Hector's Fall

Detective Lozano took another long gulp at his coffee, he preferred it sweet, usually, but tonight being one of those wherein he just needed an extra kick, took it black. The photos he took of the dead body lay on the table in front of him. Though in the circumstances of Mr. Deocalma Hector’s death, most people had ruled it an accident, his instincts told him that there was a murder that took place.

He took the large Manila envelope containing all the accounts of the people with him on that fateful trip, he was sure to find something there, probably something that he missed after scanning them rapidly the day before. First was the statement of his best friend, someone that the deceased had known from boyhood:

“…Deo didn’t seem to have any problems, in fact it was he who had arranged the road trip… I was on the second floor with my girlfriend, we had retired early… There was the cleaning lady who saw the both of us making out on the stairwell just before we got into the room, that was around ten perhaps, you could ask her…” The story checked out when he asked the cleaning lady. They never left the room until that morning, else she would have seen them, surely. He took out another sheet, to read what the house’s owner had to say:

“…Deo usually asks that we reserve the F room on the fourth floor, he loves the penthouse and usually takes a lot of pictures from there… No I just came back from Manila that morning when I saw the police cars in front of the house… had some business to attend to… He had called me the week before to make the reservation but was already out of town when they checked in… yes they were regulars, he and Steph even joked that they wanted to get married here in my house.” The alibi was ironclad.

Det. Lozano gazed at the pictures of the house, it was a four-storey residence that the owner, Dr. Mendez constructed three years ago as a retirement home slash business. During the surfing season, she rented out six of the eight rooms to surfers, mostly weekend warriors, young professionals who came in season after season. “…I never had problems with Deo… he has been coming here every weekend either alone or with Steph or friends during the season, maybe three or four years now…” Dr. Mendez’s statement read further.

He read through the other statements of everyone in the house, he couldn’t find anyone with a motive and every alibi was rock solid, maybe it was, an accident. He held Stephanie Carmelo’s statement, the one he took in between her sobs, and with a marker highlighted a sentence: “…he shouldn’t have been so reckless, with the wedding all planned out in two months…” A suicide perhaps? But rarely has he seen someone jump off a ledge willingly and yet leave every evidence of a struggle.

He read from his own unfinished report, Mr. Deocalma Hector presumably went outside his room to the terrace and smoked a cigarette, one he didn’t finish but managed to hold on to and mangle terribly in the fall. He sat on the rail, where he fell backwards from and fell the four storeys to the waiting concrete floor at the bottom. He had been tempted to dismiss it as an accident when he gathered all the evidence, but just couldn’t take his mind off the tell-tale marks around his neck, the fluid lining it and the collar of his shirt. Somehow, if there was any foul play involved this was the only link that there was. He’d have to wait until the laboratory would give him the analysis of the fluid in the morning.

He tidied his desk, his body was commanding him to get some rest for the night. He neatly squared off all the paperwork and the photographs and slid them back into the envelope. He turned off the lights and went upstairs, to his sleeping wife and the child in the crib beside her. He carefully tiptoed into the room, took a loving glance at his son, then climbed into bed, planting a kiss on his wife’s forehead before closing his eyes to a troubled sleep.

He was at his desk at the station when the clerk handed him the results from the lab. He was tired, only having a couple of hours sleep in him. Again he sipped his coffee, black and strong. He stared at the envelope containing the last piece of evidence that he held. Hopefully this would once and for all solve the case.

The first report was from a blood analysis, there was no trace of alcohol or drugs found. So Deo did quit drinking and was not high at the time. The next one was the analysis for the fluid found on his neck and shirt collar, the last piece of the puzzle and hopefully give him a conclusion to the case. He read it, and then reread it. He sat back on his chair and pondered deeply on the case. He straightened out in his chair and reached for the phone. He dialed the number of the laboratory which gave him the report and spoke to the manager. He waited a time to absorb the confirmation, then thanked the person on the other end of the line before he hung up. He would have to make another call it would seem on a hunch, this time to Steph.

Detective Lozano finished his report, the case was officially solved right after he put the phone down. Officially it was an accident, Hector fell off the ledge. He printed his report, signed it and placed it in his outbox. It was already noon and he was dead tired. He opened his desk, slid the results of the second laboratory analysis that he got and locked it. He decided to take the rest of the day off, he wanted to go home and be with his wife and carry his child.

Stephanie was on her way home when she got the call from the detective. She was with her parents who made the trip to the resort to fetch her. She was a wreck, having cried practically the whole time since Deo died and still hasn’t slept. She was startled as the detective had asked her a question that seemed rather unexpected and she took a while to answer. “What? What does that have to do with anything? I don’t understand how you could ask me such a question… yes, yes I did… we did. Around 2 years ago. Why? No, why are you asking? Why…” She cried horribly once more after putting the phone down. Her parents did their best to console her, her mother beside her as she hugged her tightly and without words, only sobs. She hated the detective, wishing she never took her call. Why would he ask about the abortion… how would he have known?