Chapter Six
1796 Words
Without losing a minute, Nico and I head to Rhian Ruiz’s shop. Though it is close due to the demise of its owner, one of her employees who just only made aware by the police officers of what happened this morning is in there. The employee, named Shen, is nice enough to allow us to investigate the place. At first glance, the shop looks nothing but ordinary. It is built along an alley just wide enough to pass through. Its interior is narrow and only has a glass rack of handkerchiefs and a countertop, behind that countertop is a door.
“What’s in that door?” I ask.
“That’s our storage room,” says Shen.
The unpleasant odor of piles of boxes bursts the moment she opens the room and just like what I’ve already seen, it has nothing noteworthy to it, just another door that leads to a much narrower alley and a rickety stair that leads to what seems to be a tiny apartment unit. The entire second floor has a kitchen, a bathroom, a living space which is at the front side and a bedroom which is at the rear side of the shop. The squealing and ticking sounds echo every step we make on the wooden floor. All the pieces of furniture are spick and span and the place doesn’t show any sign of burglary. But when I enter the bedroom, I notice that the bedsheet and the pillows are wrinkled.
“This second floor, is this the owner’s house?”
“No, she and her husband have their own house. It’s an extra space just in case Mrs. Ruiz got late from all the works,” Shen replies.
“All the works, uh? How many staffs did she have?”
“Three, that includes me.”
“Do you sell your handkerchief online?”
“We do.”
“Exactly what I thought.”
I put on a pair of gloves before opening the drawers and cabinets. There are only a few clothes which are tidily folded or hanged.
While Nico keeps on taking photos of the bedroom, a drawing of a green-eyed monster catches my sight. Not only that it looks like a work of a toddler but it is messily stuck on the wall using a scotch tape right above the bed. What makes it uncanny is it doesn’t look cohesive to the rest of the owner’s stuffs which are neat and clean.
I walk closer to it. “Who drew this, do you know?”
The employee stands next to me then crinkles her eyes. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“When was the last time you’ve been here?”
“About two days ago when Mrs. Ruiz asked me and the others to help her carry her old bed outside.”
“You mean this bed is brand new?”
“It is. It was delivered the same night we got rid of her old one.”
I slide my hand on my jacket’s pocket and give her the picture of Buboy. “You know who is he?”
In a split second, she recognizes the man in the photo. “He is a former staff here.”
“Former?” asks Nico.
“I am not sure if he is fired or resigned…” she pauses while rambling her sight in different directions.
“Is it because of their alleged affair?” I ask.
“I guess. It has been a month since the issue begun. But just two weeks ago, Buboy suddenly stopped going to work and none of us dare to ask Mrs. Ruiz about it.”
“If ever you get more information about him, please don’t hesitate to contact us,” I say while offering her my calling card which she accepts.
I then carefully detach the drawing from the wall, making sure it won't tear. After a few more photo shots here and there, Nico and I thank the employee, head outside and drive our way to the victim’s house where her husband currently lives. The location of their house is quite different from the victim’s shop’s. It is situated in a middle-class neighborhood. When we step out of the car, Mr. Arturo Ruiz immediately jogs to the front yard and opens the gate to welcome us, it’s as if he is already expecting our arrival or perhaps he already saw the logo of the Philippine National Police attached on our car.
“Do you already have information about my wife’s death?”
Nico and I show him our IDs and search warrant before entering his property.
“Not yet,” I say. “We’re here to conduct an interview and to look around your house.”
He loosens his jaw but doesn’t complain and lets us roam around their modern rustic two-storey house. Unlike the ones in the shop, the pieces of furniture here seem expensive and each room is huge with proper ventilation.
“I hope you wouldn’t mind me asking, if you could afford this kind of living, why bought a shop in a regular neighborhood?” I ask.
“We didn’t buy it. My wife inherited the house from her parents when they passed away. She refused to sell it so we decided to turn it into a small shop.”
As we continue to stroll inside their house, my memory thinks back to what Nico and Shen said about Buboy. “Base on our initial investigation, you and your wife were not in good terms in the last few weeks, is there any truth to that?”
He stops walking and so do Nico and I.
“What’s wrong Mr. Ruiz?” Nico asks.
“Are you guys accusing me of killing my wife?”
“You’re a person of interest,” I say.
He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand and I promise to cooperate with you the best way I can.”
“Thank you.”
He takes an exaggerated sigh before speaking up. “That’s true. When I heard the rumors about her relationship with her employee, I got so mad at her and sent her out of our house without hearing her explanation. However, after realizing that what I did was wrong, I asked her to go back to me but she refused and stayed in her shop instead.”
“Where were you earlier between 12 AM and 4 AM?”
“I was at the St. Luke’s Hospital, guarding my boss from 10 PM then I received a phone call from the police about my wife at around 4 AM so I hurriedly went to the church and that’s when I…that’s when…” He trembles as he fights his tears back.
“Did your wife have any enemy?”
“I don’t think so. My wife was a very kind person.”
“How about you?”
He stares at me with bewilderment so I quickly explain myself to refute any wrong idea. “I mean…you might have a bad blood with someone and this someone targeted your wife to get revenge against you.”
He angles his eyes to the ceiling for a good amount of time before diverting them back to me. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t make enemies. I don’t even have hard feelings towards Buboy.”
“Wait. You know his name?”
“Yeah,” he answers in full confidence. “When I visited my wife’s shop a couple of days after our fight, she refused to talk to me and sent me away. That’s when I met Buboy.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“It was a short but meaningful chat. He confirmed that there was never a romantic affiliation between him and my wife.”
“And you believe him?” asks Nico.
Mr. Ruiz tilts his head to the side and slouches his body a bit. “Well, that’s human nature. We only listen to the things that we want to believe, so…”
Silence, no more words come out of his mouth.
Since there’s nothing dubious to see in his house, Nico and I decide to take a break. But before we could step out of the front door, Mr. Ruiz pokes my shoulder so I turn around to face him. He is ill at ease and he keeps on swallowing.
“You okay?”
“I’m sorry if I didn’t mention it earlier cause I’m not sure whether this is important to the case or not. But I’ll tell you anyway.”
“What is it?”
He straightens his back and hands me his cellphone. “After the incident yesterday at Mrs. Montenegro’s event, I received a text message from an unknown sender telling me that I will regret what I did.”
An eerie sensation sluggishly creeps my veins as my head foretells where this conversation is going but I keep it cool, gesturing for him to continue.
“I didn’t pay attention to it until this happened. Do you think that the text message is related to my wife’s murder?”
“We’ll find out.” I return his phone to him after forwarding the message to my number. “Thanks for today.”
We go back to our headquarter after leaving the Ruiz’s residence. It’s lunch time, but I decline any offer from my colleagues to take a break. I sit in my workstation and research and analyze the clues we’ve gathered. The first thing that comes to my mind is the painting on the victim’s bedroom. According to Google, green-eyed monster is a symbol of jealousy – the same exact word that’s etched on the victim’s right forearm. So far, I’m looking at the angle of Crime of Passion and there are two possible suspects – Buboy, whom we’re yet to find his whereabouts and Mr. Arturo Ruiz, whom we’re yet to confirm his alibi. Then, my attention switches to the message Mr. Ruiz showed me.
[I am NOT what I am. You’ll regret what you did.]
This message was sent on August 29, 8:17 in the evening. Almost two hours after we left Mrs. Montenegro’s cosmetic factory and warehouse.
I am in a deep thought while staring at my phone, studying the text message when Detective Hipolito rings my phone.
“Nichelle’s speaking.” … “Great! Can I also get the copy of the autopsy report?” … “Thank you.” … “What? There’s an eyewitness? I’ll be there in five minutes.”
After dropping the call, I run to the parking lot and drive my way to where Detective Hipolito is – the Archdiocesan Shrine of the Divine Mercy.
- Writer
