Murderer

CHAPTER 33 - Anto (Revised)

That afternoon, Citra immediately continued the investigation into the flyover tunnel. Like the information of the old man he met in the tunnel of the former railway project earlier.

The scorching heat of the sun made him a little difficult, even the air conditioner in the car was unable to help him. Moreover, the traffic at that time was very heavy. He parked his car in an office building not far from there, then walked down the sidewalk along the flyover.

His heart was so sliced when he saw the little children who fell asleep on the pavement without any pedestal. They hold a simple cup made of wood and a flaked bottle cap.

A young woman was seen just sitting on the lip of the sidewalk and her eyes looked glazed far away, no matter what she was thinking. Citra approached the young woman and sat down next to her.

"Good day." The image greeted him while displaying a warm smile.

"Se—happy afternoon," he replied. He looked a little surprised because there was someone sitting next to him.

"I'm I'm I'm Citra from the police. What's your name?"

The woman's face turned frightened when she found out that the one sitting next to her was a policeman. He shifted a few snores from beside Citra.

"I—Intan," she replied a little nervously.

"Relax, I just want to ask you a few things." The image tried to neutralize the fear that appeared on the young woman's face.

He shifted back to where he was sitting after being convinced there was no threat from Citra. They were caught in silence amid the noise and the passing of vehicles.

The image finally issued a photo of the old homeless body yesterday and showed the woman named Intan.

"Do you know this old man?"

Her milk-brown irises were rounded. He immediately closed his mouth. "Sir Narto!" pekiknya slow.

Eyebrow Citra up next door. "You know him?"

Intan nodded. He held a clear circle that had piled up in his eye pelupuk. "This old man's name is Pak Narto. He used to sleep on the sidewalk over there at night, nice guy. Mr. Narto often told me about his children."

"His children?"

The woman nodded faintly.

"She used to tell me about her kids who were successful now. His son was a yacht captain, then his two daughters were married to rich businessmen" explained Intan, his eyes looked very lost figure named Pak Narto.

"Why did Pak Narto become a vagabond?" The image still cannot reason the explanation of Intan.

"Because he left his family for another woman who turned out to be just cheating, also using his money. Until he went bankrupt, his wife left him and kicked him into the street. As soon as he always tells us his life."

Hearing Intan's explanation, Citra felt lost for words also lost clues. If Mr. Narto is that good, then who killed him?

"It turns out that Mr. Narto is a vagrant mentioned in the news." Intan seems to have lost Pak Narto a lot.

"Have there been anything strange about Mr. Narto? Or does anyone hate Pak Narto?" ask the image again.

Intan furrowed his forehead so that his two thick eyebrows almost fused together. This woman is not fit to live on the streets. Intan's face is actually pretty, just not well maintained.

"I don't know if this could be called weird or not. A few days before he disappeared, Mr. Narto told us that he would soon have a lot of money. If that happens, he'll buy a house big enough to hold us." Intan's eyes glazed over as he spoke of the late homeless man's ideals.

"Money? From where?"

"Pak Narto said nothing but someone gave him a job."

"What job?"

Intan sniffed his shoulder. "Try you ask Maryam's mother, she's closer to Mr. Narto."

"Where's that mother?" The image had been dreary since then, but he did not find a woman with traits like the old bum mentioned.

Citra notes the address of the mother in her small agenda. In fact, he is the laziest to note in books, more practical if directly in digital memos on mobile phones. However, Faisal often said that digital can be lost at any time because of viruses, while manual records will only be lost if burned.

The black rush again glided down the streets of Manggala to the suburbs. There is a large sewer called Kali Antara, on the edge of the times there are many wild huts that are actually not habitable.

The foul scent of trash from that time made Citra reflexively raise her mask. A few pairs of eyes greeted his arrival with an unfriendly gaze in that environment. Some children ran away when they saw Citra coming, while some adults quickly went into the hut. There were also those who looked at him with threatening looks.

The image restrains a mother who looks to be evading. "Sorry, Mom! I just want to find someone who lives here."

She looked at him with an uncomfortable look. "Do you know Miss Maryam?" ask Citra.

There was no answer, he just stared at this police officer from top to bottom. As if the image is a threat to be avoided.

"I—it's his house, but he hasn't been home since last night, probably selling on a flyover," he said nervously as he pointed to a very rickety hut.

"Thank you for much information."

The image approached towards the hut that the mother had pointed at earlier. This environment is very unhealthy. There was no clean water, the stench of garbage smelling around every corner.

Every now and then he glanced at the children hiding in fear behind the parents. They are very thin, it is certain that the nutritional intake they get is very less.

The government is busy enriching themselves and their colonies! The image grumbled in the heart.

He arrived in front of the hut that did not have that door. The shape is very uninhabitable, only made of pieces of cardboard. His left is full of rubbish. The hut was clearly empty.

"Where is Miss Maryam?" He wondered to himself.

The tip of his jacket felt pulled slowly from behind. Imagra turned his head, a boy who seemed to be five years old seemed to be holding the tip of the Citra jacket. He bit his thumb's nail.

"Aren't you looking for Maryam's grandmother?" ask the kid naively.

Imagra.

"Last night Mary's grandmother came home, but ..he hurriedly left and brought some of her belongings," the boy said.

Hearing the innocent words of this child, Citra became interested. He crouched down in front of her and gently rubbed the child's head.

"Whose name are you?" ask Citra.

"Anto" he answered short.

Smiling image. "Anto, you know where Maryam's grandmother is?"

There was a doubtful look implied within the iris of my black eyes. It pointed in the opposite direction of Antara.

"He went up there and got into a boxcar, with a tall-big guy." Anto's voice sounded slow, perhaps he was still wary of Citra.

Eyebrow Citra linked to hear Anto's explanation, in her mind raging some questions, is it a kidnapping? Or did Miss Maryam leave on her own?

"thank you. You're a smart kid, on mAna your parents?" Anto smiled widely, showing off his yellow teeth from being unkempt.

"Sama-sama, Brother. Anto's parents don't know where, Anto's taken care of by the people here. Said they found Anto in the garbage heap. Later if Anto is big, wants to be a cop too like a big brother!" yells.

Swish haru yelled into Citra's heart. He felt very lucky, not as derelict as Anto. Although he had grown up in an orphanage, lost his siblings, lost his adoptive brother, but he was showered with so much affection by his adoptive parents.

Citra left the slum and returned to the office for an afternoon apple. In his mind was still imagined the cheerful smile of a homeless boy named Anto earlier. May the child grow up to be a good child, the Image prayer in heart for the sweet boy.

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