The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) (15 page)

She looked around the apartment.  It looked like someone had thoroughly gone through it as if they were looking for something.

But what?

FORTY-FIVE

Jumu’ah
was a congregational prayer held every Friday in the afternoon.  According to the Prophet Muhammad, this prayer was twenty-five times more blessed then any prayer performed alone.  It was, therefore, why Hyder always tried not to miss the prayers. But with a full-time job and other life commitments, he was guilty of missing quite a few.

He took a bath, picked out his best clothes, applied perfume and left his house.

The
Masjid
(Mosque)
was about a half-hour drive.

Hyder found a parking spot, grabbed his prayer cap from the glove compartment, and got out.

He was greeted by a couple of men he had grown up with.  They were wearing
shalwar kameez
, a traditional dress worn in Pakistan and India.  The
shalwar
was pajama-like trousers with legs wide at the top and narrow at the ankles.  The
kameez
was a long tunic, almost reaching below the knees, with a western-style collar.

Even though he didn’t wear one today, Hyder always enjoyed wearing it as it was loose and comfortable.  There was a reason why it was worn in hot countries, he concluded.

He was informed that the
adhan
(the call for prayer) was already performed. 
Muezzin
, the person appointed to lead and recite the
adhan
had performed it fifteen minutes ago, which meant the
khutbah
, the sermon given by the Imam prior to the Friday prayer, would begin shortly.

Hyder hurried into the mosque, removed his shoes and found a spot on the carpeted floor not far from where the Imam would give the sermon.

After the service concluded the
masjid
began to empty as worshippers said a few greetings to those they knew and then quickly departed.  Unlike in Muslim countries, where Friday was a holiday, most people had to get back to their jobs and other duties as it was still a workday.

Hyder didn’t have anywhere to be, so he stayed behind.

There was a line of people wanting to speak to the Imam.  This line consisted of people who had various problems that they wanted the Imam’s opinion on.  There were also others who wanted to request prayers from the Imam.  And then there were those who just wanted to extend their greetings to the Imam.

Hyder felt lost and confused.  He not only wanted to greet the Imam, he also needed his opinion and prayers.

When his turn came the Imam saw him and smiled, “
Assalamu alaikum
, Hyder.”  He hugged and kissed him on both cheeks.

“
Wa alaikum assalam,
Qazi Sahib,” Hyder replied.

Mubarik Qazi was medium built.  He had dark skin, a dark beard, and wore round glasses.

“I didn’t see you at the last
Juma’ah
,” the Imam said.

“Sorry, I’ve been a little busy,” Hyder said. 

“It’s understandable, but it is my duty to remind you that if you take one step toward Allah, Allah will take ten steps toward you.”

Hyder had heard other similar sayings as well. 
If one walked toward Allah, Allah ran toward them.

Hyder could only nod.  He wished he came to the masjid regularly.  As a child it was the one place where he found peace and refuge from all that was happening out in the world. 

“What can I do for you, Hyder?” the Imam asked.

Hyder told him about the loss of his job.  He also told him about the death of his professor.  Hyder finished by telling him how he was helping Jessica with finding out the truth.

The Imam listened intently and finally said, “Do you believe that your friend’s father was murdered?”

Hyder shrugged.

“Do you or don’t you? It’s a simple question,” the Imam continued.

“I do,” Hyder said firmly.

“So, let me ask you this:  if you are searching for the truth, then this truth will lead to justice, yes?”

“Yes,” Hyder answered.

“Then you should keep going.  You should find out if your friend’s father was murdered or not, and if he was, who did it.  Allah wants you to do this.”

“
He
does?” Hyder was confused.

“There is a verse in the Qur’an that stipulates this.  I will paraphrase:
O you who believe, be upholders of justice, even though it may be against yourself, your parents, or even your kin, and whether it be against the rich or poor: for Allah is a better caretaker for both. So do not follow desires, lest you should swerve.  And if you twist or avoid the evidence, then Allah is all-aware of what you do
.”

Hyder hadn’t heard his verse before. He was now glad that he had.

The Imam continued speaking. “I can understand that you are emotionally confused right now, but don’t let it silence your search for the truth and for justice.  Whatever obstacles come your way, you must push through them.  You can’t let anything stop you from fulfilling your duty to your friend.”

Hyder nodded.  “Thank you, Qazi Sahib.”

“My pleasure.”

Hyder left the
masjid
feeling better.

He was heading to his Camry when he spotted a group of men standing to the side, smoking cigarettes.

One of them waved in his direction.

Reluctantly, he went over to him.

“Hyder, how are you?” the man said.

“I’m good, Sohail,” Hyder said. “I didn’t expect to see you at the
masjid
.”

“The
masjid
is open for everyone, even people like me.” He smiled.

“What can I do for you?” Hyder

“A group of us are getting together to protest what they are doing to our brothers and sisters all over the world.”

“Who do you mean by ‘
they’
?” Hyder inquired.

“These
Kafirs (Disbelievers),
you know.”  “They are trying to wage a war against Islam.”

“Are they?”

“Yes, and we must defend against them.”

“If I’m correct, don’t you have a son out of wedlock with one of these
Kafirs
?”

Sohail’s expression hardened.

“So does that make your son half a
Kafir
?” Hyder challenged Sohail.

“I’ve made mistakes in my past and that is why I am trying to follow the right path now.”

“No, Sohail,” Hyder replied, pointing a finger. “You always knew the right path. You just never chose to follow it.  You know why? Because it was too difficult for you.  And I also know the
masjid
is helping you financially, so don’t tell me you are doing this to save Islam.  And as far as helping our Muslim brothers and sisters in the world, look at the leaders of the countries they are suffering in.  Afghanistan.  Pakistan.  Bangladesh. Libya.  Egypt. Iran. It is not these so-called disbelievers who are hurting them, it is Muslims hurting Muslims.”

With that Hyder headed to his car, leaving Sohail and his friends to their discussion.

FORTY-SIX

Nolan was absolutely certain that someone had staged Eric Freeland’s suicide.

His instincts had told him so from the very beginning, but it was his mind—the muddled state it had been in because of the drinking—that kept him from looking into it.

The signs were there from the moment he entered the scene.  The bruises on the wrists, the way the stool lay perfectly next to the feet of the victim, and the half empty bottle of anti-depressants, which he later found were never prescribed to the victim in the first place.  To finish off the setup, there was the suicide note, and how it clearly and concisely stated why the victim did what he did.  Those who were about to commit suicide were more likely to ramble, their minds at that moment usually not thinking straight.

This was why Nolan was now going over the suicide note in detail.

The note had been typed, which also made it more suspicious.  A suicide note was a very personal statement and one that people poured their heart and soul into.  This felt very business-like in nature, like someone who wanted to complete a transaction and had provided a side note explaining it.

Nolan wanted to investigate this further.

As he was leaving the division, he bumped into Detective Marina Lopez.

“I heard you were coming into the office lately,” she said.  “I just didn’t believe it myself.”

Nolan shrugged. “Yeah, you know me. I’m a workaholic.”

“Right,” she said. “But at least now you’re no longer an alcoholic.”

Ever since he took on the case, his drinking had gotten substantially less.  Maybe Captain Ross was right in bringing him back. 
An idle mind is the Devil’s workshop,
Nolan reminded himself.

She smiled. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

Lopez was strikingly beautiful.  She had tanned skin, brown shoulder-length hair, and her eyes were hazel in color.  In another time and another place, Nolan wouldn’t have hesitated to ask her out.

He coughed, clearing his thoughts.  “I have to go,” he said.  “I’m working on a big case.”

“Well, I hope you solve it.”

“I will and you know why?”

She waited for him.

“A drunk Tom Nolan is very dangerous, but a sober Tom Nolan is downright terrifying.”

She laughed.  “I’m now afraid for the criminals in this city.”

“You may have to light a candle for them,” he said, pumping his fist.  “Tom Nolan is out to destroy them.”

As he left, he could tell she was still laughing.

Nolan drove straight to the university.  He was hoping to find documents from Freeland’s office that he could use to authenticate the signature on the suicide note.

He found the door to the professor’s office locked.  As he was walking around the campus, he saw someone familiar.  He had seen her at the scene of the crime.  More specifically, she was sitting in Lopez’s car.

Nolan approached her and introduced himself.

Miriam Stenfield was surprised to see him.  “I thought the professor’s case was closed.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh,” she said.  “If you are looking for something from his office, you won’t find anything.  We cleared it out yesterday.”

Nolan scratched his beard.

“His daughter and her friend had come earlier and taken all the personal items so I thought it was okay to clear it.  We have another professor moving into that office today.”

Nolan nodded, thinking.  “Do you by any chance have any of Professor Freeland’s old checks?”

Mariam adjusted her glasses.  “I’m sure I can find some.”

They went to her desk and from one of the cabinets she pulled out a folder.  She searched inside and removed a piece of paper.  “He had given this to me when I was raising money for the Diabetes Society.  My mom is…” before she could complete her sentence Nolan grabbed it and began examining it.

He put the check next to the suicide note and tried to see how they differed.

“What’s that?” Miriam eyed the note.

“It’s Freeland’s suicide statement.”

Mariam’s eyes watered.  It looked as if she would cry.

“Don’t worry,” Nolan quickly said.  “He didn’t commit suicide.”

“Oh,” her eyes cleared up.  “That’s a relief...”

“He was murdered,” Nolan blurted, staring at the papers before him.

Mariam burst into tears.

Nolan immediately regretted opening his mouth.

“I hope you don’t mind if I borrow this check,” he said, waving it. “I’ll return it once I’m done.”

Mariam nodded between sobs.

Nolan quickly extracted himself from the situation.

As he was leaving the university he now had proof that Freeland was murdered.

The signatures on the check and the suicide note did not match.

Someone had forged them.

FORTY-SEVEN

Hyder called Jessica and after a few rings he was grateful that she picked up. 

“Hyder,” she started.  “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I know,” he said.  “I’ve been through a lot lately.”

“I can say the same.” Jessica told him about the man who chased her in the condo building.  She also mentioned that someone had broken into her apartment.

“Oh my God!” Hyder exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did they take?”