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

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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.