Shadows of the Past

5. NEWS STORY

Chapter 2

NEWS STORY

Rafael carried the worst hangover of his life into the office of Le Vardadera Noticia newspaper. He had spent the evening before watching football on TV and drinking scotch after scotch with his friend and boss. He took a few deep breaths, and rubbed his temples to soothe the stabbing pain and throb in the back of his head as he sat at his desk. At least he was the first in the office that morning and could enjoy the quiet. Soon, the long grey desks would fill with the other reporters and editors, and a hubbub of activity and noise.

Curtains drawn across the windows blocked out the morning light, except for those at the far end of the room, which gave a view of the Madrid city centre. Thankfully, the carpet muffled the footsteps as staff members dribbled into the newsroom. Someone flicked on the lights hanging from the ceiling and brightened the room.

Rafael needed strong coffee. Legs unsteady, he walked to the staff room, put a mug in the machine and clicked the button for an espresso. He closed his eyes to savour the bitter liquid that warmed his stomach. With a shaky hand, he returned to his desk to check his emails.

While deleting spam, the subject line of one email seized his attention: embezzlement. When he opened it, he saw that the message was a one-liner: Not who he appeared to be. It came with an attachment, a spreadsheet file. Who’d be sending him emails about this type of subject? Or it might be a prank. He got a lot of those in his spam messages.

He ran the malware-checking program, and when it was done and opened the verified file, Rafael saw financial statements. Every week for three years, someone named Abel Lopez had deposited two hundred Euros into a cash account. It amounted to a lot of money. Small amounts so as not to be noticed, but it was clear that the money was coming from a financial analyst company he recognized. Finanzas de Armonia. He didn’t know who Abel Lopez was, but he resolved to find out.

Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. “Hi Rafael. You’re in earlier than usual,” Blanca said as she walked in, looking pale. He enjoyed working with Blanca. She was an amazing journalist with strong ethics and a can-do attitude. She worked on human interest stories, and the hectic pace of a daily newspaper meant he never knew what she was writing about until the article appeared in print. “Do you ever sleep?”

Rafael decided to keep the mysterious email to himself until he figured out what it was about. “Of course, I do,” he answered, closing the file as she approached his desk. “I get at least four hours a night. Plenty for me to get enough energy for the next day. What about you? Getting little sleep, too, I’d say by the looks of those dark circles under your eyes. Is Carlos keeping you up at night?”

Blanca chuckled. “Seriously? My private life with Carlos is none of your concern,” she said jokingly. “What are you looking at?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.” He picked up research notes from his in-tray. “I have to finish the article about that burglary. Not to mention a hundred other things I need to do; ringing sources, verifying facts, that sort of stuff.”

Blanca nodded. “I hear you, but take a break, too. I’m sure Fernando will understand that you have a life.” She headed to the staff room.

Rafael returned to his computer, searching for the finance company he had read about in one of the earlier editions of the newspaper. He found the firm, Finanzas de Armonia. Clicking Services on the top menu, he scanned the names of the staff, but he didn’t find Abel Lopez. This had to be the company, but the man must no longer work for them. Slouching, he did an internet search for Abel Lopez, but all he found were news stories about awards and accolades he’d received for his work as a financial analyst and saving companies who were on the brink of bankruptcy. That was ironic if he embezzled as the email claimed.

His phone buzzed, the display showing his boss and drinking buddy, Fernando. “Hey, man. What’s up? It’s only seven-thirty.”

“I’m texting you an address. We have a story. Can’t explain now. Get to it.”

“On it, boss.” He ended the call and headed to the underground car park. He still couldn’t decide whether the email was a lead, or fake news. He got false leads all the time and he didn’t plan on wasting his time on trolls.

As he drove his black Audi to the address in Fernando’s text, he wondered whether his friend ever slept. This wasn’t the first time he’d called this early in the morning for a story. But he appreciated the early calls from Fernando as they usually meant an important assignment, and he’d want Rafael to get into the story before the rival newspapers.

As a journalist, Rafael thrived on investigating controversial topics, and used his contacts in the police department as well as other sources to verify statements. He had developed a reputation as the reporter who got stories fast enough for the next day’s newspaper. His beat was general news, and he wanted to be known for his balanced stories. He had won an award for a story about a political protest.

Rafael preferred to delve deeper into crime stories, but sometimes wondered whether it was heartless of him to hope for people’s suffering so he could get that bigger and better story.

At his destination in the centre of Madrid, Rafael saw police officers outside a villa-like, two-storey house, talking to an older woman who wiped her eyes and shook her head. Neighbours on either side watched.

He made a beeline for the young neighbour on the right side of the house. She had blue eyes and wore a dressing gown. She had to have heard something.

“Hello, Miss. I’m Rafael, a reporter from Le Vardadera Noticia. Do you know what happened here?”

She nodded. “I overheard the housekeeper saying that Abel was dead.”

Rafael’s blood turned cold and he ignored the tightness in his chest. “I’m sorry, did you say Abel? What was his surname, and did you know the man?”

She tightened the belt on her robe and looked at the house. “I did know him, and the surname is Lopez. Abel Lopez.” She sighed and placed a hand over her chin. “He was a nice man who kept to himself. He was always busy with his work but always said hello when we saw each other outside. It’s such a shock.” She focused on the front entrance of her house as a little boy wandered outside. “Listen, I wish I could tell you more. But I need to go.”

He nodded. “Thank you for your time.” Rafael waited until the older woman he assumed was the housekeeper stepped away from the officers. “Excuse me, miss.” He introduced himself. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

The lady’s hands shook and her high ponytail fell down in a tangled mess as she threaded her hands through the back of it. She appeared to be in her sixties. “Abel was a good man, and did not deserve this. Not at all. I clean his house twice a week.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “This morning, I arrived to find him dead in his bed. The police don’t know what happened, but they will investigate. Oh, dear Lord! He was such a nice man and so young, too. How could he die like this? Such a shame. On his own. No family by his side.”

“Do you know how it happened?”

She shook her head roughly. “No, I don’t know. The police will investigate. Sorry, but I have to go.”

He handed her a business card. “If you remember anything else, please call me.”

The lady nodded. “Such a shame really. Too young to die.” She rushed off and got into a compact car, sniffling all the way.

He had the makings of a big story here if this death wasn’t accidental or natural, but who had sent him that email about the victim?