So LOUD A silence

Lone Figure by The Grave

Mourners, mostly clad in black, retired to their vehicles after paying their last respects to the late Ivy at the cemetery. Her body, enclosed in a casket, had just been committed to the ground and buried.

Serge, after greeting and appreciating some sympathizers took his place in the car behind the wheel. Veins ran on either side of the head. His eyes burnt with tears that had hardly dried during his entire stay at the grave yard. His countenance fell. A sign, perhaps, of how terrible and unbearable the last few days had been for him and the rest of the bereaved family.

As he reflected on what had been and how life's shape will be like without her, Serge saw a lone figure on a wheelchair by Ivy's grave. HOPKINS WHITE. A frail and fairly skin-wrinkled man, in his seventies, with a tremoring left hand that served as testament to his never ending battle with Parkinson's disease. The late Ivy's father and sole surviving parent.

Serge composed himself and steps out of the car, and slowly walked towards Hopkins. Standing by his side, and in almost a whisper, he announced his presence, "Father."

Hopkins took a moment before saying a word, "Remember, when you asked for my daughter's hand in marriage. I was skeptical about you. Something in me failed to trust you with her wellbeing. I guess I was right." He sighed and further remarked, "but I was foolish enough to trust you anyway."

"I'll get to the root of this." Serge assured.

"I..." Hopkins demanded, "need the head of the person who did this on my table... Do you understand me?"

Serge nodded, "Yes father."

"Just give me a name. Just a fucking name. I'll do the rest." Hopkins placed emphasis on his earlier demand.

Serge responded with so great a degree of respect and care, "Yes father."

Hopkins took a deep breath and gained his composure, "If you need help, resources or a third eye, anything at all... just Let me know. Find the culprit. I must avenge my princess. You must avenge your wife at all cost"

"Noted." Serge acknowledged.

"Now," Hopkins requested in a polite tone. "If you may excuse me, I need a moment alone with her" 

Serge declined graciously, "No father. I will be right here with you."

Hopkins conceded to Serge's stance with a nod.

The two men observed a moment of silence by Ivy's wreath- decorated grave.

Meanwhile, in the detective's office at the Police headquarters, Ian leaned against the table studying the pictures of Ivy's body and other pieces of evidence collected on the investigation board. His facial expression powdered with seriousness and wrinkles suggested that the more he looked at the articles on the board, the more he got confused. Nothing was making sense.

A moment later, Pola walked in with a file.

Ian quickly opened the dialog with her, "Hey."

"So... I've a report from the ICT lab and forensics," Pola gave the file to Ian.

Ian was quick to open the file and read the content thereof, "What do we have here?"

Pola noted with confidence, "Milton is our mysterious caller. He is clean - No criminal record whatsoever. A top-drawer pharmacist. He is the owner of the famous MC Pharmaceuticals Limited."

"We will date him," Ian dictated. "And what about the prints on the watch, bottle and pieces of glass?"

Pola responded, "Nothing on them. It's most likely the culprit is way ahead of us. They knew what they were doing."

"Hm. An amateur could have left screaming evidence everywhere," Ian concurred unreservedly. "We must be missing something. I double- checked with Serge's employer. His story checks out fine."

Pola probed, "He was at work that day?"

"Yes." Ian nodded. "In fact, he was out of town for a business trip."

Pola wondered, "He's clean?"

"I don't know," Ian shook his head lightly. "But he seems clean. A gentle soul, I guess."

Pola giggled out a tease, "a gentle soul who gives you hard time. No?"

"Yep. They come in all packages," Ian admitted.

"I know right," Pola commented with a half a smile on her face,

The duo entertained a mild chuckle.