Cherlyn swept into Koba Baru Pharmacy with a determined stride, the glass door clattering behind her with a sharp thud that momentarily silenced the room.
“What on earth is going on? Where are the rat carcasses?” she asked, her tone brisk and clipped, the urgency in her voice slicing through the air like a scalpel.
Her gaze flicked across the pharmacy, quick and clinical, yet what met her eyes was a scene that belied the frantic call she had received.
A floor so clean it shone, the air faintly perfumed with antiseptic calm, shelves neatly arranged as if chaos had never dared to touch them.
She frowned, lips tightening with a mix of puzzlement and irritation.
“Am I missing something here? It looks positively immaculate,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else, as the dissonance between expectation and reality settled uneasily in her chest.
Dewi approached her with a composed grace, her tone laced with professional courtesy.
“The situation has already been dealt with, Doctor,” she said softly, yet with quiet assurance.
“Several of the local residents, along with staff from the adjacent shopfronts, came to assist,” she continued, indicating Rosa, Melati, and the others who stood nearby, their presence a testament to the communal spirit that had rallied in the face of disquiet.
Felzein, poised beside a row of pharmaceutical shelves, offered the faintest of smiles, not one of amusement, but of quiet observation, as he watched Cherlyn absorb the unexpected serenity of the scene before her.
Cherlyn let out a measured breath, the tightness in her shoulders easing ever so slightly.
“Thank heavens…” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone in particular.
Then, as if reminded of the town’s enduring nature, she added with a wistful nod, “The people of Koba have always been generous of spirit steadfast, even when things take a dark turn.”
Her words lingered in the air, like a gentle balm after a storm that had threatened to stain the walls of her livelihood.
Cherlyn’s attention caught on the figure of a man standing by the pharmacy shelves.
His back turned, posture unhurried, as though the earlier chaos had barely grazed him.
There was a stillness to him, a deliberate calm that seemed almost too composed.
With the instinct of someone used to taking charge, she gave a swift instruction, “Wina, why hasn’t that gentleman been assisted?” she asked, her tone firm yet puzzled.
“Come on, don’t keep him waiting,” she added, gesturing toward the man without a second thought.
Wina hesitated, clearly flustered, “Oh… Doctor… um… it’s just that…” she faltered, words caught like birds in a net.
Her wide eyes darted to Dewi, Rosa, Melati, and Rasya. Searching, pleading, for someone to intervene.
Cherlyn narrowed her eyes, her voice tinged with impatience and growing curiosity, “What is it, Wina? Why are you hesitating?”
Then came the voice. Measured, deep, laced with quiet amusement, “Don’t blame Wina,” it said. Calm. Certain.
Every head turned at once.
There he was, Felzein, no longer just a man near the medicine shelves, but a presence suddenly undeniable.
He stepped out from the edge of the display as though from behind a curtain, no longer a bystander but a familiar echo returned to form.
Cherlyn blinked, her expression briefly unreadable, then barely whispered, “That voice… I know that voice…”
A faint shadow of doubt and curiosity flickered unmistakably across Cherlyn’s face.
Her eyes, sharp and searching, sought to discern the identity of the man whose back remained turned, as though trying to recall a name long lost to time.
With measured steps, she approached. The crisp click of her heels upon the polished floor was the sole sound in the sudden, expectant stillness that enveloped the room.
Rosa, Melati, Rasya, and Wina exchanged furtive glances, their expressions etched with a mixture of intrigue and restrained anticipation.
Even Dewi, typically detached from such matters, found herself drawn in, casting a quiet, observant glance towards the unfolding scene.
The air grew taut with unspoken tension, as if the very walls held their breath in collective suspense.
When she drew near, just a few paces away, Cherlyn paused.
Her voice broke the silence softly, yet with a clarity that resonated through the hush.
“Pardon me… Are you perhaps...?”
Felzein slowly turned.
No haste in his movement, merely a deliberate, unhurried pivot that revealed the visage etched so deeply in Cherlyn’s memory.
The same steadfast eyes, calm, penetrating, laden with secrets silently borne.
A gasp caught in Cherlyn’s throat. Her eyes widened, lips parting wordlessly, time seeming to falter, suspended in that fleeting moment.
“How have you been, Cherlyn?” Felzein’s tone was level, yet beneath it a gentle warmth shimmered like a hidden ember.
For a heartbeat, she was speechless. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, not only of surprise but a poignant mingling of nostalgia and pain, memories long buried rushing forth without invitation.
Behind the counter, Rosa and Melati held their breath, fingers clutching the edge of the desk.
Dewi turned her gaze to Rasya, who offered nothing but a knowing look, while Wina bowed her head, aware that this encounter was no mere coincidence.
“Doctor Vradistza!” Cherlyn finally breathed, voice trembling.
Felzein inclined his head slowly, “Still the same, then? Always taken aback whenever I appear before you.”
The change was palpable. Cherlyn’s usual poise faltered, knees buckled as if the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions bore down upon her.
Her breath quickened, chest constricted by an invisible vice as past and present collided within her.
Her senses blurred. The room spun dizzily around her. And in a sudden, fragile instant, she faltered.
But before she could fall, Felzein’s arms caught her with quiet assurance, cradling her gently as though protecting something precious.
“Typical… women,” he murmured with a faint, almost fond smile, gazing down upon her serene, closed eyes.
Their shared history sealed in the silence of that embrace.
*****
(In KobaNews Criminal Daily Editorial Office)
Heru entered the newsroom with purposeful strides, beads of sweat still glistening on his temples and his breath slightly uneven from exertion.
Clutched tightly in his hand was a folder containing hastily jotted notes and a handful of photographs he had snapped on his phone just moments before.
“Brother Heru, fresh from the scene?” called a young reporter stationed at the front desk.
Heru gave a curt nod, his eyes fixed ahead as he made his way swiftly towards the editor-in-chief’s office.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Mr Fuad, there’s a pressing story, this might just be the headline for tomorrow’s edition!” Heru announced breathlessly, pushing the door half open.
Fuad, the veteran editor-in-chief, glanced up from beneath a mound of papers and the flickering screen displaying the newspaper’s front page.
His brows arched sharply at the sight of Heru’s grave expression.
“What now? A fire? A street fight? A robbery?”
“Something far more distasteful, sir,” Heru replied, seating himself. “There’s been an incident involving dead rats found strewn throughout Koba Baru Pharmacy. The entire premises…”
“Hold on! Koba Baru Pharmacy? The one by the row of shops?”
“Yes, Mr Fuad,” Heru confirmed.
He settled into his chair, producing the folder he had tightly gripped and spreading out printed photographs alongside hastily scribbled notes across the editor’s desk.
“All this was gathered from the scene. I was contacted directly by my friend Felzein, a medical doctor.”
“Felzein works at Mitrajaya Hospital but maintains close ties with all the pharmacists at Koba Baru.”
Fuad scrutinised one of the printed images, dead rats sprawled grotesquely and grimaced in disgust, though a spark of curiosity lit his eyes.
“At first, I took it for a mere hygiene nuisance, sir. Yet, upon visiting, the whole affair felt decidedly peculiar.”
“Adding to the intrigue was a bold, menacing inscription scrawled across the pharmacy floor: ‘ENJOY THAT!! YOU DIRTY OLD MAN’S MISTRESSES!!’”
“I suspect the recent theft at Felzein’s corner shop is entwined with this rat carcass episode.”
“Before the incident, one of the pharmacists, Melati, was seen entering Felzein’s car alongside her friend Rosa.”
“It’s a sports car, sir, the kind typically owned by affluent older gentlemen.”
“I’m convinced the thief witnessed Melati stepping into Felzein’s vehicle and jumped to the conclusion she was a kept woman. That, I believe, is the root of their ire and the threatening message.”
Heru proceeded to reveal that the prime suspect behind the theft at Felzein’s grocery was none other than Welly, Melati’s erstwhile lover, whose bitterness had festered ever since their bitter parting.
This lead came courtesy of Felzein, who had recently paid a visit to the police station to confer with Sergeant Bowo.
While Felzein himself could not identify the masked figure caught on the surveillance footage, Melati’s response was markedly different.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she recognised her former beau, despite the obscurity of his concealed features.