So LOUD A silence

A missing piece. Maybe

Moments Later

Pola, behind the wheel, brought the car to a halt behind a sea of vehicles on the high way that obeyed the red traffic lights just ahead on the high way.

Ian, drowning in an ocean of thought, sat on the passenger's seat hamming along to the music mellowing from the car's speakers.

A new black Grand Cherokee - Jeep that screamed opulence and class with it's every detail, driven by Serge, approached from behind and pulled over by Pola's car.

MICAH, a real estate guru, in her forties, who normally hid behind dark sunglasses, sat on the passenger's seat in the other car talking angrily with heavy gestures. Serge, unnoticed by Pola and Ian, sat quietly behind the wheel taking in whatever Micah was trying to communicate in an angry fashion.

Pola looked on and commented after a moment, “If you ask me, whatever that he did must be serious.”

“Who?” Ian tuned back to reality in a flash.

Pola pointed at the vehicle driven by Serge and uttered, “Him.”

“Two things.” Ian chuckled mildly, “Either he blew her money or infidelity issues.”

Pola giggled out loud, “You're crazy.”

“Young lady, you're officially looking at a dead man.”

“I know that lady. Micah.” Pola remarked after a close look. “A real estate guru who became millionaire at nineteen.”

“What did I tell you?” Ian weighed in.

Pola wondered looking at Ian, “What?”

“It's either money or he was caught snogging a lady.” Ian insisted.

Pola shook her head in great awe, “Only heaven knows what goes on in your mind.”

Micah talked on. Her countenance was coated with anger and frustration. It was evident that she burnt inside and wanted to just vent out. Serge opened the door, stepped out of the car and meandered into the crowd without closing the door. The car engine still vibrated with life as strolled away with a stern. He could only take in so much. He had to walk away.

No sooner Serge stepped out of the vehicle than Pola recognized him. Her lips parted and his name rang out from the mouth, “That’s Serge.”

Ian was quick to spot him after Pola and he without hesitation led the band of speculation, “Do you think what I'm thinking?”

“A love triangle gone wrong. Work. Money issues. I mean it could be anything” Pola said tapping the steering wheel.

Ian consented, “Yep. Something like that.”

Micah opened the passenger door and charged after Serge calling his name out loud, “Hey Serge, Serge! Wait a minute.”

Serge neither looked back nor retreated to the car. He simply detached himself from that particular time and place. He just wanted to leave – and so, he did.

Micah, with a haggard face, decelerated and halted in front of her car. She looked on as he weaved his way around the stationary automobiles.

Ian and Pola watched the few seconds of perfect drama dumbfounded. Though still awe- struck, the former still had something to say, “What do you think?”

“She could be one of our missing pieces to the puzzle.” Pola replied without thinking twice.

Ian nodded thoughtfully, “It's very possible.”

Despite the headway the duo was making on Ivy’s murder case Pola could not help it wonder, “Serge works for her but that... that can't be work- related, can it?”

“I doubt.” Ian equally expressed skepticism on the premise raised by Pola.

Pola then brought the conversation to a sudden halt with a single word, “Yeah.” The traffic lights turned green as though in agreement that the conversation, albeit pertinent to murder case at hand, should come to an end. Pola thrusted her foot to the peddle and drove away.

Angry motorists behind Micah's car hooted aloud and cussed in disgust. Others simply meandered around Micah’s car and joined the following traffic. Micah, without a word falling off her lips, walked back to her car, closed the passenger's door and walks around to take the wheel and drive off.

By an old abandoned building in the industrial area - far away from the noise of the city, Kilogram sat in an immobile car treating himself to a cigarrate. The place looked rather desserted and with almost zero chance of been patronized by more than one person. This was until a police vehicle emerged from the opposite direction and pulled over next to Kilogram's car.

The windows to the cars were rolled down almost simultaneously.

The Police officer, wearing his perfect fit uniform and black sun- glasses fetched and gave Kilogram a file. "That's your man."

Kilogram stretched his hand and received the file, "Coordinates?"

"He should be at the parish," the Police office gave a quick reply.

Kilogram probed for confirmation looking squarely at the police officer, "Parish?"

"He's a damn priest," The Policer officer was taken aback. "Everything is there."

"Alright soldier," Kilogram nodded and gave the police officer money in a pocket size envelope. "Nice doing business with you."

Police Officer smiled receiving the money, "anytime, my friend."

The windows were rolled up again. The police officer drove away but only for a few meters. He threw the Police patroller in reverse gear. He drove back to where he had met Kilogram. The windows rolled down and the man in uniform made mention, "Intel has it that the warrant has been raised for the old clergy. Detectives are closing in on him as we speak. What ought to be done must be done, now."

Kilogram nodded without a single utterance of word - he confined his attention to studying the documents the police officer had given like his entire life depended on it.