The scent that lingers - 14

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

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Meina Wasim had stared intently at her styrofoam cup of tea, the dark circles that studded her deathly pale face gave the appearance of a skull, twin hollowed out eye sockets alive with pain and remorse.

She drew in a sharp breath but just as she was about to speak Jumaid started talking. ‘What.. what happened on Sunday?’ he sputtered ‘my son died on Sunday,murdered in cold blood and you fine people still haven’t found the killer. That’s what happened on Sunday'

Pavil shot him a look, but Jumaid seemed remorseless, even though his words cut through Meina like a knife who silently flinched and kept her gaze locked on the styrofoam cup.

‘That was an unfortunate incident we are currently investigating’ Pavil said tersely ‘and if you’re not going to cooperate it will take longer. There are some more reports from forensics we are expecting, and these things take time. There’s a procedure’ his voice had risen and he could feel the heat of his words, they wanted to surge into something angrier.

‘Why don’t you tell us right from the start’ he said regaining his composure ‘What time did Majid leave for school on Sunday, Mr Wasim?’ 

‘8:30’ Meina Wasim’s throat seems to almost squeeze out that ragged voice.

‘Mrs Sinhal came to pick him up.’

Meina’s dead-eyed face invisibly sneered at that name the same time that Pavil’s eyes flickered into a bright shine, and he noticed her noticing it, just as she saw him witnessing that momentary flinch.

In that minuscule moment, Pavil suddenly knew her a little more.

‘Yes, yes’ Jumaid chimed in, not wanting to be left out. He had a rather high voice, that somehow didn’t match his stereotypically manly features. ‘he left with Nehar..er.Mrs Sinhal’ he said hesitantly. ‘And after that’ he resumed ‘we don’t know anything. I mean, you know the rest’ 

‘What did you do that morning after Majid had left for school?’ Khar quietly asked. He had taken off his coat and his shoulders seemed more mountainous than usual from under his grey sweater. 

Pavil saw Jumaid blinking rapidly. 

‘It was Sunday’ he said ‘so we breakfasted, watched the news, did some chores’ Jumaid smiled nervously.

‘and afternoon?’ Khar interrupted.

‘Uh..I ..er..I think I went out to lunch’ Jumaid stuttered. 

“alone?’ he asked surprised 

‘Yes,’ Meina whispered. 

Khar looked over at her, waiting for her to talk.

‘He often goes to eat at a restaurant in the city centre’ Meina’s words sounded broken. ‘He left in the afternoon and returned sometime around four in the evening’ she continued.

‘And what about you?’ Khar asked her matter of factly.

‘Nothing, I was home. My cousin had come over that afternoon’ and Meina quickly scribbled the name and number of her cousin on the notebook Pavil had extended towards her.

‘And what restaurant did you lunch at Mr Wasim?’ Khar’s tone was wooden as usual.

‘Uh..it’s the Asian restaurant next to the supermarket. “Wok fusion”’ Jumaid said silently.

‘Mrs Wasim,’ Khar looked at Meina ‘how would you describe your friendship with the Sinhals?’

A sneer blanketed her haggard face, she slowly turned to look at Jumaid and said ‘They were not my friends, though Mrs Sinhal was quite well known to my husband. But I’m grateful to them, for often inviting us and letting Majid stay over at their house’. She broke into wordless sobs at taking her son’s name.

Jumaid’s face had drained of all blood and suddenly looked guilty. He wanted to clarify but had no the words, but Khar didn’t look at him for any explanation. He was still looking at Meina, waiting for her to resume. 

‘Majid, you see’ she muttered slowly ‘was difficult. We were having some problems with his behavior, and he was seeing a therapist as well, so it was nice to know that he had a friend at his side, and his parents were kind to him.’ she wiped her tears and fell silent.

Khar turned to look at Jumaid who spoke unblinking ‘We were just acquaintances, believe me. It’s..well..uh.. nice knowing an important family like theirs’ he quickly gulped ‘but nothing more than that.  Mrs Sinhal is a kind, caring woman, associated with important organizations and I only know her because of that. She often discussed Majid’s behavioral problems, that’s all’ he tried holding Meina’s hand, but she recoiled at his touch.

Meina stood up to leave. She looked exhausted, her anemic face was lit up with unspoken rage. 

Pavil felt his stomach lurch at Meina’s recent words. She had sarcastically implied, perhaps accused Nehar of being involved with Jumaid, and this thought though almost unbearable to Pavil was not impossible. 

Nehar was a desirable woman who could have any man she wanted and no man could ever turn her down, nor did they have any right to.

‘There’s another thing I’ve been meaning to ask’ Khar leaned on his chair ‘regarding the phone Majid carried On Sunday’ 

It was an involuntary movement, but one that was perfectly synchronized, that of Meina and Jumaid turning to look at each other almost startled.

They forgot to rehearse for this question. Pavil smiled inwardly.

‘Uh..it was my phone’ Jumaid admitted ‘but I often let him have it’ he said apologetically 

Khar said nothing for a few long moments, letting Jumaid’s last sentence hover between them ‘Thank you’ he finally said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss and the trouble we’ve put you through, but we’ll get to the bottom of this’ his concern was genuine and Majid’s parents left, empty handed.

‘Pavil, I need you to go to Wok Fusion and find out everything you possibly can’

‘you’re not coming?’ Pavil asked surprised.

‘No’ Khar picked up his coat. ‘I’m going to the airport.’

‘Thank you’ Jumaid quietly looked at his wife, trying to hold her hand.

‘Don’t thank me’ Meina’s voice was hoarse ‘I lied not for you, but for me.’

Jumaid’s moist eyes had softened his features ‘I wish things were different. I wish I could tell you’ he said sadly.

‘I already know’ she shrugged and Jumaid saw after all these days, his neglect that she wore like a uniform. Her frayed mien was so unlike the woman he had known and perhaps even loved in some way. 

Their only connection binding them together was severed and yet there was some relief in his heart, which he couldn’t admit, at least not to her.