The National Capital City of
Delhi was in a state of shock. There were six murders in different parts of the
city, each seemingly with no connection to the other. Somehow the media had
caught wind of the happenings, making matters worse.
Dr. Nalini Mehta was found
hanging in the living room of her lavish home in Paschim Vihar. She had started
her career as an intern doctor at a Government Hospital. Her brilliance and
connection with the right people saw her become Chief Medical Supervisor at PMO,
post her retirement as the Director General of the Ministry of Health.
‘Divorced. Lived all by herself.
Children working in America.’ Informed the constable who had received reports
from Nalini’s background check. The Sub-Inspector nodded, keeping his eyes
fixed on the body now lying on the floor. This cannot be suicide, thought
Sub-Inspector Jayant. Nalini was doing well in her professional as well as
personal life. Yet the maid found her hanging when she came this morning. The
maid had also informed of the large amount of money that Nalini had brought
home, which was now, missing.
Vikas Bhalla had retired as
secretary of Ministry of Home Affairs and now worked there as a consultant. He
had bought all four flats on one floor in a high priced Apartments in
Chattarpur, one for each of his children and one for himself.
This morning when his eldest son
went to check on him, no one answered the door. He got worried and called
building security. They broke the door to find the couple lying in bed, throats
slit open. It was apparent that they were killed in their sleep. There was no
sign of struggle or an open window.
Inspector Nitesh, who usually
reported to his office at ten, was at the Bhalla residence at eight in the
morning, fully awake and in charge of the incident.
Akhil Prasad had retired as
secretary of Ministry of Urban Development, having previously served as
secretary of Ministry of Labour and Employment. He managed his positions well
and came to be known as the secretary who completed most housing projects. Post
retirement, he refused to join back. He actively worked in an NGO providing
relief in Disaster struck areas for a couple of years before opening his own
NGO. With his connections and experience with the Government, his work was soon
noticed and appreciated. He won several public accolades and titles.
Akhil’s daughter and
grand-daughter Nisha had come to live with him and his wife at their house in
Asiad Village. Today morning, when Nisha woke up, she felt dizzier than usual.
When she cleared her head and moved around the house, she let out a shrill
scream at the sight of her mother’s pale body lying on the sofa. The television
was switched on to a channel that she might have watched at night. Her
grandparents were in the same state in their bed. Sensing that something was
wrong, she gathered the neighbours for help.
Inspector Nishant was soon at the
scene. His medical team soon found huge amount of poisonous gas that had been
induced into the house through Air Conditioners. Nisha had decided to open the
window at night, thus, surviving the attack.
Inspector Jayant had not
progressed much. Nalini had some big connections and her mysterious death had
created a sense of insecurity amongst many influential others. The pressure to
resolve the case was increasing every minute and even when the inspector had
spoken to her colleagues, her maid, her children and her neighbours, he had
absolutely nothing to report.
Jayant was on the call with the
commissioner for the fourth time since morning. He cut the call, when he heard
some commotion around the entrance of the house. He saw a plump woman with
brown eyes, wearing an apron and carrying a rolling pin, trying to enter the
house. She appeared to be in her late thirties. From her appearance, Jayant
tagged her as one-of-the-nosy neighbours. She kept asking for a muffler. When
Jayant asked her clearly, she said ‘This lady was standing down the road
yesterday, waiting for cab. She was cold and so borrowed a muffler from me.
Today I saw in news that she died. How will I get my muffler back?’ The lady
started sobbing. Jayant didn’t care – it was news to him that Nalini took a cab
when she always travels in her office car. He welcomed the lady inside who was
suddenly very interested to tell him all the details that she remembered.
When Kamla, the neighbour, left,
Jayant had a big smile. He saw her leave for a moment and then immediately took
out his phone. He had a murderer to catch.
Inspector Nitesh was able to
locate the knife used to commit the crime. The ordinary kitchen knife was
thrown out of the window. The forensic report will take a long time but the
blood stains were sufficient to mark it as an evidence. Vikas’s driver had not
reported that day. Nitesh had followed this lead for more than two hours, only
to find that the driver was admitted to a hospital for dengue. He was frustrated
when he saw a lady in black suit, walk out of the elevator on Vikas’s floor.
She had flaming orange hair and a pale white face. Her black eyes stood
distinctly in her otherwise colourful appearance. She walked up to Nitesh and
shook his hand, introducing herself. She claimed to be Vikas’s physician and
unaware of the incident.
She informed that Vikas had
called in last night and reported disgestive troubles. She had prescribed him
some medicines and advised to take some milk.
After a couple of minutes into
the discussion, Vikas’s mind was bursting with the solution to the case. As Dr.
Nidhi Shashtri left, he fired directions in all directions. He had nearly
solved the case.
If hell had broken lose, it had
to be here. Nishant had heard of the other two murders and earlier thought that
they were connected. It is always better to have a serial killer; you always
get more time to investigate. However, when he had spoken to Jayant and Nitesh,
he was displeased to know that they had found the killer. There was no one to
talk to except the maid or the granddaughter who was in shock.
He was making futile attempts of
talking to the neighbouts when a lady walked upto him and introduced herself as
Akhil’s psycologist. She was a tall woman with thick brown curls. She had deep
blue eyes and wore a lot of funky jewellery. She seemed quite disturbed with
the news and was holding a file. ‘Akhil did seem disturbed lately. I was
supposed to meet them yesterday but I got stuck at work. I got free after one
in the morning and stopped by on my way to home. There was no answer to the
doorbell so I left. I wish I’d been there earlier. It might have made all the
difference. So all I can tell you is why he was murdered.’ The lady’s last few
words took Nishant by surprise. He forgot all about the points he intended to
verify about the doctor’s story and provided her his maximum attention. She
agreed to talk to him but only in private.
Nishant was holding the file that
the Dr. Jennifer had left with him. He opened the file and closed it shut,
symbolic for the case that he would close soon.
After hours of silence,
Commissioner Choudhary’s phone kept ringing. His officers had cracked the
cases. They were simple enough now that the picture was complete. Nonetheless,
Delhi Police (and he) deserved a lot of praise for solving them in a remarkable
time.
He was picturing his media
statement for the next day, when his phone rang. Apparently the CBI was
interested in the case. His dream of a long-awaited promotion began to shatter.
Then again, this could be a meeting to highlight his involvement and
materialize his dream.
All the men felt extremely happy
and confident standing in front of CBI Senior Inspector Ravi. In less than a
day, the able officers of the Delhi Police had solved the cases.
Ravi took their reports and read
them. ‘There was no connection between the deaths?’ asked Ravi without taking
his eyes off the last report. ‘None. Except three of the murdered persons held
positions of significance in the Government departments. The other murdered
victims are their family members.’ Replied the Commissioner proudly. There was
some credit for the Delhi Police in store and he was not letting the CBI take
it away. Ravi ignored the Commissioner, kept the report down and walked over to
Sub-Inspector Jayant.
‘Would you mind telling me as to
why did you direct your investigation towards the cab company?’ Ravi asked with
utmost interest. Eagerly waiting for his moment to shine, Jayant started
spinning his tale ‘No one at Nalini’s home or office could provide any details.
She was always surrounded by people except when she travelled. On checking
records in her office we found that she used a cab to commute the day before
her demise. We got the car number from the register and tracked the car. We
traced it to Atul in Dwarka, who also seemed to have five lakh rupees cash at
his home. It became apparent that Atul saw Nalini bring cash home. The rest is
obvious. When Atul was caught, he confessed.’
Ravi sighed; it had been the last
response that Jayant anticipated. Ravi moved over to Nitesh and asked ‘How did you
find the suspect?’
Nitesh displayed all his teeth
and spoke ‘Vikas and Neeta were known for their social status. They were also
known for being creatures of habit. Every alternate evening they would buy milk
from a nearby milk booth. That day someone drugged the milk which they consumed.
The man then entered the house, took the jewellery Neeta had worn the previous
night and killed them in cold blood. The milk booth vendor identified two men
who were present at the booth around the time Vikas and Neeta had bought the
milk. Tracing them both, we found Chandan, who lives in the nearby slums. He
was drunk unconscious on his bed and there was the necklace in his pocket.
Later he confessed to his crimes.’
Still looking down, Ravi moved to
the last. He didn’t need to ask as Nishant began his heroic tale – ‘The gases
found in the house were nitrogen and carbon-di-oxide. Both components are used
in packing. We found a shop in ShahpurJat that was closed on petitions by
Akhil’s NGO. The shop had employed many under-aged children. The petition not
only brought the shop to close but caused bad reputation for the franchise. Kshitij
- The manager for the shop got sacked and committed the murder for revenge.’
‘Are you all sure that this is
all there is to report?’ Ravi shouted at the three of them. They looked back in
confusion. Ignoring them, Ravi continued ‘Three significant government
officials get murdered within hours and you tell me that this is not planned or
connected.’
They had obviously thought about
this but when the suspects confessed to their crimes, there is no reason to
look any further.
Ravi spoke, as if reading their
minds, ‘If all the suspects became cooperative as to confess to their crimes, I
would highly worry about my job. Now tell me – any other person or incident, no
matter how small.’
‘Well, the counsellor came to see
Nisha. Nisha seemed a lot better after that’ Nishant said. Ravi’s eyes gleamed.
He looked at Nishant, eager for more information. Nishant started ‘A doctor had
come from the Vilas Hospital to talk to Nisha. She was a very young and
friendly woman.’ ‘Dr. Jennifer, Vikas’s psychologist visited the crime scene.’
Nitesh added. Everyone looked at Jayant who mentioned about the neighbour
wanting her muffler back.
He didn’t want names. Ravi had
seen them to be fake. He asked them to get these women sketched. This was the
connection – a lady at each of the crime scenes. Also, why weren’t these women
mentioned in any of the reports?
When Ravi grilled the able
officers again, they broke and revealed how the nosy neighbour told Jayant
about the cab. Nitesh told that Vikas’s physician had discussed how
contaminated food samples had caused an emergency in her hospital the previous
night, which got her delayed. She also mentioned that she had advised him to
take milk. Finally, Nitesh confessed that the psychologist had brought him a
file which had article clippings of Akhil’s work These were records that Akhil
maintained of disturbing events related to his work.
When the sketches were ready,
they were of three very different women except all of them had a extremely
pointed noses. A voice inside Ravi’s mind told him that these three women were
connected or were the same person. The officers were trying to contact the
women they had met but had failed so far. All the names and visiting cards
turned out to be fake or borrowed.
He liked challenges though. Ravi
decided to dig the past and find a connection. Only that would now lead to the
clear future.
Sandhya walked down the dark
corridor for one last time. No matter how hard she had tried, the end was
inevitable. The orphanage was closed and uninhabited for a couple of months. It
would be broken to ruins the next day.
She was fourteen when she had
first stepped into the building. Her parents had died in a car crash and her
aunt refused to take her in. Uncle John, the caretaker of the orphanage, was a
great person. He encouraged her to study and become a psychologist. She was an
intern in Chennai when Uncle John passed away – or so they made it look.
The orphanage received its grants
from a trust. It would have had a bad fate if it hadn’t been for Uncle John. He
constantly fought with the trust to get the best for the children. He educated
all his children and inspired them. As a result, most children during Sandhya’s
stay had found good jobs and were settled. Having settled, the children would
keep in contact with Uncle John and help other children follow their footsteps.
It was all going well until two
girls disappeared. Uncle John left no stone unturned to find them and to seek
Government’s help for the same. Fifteen days later, the two girls were found dead
at a construction site. It was evident that they had died of assault. Yet the
deputy director general from Health Ministry denied any such case. The labour
ministry gave a statement that the girls had come looking for a job and died in
an accident. The home ministry found this incident very upsetting. No one took
notice that the members from Home Ministry and Labour Ministry were in the
trust. Indeed they were the ones who had long conversations with the children
during their visit to the orphanage.
Unable to bring any justice to
his children, Uncle John sought help of the children who had left the
orphanage. When the matter caught fire again, the newspapers reported that
Uncle John passed away in his sleep. A new caretaker was appointed by the trust
and the orphanage soon became a hub for all sorts of illegal activities. Less
than an year ago, the trust decided to close this orphanage as it was ‘no
longer safe for children’. Only if irony could kill!
Sandhya pulled out the most
peculiar assortment of items from her bag and placed them on a pyre in the
courtyard. The items were a thick bun wig, false cheeks, a dirty apron, flaming
orange hair, a black suit, some rings and bracelets, two pair of contact
lenses, a brown curly wig, a white kurta and blue jeans. She opened her bag and
took out a wet tissue to wipe off the wrinkles off her face. As she threw the
tissue on top of the pyre, she looked years younger than she had the whole day.
It had taken her ten years to get
here. Ever since the Uncle John’s demise, she knew that only well placed people
make a difference. She worked hard each day and became the best in her
profession. She got employed by one of the best Government hospitals. Other
than her job, she would often volunteer as a counsellor for the under
privileged occasionally. It took her sometime to identify Atul, Chandan and
Kshitij. They were identical in many aspects – alcoholic and abusive. Their
family members had often come to her for counselling and help. She decided to
meet them. In a couple of months, she was able to hypnotize them and
what-she-called reprogram them. They were filled with hatred, waiting for the
moment to strike their targets. Also, she had got them to sign an organ
donation form – which was her way of making them repay to the society. On the
right moment, she programmed them to strike. It was all planned.
Sooner or later the police would
find the connection to the orphanage. It wouldn’t matter. The orphanage land
had been reclaimed by the Government and the building would be collapsed the
next day. Let them come, let them find whatever they may. The past was buried
just like the fate of the orphanage.
Sandhya sat down by the fire in
the cold December night. She finally pulled out the extremely pointed nose and
threw it into the pyre, before setting it on fire. She watched the last remains
of Kamla, Dr. Nidhi Shashtri and Dr. Jennifer, characters she had worked on for
months, turn to ashes.
The police may find her someday
but for now, she had the pointed revenge.
