Devil's Whisper Chapter 9: The Murmurs of the Unseen

Kate walked along the long passage of Flinders University, shielding herself from the noon sun with a cap on her head. In one hand, she held a notebook and pen, while her phone pressed against her ear in the other.

"I spoke with Jason, and as I anticipated, his anger toward me prevented him from acknowledging that I'm a competent investigator and that he needs to collaborate with me," Kate said, her gaze fixed ahead.

"Try harder... You'll need him to gather every piece of information," Rodrick advised in a plain tone. He continued, "Superintendent Bob instructed Jason and his team to remain vigilant regarding the media and ensure that we don't catch wind of any details about the case."

“I’m aware of that. I'm working on obtaining information about the identity of the deceased, but Jason and his team have become increasingly cautious."

"They're deliberately withholding information from us," Rodrick observed, then added, "That's why I'm urging you to collaborate with Jason and have another conversation with him."

"Merely talking won't persuade him... I may need to take some drastic measures."

"What measures?"

"I'll let you know later," Kate said, glancing at the signboard indicating the Department of Languages to her left.

"You're aware that Henry is becoming increasingly desperate to solve this murder mystery," Rodrick remarked.

"And why is he growing so desperate? You know these cases take time to solve."

"The investigator from Zero Time News Network is working on this case, and they're claiming to have found a breakthrough. Their claim is making Henry worried," Rodrick explained.

"They're just bluffing," Kate dismissed. "They've found nothing of the sort."

"I hope you're right." Rodrick asked, recalling the symbols and inquiring about their significance. "Have you remembered where you first saw those symbols? And have you figured out the connection between the symbols drawn on the paper and those around the belly button?"

"No, I'm still working on them... I'll give you a detailed report tomorrow," Kate assured before disconnecting the call. "Okay, Rodrick, I have to meet someone who's an expert in foreign languages. I hope he can help me translate the meaning of the text found on the cryptic note from the coat of the dead body."

Entering the building of the languages department, Kate glanced around the empty, white-marbled corridor. It seemed all the students were in classrooms attending lectures. She had come here to meet her old friend, Aussie, who taught English Literature at Flinders University. However, Kate knew Aussie had a passion for learning and exploring foreign languages. She hoped he might assist her in translating the cryptic note.

Yesterday evening, she had called Aussie, and he instructed her to come to the university at 11:00 A.M, assuring her he would meet her then. Now, it was 10:50 A.M., and she had to wait for ten minutes until Aussie finished his lecture and could meet her. As the minutes passed, the doors of several classrooms began to open, and students started pouring out.

Kate scanned the bustling crowd, her eyes searching for Aussie, who knew she was waiting for him. Finally, amidst the rush of students, she spotted him. Aussie was dressed in grey dress pants paired with a black dress shirt, his shoulder-length hair tied back, giving him a polished yet approachable look.

The university courtyard buzzed with the energy of students rushing to classes, their laughter and chatter blending into a lively hum. Kate stood near the fountain, her eyes scanning the crowd. She adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers tapping impatiently against the leather. Where is he?

Finally, she spotted him. Aussie was weaving through the throng, his grey dress pants and black dress shirt making him stand out amidst the sea of casual wear. His shoulder-length hair was tied back, revealing sharp features and a warm smile as he caught sight of her.

“Ms. Kate Miller,” he called out, his voice carrying over the noise. “You managed to find some time to see me after all.”

Kate’s face lit up as he approached, and she stepped forward to hug him. “Aussie! I’m so happy to see you.”

He pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders as he studied her face. “You look stressed. What’s going on?”

Kate sighed, her smile fading. “I need your help.”

Aussie nodded, his expression turning serious. “First, let’s find somewhere to sit. Then we can talk.”

“Okay,” Kate agreed, grateful for his calm demeanor.

“How about the café?” Aussie suggested, gesturing toward the small coffee shop nestled at the edge of the courtyard. “We can grab a coffee and figure out how I can help you.”

“That sounds perfect,” Kate said, falling into step beside him.

The café was cozy, its walls lined with bookshelves and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. They found a quiet corner table, away from the chatter of other patrons. Aussie set down two steaming mugs of coffee and slid into the seat across from Kate.

“Alright,” he said, leaning forward. “What’s going on?”

Kate wrapped her hands around her mug, the warmth grounding her. “It’s about a case I’m working on. There’s a piece of evidence—a torn page with symbols and text in an unknown language. I think it’s a key to solving the case, but I can’t decipher it on my own.”

Aussie’s eyebrows rose. “Symbols and an unknown language? That sounds like my kind of puzzle. Do you have a photo or anything?”

"I'm going to show you a photo, but you have to promise not to share any details about it with anyone. It's confidential, and I could get into big trouble if it leaks,.

"You can trust me," Aussie assured her in a serious tone.

Kate nodded, retrieving a printed piece of paper from her shoulder bag and placing it in front of Aussie, watching as his eyes scanned the screen.

“Hmm,” he murmured, zooming in on the symbols. “These are… unusual. ”

“Can you help me figure it out?” Kate asked, her voice tinged with hope.

Aussie looked up, his expression thoughtful. “I can try. But it might take some time. ”

Kate nodded, her determination reigniting. "Take a look here, Do you know what language this is?" She whispered.

"Let me see," Aussie pulled the piece of paper toward him and examining it closely. After a moment, he began, "I think I know what language this is…”

"Tell me," Kate urged impatiently.

"Wait... let me confirm," Aussie responded, pulling out his phone and opening an app. Kate watched silently as he typed a few words into it. After a few moments of silence, Aussie looked up at Kate and began to speak.

"The text in this photo is in Persian. It's the language spoken in Middle Eastern countries like Iran, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan."

"Are you sure?" Kate asked, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"Yes, I'm sure," Aussie confirmed, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "A long time ago, I heard a few poems in Persian, and the beauty and depth of the language inspired me. I bought a few Persian poetry books and read them, so I can say without any doubt that the text is in Persian."

"Can you find out what the meaning of this text is? Translate it for me," Kate requested, leaning forward.

"Kate, the text in this photo is part of a well-known poetry book."

"What poetry book?" Kate asked, surprised. It hadn’t crossed her mind that the text on the page in the photo would be from a poetry book. She had assumed the killer had written something in a foreign language to complicate the case.

"This text is part of a poem from the Rubaiyat, a poetry book by Omar Khayyam," Aussie explained.

"Who is Omar Khayyam, and what is this Rubaiyat?" Kate asked immediately, her curiosity piqued.

Aussie took a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Omar Khayyam was a Persian mathematician, astronomer, and poet from the 11th century. The Rubaiyat is a collection of quatrains—four-line poems—reflecting on life, love, and the nature of existence. It's celebrated for its philosophical depth and beautiful imagery."

"I'm not quite getting it," Kate admitted in a confused tone. The connection between the poetry and the murder eluded her. "Why would the killer place a page from a poetry book in the coat of the dead body? What could it possibly mean?"

"Okay, let me explain in simpler terms," Aussie took a sip of coffee and then continued. “Omar Khayyam—a Persian polymath whose brilliance illuminated the realms of mathematics, philosophy, and astronomy in the 11th and 12th centuries. Yet, hidden within the corridors of his scholarly pursuits lay a lesser-known facet of his genius—the art of poetry. Khayyam, though not widely celebrated as a poet in his lifetime, penned numerous quatrains that delved into the very essence of existence—life, death, and fate. It was only after his passing that fellow Persian scholars and poets recognized the poetic treasure he had bestowed upon the world. Collecting his quatrains into a single volume, they christened it the Rubaiyat—a testament to Khayyam's lyrical prowess.”

“For centuries, the Rubaiyat remained shrouded in obscurity, its verses echoing faintly across the annals of time. However, in the 19th century, a transformative moment occurred with the arrival of Edward Fitzgerald, an English scholar who dared to unveil its mysteries to the world. Through his translation and adaptation, initially met with little fanfare in 1859, the Rubaiyat found its way into the hands of influential poets who were entranced by its lyrical and mystical beauty.

“So, from the depths of anonymity, the Rubaiyat emerged, captivating hearts and minds with its timeless wisdom and enchanting verse. A journey through the ages, a glimpse into the soul of a bygone era—the Rubaiyat invites readers to embark on an adventure of discovery, where the words of Omar Khayyam continue to resonate with profound significance in the hearts of readers worldwide.”

“Hmmm… interesting. So you're saying this text is part of the Rubaiyat, and the Rubaiyat has been translated into English?" Kate clarified, her mind racing with possibilities.

"Yes," Aussie confirmed. "There are many translations available, each capturing different nuances of the original Persian."

Kate pondered over why the killer would hide a page from the Persian version of the Rubaiyat if it had already been translated into English. It seemed like a deliberate choice, but she found herself without answers.

"Where did you get this photo?" Aussie inquired, sensing the weight of her thoughts.