The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3) (7 page)

“It is,” she said with a smile.  “Ladies first, you know.”

He smiled back and bit into his wrap.

They ate their breakfast in silence until Lopez said, “Halton wants to meet us.”

“When?”

She looked at her watch.  “Now,” she said. “Halton tried calling you.”

“I don’t answer his calls,” Nolan shrugged.

“Go get ready. We’re already late.”

Nolan stood up and stretched.  “I’m ready.”

“You’re not seriously considering going in your pajamas, are you?” she said.

“Why not?” he said, looking at his shorts and T-shirt.  “It’s hot out there.”

She gave him the look again.

“You know, you are suffocating me with your unreasonable demands.”

“You are suffocating me with your body odor.”

He sniffed his armpit and said, “Give me five minutes to shower.”

EIGHTEEN

When Hyder reached the
Daily Times
, he found Felix sitting at Hyder’s desk.

Felix quickly got up.  “Sorry, I couldn’t find a place to sit, so I thought I’d use your desk until you came.”

Hyder smiled. “Don’t worry about it.” Hyder replied.  Hyder removed his laptop from his backpack and placed it next to Felix’s.  “There’s enough room for both of us to work,” he added.

Felix relaxed.   “I did some digging and I’ve got the name and address of the landlord.”

“Really?”

“I hope you don’t mind.” Felix looked apologetic.

“Of course not.”

Felix pointed at his laptop screen.

Hyder read it and said, “Great work.  Let’s go and talk to him.”

“I just did,” Felix replied.

“You spoke to the landlord?”

“At first I wasn’t sure if he’d talk to me, but after I told him I knew people who wouldn’t mind renting a place where three people were murdered, he sang like a bird.”

“And?”

“Irma Ronston, Rudy Ross Jr., and Bernard Haddon,” he said.

“Good work,” Hyder said.  “But we’ll need background information on them for our article.”

“
Our
?” Felix said.

“Sure, you’re now part of the team.”

“Wow, thanks.” Felix smiled. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Do a search and see if you can find any photos of them,” Hyder said.  “The more we know about them, the more we can move away from showing them as just victims, instead of young people who had their futures taken from them. To do that, we need to know where they were born. Do they have any siblings? What were their hobbies or interests?  What did they want to do after graduating? All this will help portray what really happened at Riverfield Street, which was a tragedy in every sense of the word.”

Felix quickly jotted down Hyder’s every word.

“The article will focus on who they were and what the loss was—not only for their families, but for society as a whole.  Later, we’ll focus on who was behind this horrible crime.”

Felix nodded.  “This is great stuff.”

“It’s a start,” Hyder said, turning to his laptop.

“There was something else the landlord mentioned.”

“What?”

“He said one of the victims is the son of a police officer.”

“Really?” Hyder’s brow furrowed.

“Yep.”

“Did he tell you who?”

“I tried getting it out of him, but then he clammed up.”

Hyder leaned back in his chair.  “Do you think that’s why the force isn’t releasing the names?”

Felix thought about it.  “Could be.”

“You leave that to me,” Hyder said.  “I know where to confirm this.”

NINETEEN

Hyder’s focus moved to the article tacked on his cubicle wall.

He had spent an entire month debating what to do about it.  Curiosity was getting the better of him.  If he wanted to find out more, it was now or never.

Hyder told Felix where he was going and left the
Daily Times
.

The bus ride was only fifteen minutes, but it felt longer.

Hyder wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he had to satisfy his journalistic instincts.

When the driver dropped him off, Hyder stood motionless in front of a high-rise building.  Unlike the one the
Daily Times
occupied, this building was modern, sleek, and entirely made of glass.

It was truly a sight to see.

When tourists came to Franklin, they made sure to come and take a photo in front of it. The building could rival any structure built in Dubai or Saudi Arabia. The glass was tinted gold. When the sun beat down on it, it literally glowed.

Hyder was tempted to take out his cell phone and snap a photo, decided not to, and went in.

The interior was air conditioned. It provided a needed reprieve from the relentless heat.  Hyder allowed himself to cool down before he took the elevator all the way up to the thirtieth floor.

When he got off, he paused in front of a large sign.  It read: THE FRANKLIN HERALD.

The
Franklin Herald
was now the second most read paper in the city of Franklin.  It had been established almost three decades ago to compete with the
Daily Times
. But during that period, it had gone through several publishers and owners, was hit with numerous corruption charges, had to settle or fight many libel suits, and struggled with mismanagement. The
Franklin Herald
would have been bankrupt and out of business had it not been for a wealthy sheikh from the Middle East who had made it his pet project. He was now funnelling in a fortune to revive it.

The first thing the sheikh did was move the operations to a building he already owned.  From there he fired almost everyone at the management level.  He then proceeded to hire the best minds in the business.  Even the
Daily Times
had lost some great reporters and editors to the
Herald
.

After Hyder had graduated and was looking for work, he had seriously considered joining the
Franklin Herald
, but his heart had always been attached to the
Daily Times
.  The
Daily Times
had a great history, one Hyder wanted to be part of.  But more importantly, it was because of his father, Karim Ali.

Mr. Ali died of a sudden heart attack when he was just thirty-eight years old.  Hyder was too young to remember much of his father, but he did remember seeing him sit at the dining table with a newspaper in his hands.  That paper was the
Daily Times.

Somehow that image had become so ingrained in his brain that years later, he wanted nothing more than to be a newspaper reporter.  Whatever the reasons, with his mother’s prayers, he had fulfilled that dream.

His thoughts were broken when a woman approached him.  “Can I help you?” she said.  She was young, with blond hair, black glasses, and she wore red lipstick.

Hyder looked at her, but then understood that she must have seen him staring at the sign of the
Franklin Herald
. “I work at reception,” she explained.

“I’m looking for Irving Richer.”

“Is he expecting you?” she asked.

“Um… probably not,” Hyder said, regretting his decision to come here.

“Your name, please?” she said.

“It’s Hyder Ali.”

She looked at him and smiled.  “I knew I recognized you. Don’t tell anyone here, but I’ve read all your stories.”

Hyder didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you.”

“I’ll let Mr. Richler know you are here, unless he’s too busy to see you.” She then gave him a wink as if to say, “Mr. Richler will drop everything to see
the
Hyder Ali of the
Daily Times
.”

Two minutes later, the receptionist led Hyder down the hall.

Irving Richler pulled off his reading glasses and stood up from behind his desk.  He came over and shook Hyder’s hand.  Richler was far taller than Hyder had expected.  Hyder had to crane his neck just to meet his eyes.

Hyder had heard many stories about Richler. That he used to work for the
New York Times
and as a beat reporter had covered some of the most important stories in the last half century. He was also tough as nails.  He had made even the most hardened reporter cry.  Apart from his determined exterior, Richler was extremely intelligent and was passionate about his profession. Even those that he fought with spoke highly of him.

Above all, Irving Richler was deeply loyal and protective of his reporters.

Hyder wasn’t sure if
he
would have lasted a month under Richler, but he still found himself in awe of the man.

“Have a seat,” Richler said.

Hyder took one and Richler went back to his.  Behind his desk, Richler was less imposing.

“What brings you here, Mr. Ali?” Richler asked.

“Call me Hyder, and… I wanted to come earlier, but I didn’t know how.”

Richler looked at him, confused.

“It’s about Francine.”

Richler nodded, as if understanding.  Francine Robeault was working under Richler when she’d had the accident.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Hyder said.

Richler frowned.  “Thank you.  It was unexpected, I guess, most accidents are, but we are doing our best to get over it.”

Hyder could tell Richler had not gotten over it and wouldn’t be over it for some time to come.

Hyder quickly got to the point. “Do you believe it was an accident?”

Richler shrugged.  “That’s what the police say.”

“Did you know what she was working on?”

“Even if I did, you know I wouldn’t tell you.” Richler gave him a hard look.

“I’m not here to steal a story, Mr. Richler,” Hyder replied.  “I’m trying to make sense of what happened to her.”

Hyder told Richler his concerns about Francine’s death.  “All I want to know is if this had anything to do with any of her stories,” he concluded.

Richler leaned back and closed his eyes.  He finally said, “Francine was secretive when it came to her stories, even with me sometimes. She mostly did her work from home. She believed it was best not to reveal anything until she was certain of it.  It had to do with protecting her sources.  I never pushed her because it gave me the opportunity to deny it if someone came knocking on my door.  Plus, she was the best, and I trusted her.”

Richler looked away.

Hyder realized it was time to go.

He got up when Richler opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper.  He placed it before Hyder.  “I found this on her desk the day she died.”

Hyder leaned over.  It was a promotional material.  “An Evening with J. Robert Munn,” the title said.  Munn was going to talk about his new book,
Healing from Above
.  At the top corner, handwritten, were the words,
Will confront and ask questions
.

“Do you know what it’s about?” Hyder asked.

Richler shook his head.  “I wish I did.”

“Do you mind if I take this?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Hyder said, and left.

TWENTY

Nolan and Lopez arrived at the division. They were told to go straight to the meeting room.

They found Halton and Pascale sitting on one end of the table. Across from them sat Captain Ross.

Captain Rudyard ‘Rudy’ Ross was dressed in a black three-piece suit.  His hair was combed back and he looked like he always did.  Fashionably dressed and ready to take command.  But this time, though, it was his eyes that revealed the immense stress he had been under.  They were tired and weary, with heavy bags underneath them.

Nolan went over and shook his hand.  “I’m so sorry, sir,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ross replied.

Lopez went over and gave Ross her condolences as well.

Ross shook her hand and gave her a nod.

Nolan and Lopez sat down.  Ross got straight to the point. “Is my son still the suspect in what happened on Riverfield Street?” he asked.

His question was met with silence.

Lopez, Pascale, and Halton did not know how to respond to the captain. Ross was their commanding officer, and one whose opinion many careers depended on.

Ross turned to Halton, “Doug?”

Halton coughed and said, “Yes, but we are waiting for the forensics report before we can confirm anything.”

“What is there to confirm?” Ross said. “You already told me what you believe when we spoke, so is he or isn’t he a suspect?