Author's note: Thank you for the reviews :D
AN: You have being warned!
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Characters
*Tarika: Age : 32 : Started her career as Forensic expert's assistant but soon she realized that it's not her thing so switched back to the law field, did her best in it, raised to fame as prosecution lawyer. She is quite determined, intelligent and calm in demeanor in her professional life.
*Abhijeet: Age:33 : Ex- CID Officer. He retired at the age of 30 due to a massive accident while apprehending the culprit, it resulted that his right leg got severed injured which cost him to limp while walking due to which he has to quit his job due to proven medically unfit, he is now retired and kind off work as trainer for the new officers. Short-tempered and Angry man but at the same time a very efficient officer.
*Ananya: Tarika's Childhood friend who is fashion designer, got married to a quiet rich business tycoon and Now is a joint partner in their chain of companies.
*Mayank: Ananya's husband, a business tycoon.
*Mr Ferguson : (65)Main servant of sahani's family. He has the highest authority in the servants and keep and eye on everyone's activity. He has been working for Sahani's for the last 30 years.
*Vaibhav (32) Forensic Expert: He is simple and helpful in nature, often helps people in need without expecting any much from them.
*Divyana: (32) Ex- CID Officer: After her fear for blood got worse, she took an early retirement from CID and joined a local NGO, who works for the education of poor kids.
* Marucs Smith (24) : Son of a small scale industrialist Mr Smith Dsouza , who was murdered in his house and the son was arrested as the prime suspect in murdering his father, she remembered defending the case in court a two years back . The son was a crooked swindler who had got involved in all sorts of fishy business ever since he was fifteen, but in that case he was innocent. He is an idle person who lives on the money left by his father. He works as a side kick for Vikram.
* Vikram Rajadhyaksh (35): Son of a politician. A money greedy person,and quite immoral in values. He works as a finances and funds for various researches and study.
* Rajat Kumar (34) well-known lawyer : A well-known Prosecution/ defense lawyer. Has earned reputation and fame after he defeated many of the Top notch businessman and poisonous pharmaceutical companies due to their illegal activities.
* Arundhati Iyer (46) Journalist : She has received many awards after she brought the issue of child-trafficking cases
* Sukriti Roy (55) Forensic Practitioner : An expert and the head of Delhi Forensic Departments.
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Unveiled Murderer
Part VI
She took long, deep breaths as she sat up, wiping sweat from her face, and gazed vaguely at the sunlight-bathed, window-shaped rectangle on the floor. The glow was less brilliant, less warm than it used to be, it was more autumnal; outside, the leaves were radiantly red and gold. That was changing, too – endlessly.
She shook her head and hastened out of bed. She was shivering with cold but she nonetheless flung the windowpane open, enjoying the way the lingering remnants of fantasy and confusion from her dream all drifted away with the morning's sunlight and warmth, and left her as only companions rational thought and sensibility. More than enough, considering the events of the day to come. Imagination left her mind like a bird taking flight, and she was brought with the more serious matter of her wardrobe.
She selected clothes, matched them, put them on, checked their effect in her mirror, opting for dark pants and a black shirt. All this black made her dressing strict enough, but the clothes themselves weren't too severe. It fit the circumstances. Her hair. She left it loose, having hesitated for a low knot – a sharp, tight bun.
Morning gestures – routine gestures – everyday gestures, and she accomplished them with vague eyes and a wandering mind. She rather felt like a soldier on the last morning of his leave; a few more hours of freedom and peace, and then back up to the front.
She glanced at the clock when she was done; it was half-past nine. Just enough time to take a rapid breakfast and then retreat within the boundaries of the library, with her files and her proofs, to sort out her notes and the letters and her share of reality more properly before she would have to hand them all over.
The drive was a pleasant one – or at least it would have been if he hadn't had other things in his mind, and had had leisure enough to watch the panorama. Forests and valleys and mountains elapsed by without his focusing on any other thing than the road, and his thoughts.
When he arrived within sight of the house, he stared at it like an awakening man, and as he pulled up in front of the grand building, got out of his car and walked up the steps to the main entry, he couldn't help remembering the last time he'd come here. It hadn't been a happy time altogether, but… it had had its moments.
The door was opened by a butler, who said, in a pregnant voice, "Mr Abhijeet? Tarika Mam has been waiting for you. Please follow me." And ushered him in a collection of rooms and passages, without their ever meeting anyone else than a grey-clad maid who scurried away with a muffled shriek, like a small, frightened mouse.
. Yes, of course, she was not Tarika ji now, she was Miss Musale by now. Likewise, her letter had been a polite, formal, business-only one, with a precision and accuracy that allowed no suspicions to rise: she was legally in charge of the case, and his presence had been requested by some of the guests she had mentioned, point made. Himself had been professionally interested in the problem, or – very likely – he shouldn't have come.
He and his guide finally reached a grand double door, masterly carved out of oak, whose pane the butler opened without knocking and then stepped aside to let him in. And for the first time in Five years, Abhijeet was faced with Tarika again.
For a fraction of second, the mere holding of one's breath, she was wearing a black shirt that finely outlined her slender bust, and her hair tumbled down her back in a sculpture-like way, as long and curly black and silky as it had always been.
"Mam, Mr Abhijeet has arrived," said the butler in a booming voice, startling them both. In a rapid succession of moves, Tarika started, turned her eyes to them, opened her mouth, and finally thanked him. "Not at all, miss," and the door closed upon him, leaving them alone with the sunlight.
A beat.
Then the moment passed and she was advancing towards him with an outstretched hand, a polite smile, and on her lips a cordial, "Mr Abhijeet? I'm glad you could come. Your presence was very much desired – by all of the guests. Do sit down."
Abhijeet did sit down, turned down a cigarette – he had never smoked, neither had she, and she knew it very well – and demanded more precisions about the case before he did anything with it – refuse it or accept it. She then launched in a long, detailed narration, which he attentively listened to, while leafing through the file she had given him. It was evidently a lawyer's work: she had carefully labelled each and every one of the anonymous letters after the date and location it had been found at, and very minutely noted down every little event, however insignificant t first sight, that she had happened to witness. With this he should be able to work on this case as though he'd been there from the beginning.
She talked for the best part of a half-hour, and after a while he neglected the notebook and contented himself with listening to her. There were but little questions to ask – she gave the answers spontaneously, before he'd time to demand them. Each time she spoke with a smartness and acumen which honoured her work; he could hardly have done better himself. But even of that he tended to grow weary – the best surprise here was the mellow curves of her voice, the resurgence of memories, and the fact maybe that at thirty-two she was even more beautiful, if possible, than she had been at twenty-eight.
Only once she stopped. She'd been frowning in disgust at one of the letters in the folder, which had evidently been addressed to her and represented a naked woman threatened by a sort of blind weapon overhead, and when surprised at her sudden silence he looked up, her cheeks showed a flush of embarrassment. His eyes met hers, and she looked startled, then hastily resumed her speech in a shaky voice that soon got firmer.
When she had finished, Abhijeet sat a considerable time in silence, considering the problem at hand. The whole scheme looked like it was taken straight out of a mystery book – and, very probably, it was. The culprit had evidently fished his moves out of different detective novels here and there. The real feat was the success at combining those random pieces into an actual plot… but this kind of anonymous-letters-scheme had a snag, and an obvious one: the dropping of the cards was too irregular and too hazardous never to be surprised into doing something unexpected…
He'd kept silent for too long a time, and Tarika ji – sorry, Miss Musale was wanting her answer. A hesitation here. His decision was taken, but the formality of the letter sufficiently showed that had the choice been on her side, the request would have been addressed to somebody else.
"It's a pretty problem," he acknowledged.
"Very pretty," she said acidly. "Yet my clients wish most of all to avoid scandal. We cannot let this continue much longer – there must be a solution, and we've got to find it quickly."
Vaguely noting, in some part of her mind, that 'they' had tended to become 'we' alongside her narration, Abhijeet lowered his voice for no good reason – they were alone in the library, bar the sunlight – to say, "Listen. If you – don't want me here, I can call someone else to do the job. People like Daya, – they would tackle this as well as I would."
He straightened on his chair and waited for her reaction. She was biting the inside of her lower lip, in an attitude that suddenly was no longer practical and professional – in flickers, Miss Musale was disappearing, and Tarika – the few years younger old Tarika, only grown and knowing better – was showing up at intervals. She recovered her file to do something, fidgeted a second with a lock of black hair falling on her shoulder, then looked back up with a determined look and said, "I wouldn't trust them with this half as I would trust you,Abhijeet."
It was like a breath of pure air combined with a cold shower. He remembered smiling, relaxing, feeling better in his body and in his mind – then the first thing he very distinctly recalled afterwards was asking after the exact number of guests and their names. From that moment on, everything was very business-like and easily led.
"Well – there's Vaibhav, of course," Tarika said thoughtfully. "It was he who first mentioned your name when we were all wondering who to call. He said since we were in CID, we should assigned this job to you."
"ohh.." Abhijeet merely nodded.
"And then even Mr Rajat said, you would be the good choice so.."
"Rajat is here.." Abhijeet asked in surprised tone. Tarika nodded.
"We met over a case while I was still in CID. It was rather ironical – We accused the man he defended, and I suppose the culprit would have got away with ten more years' incarceration if anyone else had done the job. We talked after the trial – he is a sensible, very intelligent man."
"Very," said Tarika, eagerly. "He is the reason I decided myself to become a lawyer – his impassivity and determination at court have impressed on me.—"
"I know," Abhijeet began and then cut short, and asked, who else.
"Arundhati Iyer – I think you know her, as well." He nodded without looking up and went on writing unperturbed. "And someone else who said she had met you – I don't know if you remember her – Sukriti Roy…"
"Sukriti Roy?" He looked up, frowning. "Is she there, as well?"
"Yes," Tarika confirmed, with a puzzled look. "Do you happen… I mean… do you know her well?"
"Well isn't the word," Abhijeet said, still frowning. "We have met twice only – but I am not likely to forget them. She was called to examine a dead man who'd been found in his flat three days after the death – I had been called there, too – and the autopsy went completely wrong. She and the other doctor inspecting the body didn't agree at all on the results."
"okay.."
Tarika rapidly described Marcus Smith and Vikram Rajadhyaksh,
"What they both are doing here, I can't imagine," she said thoughtfully. "The only think I can think of is that their research – whatever that is – needs a substantial financial background – and he has been called here for that purpose. But the whole matter is impossible to make out," she added vehemently, "They all seem to have gathered here under circumstances entirely coincidental – they never talk of anything concerning a work of any kind – their research is making no sense at all."
"Have you ever witnessed something that makes you think there isn't one?"
"All the time. Everyday."
"Then there probably is one." He smiled and snapped his notebook shut. "Very well," he said, standing up. "I shall have to go back to Mumbai to fetch my things and cancel my training sessions for the upcoming weeks. I suppose I can lodge here – I will have a greater strength of action than if reside in some lodge in the nearest village."
"Yes – certainly," said Tarika, taken aback. "There are dozens of deserted rooms in this mansion – I can get Mr Ferguson to prepare one for you by this evening. Had you rather be on the first floor or—"
"The second floor would be perfect – I'll be able to move more freely. Well—" he extended a hand, which she shook, "thank you, for this information. I shall be back by dinnertime." She'd walked him over to the door and he opened it and faced her again. "Have a good day."
"Thank you. 'Till this evening."
She watched him walk down the corridor. He hadn't passed past a few doors that one of them opened, and a grave voice called after him, "Mr Abhijeet!"
"Ah ..Mr Rajat," Abhijeet said, turning back. "I'm glad to see you. I wanted to tell you about—" They walked down together towards the hall, their voices gradually dropping to a whisper, then as they turned past a corner, into silence. Tarika went back into the library and closed the door slowly.
She leant against the wooden panel, arms folded, and stared at the golden flickers of dust in the sunlight that fell luminously in through the windows, wondering which of them had made the greatest mistake – him in accepting the case, or herself in turning down his proposition to bow back out of the matter.
Abhijeet's first evening among the household went off without a hitch. If the guests' defiance towards him was palpable, they nonetheless tried their best to act as genuinely as possible and put at ease; yet among them, only Rajat and Arundhati were perfectly tranquil with him and did not show any sign of exterior anxiety.
Or interior, thought Tarika, who by now had come to know them well enough to be able to sight-read their body language. Their palms were open, their shoulders relaxed, their features calm, their voices clear and sound. Either they had mastered the art of Poker Face to an unmovable degree (they probably had for all she knew) or they actually felt no distrust in his presence. Which, if either of them was the Poltergeist, was rather a problem…
What about him? Did he feel anything, apart from intellectual excitement? Was this – only a case among others, a mere event in his investigation career? What was he thinking, as he spoke in a low voice to Rajat, or when he sat with his cup of coffee, like he did now, and observed the room with half-lidded eyes, almost as if he slept –his gaze flickering from one to the other in an irregular and seemingly incoherent succession.
He had played chess with Marcus, talked with Arundhati into a half-hour long conversation, opposed an amused to Sukriti's dark glares, . Passing between groups, Tarika tried to concentrate herself on the matter at hand, but in vain – her eyes always strayed away on him, on the person whom with he talked, on his chess moves from one to the other in the sitting-room.
By mid-evening, he was deep in conversation with Vaibhav and herself was seated not very far with Devyana, when Vikram joined them.
Tarika didn't wait there till the end of the day. She walked abruptly to the nearest window and stood there in silence, arms folded, staring straight into the night outside. The dark pane reflected lights form the village, lodged narrowly between the black shapes of the mountains. She closed her eyes.
Abhijeet joined her after a few minutes, having succeeded in disentangling himself from Vaibhav's cordial grip, sitting on the window seat and leaning forward on his elbows.
Tarika kept silent for a second. "Have you found anything?" she asked then, Abhijeet looked sharply at her and then away. "I'm not certain," he said slowly. "I do have suspicions. By the way, I wish you could show me the quad where you found those footsteps after the wreckage of Mayank's office, Miss Tarika."
Evidently he had studied the file in depth before dinner – he had found the weak flank of that incident immediately. "You know they'll all be gone," Tarika said sternly. "It has rained ever since, and it's been more than a week."
"I know," he said. "I just want to see the location. Would you show me in the morning?"
Tarika assented to that, and they remained some time longer in silence. This was growing to be more awkward then they had suspected at first. Then Abhijeet was called away and Tarika stayed alone in front of the dark pane, thinking.
Later that night, when she walked back to her room, it was to find a white card on her floor as she opened the door. Sighing, she picked it up. It ran, We are ten now. We can begin at last. Underneath it spread mockingly verses of a cheap riddle, which made her shudder in disgust,
Ten little kittens were left all alone..
One got trap and nine were left alone