The Silent Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #1) (22 page)

She raised an eyebrow. “You always help your former professor’s daughter find out who killed her father?”

He smiled. “Like I said, I do it all the time.”

“Thanks anyway,” she said.  “You have no idea how difficult it was to hear that my dad had killed himself when I knew deep down that he would never do such a thing.  My dad was right to trust you.  Had he not sent you the pages from his diary, who knew if I would’ve found out the truth?”

“I’m glad I could help,” Hyder said.

“What’re you going to do now? I mean, about your job situation?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.  I guess I’ll bring out my old resume and polish it up.  Or, I’ll go and work for my uncle in his accounting firm.”

“Don’t do that. Please,” she said. “You’ve always wanted to be a reporter and it would be a shame if you did anything else.”

Hyder looked at her.  “Your father said the same thing to me back when I was a student.”

“He meant it when he said it then, and I mean it when I say it now.”

He nodded.  He would do some serious thinking later.  But he knew it would involve being a reporter in some way.

Chloe returned with his coffee and muffin.

“Aren’t you having anything?” he asked Jessica.

“The courtesy is not extended to employees of this coffee shop; it is only extended to friends of the employees of this coffee shop.” Chloe quipped.

They laughed.

“Don’t worry,” Chloe said. “I’m bringing her drink and mine in a second.  I’ll be joining you guys too, unless you guys need some private time alone.”

“No, please join us,” Jessica said.

“Yeah, you can join us now,” Hyder quipped.

They laughed again.

SIXTY-SEVEN

Nolan slowed the car and watched the Mercedes enter the front gates of a large estate.  The vehicle disappeared up the road.

Nolan pulled out the earphones and inserted them in his ears.  He listened.

He heard Scott twist and turn inside the Mercedes.

Scott then turned off the engine and slammed the door shut.

Nolan’s brow furrowed.  The earphones went silent.

Scott must have left his coat in the Mercedes!

Nolan pulled out the earphones and threw them in the passenger seat.

Now they wouldn’t be able to record what happened next.

Nolan got out of his car and headed for the gates of the estate.

SIXTY-EIGHT

Scott was met at the front door by a butler in a tuxedo.

“Where is he?” Scott demanded.

“Mr. Marshall is currently in a conference call,” the man said.

“I don’t care, I have to speak to him now.” Scott rushed past. The butler tried to protest, but Scott was already down the hall and through the door.

Charles Marshall was sitting behind his desk.  He looked up at Scott and then said into the speaker, “Gentlemen, can we continue this later? I have something urgent to attend to.” He pressed a button and the line went dead.  “Terry, why are you barging into my house like this?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

“I called you earlier,” Scott replied.  “But your employee wouldn’t let me speak to you.”

“I was on another call,” Charles said.  “Now what’s this about?”

SIXTY-NINE

Nolan caught the security camera above him.  It was aimed at the front of the gates.  He pressed the buzzer and waited.

“Yes?” a male voice said.

Nolan didn’t answer.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

Nolan kept silent. 

“Please state your reason for coming,” the man requested.

Nolan kept his head low and his mouth shut.

Two minutes later, as he hoped, he spotted a butler in a tuxedo coming down the drive.

The butler reached the gate and said, “Sir, unless you have an appointment, I advise you to leave.  If you don’t, then I will have to call the police.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nolan said, “Because I am the police.”  He flashed his badge.

SEVENTY

“Slow down,” Charles said.  “You’re not making sense.”

Scott was trying to tell Charles what had transpired between him and Ali, but he was babbling.

Charles got up and poured a drink.  He placed it before Scott.

Scott swallowed it in one gulp.

“Now, tell me everything, slowly,” Charles said.

Scott nodded.  “Hyder Ali came by and told me he knows what we’ve been doing.  He said we were behind Amanda Hansborough’s accident, he said he knew we were behind Eric Freeland’s murder, and he said he knows about our internal accounting code.”

Charles gritted his teeth. “How?”

“I don’t know, maybe he got it from Freeland.”

Charles shook his head.  “Freeland never had anything on us.  If he did, he would have already used it against us.”

“But I saw a check.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. 

“And it had my signature on it.”

“Did you see an original or was it a copy?”

“A copy.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about.”

There was a knock at the door.  “What is it?” Charles bellowed.

The butler appeared.  “Sir, it’s your afternoon meal.”

“Isn’t it early?”

“I thought I’d bring it to you now. I’ll be busy with other duties,” The butler claimed.

“Fine, whatever.” Charles waved his hand.  “Put it over there.”

The butler went to the corner of the room and placed the tray on the side table. He quickly left.

When the door was shut, Scott said, “How can you tell me not to worry? Hyder Ali knows everything.”

“He is trying to rattle you, Terry,” Charles said.  “He is trying to do what Freeland tried to do—make us nervous, so that we did something irrational.”

“But… but he knows… about what we did,” Scott stammered.

“So what? What will he do with this information?”

“He could take it to the police.”

Charles scoffed. “Do you think they’d believe him? How would it look if he told them that we had something to do with Amanda Hansborough’s death?  The police would want proof. The report that outlined how the brakes were tampered with no longer exists.  We destroyed it.”

“What about Freeland’s murder?” Scott asked.

“It’s still a suicide, unless the police have evidence stating otherwise,” Charles said. “Terry, they don’t have anything linking us to Hansborough or even Freeland.”

Scott slowly nodded.  “Ali was very convincing about what he knew.”

“Sure he was; that’s his job.  He wanted to get you to confess to everything.  He was hoping for a big story.  He is desperate.  He was fired from the
Daily Times
and now he needs something to regain his reputation.  He will do anything to get a story, even if it means pressuring one of us to go against each other.”

“He mentioned the mole, but didn’t give me a name,” Scott said.

“We know who it is.  It was
James Vander Lee!
” Charles slammed his fist on the desk.  “If only we knew he was the one behind it all, we would have dealt with him a long time ago.”  Charles calmed himself.  “No matter, Vander Lee will no longer be a thorn in our side.”

“Is… he… dead?”

“Grant took care of it.” Charles leaned back on his chair and put his fingers together.  “Terry, the people with direct knowledge of our system are no longer alive, which means it’ll be business as usual.”

Scott thought about it and he felt relieved.  He was glad he came and spoke to Charles.  Charles was the CEO of TriGate so he was in the best position to handle it. It was, after all, his scheme that made them all rich.  But then a thought popped in his head.  He said, “What about the
file
? The one Hansborough created as part of her internal audit that outlined the money and the bribes?  Ali mentioned it specifically.”

“He’s lying,” Charles said sternly.  “He doesn’t have it and never will.”

SEVENTY-ONE

Hyder was riding his bike when his cell phone rang.

He stopped by the side of the road and pulled it out.  He checked, but didn’t recognize the telephone number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Hyder Ali?” a male voice said.

“Yes, who is this?”

“My name is John Kroft, Jr.” he said.  “I believe you used to work for me.”

Hyder’s heart nearly stopped.  Kroft Jr. was the publisher of the
Daily Times
.  Hyder was fully aware of his family’s history.  Kroft Sr. had founded the paper. 

While employed at the
Daily Times
, Hyder never once had the privilege of meeting him.  He had heard stories about how Kroft Jr. kept the paper afloat and how he kept it away from irrelevancy.

“Are you still there?” Kroft said.

“Um… yes, sir, I am.”

“Would it be too much trouble for you to come and meet me?” he asked.

“It… it would be no trouble, sir,” Hyder said.  “Let me know when and I’ll be there.”

“How about now?”

“Um… yes, now is fine too.”

“Great!” he said cheerfully.  “Do you know where my office is?”

Every employee of the
Daily Times
knew where his office was, but only a handful had ever visited it.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll wait for you.”

The line went dead.

For a few minutes Hyder stood by the side of the road, staring at his cell phone.  He couldn’t believe he had just had a conversation with the publisher of the
Daily Times
. It felt surreal.

Hyder looked at his watch.  He wasn’t about to make Kroft wait for him.

Hyder jumped on his bike and rode toward the
Daily Times
.

Hyder pedaled as fast as he could.  When he reached the building he was out of breath.  He paused to let himself catch his breath and cool down. He then fixed his hair and went in.

He took the elevator all the way to the top floor.

He got out and went through a set of glass doors.

To his surprise there was no secretary there to greet him.

He stood by the desk, not sure of what to do.  Should he call Kroft again? Should he just walk in?

Hyder didn’t know the protocol. 

As he was mulling over his options, the door in the back swung open.

John Kroft Jr. came out, smiling.

He was tall.  He wore a black striped suit.  His hair was thick and wavy and he had on round spectacles.

“Hyder,” he said, coming over and extending his big hands.  “Do you mind if I call you Hyder?”

“No, sir,” Hyder shook his hand.

“Ah, no need for this
sir
nonsense, call me John.”

“Okay,” Hyder agreed, but he was certain he could never get himself to call him by his first name.  The man was a legend and Hyder had too much respect for him.

“Come in, come in,” Kroft said.

Kroft’s office was massive and magnificent.  It reminded Hyder of offices he had seen in movies from the 1940s.  Everything looked old but fresh at the same time.  The desk, the shelves, the chairs, the lamps, everything looked like it had some history to it.  Hyder had a feeling some of the furniture was from the time the paper was started.

Hyder’s mouth dropped at what he saw next.  On one side of the office, an entire wall was covered with frames from the front cover of the
Daily Times
.  When Hyder squinted, he noticed the significance of the dates.  He saw a cover from the day JFK was assassinated, another from when Neil Armstrong had landed on the moon, and another from when the Watergate Scandal broke. 

“It’s a reminder of our legacy,” Kroft said from behind Hyder.  “We’ve covered almost all the major events in history and we hope to cover many more.”

Hyder could only nod.  He was speechless.

“Come,” Kroft said.  “Please have a seat.”

Hyder took a chair, while Kroft sat behind the massive desk.

Hyder felt like a little boy sitting across from a big man.

“The reason I called you here, Hyder, is to first tell you how sorry and saddened I am about the death of your old editor, Caroline Dunny.  I know she was the one who fired you, but her death will still be felt at this paper. I had come to trust her judgement and had always relied on her opinion whenever it was asked of, but I strongly disagreed with her decision to let you go.”

Hyder didn’t know what to say.