The scent that lingers -19

Read Part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

Read Part 3 - here

Read Part 4 - here

Read Part 5 - here

Read Part 6 - here

Read part 7 - here
Read Part 8 - here 
Read Part 9 - here
Read part 10- here
Read part 11- here 
Read part 12- here
Read part 13 -here
Read part 14 -here
Read part 15 -here
Read part 16 -here
Read part 17 -here
Read part 18 -here

--

November 30th, Pavil and Khar retraced their steps back to the Sinhal residence, this time with a search warrant.

They had with them a small team of forensic technicians armoured with types of equipment that Pavil in his two years on the force had rarely seen.

It was with some excitement of finally finding himself at the heart of real police work that Pavil had a jaunt in his step, ignoring a barraging thought that all of this might end up futile if no further evidence showed up.

He’d often wondered what else would they do after that. What would be the next course of action, but optimism he believed is the key, and with that key lodged in his heart he made for Veda’s hobby shed.

This was a big deal Khar knew, and if the press got the smallest whiff of this incident they’d be convulsing with sensational juice, and that was the least of their troubles.

If Veda did, in fact, turn out to be the killer, then the series of consequences it would lead to would be theatrical.

He wasn’t just anyone, and what would happen then? Khar didn’t want to think.

He watched Pavil disappear into the shed behind the house with a small team of technicians as he made towards the house and was greeted by an extremely fatigued Nehar.

The brilliance that she wore like a facade had chipped into flakes of rust.

Her ever bright smile refused to linger on her face, and her eyes looked sunken. Where there were fine lines of a graceful laugh, there were bags of distressed exasperation.

As beautiful as she still was, her face had given up on looking its best.

There was for the first time a silent pang drifting through Khar at the sight of Nehar, he wanted to say something appropriate but had not the words.

‘Mrs Sinhal, we are here with a search warrant.’

‘I know’ her voice was disjointed.

‘If you could please then guide us towards Mr Sinhal’s wardrobe. We’d like the forensic technicians to run a few tests’ Khar said flatly.

Her eyes conveyed surprise but she didn’t bother to ask and led them to a rather large room.

It was a modern looking room, much similar to the office they were usually ushered in. White brisk lines, clean cuts, squares and rectangles, shell white walls, accentuated with black and white photographs and elegant gauzy draping. 

Statement indoor trees emphasized the muted whiteness of the room. The beautifully stylized interiors tied together with immaculately shiny wooden floors. This was indeed the kind of room one would never wish to leave.

A flower vase holding withered flowers was the only indication that no one actually lived here, or if they did, they were beyond caring. 

It reminded Khar of Nehar, or perhaps he had begun looking at metaphors.

The light in the room was turned off and every window covered with dark sheets, after which the technicians set about spraying luminol on Veda’s clothes.

Pavil had found the evidence he’d been looking for.

He didn’t need to search the toolbox thoroughly to find a saw, which almost accurately matched the supposed weapon at the crime scene, but there wasn’t just one saw. There were almost a dozen of the exact same description and each one was collected. 

Interestingly, or rather morbidly, depends on how one sees it, one saw had some reddish brown stains, that could be wood polish, but were hopefully blood.

Veda and Nehar vanquished and depressed sat alone in the dark cold study when Khar came in to inform they were leaving.

Nehar got up unceremoniously and cast an eye towards the departing team of hell raisers who had successfully torn her house apart.

She hated each and every one of those men and women who thought it appropriate to trample on the pristine sanctity of her home and turn it into a nightmarish dwelling.

There wasn’t a murderer living in this house. A liar perhaps, but Veda was no murderer.

She resented her husband for lying to her, for keeping things from her, for putting himself through all this.

There would be no evidence, of that she was sure, but even her confidence dwindled when she saw boxes of so-called evidence collected.

What was in it? There were clothes, of that she knew. They’d perhaps analyze traces of blood if any, but why all the tools from his shed?

What did Veda do? What wasn’t he telling her? 

She saw Pavil staring at her like a puppy. He was an easy man to confuse, and how fun had it been to mess with his mind. She was a woman of charms, she knew that and one has to keep these charms honed, and what better target practice that a gullible man, who drinks in every word you utter, hangs about every smile, breathes in every whiff, but right now she couldn’t be bothered.

The distant voice asking her leave manifested itself in a dry heavy tone. A beautiful voice, so many layers to it, disarming and alarming at the same time. Her ear that had been ringing the past couple days, ever since she saw Pavil take Veda’s DNA swab now tuned to Khar’s voice.

‘We’ll be leaving’ he was saying.

Nehar didn’t care a wit whether they left or stayed. She brought out a thin peacock coloured cigarette and lit it. 

A sudden shift in Khar’s expression nearly startled her, but then he was his regular dispassionate self again and she blew out a dense fog of clove-flavoured smoke.

She noted Pavil staring at her with his mouth almost hanging open and felt annoyed at his expressions.

Nehar wanted to cry at this moment but reserved that emotion for a  lonelier moment.

‘What on earth’ Pavil murmured as they sat in the car.

Khar adjusted his side view mirror and saw Nehar talk on her phone. She was crying and spoke in between sobs.

He couldn’t make out much of what she spoke, but one word that she mouthed made it absolutely clear as to who the person on the other end was.

It was Jumaid.

The scent that lingers - 18

Read Part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

Read Part 3 - here

Read Part 4 - here

Read Part 5 - here

Read Part 6 - here

Read part 7 - here
Read Part 8 - here 
Read Part 9 - here
Read part 10- here
Read part 11- here 
Read part 12- here
Read part 13 -here
Read part 14 -here
Read part 15 -here
Read part 16 -here
Read part 17 -here

---

Pavil couldn’t bring himself to believe how easy this entire episode had been. There had been no hyperactive discussions or overheated arguments that he’d prepared himself for; not that he was disappointed, just nonplussed at Veda’s acquiescence. He didn’t dispute the photographs, had no alibi, and didn’t squabble over DNA collection either.

Now, this raised one too many questions in his head.

Was he confident that there’d be no DNA match or did he just give up?

Perhaps he was aware of the affair between Nehar and Jumaid and had known the consequences or perhaps he just didn’t care.

Didn’t the gravity of this situation seep into him?

Perhaps they were close to solving the mystery and though Pavil felt a pang of pity for the rather graceful Veda he allowed himself a smile ton being closer to truth, however, such assurance as he felt burgeoning inside of him slowly lost all steam because Khar’s grim face was less than sanguine, which had appeared almost halfway optimistic en route Sinhal residence, but shortly after their conversation with Mr Veda Sinhal Khar appeared not quite as sure of this theory.

Pavil hoped it was due to the DNA report which the forensics had finally delivered.

The only evidence found at the crime scene were those of three cigarette butts apart from a broken phone and their DNA results were almost what they’d expected, though not entirely.

All the cigarette butts, three in total had only Majid and Tejan’s DNA present. The killer hadn’t left a cigarette butt, at least not on the crime scene, though the ash residue in the phone’s battery compartment had confirmed that the killer smoked similar cigarettes.

Khar’s gaze, as he flipped through the pages of the file, had appeared murderous. He'd hoped that the DNA evidence would help some with implicating Veda if he did kill Majid, but how would they ever make a confirmed arrest now.

Even if circumstantial evidence pointed towards Veda, there was no incriminating proof and without that, there could be no arrest. 

Was Veda Sinhal somehow aware that the police would be confounded? Was it mere chance that the DNA report conveniently exonerated him the very day that he was almost accused of the crimes?

He was, after all, a top-notch politician.

No! Khar wouldn’t let himself down the dark alleys of malignant suspicions cloud his reasoning, but then again, why did Veda not plead innocence nor give an alibi. He isn’t above the law, or is he?

 A small voice inside of him nagged to look in deeper. It’d begun screaming the moment Veda agreed to a DNA analysis and search warrant. He didn’t have an alibi or maybe he didn’t want to disclose it.

Pavil could have interrupted Khar’s reverie had it not been for the sinewy ridges of obvious muscles visible from under his sweater and so he did what he’d learnt in all these days of nearly living with Khar.

Pavil poured him some tea from his flask and sure enough, Khar’s sullen gaze morphed into a dispassionate one. He looked over at Pavil with kind eyes and almost smiled.

‘There was something Dr Chattur had told me’ Khar resumed his brooding stance 

‘He’d asked to bring in suspects’ clothes for questioning, at least the clothes he wore that Sunday’

‘What? oh. ah!’

Pavil was to accompany the forensics team that would collect Mr Veda’s DNA sample. It wasn’t as much as a team as a diminutive man who resembled a goat. 

He wore wiry spectacles high on his nose and walked hunched. A side effect, Pavil thought, of sitting in labs too long.

This was one of the many visits Pavil would be making to this beautiful large house. There’d soon be a search warrant and he knew exactly what he wished to retrieve from the shed and Veda’s wardrobe.

He didn’t understand the point to the collection of this sample since there was no other DNA present at the crime scene save that of the two children, but it could be useful for future references.

And what if there was no one other than the two children? One who died, and one who lives. 

But that’s ridiculous. Children are not that vicious, but then again, what did he know of children?

Nehar wasn’t home yet, it’d been a few hours since their last meeting with Veda who looked and sat composed while the DNA swabs were taken and carefully packed. 

Pavil wished for something fantastical like an on the spot confession from Veda, because as mysteries go, this was turning out to be rather anticlimactic, but what was he expecting?

Exploding helicopters wasn’t much befitting this scenario, even so, he hoped for some jitteriness, some resentful noises, a plead for innocence or even threat, but the goat-like bespectacled man was done with his work in less than ten minutes, after which Mr Veda retired to his workstation, and though his face never betrayed tribulation, his back as he walked was that of a defeated man. 

He looked broken, his polished nuances steadily depleting with every step and Pavil realized someone staring at him.

He turned back with a start because that hot gaze was burning holes through his skull and saw Nehar, looking impossibly beautiful.

Her long flouncy hair, shining a coffee hue of gleaming richness as the sunlight caught her in places that could shatter a heart. 

She was a portrait of perfection.

Her smile, however, was amiss, and she was silently taking note of her husband's disheartened visage before he disappeared into his carpentry workplace.

‘What happened?’ Her lilting voice was raspy.

‘Uh..Mrs Sinhal. I’m afraid there’s some terrible news’ Pavil looked for words that might hurt less.

She had shifted glances and now looked at the hunched technician from the forensics.

‘What’s going on?’ Her voice was alarmed.

‘We suspect, well, it's purely circumstantial..err’ Pavil stuttered

Nehar’s eyes had widened and a visible moisture had begun threading them a heartless red.

‘It’s just routine. There’s been no arrest. We’ll get a search warrant, err, he has no alibi for that day, and uh, some other evidence corresponds to his presence at the crime scene on Sunday November 13th’

‘No no no no. This is all wrong. You’re out of your mind. He wasn’t even here. He was traveling’ she cried.

Pavil found himself growing a foot smaller each second and hoped he could turn into a fly and buzz away. 

He looked at the forensics technician who had by now walked towards their car and sat quietly.

‘It’s just procedure, Nehar’ 

At this, she broke down and her beautiful dew kissed face contorted into a painful picture of lamentations. She drew back her lips and shut her eyes, and rained tears.

When was the last time Pavil felt so heartbroken?

He wanted to flow towards her, collect her in his arms, stroke her luxurious hair and tell her it would be fine, though it wouldn’t be. 

If there was evidence then nothing would ever be fine for them.

Pavil watched Nehar walk towards her husband's hobby shed and a few heartbeats later he left.

The scent that lingers- 17

Read Part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

Read Part 3 - here

Read Part 4 - here

Read Part 5 - here

Read Part 6 - here

Read part 7 - here
Read Part 8 - here 
Read Part 9 - here
Read part 10- here
Read part 11- here 
Read part 12- here
Read part 13 -here
Read part 14 -here
Read part 15 -here
Read part 16 -here

---

That this day would soon be chasing them on its heels was something Khar had apprehensively predicted in his head and deferred its foreboding consequences day after day until it reached its tipping point.

It was inevitable, he knew and had in some ways prepared for it, but that it could be so violently glaring in its raw form was inconceivable.

It had been two weeks since Majid’s murder, even the news reporters and television channels had found new fodder to exploit, but that didn’t change the fact that the murder was unsolved still, a child’s death in his own school, A mystery most mystifying, was how some horrendous news channels alliterated this crime and it had perhaps stopped being that mystifying ever since Khar spoke to Mr Veda’s driver.

The motive was unclear, but what Pavil had spoken about revenge wasn’t nearly that far fetched.

Khar, in his almost two decades in the force, had seen murders with far more vague motives or far lesser intense reasons, but now that a child was involved it’d made matters grotesquely disturbing. 

It was almost bloodthirsty this murder, and worse was the fact that Khar had instead of keeping lids closed on any scandals managed to rip open a can of worms that infected his reasoning.

What does one say of scandals, except they’re a bit like spring.. Their potential energy to snap back with extraordinary force and turn into an even more exaggerated version of their previous self is notable.

Khar had often noticed Pavil’s visible perplexity at his presence in this case, at least he was openly confused about it the first couple days, and it was odd indeed. 

What was a senior investigating officer from the Central Bureau of Investigation doing getting involved in the preliminary murder investigation that took place in a small town? Yes, what was Khar doing was the question he’d often asked himself, and he knew the answer.

He’d been expressly appointed by the head of his department to help guide the police of this town in a child’s murder; this small town which was a rather large constituency of a top-notch politician. 

The government pulled all the strings, the department owes the government and so does an officer, who was sent to keep matters hushed, to keep media from prying. 

This small town that almost belonged to Veda Sinhal was not to be associated with any more negative connotations.

He was an important prop for the Government who didn’t want his name conjoined with a town that was privy to such odious ongoings and it was now Khar’s job to keep matters top secret, to keep information from leaking to the press, to quietly investigate and solve the mystery and find the murderer before regaling the success of another solved murder case.

This case with rather sad undertones had now taken over an almost whimsical hue, ironic even, when the man whose esteemed reputation was at risk of being infected with the repugnant occurrence of a child murder in his very own town  , was the very man who was going to be dragged into swampy waters, and with good reason.

If he was indeed the man behind Majid’s murder, then he’d need saving..from Khar

There was something of a quake in Pavil’s demeanour as they walked towards the Sinhal residence. 

The entire journey to their house from office had done little to uplift his morale.

Khar had been acutely grave, more than his usual self and painfully quiet.

It was nearing the end of the month, the winters had broadcasted their hawkish temperament and fastidiously clung to it.

Pavil had unsuccessfully ignored Nehar’s thoughts and as much as he dreaded meeting her today, the nervous knots in his stomach alerted him to the contrary.  

There was another thought, lodged like a barbed wire in the soft flesh at the back of his head; that of Veda Sinhal.

What if he did have an alibi? what then?

This whole investigation for nothing?

They’d reach the edge of the cliff, the only step forward was plunging into the depth of deciphering this mystery, they couldn't retrace their steps backwards anymore, and if they did, where would they go?

What else was left to explore?

Pavil found his reasonings and arguments that pointed his every intuition towards Veda as the killer weakening had it not been for Khar's steady gaze that pierced like a drill through an iron armour.

‘Something stinks’ he sniffed.

‘It’s probably my new cologne’ Pavil replied sheepishly

‘Nehar isn’t home’ Khar almost rolled his eyes.

Pavil’s face blanched and coloured at the same time 

They found Veda Sinhal blowing a cloud of cinnamon smoke.

He was sitting under one of those fancy gazebo’s that liberally dotted their elegant garden.

An ornamental table overworked with delicious tea accoutrements and an expensive looking teapot indicated that he had been expecting them with fortified winter artillery.

‘Care for some tea?’ Veda, the ever wondrous host asked in that elegant voice of his, all too easy on the ears.

He looked stately in his weather appropriate clothing, graceful even in the way he sat and carried himself.

As large a man that he was, there was everything a bit majestic and dignified about him. 

Pavil couldn’t imagine him drinking tea out of the styrofoam cups in their office. It hurt him to think that no other man could be as fitting as Veda to stand beside Nehar. What she saw in Jumaid was beyond his comprehension, but these were thoughts best kept locked inside his head.

Veda was talking about the virtues of tea on a wintery afternoon, when Khar, in his usual steel cold inflection interrupted him. 

‘Mr Sinhal there’s something important we’d like to ask you’ he said

‘Ah!’ Veda considerately folded his hands on his knees and sat attentively.

‘Go on then dear friends, and after that perhaps we could have something to warm us up’ he conjured a thin peacock coloured cigarette from the recesses of his coat pocket and lit it.

Khar’s deep-throated flat voice didn’t budge a wink ‘Where were you, on the afternoon of Sunday, November 13th?

Veda barely flinched ‘I told you, and correct me if I hadn’t’ he smiled ‘that I was in a meeting out of town. I’d left at five in the morning and returned at..’ 

‘at two thirty’ Khar announced

At this Veda Sinhal visibly trembled. His sudden anxiousness depicted in the way he stuck his cigarette to his mouth and looked away while inhaling deep.

Veda’s graceful mien was shaken into that of a guilty child.

‘That’s preposterous’ he tried gathering his smile that seemed jittery.

Khar’s smile, on the other hand, was inhumanly confident.

He pulled out a few photographs from a large envelope. They were grainy on their best day, but clear enough to approximate that image as that of Veda’s. The date and time printed on the image corresponded to his guilt and the large elegant man were suddenly quiet.

‘Well’ Khar resumed in his stony voice. ‘If you have an alibi, then please let us know, or we might have to come back with a search warrant’

Veda didn’t speak. He continued to look fixedly at the ornamental table.

‘You can call for a lawyer’

‘There’s no need for that’ Veda’s voice was small and hurt.

‘If there’s something you'd like to tell us’ Khar spoke softly.

‘No! there’s nothing’ Veda said and looked at Khar.

Khar understood what the diplomat was mutely asking. ‘No one knows of this yet, but if we have further evidence then your arrest will not be a secret’ 

‘I have nothing to say’ Veda muttered in a voice thick with unshed tears.

‘In that case, we will have a search warrant issued and I’ll be back shortly with someone from the forensics to take your DNA sample. Do you agree to that Mr Sinhal?’ Khar asked coldly.

‘Yes’ Veda hid his face behind his large hands.

The scent that lingers- 16

Read Part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

Read Part 3 - here

Read Part 4 - here

Read Part 5 - here

Read Part 6 - here

Read part 7 - here
Read Part 8 - here 
Read Part 9 - here
Read part 10- here
Read part 11- here 
Read part 12- here
Read part 13 -here
Read part 14 -here
Read part 15 -here

--

He tried picturing the entire scenario as it must have happened on Sunday. Jumaid and Nehar discreetly having a fight, perhaps a lovers tiff or maybe something more, who knew? save them of course. 

Jumaid’s alibi was established; he was in Wok Fusion and if he’d left around three, then according to Meina Wasim’s statement he must’ve reached home around four, but what if he didn’t go back home? 

But where else would he go? 

And what about those cigarettes? those quaint extraordinary spice spiked smokes that apparently Jumaid smoked as well. What were they doing at the crime scene? 

How many people in this town smoked those idiotic cigarettes?

Pavil dug his fingertips into his temples, trying to assuage the rising indignation that threatened to boil over.

The parking lot was desolate, save a few bicycles chained to a fence. 

The blossoming dark tinted with sepia was marvellous at colouring the horizon calamitous. 

Something about the backside of stores that offer the surroundings a devastating loneliness, favourably placed in case of transgressions. 

He pulled out his little notebook and began scribbling. 

It was with a start that Pavil realized he’d reached his office, when in fact he didn’t even remember getting in his car. 

He’d been full of sighs today, a trait that had suddenly begun making itself aware, which he didn’t much like.

Seeing Khar’s car brightened him if only a little.

Khar seemed to be peeking behind from a small pile of files and papers that populated his table. 

‘What news?’ Khar asked, somewhat unusually.

If Pavil didn’t know better, he’d venture a guess that Khar’s voice was almost jubilant.

Pavil cleared his throat ‘Jumaid’s alibi checks out’ he said somewhat morosely.

Khar was diligently immersed in a file, not even looking up. ‘And?’

‘And, well, huh’ Pavil paused.

‘Turns out he met Nehar Sinhal there, and they had some sort of an argument’

‘What kind of argument?’ Khar’s asked with an invisible smile.

Does he mock me? 

‘I don’t know. Something of a lover’s tiff. There was a bit of crying and hugging involved’ he said flatly.

At this Khar looked up and searched Pavil’s face.

‘Does it bother you?’ he asked.

‘Not at all.’

‘Good. What do you make of it?’

‘That they were having an affair’ Pavil whispered.

He waited a few long moments to steady his heart at the thought and mention of Nehar’s name and rebuked himself quietly.

‘There’s fresh tea in the flask’ Khar said motioning for him to sit down.

‘I’ve gathered some interesting news from my visit to the airport, though not quite as interesting as yours’ Khar’s inflection was vacant.

‘The head of airport security is a dear friend and maybe he did break some protocols but nothing remotely illegal.’ Khar continued even toned.

‘Long story short’ he said flinging a thin file on the desk ‘Mr Veda Sinhal lied to our faces that day’

Pavil managed to burn the roof of his mouth with an enthusiastic sip.

The spaces left in the flowchart were suddenly filling up, with considerable speed, deeply satisfying as it was, there was a loud ringing cautionary alarm that had slowly picked up the volume and now blared in Pavil’s head.

‘He left for the airport at five in the morning, like he’d said, but didn’t come back at six thirty. In fact, he’d landed around two thirty and left in a taxi’ Khar breathed in deep.

‘So that phone call he made to the driver..’ Khar left his sentence unfinished 

‘Was not made from the airport’ Pavil finished it. ‘He lied that he’d landed at another terminal because the driver wouldn’t have found him at the designated pick up point’ Pavil cried with excitement. He’d have smacked at the desk had it not threatened to topple over stacked files.

Khar was smiling, or whatever it was that he did with his lips, that resembled a smile.

‘So the big question is’ Khar resumed his stony tone ‘where was Mr Veda Sinhal?’

‘Well, he wasn’t home until eight in the evening according to Nehar..uh..Mrs Sinhal’s statements, as well as Veda’s’ Pavil, said 

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Pavil shot Khar a knowing glance.

‘I do not divulge my preliminary thoughts’

Pavil was still deciding whether he should divulge his preliminary thoughts when a small knock on the door broke his spell.

The digital forensics lab had delivered their report and it was with the frenzy of a five-year-old ripping into his presents that the two policemen poured themselves into that detailed report that miracles of science had spawned.

‘Traces of cigarette ash found in the battery compartment’ Pavil quipped, snapping his fingers.

The sickening sweat laden cold he’d been feeling since his conversation with the waiter at Wok Fusion was replaced by an enthusiastic fever he now welcomed with a private song and dance. 

The menagerie of meagre dots that were strewn all over the place was finally connecting, merging into a cohesive structure, creating a map that could now guide them, help them come close to the truth, find the man behind the gruesome murder.

‘what does this mean?’ Pavil calmed himself, finally managing to speak.

‘It means’ Khar said in his low toned steely voice, ‘that whoever murdered Majid, broke the phone while still smoking a cigarette’ 

‘Clove oil residual present in the traces of ash’ Khar quoted the report. ’Our killer was smoking those colourful cigarettes while dismantling the phone it seems.’

‘That bastard’ Pavil muttered.

It bothered Khar to think that the murderer was absolutely unanxious.

‘do you know what I think?’ Pavil asked, still excited.

‘I do. But I don’t want to know, and before you say anything you need to know of a motive. There has to be a motive’ Khar intoned.

‘There is a motive. Revenge!’ Pavil shrugged.

Khar was quiet and Pavil continued.

‘Nehar..uh..Mrs Sinhal and Jumaid were known to each other not just as friends and clearly, Mr Sinhal resented that.’ he said confidently.

‘so?’

‘So! Mr Veda seized his opportunity and killed Majid, to take revenge, as a warning perhaps to the adulterers’ 

‘A little extreme don’t you think?’ Khar asked.

‘Not in the least. Why else would Mr Veda have lied to us about his whereabouts that day? He doesn’t have an alibi, but he has a saw.’

‘That’s not enough’ Khar shook his head.

‘That’s circumstantial evidence’ Pavil cried

‘Not until he has an alibi. Find out when he’s available. Perhaps we should pay him another visit.’ Khar said coldly.

The sudden thought of meeting Nehar plunged Pavil into a dark alley of discombobulated emotions. The butterflies in his stomach that were till now fluttering with enthusiasm of having come close to finding the murderer were ablaze with volcanic fury, and he felt his stomach lurch

Ensnared as he was in this mindless confusion he  realized he’d forgotten to tell Khar about Jumaid’s habit of smoking spicy cigarettes. 

Perhaps, at this point it didn’t matter.

The scent that lingers - 15

Read Part 1 - here

Read Part 2 - here

Read Part 3 - here

Read Part 4 - here

Read Part 5 - here

Read Part 6 - here

Read part 7 - here
Read Part 8 - here 
Read Part 9 - here
Read part 10- here
Read part 11- here 
Read part 12- here
Read part 13 -here
Read part 14 -here

--

It could have been the fact that he was far too intensely enmeshed in the investigation or perhaps the effects of sudden weather transmutation, but finding himself deviating from the normal everyday office to work straight-line, Pavil felt refreshed as he welcomed the icy caress of incoming winters.

The bustling cheeriness burgeoning with an unbothered calmness served as a placebo that moment when for a passing second he believed that perhaps all was well with the world, but the brightness of these thoughts reached no fruition. 

The light was malignantly devoured with the truth of the reason he was present at city centre that evening, the truth of a shocking crime which was yet to be unearthed.

It was with these thoughts that Pavil found himself facing ‘Wok Fusion’, a generic Asian restaurant that was supposed to serve as Jumaid Wasim’s alibi for that bloody day.

It was an all-encompassing Asian food restaurant that though not the most fashionable place was madly frequented, especially during dinner times, when they catered to a large species of buffet loving animals, not excluding Pavil.

He’d often come to this restaurant for dinner; run by a close-knit family of hardworking men and women, Asian Wok had turned into a sort of landmark known for efficient service and good food at the heart of city centre, touching walls with a popular supermarket, the only supermarket in that tiny town.

It wasn’t particularly large which always gave it the illusion of being full, and at that time when Pavil walked in, at five in the evening it was almost empty.

Nothing surprising, since only a few hours later there’d be a considerably long line fashioning itself in a serpentine coil outside.

The preparations for the nightly buffet were on, and if pavil’s nose served him correct he could smell the crisp aroma of fresh spring rolls stepping out of a fryer.

Pavil tried to avoid listening to his rumbling stomach and made towards the cashier counter, behind which sat a rather heavy set woman whom he knew as the owner of Wok fusion.

A smile of immediate recognition and casual acquaintance brightened her face. She knew him as a policeman who often frequented her restaurant and is there ever any harm in knowing a man with the rights to possess and wield a gun.

After a few polite exchanges about the weather, business and government policies Pavil came straight to the point. 

‘Do you know a Mr Wasim?’

The woman agreeably nodded ‘yes’ 

‘would you by any chance remember if he was in this restaurant on Sunday, November 13th?’

‘hmm,’ she appeared thoughtful. ‘I can’t tell offhand, but if he ate here and paid with his card then I can run the computer and check the invoice’ Her eyes suddenly brightened with curiosity. ‘Why? has something happened’ she asked leaning towards Pavil.

It could be that he didn’t like being questioned or that he’d let Khar’s stolidity steep into him, for at the moment he drew himself straight and perhaps he overdid it because the woman hastily sat back and anxiously began typing on the computer.

It works. He thought.

‘Yes, he was here. Would you like to know what he ate?’ she asked raising an eyebrow.

Pavil was determined in his sternness. ‘No, I’d just like to talk to someone who served him’

‘Well, we have only three servers. I’ll send them to you’

After a few brief questions, Pavil found the one server who had attended Jumaid Wasim.

‘We’re almost empty on Sunday afternoons, and the few people who do come in are those who want to kill time or just want a snack. It’s during evening that we are mostly full’ 

‘What time did he come in?’

The gangly man who almost looked like a thinner version of the woman behind the cashier counter was scratching his face looking at the ceiling. ‘It was empty so it must have been around one or two in the afternoon’ he said.

‘No wait, it was one, around one’ a flash of cognizance widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows almost to his temple. ‘It was just after the breakfast rush that ends immediately around noon, after which our kitchen is closed until dinner, and he came to eat lunch. I know Jumaid well, actually. I mean he often eats here.’ he said smiling. 

‘Alright’ Pavil found some parts in him relaxing, 'till what time was he here?’

The thin man undid his apron and stared at the ceiling again. ‘Hmm,’ he muttered thoughtfully ‘yes, he had some snacks and drank coffee, and I think he was just killing time here. I’d sat with him for some time but he wasn’t in a chatty mood. We had a smoke together’ 

‘Oh, does he smoke?’ Pavil was surprised 

‘yeah, yeah. Those really dainty ones too, you know? those blue coloured long ones that women like. Smell like Christmas cakes, don’t you know?’ 

‘Ah’ Pavil restrained his excitement, His mind in an overdrive.

‘Yeah, then he just sat around, talked some, and then some woman came in to meet him’ The skinny server scratched at his beard again.

‘Wh..what woman? Pavil’s voice almost squeaked.

‘Don’t know man. Some lady sort. Not the kinds who wear jeans, but suits and pearls sort of’ he replied honestly. ‘Must have been his wife, because they left together’

A burning fury was swelling in the pit of Pavil’s stomach. ‘Anything else?’ 

‘No..oh yeah. I think she was his wife because I saw them fighting in the parking lot.’ 

The skinny man, who worked as a waiter in Wok fusion, had no idea what his innocent observations which he spoke with such frank forthrightness were doing to the policeman in front.

Pavil wanted to punch this sweet man who’d been privy to such a private moment in Nehar’s life if it was Nehar. 

Many women wear pearls, don’t they?

He wanted to ask this sincere, almost childlike man if he happened to know how beautiful she was. Did he drink in her intoxicating perfume? Of course, he didn’t, and so Pavil persevered.

‘Yeah’ the waiter continued 

‘I’d gone out to take a break and the only place you can smoke around here is the parking lot, at the back of the superstore. They were almost hidden behind a car, but I think Jumaid was trying to embrace her, only she wouldn’t have any of it’ 

‘oh, ok, aha’ Pavil tried sounding official, wishing in his heart that this man would stop talking.

‘yeah, yeah’ the thin waiter had been suffering from something that was exactly the opposite of amnesia.

‘She was crying and pushing him away. The lady looked distressed.’

‘ok’

‘yeah, but I felt like I was intruding, you know, and went back to the kitchen’

‘OK, did Jumaid come back in after that?’ Pavil inquired.

‘No. He’d left’

‘And around what time would you say that he left?’ Pavil asked

‘hmm,’ he stared at the ceiling again.

‘Can’t say for sure, but probably around three’

Pavil waited for the waiter to suddenly remember everything again, but he started tying his apron and sincerely smiled.

‘Ah. thanks, friend’ Pavil sighed.

‘Anytime man’ and the thin man disappeared behind a door.

It would have hurt less if there were spikes drilling through his heart. Pavil berated himself for such childish feelings, for mixing emotions in a murder investigation. But she’d cried. Why did she cry? He hated Jumaid with a silent burn and made towards the parking lot.