The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3)

by Thomas Fincham

  “Is that what I think it is?” Danka asked.

  “It is,” Lopez replied.

  Rudy Ross Jr. was holding a knife.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Something had bothered Hyder about his discussion with Munn. It was specifically focused on the pharmaceutical companies and the side effects of prescription medications. Munn had almost dared him to look into it.

  Now that Hyder was indeed researching it, he found himself overwhelmed. There was so much information available, and he didn’t know what to focus on first.

  He found that almost half a million deaths occurred each year in the United States due to adverse effects of medications. This was costing society hundreds of billions of dollars annually. Worse yet, drug reactions were killing one in five patients who were in hospital care.

  This wasn’t just affecting people who were overdosing on prescription medication, it was even affecting people who were taking medication as directed by their doctors.

  He found doctors had also become part of the problem too. Drug companies were paying them to become their consultants and encouraging them to advise other doctors on their drugs. The companies were even going further by paying for the doctors’ ongoing education in order for them to keep their licenses. This made them more joined to the hip with these drug companies than ever before.

  The drug companies now had more clout than ever. Currently, there were billions of dollars worth of lawsuits being fought in the courts regularly. And still, the drug companies were able to get approval for their drugs from the United States government. There was just too much money at stake.

  The problem stemmed from the fact that people were constantly being told that anything could be cured with just a pill. From weight loss, to hair loss, to acne, to shyness, just about any condition could be cured with medication now.

  Very little emphasis was put on the reactions or side effects to these medications. They were linked to fatal heart attacks, cancers, suicides, strokes, even loss of taste, sight, and smell. This did not even include the possibility of severe headaches, stomach pains, amnesia, hallucinations, paralysis, and joint and muscle pain.

  The list was so long and comprehensive that Hyder felt ill just reading it.

  He understood that the problem wasn’t just the drug companies or the drug administrators, or even the health care providers; the problem was also the media. They were not objectively reporting the side effects of these drugs. They were complicit in promoting the benefits of these drugs, which was being provided straight from the drug companies themselves.

  Hyder decided it was time he did something about it.

  He prepared a story, outlining what he had discovered in his research. He also expressed his fears and concerns regarding to the entire healthcare system.

  He then dropped it off on Veronica’s desk.

  Hyder was heading back to his cubicle when his cell phone rang. He answered it and then rushed out of the Daily Times.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  He found him on a bench inside a bus shelter.

  He was wearing a hoodie with a sports jacket on top, a blue baseball cap, black jeans, and white sneakers.

  When their eyes met, he came over and got in the car.

  Naveed Akram was Hyder’s cousin. He was a few years younger than him. His eyes were red. It looked like he’d had a long night. He had diamond studs in both his ears, even though in Islam jewelry on men was frowned upon. Hyder knew guys who wore them when they were out in public, but they always made sure to take them off when they were at home. It was as if they were hiding their outside life from their home life.

  Hyder sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

  Naveed looked away.

  “Do you know its haram (forbidden)?” Hyder said. “Plus, don’t you know it’s the Holy month of Ramadan? What are you thinking?” Hyder was furious.

  “I don’t need a lecture, Bhai (big brother),” Naveed said.

  “Then why did you call me?” Hyder was irritated.

  “I need your help.”

  Hyder squinted. “What happened?”

  “I think I’m going to be suspended.”

  “You mean from the university?”

  Naveed was studying Economics, but Hyder knew in his heart he wasn’t into it. What Naveed really wanted to do was get into fashion, but his father wouldn’t allow it.

  Naveed nodded.

  “Have you been skipping class?” Hyder asked.

  Naveed shrugged. “It’s not for me. I can’t sit and do graphs and formulas. Plus, half the shit is way over my head.”

  “Watch your language,” Hyder scolded.

  In the Pakistani culture, you respected your elders and that meant you didn’t curse or use crude words in front of them. Even though Hyder himself wasn’t averse to cursing, he always made sure to not use foul language in front of elders, so as to not offend them.

  “Sorry,” Naveed said. “I’m just stressed, Bhai.”

  Hyder understood. It wasn’t easy balancing two cultures. At home, you were told to follow the rules and do what was best for the family, but outside, you were encouraged to be independent and make your own rules. This clash often left those in between feeling hopeless and helpless.

  Who could they turn to? It was obviously not their parents. They had come to this country with the same traditions and values that their parents had instilled in them. It had helped them manage their lives and they wanted to pass them on to their children.

  What most failed to realize was that their children weren’t them. They weren’t brought up like them and so they didn’t think like them.

  Hyder was grateful for the way his mother had raised him and his brother. She didn’t force anything on her sons. She wanted them to carve out their own paths.

  Whether they prayed five times a day or read the Quran regularly was not something she was too concerned about. What she wanted was for them to understand and appreciate the true essence of the faith.

  Islam was there to bring peace and harmony into their lives.

  Growing up, Hyder was very much like Naveed. Even though he didn’t have any piercings or even touched a bottle of alcohol, he was still rebellious. He questioned anything and everything, even his faith.

  Had he not received the answers he was searching for when he was younger, he probably wouldn’t be fasting.

  Naveed was now questioning everything, his faith, his studies, even his life in general.

  It was now up to Hyder to help him answer some of those questions.

  “When was the last time you went home?” Hyder asked.

  Naveed shrugged. “Couple of days ago.”

  “Your parents aren’t worried about where you are?”

  “I told them I was at the university working on a project, so they’re not too concerned.”

  “I want you to come and stay with me,” Hyder said.

  “You sure Aunty won’t mind?” Naveed said.

  “Ammi will be more than happy to have you over. Plus, now that Akbar has moved out, she’s trying to find more people to cook for.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Nolan hung up the phone and made a face. This was the third time he had called Lopez and she had not picked up.

  Maybe she was still mad at him.

  He wanted to apologize to her for what happened at the restaurant. He should have told her about his meeting with Hyder, but more importantly, he should have told her about the anonymous tip Hyder had received.

  He still hadn’t spoken to Hyder either. Nolan wondered if Hyder was upset with him as well.

  Nolan hadn’t been in this situation for some time now. After his wife’s death, he was alone, and in many ways, he enjoyed it. He neither sought nor cared what others thought of him. But now, things were different.

  He needed Hyder’s friendship and he needed Lopez’s companionship.

  They were both a big part of his life now.

  His head began to hurt. In situations like this, he wo
uld have reached for the bottle, but that option was longer available to him.

  He needed to close his eyes, shut his mind to the voices inside his head.

  He knew where he had to go.

  FORTY

  From his desk, Pascale spotted Nolan going into the interview room. He smiled.

  I got you now, Nolan, he thought.

  He looked at his watch and waited. Not even fifteen minutes had passed when he got up and stormed into the room.

  As predicted, he found Nolan with his head on the table. He was snoring loudly.

  Pascale slammed his palm down on the table.

  Nolan leaped up and pulled out his weapon. “Who fired the gun?” he demanded.

  Pascale jumped back, startled. “It’s me, Pascale,” he said with his hands up.

  Nolan looked around and then blinked. He realized where he was and put the weapon away.

  “Don’t ever do that,” Nolan said to him. “I could have shot you.”

  “You were sleeping on the job again,” Pascale said. “And I caught you red handed. I’m going to report you to Sergeant Halton. Not only will you be reprimanded for this, you might even be suspended.” Pascale grinned broadly. He was enjoying this moment. He had finally got the better of him.

  Nolan squinted, rubbed his eyes, and shrugged. “Go ahead, suspend me,” he said.

  Pascale was confused. “What? Aren’t you worried about losing your pay?”

  “Not really. I’ve got some extra cash stashed away,” he said. This was the truth, though. After the Monkey Murders, Nolan’s popularity rose to the point where he thought of hiring a publicist. Everybody wanted an inside scoop on how he had brought down the state governor. He began doing the rounds on various talk shows, and several prominent magazines even did a story on him. But like everything else in life, people quickly got bored of the case and moved on. Nolan, however, was able to put some money aside, knowing his fame wasn’t going to last forever.

  “But I don’t think you will report me,” Nolan added.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Pascale was almost fuming.

  “Because you need all hands on deck with this case. Three young people are dead. How would it look to the public if they found out an officer was no longer working on the case because he was suspended for taking a quick nap? Hell, what would the families of the deceased think? I’m sure they’ll be up in arms about this. They’d want answers. And guess who Halton would hang once the noose got closer to his neck.”

  Pascale went pale. He swallowed.

  Nolan said, “Now, if you don’t mind, please close the door on your way out.”

  Pascale slowly did as he was told.

  FORTY-ONE

  Outside, Pascale shook his head. He couldn’t believe Nolan had just bullied him.

  He wanted to go back inside and give him hell, but a voice of reason told him it was not worth it.

  He caught Lopez coming his way.

  He took a deep breath and composed himself.

  “What’s going on?” he asked her

  She told him what she saw on the computer footage. “So, I went back to Rudy Jr.’s apartment and retrieved his phone.”

  “And?” Pascale asked.

  “The last call was blocked. Whoever called him didn’t want to be identified.”

  FORTY-TWO

  He parked in front of a house and then double-checked the address. Once satisfied, he went to the back of the van and pulled out a package.

  He got out and walked up the steps to the front of the house.

  He rang the bell and waited.

  Less than thirty seconds later a woman answered the door.

  She recognized the company he worked for and smiled.

  “I’ve been waiting for it for a long time,” she said.

  He neither smiled nor frowned. He just scanned the package and told her to sign between the lines.

  She did. After handing her the package, he moved back to the van.

  He checked his next delivery and then drove off.

  He was not even half a block away when his cell phone buzzed.

  He checked and found a text message waiting for him.

  He drove up and searched his surroundings. When he found what he was looking for, he parked and got out.

  He entered the phone booth and dialed a number.

  After a few rings it went to voice mail. When prompted, he punched in the password and listened. A male voice said, “Hyder Ali is getting too close. Send a package to Detective Tom Nolan.”

  He hung up the phone and went back to the van.

  FORTY-THREE

  Nolan woke up to find Lopez sitting across from him.

  He was still in the interview room, and there was drool on the table.

  She smiled. “I guess now I know why Pascale looked agitated.”

  “I owe you an apology,” Nolan quickly said.

  “I’m listening,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “I know I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry. Come, I’ll show you something.”

  He quickly got up and left the room.

  She followed him to his desk whereby Nolan pulled out a file from one of the drawers.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “The forensics report from the Riverfield crime scene.”

  “Why do you have it?” she asked, giving him a stern look.

  “It confirms what we already know.”

  She nodded, but her stern expression did not go away. “You can’t hold on to this. You have to show this to Pascale or even Halton.”

  “You know what would happen if they got a hold of this.”

  Lopez went silent.

  “I promised the Captain I would get to the bottom of this,” Nolan explained, “and once I get some answers I will personally hand deliver it to Pascale or Halton or even the President.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Tom, you’re a difficult person to care for, you know that.”

  “Ah, but you do care for me, isn’t that right?” He gave her a big smile.

  She made a face. “I do, but I’m still mad at you.”

  “I want to make it up to you. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  “Whatever?”

  “Just name it.”

  “I was thinking, maybe we should do a double date with my sister and her new boyfriend.”

  Nolan cringed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to meet your sister, especially while I’m trying to stay sober.”

  “Don’t worry. I know you’ll do just fine.”

  Nolan wasn’t so sure.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Hyder slouched on the sofa. Naveed was sitting next to him and his mom was just adjacent to him but in another chair. After they’d arrived, Hyder’s mom had prepared Iftar, whereby they all had a meal. They were now enjoying a classic whodunit mystery.

  Whenever his mom joined in to watch an English movie, rather than the Indian or Bollywood movies she preferred, he always found himself surprised by this. He wondered if she understood the plot, the dialogue, or even the action in the movies.

  Unlike the traditional Bollywood fare, where the heroes and villains were clearly defined, and where the plot was purposely uncomplicated, the English movies demanded more focus and attention.

  His mom was never one to sit through an entire movie anyway. She would always toil away at something. Whether it was ironing, dusting, vacuuming (how she understood the dialogue with the motor running, he didn’t know), and even cooking.

  Right now she was sewing one of her saris.

  Maybe that is how single mothers get everything completed, he thought. They were able to multi-task simultaneously.

  There was a loud knock at the door. It was as if someone was banging it with their fists.

  Hyder looked over at Naveed. He looked pale and nervous.

  Mrs. Ali said, “Naveed, go into the kitchen.”

  He quickly left the living room.

  Mrs. Ali turned to
Hyder. “Let me handle this.”

  She went over and opened the front door. A man stormed into the house. He had a prayer cap over his head. His beard was long and heavy and he wore a suit jacket over his dress shirt and dress pants.

  “Where is he?” he bellowed.

  Behind the man was a woman. She wore a hijab (scarf) over her head and she had on traditional Pakistani attire.

  “Naveed!” the man yelled. “Come out here now!”

  Mrs. Ali crossed her arms and said, “I told Naveed not to come out.”

  Mumtaz Akram looked at his sister with rage and disbelief. He wanted nothing better than to tell his sister off, but as she was the eldest, he controlled himself. “Do you know what he’s been up to?” Mr. Akram said.

  “Yes, Hyder just told me.”

  “I can’t believe my own son will be kicked out of the university,” he wailed. He turned to his wife. “This is all your fault. You spoiled him. I told you we should have sent him back home to study.”

  His wife said nothing. She just kept her eyes low.

  “Mumtaz,” Mrs. Ali said to her brother. “Let’s be calm about this. I’ll make some chai and together we will discuss this.”

  “I don’t want to discuss anything,” Mr. Akram said. “I’m here to take my son home.”

  “He won’t go,” Hyder replied. “He is scared.”

  “I don’t care,” Mr. Akram snapped at him. “I’m the father. He doesn’t make the decisions, I do. Naveed, come out now!” he yelled. “Don’t make me come and get you!”

  “Uncle!” Hyder yelled back. This startled everyone. He had hardly ever raised his voice. “You and I are going to talk outside now.”

  Mr. Akram looked shocked and confused. “Hyder, you can’t talk to me like that.”