The rabbi asked Freeland’s daughter to give the eulogy.
Jessica Freeland was beautiful, even in her current state of anguish. She had long auburn hair and her skin was peppered with freckles. It was her eyes that were stunning. They were a bright emerald green.
Jessica spoke about her father, about growing up with him, and about how much he meant to her. She broke down on several occasions. Hyder didn’t blame her. She had just lost a parent and it was something Hyder could relate to.
Jessica finished and she was escorted back to her seat.
The rabbi then led the congregation in prayer. The mourners replied with “Amen” at the appropriate times, which Hyder did as well.
The rabbi concluded the service by providing the time and place of the shiva, where close mourners remained at home to receive visitors and also observe the intense period of mourning.
Freeland’s body was then taken to the cemetery.
Rows of chairs were already placed around the gravesite. The immediate family took their places with the other mourners standing behind them.
The rabbi performed the ritual and recited several prayers. And then the casket was lowered into the grave. The rabbi was the first to perform the Mitzvah, placing dirt into the grave. This was followed by the family members. Hyder joined the line. When his turn came, he took a shovel full of dirt and placed it into the grave. He had seen the mourners do it three times, so he did it as well. He couldn’t help but see the similarities between Judaism and Islam. In a Muslim funeral, they, too, placed dirt into the grave.
The mourners slowly began to exit.
Hyder was walking toward his Toyota Camry when he heard a voice from behind.
He turned to find Jessica Freeland coming his way.
She was even more stunning up close.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Hyder immediately said.
“Thank you,” she replied. “My dad talked a lot about you.”
“He did?” Hyder was surprised.
“Yes,” she said. “In fact, my dad said if he had a son, he would have wanted him to be just like you.”
Hyder didn’t know what to say.
“Your dad was a good man,” he finally said. “He taught me a lot.”
Jessica looked toward the car where her mother was waiting for her. “I have to go,” she said. “But maybe when the time is right, we could meet for coffee or something. I would love to hear stories about my dad.”
“I would like that,” Hyder said before they parted.
He then continued back towards his car, not noticing that a black sedan was parked across from the cemetery gate.
A man sat behind the wheel, watching the mourners leave the cemetery.
THIRTEEN
He took a sip of the wine, held it in his mouth, and then gulped it down. It was from an eight-hundred dollar bottle, so it had better taste perfect, he thought. He adjusted the cuffs on his two-thousand dollar suit and leaned back. He checked the time on his gold RADO watch and grunted.
He hated having to wait.
Ian Marshall had been raised in privilege. He had gone to some of the best Ivy League schools in the country. He lived in a seven million dollar house outside the city. He also owned a two million dollar condo inside the city.
He glanced outside the restaurant at his silver Mercedes Benz. He noticed a patch of dirt near the front wheels. Once he returned to the office he’d have one of his assistants take the Benz in for cleaning.
The waiter appeared, asking if he was ready to order.
He was hungry, but he never liked discussing business while he ate. He found it upset his stomach. It was better to get it done during the drinks.
He waved the waiter away.
A man entered the restaurant and came straight toward his table. The man was tall, slim and wore a custom-fitted gray suit.
“Grant, you’re late,” Ian growled.
The man didn’t respond as he took the chair across from Ian.
“Is everything going according to plan?” Ian asked.
“Yes, I’m coming from Freeland’s gravesite. He won’t be troubling you now.”
“He may not be anymore, but did he leave anything that might?”
“I found nothing in his house.”
“What about a computer, a USB drive, a DVD, anything?”
“Freeland was paranoid. He believed in a lot of conspiracy theories. He thought the government were listening in on everything, so he never owned a computer.”
“What?” Ian was surprised.
“Apparently, Freeland preferred to keep everything in hard copy. He didn’t trust technology. I found a typewriter in his office at the campus. I did, however, find this.” Grant placed what looked like a diary on the table.
Ian picked it up and flipped through it. “There are pages missing.”
“Freeland must have torn them out and destroyed them.”
“Or he must have given them to someone,” Ian said quickly. “Do you think that’s a possibility?”
“Could be.”
“Who?”
Grant shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe his daughter, but I’m keeping an eye out for anything unusual. I’ve already started surveillance on her. If he did trust anyone with the information it would have been her.”
“You think she knows?”
Grant shook his head. “I don’t think so. She would have passed it on to the authorities by now.”
“What’s in the rest of the diary?” Ian didn’t want to be the one to go through it.
“Nothing important, I’m afraid. He used it to keep track of his errands, his appointments with students, lectures dates and times, what to buy for dinner, what bills to pay and when. The rest of it is blank.”
Ian pushed the diary back to Grant, who hid it back in his jacket.
“Is anyone suspicious about his death?” Ian asked.
Again, Grant shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I made it look like a suicide, but I wouldn’t be too worried, though.”
Ian waited for him.
“Detective Tom Nolan is working on the case,” Grant finally said.
Ian looked confused. “So?”
“He’s a drunk and a mess. Last night he was thrown out of a bar for bad behavior. He won’t look too deep into the case.”
“What if he does?”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
Ian looked away. He took a sip of the wine. He didn’t bother offering it to Grant. Why waste a good bottle on hired help?
He faced Grant. “You should have been able to get that information out of Freeland. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”
“If I had tortured him the authorities would have become suspicious. Plus, I tried exerting influence.”
“How so?”
“I threatened to harm his daughter, but like I said, he believed everything was a conspiracy. He was certain even if he gave me the information I would still kill him and harm his daughter.”
“Would you have?” Ian asked, curious.
“Probably. It depends on what his daughter knows, though. That is why I will keep an eye on her.”
Ian grinned. “You’re a dangerous man.”
Grant didn’t say anything.
Ian looked at his watch. He was ready to end this meeting and get on with his meal.
“Just make sure every loose end is taken care of. We are paying you quite a lot of money, got it?”
“Are we done?” Grant asked.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Ian replied, waving him away.
FOURTEEN
Jessica Freeland left her mother’s home and drove back to her apartment.
She couldn’t bring herself to perform shiva, which could last seven days. Naturally, her mother wasn’t too pleased with her, but Jessica didn’t care.
She couldn’t stay inside the house and meet visitors. They were a constant reminder her that her father was now gone. This was something she still hadn’t come to
terms with.
She understood that it would be weeks, months, or even years before she fully accepted that her father would no longer be with her.
She stopped the car by the side of the road and cried.
Her father would never see her graduate. Jessica was getting her masters in child psychology at George Smith College.
Her father would never walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. Jessica was currently single, but one day she would not be.
Her father would never see his grandchildren. This deeply hurt her above anything else.
She let all her emotions out. When she felt a little better she put the car in gear and drove away.
It took her around an hour to reach her building. She parked in the back and went up.
It was a two-bedroom apartment that she shared with a roommate. Jessica had met Chloe at the coffee shop they both worked at. When Chloe’s last roommate abruptly left without paying her share of the rent Chloe was left in a tough spot. Jessica was still commuting from her mother’s house when she found out. She quickly jumped at the opportunity and moved in. That was almost eight months ago. Jessica never regretted the decision.
Chloe was clean and organized, just like her. She had also become a friend and confidante.
Chloe was currently at the coffee shop. She had taken over Jessica’s shifts so that Jessica could mourn her loss.
The last thing Jessica wanted to do was mourn. What she really needed was to keep busy, to keep her mind occupied, or else she would go into deep depression.
Depression.
She couldn’t believe her father had been suffering quietly. At no time did she see any signs that something was wrong when she was with him. It had all come as a surprise.
She went into her room and straight to bed.
Her eyes felt heavy. The crying had worn her out.
She quickly fell asleep.
When she woke up, she felt a bit better, but not a lot.
She needed to get out. Get some fresh air.
She changed and left the apartment.
It was nice to be out. It allowed her to breathe.
She had walked these streets a hundred times now, but today they felt different, as if she was walking them for the first time.
The death of her father had altered her state of mind. She no longer felt like the same person. She had to fully come to terms with the fact that he was gone, but she couldn’t do it, it was too soon.
Suicides, accidents, or even murders were so very abrupt. They never allowed the remaining family members to prepare for what was to come. They happened when you least expected them to. Death was the one event that no one really got over. It lingered in the back of the subconscious for the duration of a person’s life. The survivors always thought of what the possibilities would still be if the deceased were still alive.
Right now Jessica thought of her father, particularly her last conversation with him on the phone. He sounded distant. Normally, he would be excited to speak to her and would bombard her with a thousand questions. How was school, would be the first question he always asked her. Being in an academic profession, education was paramount to him. This was always followed by, how was her job? Did she need any money? And finally, when was she coming by to see him? Jessica always answered all those questions as creatively as possible to see what his reaction would be. School was okay but she might not graduate as planned. Her job was fickle because her boss was a jerk. Money was tight. In fact, she may not have enough to pay her rent. And as for visiting him, that might not be possible for several months or even years.
This would elicit a loud laugh from him. He knew she was joking, of course. If anything was wrong she would tell him beforehand. That was the type of relationship they had.
And that is what bothered her now about her last talk with him. He neither asked any of those questions nor cared for any answers she gave. When she asked how he was doing, he paused as if he were worried that someone was listening in on their conversation.
She knew her father had wild theories about the world. He always warned her to be careful and never give out too much information, but she never paid much attention to them. He was a professor of contemporary issues. He had spent his entire life reading and dissecting current events. She was certain some of his analysis had made an impact on him, but not to the point that he was a crazy lunatic or something.
He could be weird or odd sometimes. Maybe that was why her mom left him. But deep down, though, he was as normal as anyone else.
During her last conversation with him, he had told her that he was busy working on something big and that he would call in a couple of days. That was two days before she found out he had killed himself.
Jessica kept walking with her head down. She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care. She was content in being lost in her thoughts. She then heard a voice.
She turned around to see Chloe racing her way.
“What’re you doing here, Jess?” she asked. Chloe had short blond hair, and she always wore a lot of jewelry.
“I couldn’t stay at my mom’s,” Jessica replied with a shrug.
“I saw you through the window at the shop.”
Jessica hadn’t realized she had passed the coffee shop she worked at.
“Come inside,” Chloe said. “I’ll make you something warm and we’ll talk.”
“What about your shift?” Jessica asked.
“Don’t worry about it. Ajay is there, he’ll take over. We were all worried about you. Now come with me before I drag you kicking and screaming.”
Chloe was a good friend. Jessica really did need someone to talk to. And plus, a hot cup of chocolate would do wonders for her.
FIFTEEN
Hyder was in his cubicle, typing away on his laptop.
There were several stories he wanted to follow up on. He hoped some would lead to bigger and better stories.
One in particular had caught his attention. There were several reports of thieves breaking into the homes of senior citizens. The seniors were not hurt and the thieves never took cash, jewelry or even valuables. All they did was take their medical cards.
Hyder had found this odd and his journalistic instincts told them that there was something bigger at play. Could the thieves be using the medical information to find out when the victims eventually passed away? This would seem like nothing from the outside, but that information could be used to create false identities or even used for identity thefts. Hyder had heard of bank loans, car purchases, and even mortgages under the name of someone who had passed away. This was only a theory, but it was worth checking into. If it did indeed turn out to be something, Hyder would be the first to cover it.
This story could turn into other stories, Hyder thought, as he leaned back on his chair and stared up at the ceiling.
Thieves plus senior citizens plus fraud; there is so much potential for great print material. Heck, maybe even people working in medical offices might be in on it.
Hyder smiled at the last thought.
If his theory turned out to be true and his stories captured readers’ attention, Dunny would surely make him permanent at the Daily Times.
The phone rang.
Speak of the Devil, Hyder thought.
He answered. “Sure, I’ll be there in two minutes.”
He hung up. “What does she want?” He thought out loud.
As usual, he found her behind her desk.
“Hyder, come in,” she said, not looking up. “I’ve got a story for you.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Hyder replied a little too eagerly.
“There is a South Asian Festival happening on the east side of Franklin. I want you to cover it.”
Hyder’s heart sank. Festivals, although fun to cover, were not really a good springboard to bigger and better stories. They were just fillers for other important stories in the paper.
“I would rather cover something else,” Hyder said.
“L
ike what?” Dunny looked up at him.
He couldn’t tell her about the senior citizen story. If it didn’t pan out Dunny would have him for dinner.
“Um… a couple of things here and there.”
Dunny looked at him. “Drop them,” she said. “I need someone covering this festival and you’re doing it.”
“Is it because I’m brown?” Hyder asked. He hoped to change her mind one last time.
“Last I checked you were,” she said without skipping a beat. “Who better to do it than you? Any other comments, Hyder?”
“No, ma’am.”
He left.
Hyder found Lester standing by his cubicle.
“Why so down?” Lester asked.
Hyder told him about his meeting with Dunny.
“Really?” Lester’s eyes lit up. “Can I come?”
“What? Why?”
“Are you kidding me,” Lester beamed. “A festival like that will surely have lots of delicious food. I can’t wait to try the kebabs, the naans, and what’s that sweet milky thing that looks like a Popsicle?”
“A kulfi.”
“Mmmm… kulfi.”
“Are you sure your editor will allow you to come?” Hyder said.
Lester grinned. “Sure, I’ll tell him it’s related to some new product that’s coming out.”
Hyder rolled his eyes. “What if he doesn’t believe you?”
“Then I’ll tell him I’ll take it as a vacation. There’s no way I’m missing Indian food.”
SIXTEEN
Nolan scratched his beard as he sat in a diner not far from police headquarters.
He needed a shave, but that was the least of his worries right now. His head throbbed. When he touched the back of his skull, it stung.
Damian had returned his weapon to him. He had made no comment when he did so. Nolan was relieved he did. Right now, Nolan couldn’t deal with a lawsuit of any kind against him.
He would leave a bigger tip for Damian the next time he went.
He sipped the coffee and made a sour face. He had requested it be strong and black. He had to give the impression that he was sober when he walked into the office today.
The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) Page 4
