Murders

Father Obistano gave me the address to Romy Felizar's home. I learn his name through the mentioning of it from one of his Sacristans. He went through the archives of the church and gave me the address from the document stating his wedding to one named April. It is quite odd of him to do this. He never says one word about Emma's confessions but he dares give someone's home address. I suppose he is a great friend of this Romy as he is the confessor of every devout Catholic near this church. Still, I find him quite odd. In fact, almost everyone involved in this entwining mystery is odd.

Attorney Guevarra is too odd to help us easily. This priest is too easy to give one's home address. Professor Diwa is just too unusual in his ways that I cannot predict if he actually takes the murderer's side or mine. My foolish sister, Emma, is too odd to even keep everything a secret from me. They must think me stupid not to understand it all.

I follow the home address Father Obistano gave me. It was a few blocks walk away from the church. When I arrive at the location, I find myself thinking if I made a wrong turn or if the priest gave the wrong address. It is not a home a member of the elite would have. In fact, I find it too modest. It is a Modern Bungalow with a rectangular design and a little yard like a little running place for a child this couple might have. I look into the mailbox and it specifically states the surname, Felizar, with the address confirming the accuracy of the priest's description. I ring the doorbell but no one answers. I ring it about 10 times with a minute's interval. Once I realize that no one's answering, I thought that the couple must be away.

But, I cannot think that. I tried knocking through the gate, but I found it open as if someone is indeed home. Out of sheer curiosity, I find myself walking through the gate and into the unlocked main door. I do not even consider if I will be charged with trespassing. I just go in for I think that there is must be something wrong.

Then there is indeed something wrong. I smell burning eggs in the kitchen. I walk into the kitchen and I see the most horrifying thing a young investigative journalist can see. I saw a corpse before me. I drop my notepad and pen out of shock to the point I had to stoop to pick it up. I saw a woman I suspect to be April lying on the floor lifeless while holding a spatula. I see that she has been stabbed with a kitchen knife lying near her as if to imply that she committed suicide while cooking their breakfast.

Where is Romy? He might have gone away to report this to the police. I walk around the home looking for other possible evidence. I soon arrive at their master bedroom and I see the young man whom I suspect to be Romy. I see that he might be on his way to work as he is wearing a suit. I suspect that he has been strangled to death with his tie leaving no evidence of any physical harm done to his body. I find myself too shocked. I document all of these by taking photos of the scene using my camera. After that's done, I call the police to report what happened, like any good citizen would do.

The police arrive quickly and they were quick to wrap the house in police tape and plastic. They mark the floor with chalk and all the police take note of the visible evidence around the two corpses. Soon, the chief of the operation soon talks to me.

"So you are saying you walked in here and you saw this mess," he says after I explain to him what I saw and observed. "Why are you even here?"

"I am a journalist, sir," I answer smoothly. "I have come to interview him, but I never expected to see this."

"Well, you certainly have a story to publish now," he observes. "We'll take it from here, miss. Thank you."

I felt a huge relief that a party of policemen will actually investigate the matter. It is not going to be like Rex de la Rama's death where all the media and police were silenced. This will go through a true justice system and shall not be silenced by everyone. Suddenly, the chief receives a call of what I suppose an instruction from his betters. He turns his face to me after the talk and informs me of what I shall do.

"Miss, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to request your silence on the matter," he says.

"We would like to investigate this crime without attracting public attention. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course," I say, cooperating with him.

Of course, I trust the police, not!

He requests my silence. My god, how could a minor death matter? Romy Felizar is only an heir through a lateral claim. That means he must receive something only if the actual direct claim dies. Then again, I think. Which elite family does he belong to? It can't have been the de la Ramas as they would acknowledge Romy as the new heir now that the direct line has died out. I think all of these through as I walk into the building to go back to work after I have paid a little visit to what I can call as hell.

I sit at my computer desk and I begin typing an entry to my computer journal. It is my daily journal concerning the investigative journalism I do since the first day. I keep it locked under a 32 long character password and a biometric requirement before opening the file. They would have to see me dead before they can delete any of these files and/or take them away. As I type everything, I remember what the young lawyer told me at church a few days ago. He told me that the Diwas are planning to rise once more through their twenty-two-year long silence. This may seem obscure, but I decide to type it anyway as I might forget and soon find it important.

The boss summons me to his office once more as he wants to check on my works. I tell him of the information I gathered concerning the bastard girl claiming her inheritance while committing murder in the process. I tell him honestly about my uncertainty of who she really is, but I tell him the name of the girl given on her birth. I even tell him of what happened in the bar and how Mateo's notes were taken away. He does not flinch as he knows that these are the fortunes of war through the news. Instead, he makes a brief prayer that Mateo will wake up soon and help us in this case. Goodness knows the Macedo family might see this as another reason to put him further disgraced as they might think that the drugs were self-inflicted.

As usual, he advises me that I should find the girl. I inform him that I am already into it. Then, a thought comes to my mind. Should I inform him about the recent death? After all, I might learn Romy's lateral family.

"There is something else, but I made my word to the cops to keep silent for a while to let them do their own investigation," I say hesitantly.

"Well, tell me anyway," he insists. "We need to be first to release whatever you have."

"It concerns the death of a simple man and his wife," I say steadily.

He does not seem to appreciate this news. In fact, it appears that he does not even care. He even continues to organize his paper works as he heard the news. I know that deep inside his mind, he must think me stupid. He must think me like a news reporter finding worthless news to make a living.

"That's it?" he says rather disappointed in me. "Rosanna, do not be the fool. I need something more than that. There are hundreds of cases that occur all over the world each month with the same case. I need something different about that."

"It is different," I say in my defense. A priest once told me that he is possibly an heir that no one knows. He is Romy Felizar, member of the elite and heir through a lateral claim."

"Child, I haven't heard of the name before," he says flatly. "Either way, he seems to be of no importance as he does not even appear to be heard of in the elite world. There are many elite families and we almost know each other, but this one, I have not heard anything about him. Do not tattle with this man, Rosanna. Do not waste your time on this case. Instead, tattle with what you should be doing right now."

"Oh, really?" I ask pressing on. "Well, if you so think that you are involved with all of the elite, can you tell me their family names?"

"I do not think that, Rosanna," he says flatly. "I was rather expressing a point that the elite world is small and by some reason, we are kin to each other, even if we do not know it. There are a lot, but you may know these. There's the Concepcions, de la Ramas, Chua (that would be me), Acosta, Javier, Suarez, Macedo, and so on. There are too many of them. I do not mean that we literally almost know each other but rather we know each other through the fortunes we each have."

He does not even mention Diwa. This only furthers my point that the Diwa family has practically chosen a leave out of the elite world, and as Professor Diwa claims, live a life out in the country. It is indeed true that I know him not and I know next to nothing about him. To think, most of us think so little of a family that used to be in full power before and after the dictatorship. Goodness knows that his family might have been cronies to the dictator and might have been cronies again to the new president of a new republic.