Tchoni?”
Mike said, looking at Zena and using most of the Kurdish language he’d learned while in Northern Iraq.

Zena closed her eyes and bowed her head to convey her silent thanks and welcome.

“Please have a seat.” Hoshyar pointed to the chairs opposite the sofa.

“What was that about?” Norm whispered as they turned toward their chairs.

“I said hello, and I asked her how she was doing,” Mike explained.

“Detective Neal—you are so cosmopolitan.”

Mike shook his head, trying not to smile at his partner’s jibe.

Mike flipped open his pad and turned to Hoshyar. “Does Zena speak English?”

“Yes, a little. She understands more than she speaks, so I may have to help her with her answers.”

“That’s fine,” Mike said, smiling at Zena.

Zena spoke briefly to Hoshyar, but kept her head bowed.

“Zena asked me to offer you her welcome and apologize for not having food to serve you. She said she can make some tea if you would like some. It is very good.”

“Thanks, I ...” Norm began.

“That’s not necessary,” Mike said, interrupting. “Please thank her for her hospitality. Assure her we understand your family’s grief, and we’re sorry we have to intrude like this. Can I assume you’ve discussed with her why we are here?”

“Yes, she understands you need to ask her questions to try and discover what happened and why. I told her you and your people will need to look around the apartment, but will try not to disturb anything. She has few possessions, and she is protective of them.”

“Thank you. I understand,” Mike said. “We will be careful, but we will need to examine most of what’s here in hopes of finding something that will tell us where else to look for answers. We may also need to take some things with us for a short while, but they will be returned safely. I assure you. Is that okay?”

Hoshyar spoke to Zena, and she nodded her head.

“When we’re finished with our questions, do you have somewhere for all of you to go so the physical investigation can be completed?”

“Yes. Tomar and I live here in this same building.”

“Good.” Mike directed his attention to Zena. “We want to thank you for allowing us this intrusion into your home. We are here to try and learn anything that might help us to find Daran’s killer. We understand Daran attended the ceremonies downtown this morning to be sworn in as an American citizen. We also know he reported for work at Cumberland Plaza at about five this evening. What can you tell us about his activities before the ceremony and then afterward prior to his reporting for work?”

Hoshyar helped Zena understand the questions and then gave Mike her answers.

“She said Daran left the apartment just after seven this morning. He told her he had errands to run. We came for Zena at eight o’clock, and we know Daran was at the ceremony on time because we waved to him as the group walked in together.”

“What were his errands?”

Hoshyar spoke with Zena. “She said the only thing she knew he had to do was go by Mustafa’s and order the food for tonight.”

“Is that the restaurant on Charlotte Avenue?” Norm asked.

“Yes, Mustafa’s,” Hoshyar said. “That is where Daran was going when....”

Mike nodded so that Hoshyar did not have to finish.

Zena spoke to Hoshyar.

“Zena said Daran was going to pick up Sarah this morning also. That must have been the other errand.”

“Do you know about Daran’s activities following the ceremony?”

“There was a reception at about ten-thirty for the new citizens and their families. We were all there to support Daran. He was so happy.” Hoshyar’s voice broke.

Zena brought her tissue to her face and patted the tears from her eyes.

“After the reception the new citizens were taken on a tour of the state capitol and then had a catered lunch with the mayor and the governor in the capitol building. They were allowed to bring one guest each. Daran invited Sarah.”

“Zena, let’s talk about Sarah,” Mike said. “Tell me what you know about her and her relationship with your brother.”

Hoshyar made sure Zena understood the request, and she spoke up with what sounded like considerable input.

“Zena said they met by accident at the international market. Daran came home that day and told Zena about how he helped Sarah when she dropped her food and made a big mess at the market.”

Zena interrupted Hoshyar with more about Sarah.

“Zena told me she had seldom seen Daran so happy. Daran and Sarah spent as much time as they could talking, sometimes for hours, on the phone. Sarah seemed interested in learning about Kurdistan, Iraq and Daran’s life there. She thought it was exciting. Zena said she could never understand what it was that sounded so exciting about Northern Iraq.

“Zena said she believed Sarah was good for Daran. She is convinced Daran was falling in love.” Hoshyar looked at Zena. “She said she hoped Sarah was too, for his sake.”

“Can you tell me more about what Daran did after the luncheon?” Mike asked.

Hoshyar questioned Zena.

“Zena said Daran returned home at about four-thirty this afternoon. He changed into his work clothes and left soon after. She said that is all she knows, but she suspects Daran spent the day with Sarah after their lunch. They were spending much time together.”

“Zena, what do you think about Daran and Sarah? Was this a friendship or a love relationship?” Mike asked.

Zena must have understood Mike’s question. She didn’t hesitate to offer her answer to Hoshyar.

“She thinks it began as a friendship, but the longer they knew each other the closer they became,” Hoshyar said. “Sarah sometimes ate dinner with us at our work in order to spend time with Daran. Sarah told all of us she had suffered through some unsuccessful and painful relationships. I think Daran was determined to see her happy. I do not believe he ever experienced a connection like this with a woman.”

Zena grabbed Hoshyar’s arm and spoke up.

“Zena said that Daran had never been in love. He was nervous about it.”

“I understand,” Mike said.

Mike paused and turned to Norm. “Why don’t you call the techs and let them know we’ll be ready by the time they get here.”

Norm stood and stepped outside to make the call.

“I apologize for some of the questions I have to ask.” Mike gathered his thoughts. “Like just about all murders where knives are involved, the suspect has to be physically close to the victim in order to complete his task. This type of violence sometimes leads us to believe the killer may have known the victim, or at least been acquainted, and likely had some degree of rage driving their actions. Zena, can you think of anyone who may have felt this level of rage for your brother, for any reason?”

Hoshyar explained and after thinking for a moment, Zena answered. Hoshyar translated.

“She said her brother was a passive man. He became upset occasionally, but the things that troubled Daran were injustices, and usually it was those involving someone else, not himself. He used to watch the news and say, ‘How can people treat each other that way?’”

“Detective,” Zena spoke slowly and directly to Mike for the first time without Hoshyar translating. Her dark tear-filled eyes looked straight into his. “I cannot imagine anyone with the rage for my brother, or for anyone, that must have been in their heart for them to do this.”

After a moment of reflection, Mike said, “Thank you.” Standing, Mike stepped closer and addressed Zena. “Again, we’re very sorry for your loss. We appreciate your talking with us and welcoming us into your home. We may have to speak with you again. We will try to disrupt as little as possible during our physical investigation.”

Mike looked at Hoshyar and said, “One of the uniformed policemen will escort you all to your apartment and come for you when we’re finished.”

“Can I speak to you in private?” Hoshyar whispered to Mike.

They walked outside with the others, but when Tomar and the ladies left with the policeman for their apartment, Mike and Hoshyar stayed behind.

“I did not want to bring this up in front of Zena. She knows nothing about it.” Hoshyar glanced back to be sure they were not being heard. “Be sure to ask Sarah Jennings about her ex-boyfriend, Jimmy Dan Mullins. This man is dangerous. He used to follow Sarah when she brought us dinner. I remember she once said she wanted to file a restraining order, but feared it would anger him more. Sarah told Daran not long ago, Mullins threatened to do something if she did not stop seeing him.”

“When did he make this threat?”

“You will have to ask her.”

Dara Hamid’s Apartment

Nashville, Tennessee

Tuesday Evening

“Norm—what are you doing?” Mike asked as he rounded the corner into the small kitchen.

The big detective jerked the white bag from his face, rolled the top back down and returned it to the refrigerator shelf. “I was looking for evidence.”

“Did that smell like evidence?” Mike asked.

“It smelled heavenly. It’s baklava.”

“I know. You’re starved again, right? You can eat something later when we’re finished. We’ve got work to do.”

“Ten-four,” Norm said. “I’m almost done in here. I haven’t spotted anything of interest. Hell, I haven’t spotted much of anything at all. They must have meager tastes.”

“And a meager budget too, I’m sure. Most of us can’t even relate. Why don’t you give Wendy a hand in the bedroom? Maybe there’s something in his personal papers that can provide us some direction.”

“Sure.” Norm’s gloved right hand fumbled to get his pen from his shirt pocket and make some quick notes. He took six steps to get from the small kitchen-dining combination to the even smaller second bedroom.

“Any luck yet?” Norm asked.

Wendy wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Not much. Only the basic personal stuff we all have; actually quite a bit less than we have. I’ve got some things there in that box that might offer some information.”

Norm looked in the box at evidence bags containing a pair of off-brand running shoes with mud in the soles, personal items from the bathroom and the dresser top, and a large flat envelope.

“I found this in the top dresser drawer,” Wendy said as she picked up the manila envelope. She opened the clasp and pressed the edges until the sides spread apart.

Norm peered inside to see a greeting card with a matching envelope and a flat Hallmark bag. “Is anything written on the card?”

Wendy smiled and nodded. “It must have been for his lady friend.”

“Sarah,” Norm said.

“He wrote some very nice words; told her how important she was to him. He said she was his ‘gift from God’,” Wendy quoted. “At the end, he told her he loved her. It sounds to me like it could have been the first time he’d told her. Well—would have been.”

Norm blinked. “That’s sad.”

“It gets worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“The receipt in the bag gave the date of purchase as over a month ago.”

“Hmm. I guess he’s been working on his English,” Norm said.

“Maybe—more likely his nerve—and he never got the chance to use it.”

Norm looked at his watch. “We gotta get finished here and get back to the CJC.”

“Hey, Mike?” Norm took a quick exit from the bedroom and found Mike, looking through some photos. “Have the officers located Miss Jennings yet?” Norm said.

“Yes, she’ll be waiting on us when we get to the Justice Center. You guys about finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell Wendy to wrap it up, and I’ll let the cousins know we’re leaving.”

Criminal Justice Center

Nashville, Tennessee

Tuesday Late Evening

Mike and Norm entered the Homicide Unit and spotted an attractive young woman with long blond hair sitting with Officer Tonya McCord. She was holding a steaming coffee cup and a hand full of used tissues.

“Ms. Jennings? My name is Detective Mike Neal. This is Detective Norm Wallace.”

“Hi,” Sarah said.

“We’re sorry to have to drag you down here like this tonight, and we’re also very sorry for your loss.”

Sarah nodded. “Thank you.”

“Tonya, thanks for helping Ms. Jennings, and we appreciate you both waiting for us. We came straight from the Hamid apartment.

“Sarah, would you like for me to stay with you?” Officer McCord said.