Authors: Thomas Fincham
The country was built upon the American Dream. If you worked hard, no matter who you were, you could succeed.
The owner of the convenience store had every right to be remunerated for his products. What he didn’t have the right to, according to Hyder, was thinking just because the offender was white, black, or any other ethnicity, he or she would get away with it. A good society would never tolerate theft of any kind, no matter who perpetrated it.
To Mr. Akram’s relief, a customer walked up to the counter. He quickly greeted the customer and proceeded to ignore Hyder.
This was Hyder’s cue that the interview was over.
He closed his notebook and left.
TWO
He banged hard on the door and waited.
He was dressed in an immaculate suit, which was now getting ruined because of the slight drizzle.
Captain Rudyard ‘Rudy’ Ross brushed off the droplets of water, but quickly realized it was in vain.
He grunted.
He hated having to be here, but it was necessary. He should have come earlier, but he thought he would give it more time. He didn’t realize the time was now almost a year.
He glanced around the front of the house. It looked like the grass hadn’t been cut in weeks or maybe even months. Weeds had even begun to sprout.
He looked down. Next to his recently polished shoes were stacks of newspapers and unclaimed mail.
He leaned down and lifted some of the envelopes.
They had the familiar words ‘Final Notice’ stamped on them in red ink.
He shook his head and banged on the door again.
He could have sent someone from the department, but he knew that wouldn’t do the job. They always returned to the station shaking their heads.
“It was hopeless,” they would say. “He’s gone.” But Ross would not give up. No matter how much trouble Tom Nolan had been. He was one of Ross’ finest detectives.
Ross dialed a number and heard the telephone ring inside the house. As expected the call went to voicemail; an operator informed him the mail box was full.
Ross placed the phone inside his suit jacket and then moved to the side of the house.
He found a piece of rock, held it in his palms to see if it was heavy enough, and returned to the front door.
He flung the rock through the glass.
He took a few steps back and put his arms behind his back, waiting.
A couple of seconds later, the front door swung open.
A man rushed out with a bat in his hands. He was wearing a black T-shirt and white shorts. His face was covered in a thick beard. His hair was long and dishevelled.
The man cursed as he moved toward the captain. The man’s socks were instantly wet from the rain.
“Good morning, Tom,” Ross said.
“Morning, sir,” the man replied. He looked left and then right. He held the baseball bat high. “Sir, did you see where the hooligans went?”
“What hooligans?” Ross asked matter-of-factly.
“The bums who threw the rock at my window.”
“I did.”
Nolan made a face. He looked confused.
“Tom, I threw the rock at your window,” Ross said calmly.
“Why…? Why would you do that?” he asked.
“So you would come out and greet me.”
Nolan lowered the baseball bat and grinned. “Sir, you could have called, you know.”
Ross ignored his comment and said, “Can I come in?”
“Sure, but what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You could have saved yourself the trouble and just called me. I would have come to you.”
Right
, Ross thought.
The first thing that hit Ross was the stench. It was the pungent aroma of sweat and alcohol.
The living room was a pigsty. Things were scattered every which way. Ross spotted clothes on the floor and furniture. Styrofoam boxes and pizza boxes littered the coffee table and carpet. Next to the sofa were various alcohol bottles.
“Those aren’t mine,” Nolan claimed.
“I’m sure they aren’t,” Ross said, not believing him.
Nolan flopped onto the sofa and pointed at the seat across from him, which Ross took.
“What can I do for you, sir?” Nolan’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was turning pale from being indoors all day.
“I never thought I’d ever see Tom Nolan like this,” Ross said.
Nolan shrugged as if to say,
that’s life
.
“Tom, I need you out on the field,” Ross continued.
“I’m on leave,” Nolan said.
“Not anymore.”
Nolan gave him a sour look. “Sorry, sir, but as you can see, I’m in no shape to conduct my duties in a manner required by my profession.”
“You can if you stop drinking.”
“I will repeat,” Nolan raised a finger. “Those bottles aren’t mine.”
“I’m sure they’re not.” Ross shook his head. “Tom, you can’t live like this. You need to get on with your life.”
“I’m living my life, can’t you see?” Nolan waved his arms around the room.
“You’re hurting yourself more than you know,” Ross said.
“You can’t imagine the pain I’ve been through.” Nolan glared at him. “This is nothing.”
“You’re right. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And I’m truly sorry for what happened, but the way you are going at it doesn’t help anyone.”
“I don’t care.” Nolan looked away.
“I do!” Ross snapped back. “Tom, I only came all this way for you. I don’t have to be here, but I am.”
Nolan looked at him and then nodded. It wasn’t every day the captain showed up at an officer’s house.
“Sir, I need more time,” Nolan said. “I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have more time,” Ross responded. He threw the stack of overdue notices on the coffee table. “If you don’t get back to work you will be out on the streets.”
“I can’t.” Nolan put his hands over his face. “I’m no use to you anymore.”
“You’re still a member of the Franklin Police Department. And until you quit or retire, you will fulfill the duties bestowed upon you, got it?” Ross pointed a finger at him.
Nolan’s shoulders sagged. “Sir…”
“I’m not here to argue with you, Detective Nolan,” Ross said sternly. “As of right now, your leave of absence has ended. If you don’t complete your tasks, then I expect your resignation letter right this minute.”
Nolan stared at him. A full minute passed by before he finally grinned. “I didn’t know you loved me that much, captain.”
“I don’t.” Ross stood up. “I can’t see an officer rot on my watch. You can rot all you like
after
I’ve retired.”
Nolan walked him to the door. “I’ll be ready for duty first thing tomorrow, sir.”
“No, you’ll get ready
now
.”
Nolan was confused.
“I’ve got a straightforward suicide case for you.”
Nolan didn’t know what to say.
“And,” Ross continued. “If I were you, I’d get cleaned up.”
Nolan sighed. “Yes, sir.”
THREE
The First National Building was one of the ugliest buildings in Franklin. It was 25-stories tall. The exterior was concrete with the design resembling an upright cinder block. The building looked cold and uninviting. It was owned by Brownstone Ltd., which also owned the
Daily Times
newspaper.
Brownstone Ltd. occupied the top six floors of the building, whereas the next fifteen floors were leased to other commercial enterprises, which included a private business school, a law firm, and a call center.
The last five floors were allocated to the
Daily Times
, with the basement used as a press center to print the newspapers.
Hyder went through the front revolving doors. Instead of taking the elevator, he took the side stairs. The third floor was referred to as the “beat” room, where journalists spent their time hammering out stories.
Hyder was a temp reporter at the local desk, which required him to cover city-related news. It was why he was talking to Mr. Akram that morning.
Hyder moved past the rows of cubicles and all the way down to the end of the floor.
Being a temp meant that he didn’t have his own cubicle. He had to share it with the temps from other departments. To Hyder’s relief, the cubicle was unoccupied.
Hyder placed his laptop on the desk and let it load up.
“
Assalamu alaikum
,” a male voice said. (
Peace be upon you
.)
“
Wa alaikum assalam
,” Hyder replied, not looking up. (
And upon you be peace
.)
Lester Glasgow stood by the cubicle entrance with a lollipop in his mouth. Lester was the same height as Hyder. But while Hyder was slim, Lester was not. Lester weighed close to two hundred and fifty pounds.
“How is my Muslim brother today?” Lester asked.
“You're not Muslim. You know that, don’t you?” Hyder said, typing in his username and password. “In fact, what are you?”
“I used to be a Christian, but then I became an Agnostic, now I choose not to take any position.”
“Weren’t you a Rastafarian for some time?” Hyder asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Only during college.”
“What can I do for you Lester?” Hyder asked.
“I came by to see how your day was.”
“Terrible.”
“Really?” Lester made a face. “Weren’t you covering a robbery?”
“I wish. The thief stole a whole chocolate bar and a full can of pop.”
“What type of chocolate bar?”
“I guess the one with nuts and almonds.”
“Those are pretty pricey, you know.”
“I’m sure they are.” Hyder dropped himself into the chair. His shoulders sagged.
“I’m guessing you don’t have a story then?” Lester said.
“You guessed right.” Hyder put his hands through his shaggy hair. “I don’t think I can go to Dunny and ask her to put it on the front page,” Hyder said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
Caroline Dunny was the editor for the city desk. She was tiny but brutal. She was aptly referred to as Dunny the Killer Bunny.
Right now the Killer Bunny would slaughter Hyder if she found out he came back without a story.
“What are
you
covering?” Hyder asked, trying to change the subject.
Lester shrugged. “Oh, nothing important really; just the Game Expo next week.”
“No way!” Hyder jumped off the chair.
Lester worked at the technology desk, which at times required him to cover newly released gadgets and devices.
“Oh yeah!” Lester grinned from ear to ear.
“How did you land that?” Hyder asked.
“I think it had something to do with my irresistible charm.”
“I’m sure it did,” Hyder said, not believing him.
Hyder’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and cringed.
“It’s the Killer Bunny,” he said.
Lester’s face widened as if in sheer horror. “I gotta go.” Before Hyder could say a word, he was gone.
Hyder was always surprised at how Lester managed to suddenly appear and disappear, considering his body size.
Hyder took a deep breath and hurried off.
FOUR
The house was located in a quiet street. It was not far from the Franklin University Campus. Students and faculty members were known to live in the houses on this street.
Nolan parked his Dodge Charger at the curb and looked at himself in the rear view mirror.
His eyes were still bloodshot.
He rummaged through the glove compartment and retrieved a pair of dark sunglasses. While doing so he spotted a couple of bottles at the foot of the passenger seat. He looked around to see if anyone was watching.
He then held one bottle in each hand.
“Vodka or whiskey?” he murmured to himself.
He looked up at the house with the yellow police tape around it. A police cruiser was parked in front of it.
Nolan wanted to be anywhere but here.
He took a mouthful of vodka.
He approached the house, ducked under the yellow tape, and made his way to the entrance.
An officer was standing by the door.
“You can’t be here, sir,” the officer said.
“It’s okay, I’m a detective,” Nolan said, adjusting his shades.
“Your badge, sir?”
Nolan patted his jacket and checked his pants pockets. “I think I must have left it at home,” he said.