Hullabaloo

(Derisa City, 7:00 AM)

The tranquil morning air of Derisa City was shattered by the chilling news of a gruesome massacre at the residence of Dony Arjito. Local tabloids and national networks swarmed the scene, eager to report on the horrifying spectacle that left the community in shock.

Whispers of the tragedy rippled through every street and alley, as the city's inhabitants grappled with the reality of over thirty lives senselessly taken in one night. Among the carnage, Dony Arjito, the sole survivor and witness, was discovered in a state equally harrowing.

His nerves had been utterly destroyed, leaving him in a vegetative state. Though his body clung stubbornly to life, his mind seemed lost in an unreachable void. The authorities, desperate for answers, could only stand powerless, unable to draw a single word from the broken man.

There were those in the community who sympathised, others who grieved, and yet, quite disturbingly, not a few who found a twisted sense of satisfaction in the tragedy. This was largely owing to the notorious reputation of Dony Arjito, a city official known for his arrogance and oppressive conduct.

To many, the man's history of exploiting his position and wielding power without conscience rendered him undeserving of pity. Whispers of schadenfreude rippled through certain circles, with some even labelling the horrifying event as karmic retribution for his misdeeds.

For these individuals, the massacre was less a tragedy and more a grim reckoning, a poetic justice that fate had delivered with merciless precision.

Meanwhile, Mr Widodo, the Director of Derisa General Hospital, was no less astounded by the unfolding events. Though the true perpetrator remained shrouded in mystery, the media, with their relentless conjectures and baseless accusations, seemed intent on fuelling the flames of public speculation.

Yet, amidst the cacophony of rumours, Mr Widodo harboured a conviction of his own. He was certain that his right-hand man, Dr Zein Al-Ghifari, who, in truth, was the rightful owner of Derisa General Hospital, must somehow be entwined in this harrowing affair.

Determined to uncover the truth and confirm his suspicions, Mr Widodo wasted no time. He reached for the phone and dialled Dr Zein's number, his mind racing with questions that demanded answers.

(Phone Ringing)

After an interminable wait of nearly thirty seconds, the line finally connected. Yet, to Mr Widodo's astonishment, the voice that answered wasn't Dr Zein's deep and familiar timbre, but that of a woman. Calm, composed, and entirely unexpected.

"Hello... Who is this?", she inquired, her tone clipped yet undeniably self-assured.

"Good morning," Mr Widodo began, his usual decorum firmly in place despite his growing curiosity. "Might I speak with Dr Zein? Is he available?"

"Dr. Zein is currently in the shower," the woman replied matter-of-factly. "I shall inform him that you called."

"Ah, I see... Thank you, Miss. May I ask to whom I am speaking?" he ventured, his curiosity now piqued.

"Mrs," she corrected, her voice unwavering. "I am Mrs Zein."

"Ah...". The response faltered on Mr Widodo's lips, his mind racing to reconcile this revelation with what he thought he knew. "I beg your pardon, but isn't..."

The line went dead before he could finish, leaving him holding the receiver in stunned silence.

'Mrs Zein?'

He mused, the phrase looping in his thoughts as if it were a riddle begging to be solved. Slowly, his lips curled into an enigmatic smile, a flicker of intrigue dancing behind his eyes. The mystery deepened, and with it, his determination to uncover the truth.

=======

(Mr Abdullah's Home)

"Come now, eat as much as you like. Zelena, Zara, Fazeeya," Mrs. Hajjar, Dr. Zein's mother, said warmly, encouraging the young women to indulge in the hearty breakfast she had prepared.

"Thank you so much, ma'am," Dr. Zelena said with a gracious smile.

"Thank you, ma'am. Masha Allah, this is absolutely delightful," Zara added, her voice effervescent with genuine appreciation.

"Sister Zelena and Zara, why don't you just stay here? Keep me company," Fazeeya suggested, her smile bright, though her heart betrayed a subtle pang of envy. Still, she brushed it aside, masking it with cheerful generosity.

"Ah, Zeeya, you make it sound like we're strangers," Zara teased with a warm, sisterly grin.

"We'd love to, Zeeya," Dr. Zelena said, her tone gentle yet measured. "But wouldn't it feel a bit... inappropriate?"

"Oh, don't be silly, sis," Fazeeya replied, her laughter light as she returned to her meal.

"Is Father not joining us for breakfast, Mum?" Fazeeya inquired, glancing towards Mrs Hajjar.

"He's still in his room," Mrs Hajjar replied thoughtfully. "I believe he has much on his mind. He's been spending a great deal of time in prayer."

"Ah, I see," Fazeeya said softly, nodding in understanding. Dr. Zelena and Zara exchanged a brief glance but remained silent, merely listening.

In his room, Mr. Abdullah was indeed deep in prayer, his voice low, his words trembling with emotion.

"O Allah, my Lord, why have You destined me for only one wife?" he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears that fell freely down his cheeks. "I cannot help but feel a twinge of envy towards my son, Zein. His late wife, may she rest in peace, was a beauty beyond compare. And now, under this very roof, two young women, both radiant as celestial maidens, might well become his future wives"

"Was I not, in my youth, more handsome than Zein, my son? Surely, I was, O Merciful Lord. Guide me, grant me understanding," he implored, his voice breaking under the weight of his longing as he raised his tear-streaked face to the heavens, beseeching for solace and wisdom.

======

(Derisa City Police Station)

"What?! No leads at all? How can that be? Are you seriously suggesting some kind of demon committed this atrocity?!" bellowed Police Commissioner Wawan Setiawan, his voice taut with frustration. His eyes bored into the young officer standing before him, who shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the outburst.

"Sir, it's true. There are absolutely no leads," the junior officer replied, his tone steady yet cautious, knowing full well the gravity of the situation.

Commissioner Wawan, a veteran at 52 years old, rubbed his temples, his face a mask of deep contemplation. The case was nothing short of an enigma. A horrifying massacre that had claimed over thirty lives, yet not a single shred of evidence had been uncovered.

Not one clue, not even the faintest trace of the perpetrator's presence. Even the deployment of over ten highly trained sniffer dogs had yielded nothing but silence. It was as though the assailant had been a ghost, their ghastly work carried out in complete anonymity.

"Very well, continue with your duties," Wawan said at last, his voice firm but carrying an undertone of weariness.

"Yes, Commissioner," the young officer replied with a crisp salute before stepping out of the office.

'Is this truly just a random act of slaughter? Or is there a deeper, more sinister motive at play?' Wawan thought, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities.

'Could this have been orchestrated by a professional killer? Or perhaps... a covert organisation?'

He drummed his fingers on the desk, his gaze fixed on the stack of files that offered no answers, only further questions. The weight of the mystery bore down on him, heavy and unrelenting.

"I must get in touch with Captain Lenny Liezandro," he muttered to himself, nodding thoughtfully.

Captain Lenny was a name spoken with reverence in the force, an investigator renowned for her sharp instincts and unyielding resolve. If anyone could help untangle this web of darkness, it was her.

=======

(Back at Dr Zein's Home)

"Don't you miss my cooking?" Heendon asked, her tone light but laced with a hint of playful challenge as she sat opposite Dr Zein at the breakfast table.

"How many days has it been since I last came home?" Dr Zein replied, his voice calm, almost detached, as though her question had scarcely registered.

"Let me think... about four days, I'd say," Heendon responded, glancing at him before continuing, "Oh, by the way, someone rang for you earlier. You were in the shower, so I took the liberty of answering."

"A call? Who was it?" Dr Zein asked, his tone still casual, though his curiosity was piqued.

"He didn't give his name," Heendon replied, her lips curving into a faintly amused smile, "but your phone showed the name 'Widodo' on the screen."

"Widodo?" Dr Zein murmured, his gaze drifting slightly as the name rolled off his tongue. A dry chuckle escaped his lips. "Ah, so it was him... Hehehe."

"Well, that's enough about that," Heendon said briskly, gesturing towards his plate. "Eat up before it gets cold."

"This is... quite good," Dr Zein remarked, his expression unchanging as he took another bite. His tone was flat, yet the slightest flicker of appreciation glimmered in his eyes.

'Hah, just admit it, you find it delicious', Heendon thought, shaking her head with an amused smile as she watched him feign indifference. Her lips twitched with triumph, but she let him have his façade, for now.

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(At the Pharmacy Unit)

The morning shift at Derisa Hospital's pharmacy was abuzz with chatter, the usual hum of work overshadowed by the sensational massacre that had gripped the entire city. Dini, Riska, Melati, Hanna, Nafisa, and Teo (The Cleaning Service Officer diligently mopping the tiled floor), found themselves drawn into a spirited exchange of theories and speculations.

"Have you all heard about that massacre?" Dini, the Head Pharmacist, asked, breaking the silence with a tone that demanded attention.

"Of course," Riska replied, shaking her head. "It's horrifying. I read there were reports of two heads stuffed into a single victim's body. Can you even imagine?"

"I tell you, the perpetrator must be a psychopath," Melati declared with conviction, folding her arms as though her conclusion was beyond dispute.

"A psychopath? Really? And what makes you say that?" Teo asked, pausing mid-swipe with his mop, his curiosity clearly piqued.

"Think about it," Melati said, leaning forward as though revealing a secret. "No ordinary person could commit something so savage, so... utterly inhuman."

"That's a fair point," Riska said, nodding. "But who could be capable of such cruelty?"

"Well," Melati began, lowering her voice for dramatic effect, "from everything I've read, psychopaths are experts at blending in. They seem just like us. Normal, friendly, even charming. But beneath the surface..." She trailed off, shivering for emphasis.

"Ah, you might be onto something, Mel," Dini said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "In fact, we've got a prime suspect right here." She turned her gaze pointedly towards Teo, her smile widening.

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Teo exclaimed, his mop clattering against the floor as he raised his hands in mock indignation.

"Well, for starters," Dini began, pointing to a stack of papers on the desk, "you've been sending Riska love poems every day. And you know full well she's married, don't you?"

The room erupted into laughter, the accusation so absurd it could only be met with mirth.

"That's not psychopathic!" Teo protested, grinning despite himself. "It's just persistence, isn't it? Who's to say Riska won't change her mind one day?"

"Astaghfirullah!" The pharmacists exclaimed in unison, shaking their heads in mock disapproval.

Riska, for her part, laughed the loudest, her amusement cutting through the air like a breath of fresh life amidst the grim shadow of their conversation.

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