The scent that lingers -32

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--

Meina saw him peering inside the car. She did not see him come in, but then she hadn’t been noticing a lot of things.

The gate was open, not because Khar had opened it, but because she’d forgotten to latch it. 

The bulky looking police officer, with the kindest eyes and strangely handsome face looked like he was strolling around their garage.

She didn’t mind it, not at all because she quite liked talking to him. He had few words to speak of and even fewer expressions to clothe his face, but it was this grimness that set him aside from the frivolous men she usually met, especially Jumaid and those others he often befriended

It had been long, far too long for the police to come up clueless about her son’s murder and she resented everyone for it, Jumaid especially who had taken to calming down almost immediately; in fact everyone around her who addressed her with a sympathetic tone instead of an understanding empathy seemed inimical in their chosen words of fake remorse and even took to avoiding her.

She’d seen her neighbours change streets the other day, just because they’d run out of consoling words, when in fact she wasn’t looking for consolation. People had forgotten to behave normally around her. They were either sorry for her loss or too fidgety to make any conversation even as bland as weather, which is why she didn’t mind Khar’s limited conversation that never lacked in compassion and his sudden presence in her house almost brightened her.

Their car was parked in a small garage next to the garden where she’d been watering plants and it seemed like he’d strolled in while she wasn’t looking.

‘Did you find it?’ she asked walking up to Khar who’d been steadily peering inside the car.

The fact that he didn’t startle, not even batting an eyelid was indication enough that Meina’s glances had been noticed and she felt a flush rising to her face. 

‘Uh, I didn’t see you come in the house.’ she said awkwardly.

‘I didn’t mean to alarm you, nor make a grand entry.’

She looked past his detached answer. ‘Are you looking for something in the car?’

‘yes, I was just noticing how new its interiors look, though the car isn’t as new.’

‘Oh, yes. I think Jumaid got some work done.’

Khar looked at some empty boxes piled haphazardly near the porch. 

‘Uh, those are for me. I’ll be moving out of here soon.’ she sneered sadly ‘Jumaid is actually looking forward to it. Can’t blame him, because I am too.’

‘You seem to be taking good care of the plants even though you’re bound to leave.’ he said eyeing the watering pipe.

Meina followed his gaze ‘those are my plants. I’ll be taking them with me. I’ve to start potting them soon.’ She exhaled a long breath. ‘It’ll be tedious but it’s fine.  I’ve been tending them for a while and there isn’t much in my life to take care of.’ 

Meina realized how for the first time she didn’t burst into tears at this thought. She had missed her son every day, but he was soon turning into a memory. There was no denying this truth now and the reality didn’t sting as much.

Khar seemed to chew on those words for a few heartbeats and looked around at some juvenile trees which seems too strong to uproot and transport.

‘and what about these trees?’

‘oh these’ she said eyeing her birch tree. ‘I’ll take a few cuttings of all those that I can, and plant them. Mostly they end up growing, especially these flowers’ she said pointing towards generic looking pink flowers which she called azaleas. ‘I’ll pot their cuttings and they’ll grow. Of course, there’s a method to make the cuts.’ Meina wanted to explain at length how plant stems send new roots from stem nodes, but Khar looked distracted. 

‘How do you make these cuttings exactly?’ he spoke at length.

Meina searched his face to understand the gravity of his question. Was he being frivolous with her or did he seriously intend on knowing a bit of gardening?

‘With some scissors’ she picked up a pair of strong looking scissors and handed them to Khar. They looked strong but not nearly large enough to enable cutting thicker stems. ‘Do these come in different sizes too?’ he asked without masking his curiosity.

‘In a number of different sizes, and I have quite a few.’ she said with some pride.

‘What if you want to cut a really thick branch?’ Khar asked.

Meina was puzzled. ‘If I want to cut a really thick branch? You mean If I want to prune trees?’ 

‘Okay,’ Khar scratched his head. ‘Let’s say you want to prune or trim a tree, what then?’

‘Uh, I..well. I cut off the branches and give them a shape, not cutting too short though’ She wanted to show him the young tree she had been working on a few months ago, though now as she looked at its indiscriminate overgrowth she realized how long it had stood neglected. 

‘I mean how do you go about trimming it? with larger scissors?’ Khar asked inquisitively.

‘Sometimes’ Meina answered knowingly. ‘Though sometimes when the branches are thicker and its almost overwhelming it's just easier to saw them.’ 

A flurry of thin fever ran through Khar in reverberating shivers. He didn’t want to exhibit the febrile surprise rising on his face lest the grieving woman be alarmed but he could feel his heart pounding with an echo that he felt throbbing in his palms. 

‘What kind of saw?’ Khar asked masking his agitation.

Meina was pleasantly surprised. There weren’t many people she knew who showed such keen interest in her hobby.

‘A pruning saw.’ she hurried to the back of her garage and came back with what looked by all accounts a rather large saw.

Khar held his breath as he slowly held it. It was almost twelve inches long, with a one-inch blade that was blunt at the tip. He checked the grip which was slightly curved, affording an easy hold and firm grasp and the razor-edged teeth to this saw were menacing. They could cut through thick stems, they could cut through clothing, flesh and all that stood in its way.

The only thing Khar disliked about this particular saw was that it almost seemed new.

‘How old would you say this saw is?’ He quietly asked her.

‘Oh this is brand new.’ Meina said blinking, trying to understand Khar’s obvious interest. ‘Uh, I’d lost the previous one.’ Meina quickly answered. ‘I..I mean I thought I’d lost it. I..I’d told you how I felt things kept disappearing around me. Uh..it was a mistake, but when I couldn’t find it for a long time I had to buy a new one. Uh.. I even found the bedsheets..’ Khar interrupted ‘have you found the older one you'd lost?’

Meina was flustered and looked puzzled. ‘yes’ she replied timidly.

The scent that lingers -31

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---

Pavil had eagerly waited to see the features in the portrait come to life and as he held the sketch in his hands, he felt doubtful if any such man ever existed. It looked like any mundane face covered with large goggles and a cap.

It could be anyone. 

He tried staring hard at it to find any resemblance to any person he’d known in regards to this case but couldn’t come up with any, but even so, this was the biggest breakthrough and it wouldn’t do to possess any forebodings. 

He could feel the old enthusiasm stirring within him, one that seemed to start boiling up from the pit of his stomach into his heart, pushing his palpitations into a thrilling symphony.

Would this be it?

Khar hadn’t accompanied him to Welcome Inn. He’d been immersed in some other activities the past few days. Collecting some information he’d said, and had a bunch of informants and police officers running all around the city. 

Pavil had an idea but he didn’t pursue Khar much about it, knowing how he’d eventually find out anyway.

Pavil hadn’t thought how they’d find the mysterious man from the sketch and wondered if they'd finally have a press conference and pass this face on to news channels and papers, because Khar didn’t disclose any emotions on seeing the face emerge out of watchman’s description of the stranger, except instructing him to visit Welcome Inn and showing this portrait to Amna.

He didn’t understand what role Welcome Inn had to play in this entire affair until that call from a few days ago.

He’d not expected it, of course, but any little helps and if there was a call there was some information, and information there was.

The receptionist was probably translating Amna’s sign languages when he’d spoken because he spoke deliberately, pausing every now and then. 

‘Turns out the person you had inquired about did leave the hotel premises, sir.’ The thin receptionists’ voice was just as unctuous but seemed to suit his thin moustached face well. 

That Jumaid had left the hotel to meet Nehar was not news, but what time he’d left was still a question mark, seeing that he was at Wok Fusion at one in the afternoon, it wasn’t difficult to surmise it must have been some time before that. ‘I could not say what time he’d left, but on his return, he was spotted by our guest.’ the thin man had said.

‘Was he with someone?’ Pavil had asked.

A pause, then ‘she could not say for sure.’

‘Who’s she?’ Pavil had asked surprised.

‘A guest Amna had the occasion of meeting and inquiring about the information you sought.’ 

‘What guest?’

The receptionist's voice had a smile when he spoke ‘A lady of varied reputation, a regular guest in our establishment.’

Pavil didn’t take long to understand what the receptionist implied and a few minutes later he’d relayed this information to Khar who was still contemplating Dr Chattur’s words.

‘Now this is interesting’ he’d said with a smile, and indeed it was. 

It was funny how comfortable Pavil felt navigating his way towards Welcome Inn when the first time he’d had a small lump in his throat and apprehensiveness in his stride. Probably because now its enigma wasn’t as curious or maybe he’d just eased himself better into this new skin where he seemed to get keenly aware of himself with each passing day.

He’d gained confidence by developing an understanding towards situations and places which he’d not known before.

New learnings they say, and it was with this ease that he pushed forward the sketch of the watchman’s description of the stranger on the reception table.

The thin receptionist who felt like a fixture behind the wooden desk had just handed over room keys to a couple, who by no accounts looked married nor old enough to commit to such follies, and he slid the photograph to Amna who’d suddenly materialized out of nowhere on seeing Pavil and raised one eyebrow followed by the other on seeing the sketch.

Pavil couldn’t say if she’d recognized him, not least because the dim lights inside the hotel aided by the dark oaken interiors and thick curtains did little to embolden eyesight, but then Amna held up the portrait and squinted at it and the sudden drawing back of her face with a slight widening of eyes assured Pavil that she knew something.

She made a few quick hand gestures and the thin receptionist began translating. ‘Sir, Amna saw a person of this description on Sunday, the very day you’ve been inquiring about when I was unavailable during the afternoon duties.’

‘Was he a guest?’

‘No, sir. he wasn’t staying in the hotel’ he paused momentarily, looking at Amna ‘she’d never seen him before until that day. He was probably someone else’s guest or had maybe popped in over for a drink. She saw him only momentarily in the lobby and then he left.’

Amna had pursed her lips, looking slightly annoyed. Pavil pointed at the sketch ‘are you sure it was this man?’

She nodded and gestured with her hands. ‘It’s not every day you see someone wearing goggles inside such dimly lit premises’ the receptionist conveyed. ‘moreover’ he straightened the No smoking sign on the reception ‘he was smoking indoors, which is strictly prohibited here.’ 

Pavil felt his ears prick with excitement. ‘What kind of cigarettes would you say he was smoking?’

‘It smelled like masala tea’ Amna gestured.

Pavil’s head was ringing as he spoke into himself. The stranger from school was at Welcome Inn, smoking the same cigarettes that were found in every incriminating place.

This can’t be just coincidence. This is it. His stride was a quick jog as he exited the hotel. The sudden brightness of the day hitting him like an epiphany and he didn’t know what to do first. 

Should he call up Khar and tell him everything or surprise him with this information at the station.

He didn’t have much thinking to do because he picked up his phone to answer Khar’s call.

‘Pavil, how long would it take you to reach the district magistrate?’

Pavil was taken aback for an abrupt second. he looked at his watch. ‘twenty minutes or a little more’

‘Good. I’m reaching the station in a while, you meet the magistrate and get a search warrant. You are after all the investigating officer. It’ll take about four hours maybe less once the magistrate knows what case you allude to. I’ll have him sitting pretty in my office till then and do a bit of routine questioning.’ Khar’s steely voice came expressionless.

‘Uh.Ok. Whom?’

‘Jumaid. I’m messaging you the details.’ Khar answered and hung up.

Everything was spinning far too fast and Pavil felt the rush of the vortex piling into him. It was a sensation he’d been waiting for. 

A search warrant for Jumaid’s house then, he smiled looking at Khar’s message and drove towards the Session court.

The scent that lingers -30

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--

The watchman had been sitting in a small windowless room for nearly half an hour waiting for someone to walk in any moment now, but that moment had been delayed and the unconcerned face with which he’d walked in to the police station on being summoned by that good looking young officer was now taking a worrisome hue.

It was regular questioning he’d been told. They were reworking the whole case and starting from the top and these questions were pretty much the same routine that he’d been through over a month back.

The news regarding Majid’s murder was waning and each day its coverage and mention got smaller in the newspapers until finally disappearing and relegating itself to the cheap tabloid like rags that were used to pack fritters and shoes in. 

He didn’t have much to worry about, considering how he’d forgotten almost everything about that day; he did, however, remember the snivelling scared man that he’d been reduced to in the presence of that bulky senior officer and today, he’d resolved wouldn’t be that day.

He’d walk in, tell them whatever had to be told and come out.

So what if a child got murdered? kids die every day and what difference does that even make? 

His callous confidence and wretched resolve that he harboured just a few hours earlier was slowly deteriorating and now, that he found himself all alone he let himself remember every little detail from that ugly Sunday. Why did he not tell the police the truth from the very beginning? What if they found out and now he was being arrested? But there was no crime he committed. Surely smoking a cigarette was no criminal act, but then he’d lied. How could he risk the only stable job he’d had in years? 

He clenched and unclenched his fingers, mopping the sweat beading on his forehead on his sleeves, glancing over to the door every second and convincing himself that they’d just let him go without questioning when the door opened and the younger officer came in, holding some files and a tea flask.

The watchman licked his lips. It had been a rather cold morning, and he could do with some tea. His throat felt parched and he felt his features drawing themselves down into a mousy anxiousness. 

Pavil pushed a styrofoam cup towards the watchman, closely watching him hold the cup with great care and letting his fingers feel the warmth through the cup. 

He opened a few files, flipping their pages and looked up at the scared man. ‘Is there anything apart from your existing statements that you’d like to add?’ Pavil said peeling some papers out of a folder and placing them on the table.

‘No’ 

‘Nothing at all?’

‘Uh..No. I said. I..I have nothing to say. Uh..Can I please leave now?’ the watchman panicked. 

‘Not until you’ve told me everything you remember from that day’ Pavil said sternly.

‘B..but I have. I..I don’t even remember that day anymore.’

‘I can help you with that’ Pavil said picking up the papers and reading his statement.

‘Would you like to add anything?’ he finished reading and let a resolute gaze rest on the scared man.

The unnerved watchman was confused. He didn’t understand whether he was being asked this question because they’d found out something or was it just a question in its plainest form. 

‘Uh..I..don't know’ He said holding the cup that was visibly shaking which he nearly dropped when the door opened and the menacingly dour senior officer entered, looking huger than he’d last seen him.

Khar came in holding some more files and sat across the table next to Pavil. 

He held the same grim set face from before the way his jaw muscles discreetly moved accorded him a forbidding look that the watchman immediately knew to be anger. 

‘Where were you between the time the seniors left the school and Mrs Sinhal’s arrival to pick up her son Tejan?’ Khar asked in a chillingly subdued voice.

The watchman looked puzzled. He licked his lips nervously, looking at Pavil.

‘The theory is simple’ Pavil smiled ‘there was no one in the school except you, the two seniors and Majid and Tejan. Mr Savik had retired to his quarters shortly after three, leaving only briefly to instruct you to lock the gates, and that was sometime around five. The seniors according to all accounts left much before four and Mrs Sinhal came to the school at fifteen minutes past four, which means there was a small window of a good fifteen minutes’ he paused and waited.

The wide-eyed watchman let go of all his reserves ‘No..no..no.. oh no.’ he cried. ‘I..I..you can’t. oh no..no’ he stood up panicking. Khar motioned him to sit down, but he was terrified. ‘I haven’t done anything.’ he whimpered. ‘it’s not my fault. I’m sorry. You can’t possibly think..oh no’ he covered his forehead with his palm and looked absently at the walls.

Pavil pointed at his statement sheets ‘What is it that you haven’t told us?’

The watchman’s face distorted with guilt and his reddening eyes bulged with tears. 

He looked about at the two policemen with a sheepish expression. ‘I haven’t done it’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t want to say anything because I feared I might lose my job. I..I didn’t know anyone else was still inside the school’ mopping his face with the sleeves of his worn down shirt the watchman slowly sobbed. ‘The seniors gave me a packet of cigarettes. Expensive kinds. I’d never seen the likes of them. Thin and blue in colour. They glittered in the sun’

Pavil rolled his eyes at the mention of those cigarettes. 

‘I..I wanted to smoke them, but I couldn’t. Being near the school and all. A man approached me looking for a lighter.’ he looked at Khar ‘I..I told him that smoking near school premises is not allowed, so he asked me if there is someplace nearby he could smoke, and..uh..invited me to take a break as well. I know this place a little way ahead of the gate. there’s a bend obscured by a large tree. uh..I often smoked there. I know it’s wrong’ he immediately added ‘but sometimes you need a cigarette. It’s an addiction.’

‘then what happened?’ Pavil asked.

‘Nothing, we had a couple cigarettes. He..uh..had a small hip flask with some rum in it. I..uh’ the watchman paused.

‘You had a drink’ 

‘y..yes. I thought the day had ended. Everyone was gone. Just a small drink after which I returned to the gate. I didn’t realize how long it had been because Mrs Sinhal arrived shortly after. I was surprised because I didn’t know why she’d come, but I didn’t ask anything’ he looked embarrassed. ‘When she left with Tejan I realized that he was still at school. How was I to know that in that small gap of time when I was taking a break someone would enter and murder a boy?’ he sniffed. ‘I was due for a leave and I wanted the day to end.’ 

Pavil had so many reprimanding insults to hurl at that wretched excuse for a man that he looked away.

‘I feared I’d lose my job if I told the truth.’ 

‘Can you describe that man from that day?’ Khar’s cold voice pierced through the watchman.

Looking ashamed he gulped. ‘I cannot say. He wore a cap and very large goggles. Much too big for his face. He was uh.. a tourist, who’d lost his way.’

‘How do you know?’ 

‘He was asking for directions, and he’d walked over from the opposite direction. Uh..the one from behind the school. There’s a defunct service lane there. People often confuse that way to open into a street, but there’s a dead end’

Pavil’s eye darted towards Khar with a palpable understanding. 

‘Do you remember what kind of cigarettes that man smoked?’ Khar asked.

‘Uh..yes. They were the same ones that the seniors had given me. They smelled so different, and I’d never smoked anything like those before. Like cloves’ the watchman feebly admitted.

Pavil sat watching the watchman describe the stranger to a criminal sketch artist  as Khar poured a cup of tea.

The scent that lingers- 29

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---

‘Well?’

‘Nothing new about what she told us, considering how we perhaps know a little bit more than her, provided our information is correct’ Khar spoke with his head buried in some files. ‘But, it’s still news’ he looked up at Pavil briefly ‘that she is leaving Jumaid.’

‘All the best for her’ Pavil snorted, but don’t you think seeing how the Sinhal residence is much farther than Wasim’s, Veda should have reached home a lot later than Jumaid. I mean, I don’t think he reached at eight in the evening at all.’ 

‘No he probably didn’t’, in fact, he didn’t reach anytime before ten, which makes Nehar’s phone calls to Jumaid a lot more explainable.’ Khar concluded and busied himself again. 

Pavil didn’t understand this reasoning at the moment but the more he thought about it the more sense did it make. 

Why would Nehar, he’d always wondered a woman of such admirable stature feel the need to implore Jumaid? She had the means, the stature, the dignity and the backing of a powerful family, such as hers was, to order instead of requesting, but then again it was exactly all these things she had to think of to make them.

A rather convoluted confusion of human inconsistencies had marred this case.

‘I do wonder though’ Khar suddenly spoke ‘where was it that Jumaid’s car disappeared for two weeks?’

Pavil had not considered this since Meina had told them that it happened sometime around the end of November and that his so-called friends have returned it a few days ago. ‘maybe his friends did borrow it.’ Pavil said convinced.

‘Perhaps’ Khar looked at Pavil for a long moment and poured himself some tea.

Pavil had begun stencilling an exoskeleton of a new network of questions to the list of people they were going to begin questioning anew.

This was tedious but unavoidable, seeing how they kept meeting dead ends.

What was it that they’d unearth which they didn’t the first time around? His flowchart that looked like it had been growing tentacles had abruptly halted and the light at the end of the tunnel was thinning each day.

Did he wish to talk to the principal, the senior bullies, the watchmen again? Pavil looked at the flowchart where Pavil had circled the watchman’s name in a scornful red, denoting him as a man of interest. ‘he knows something he isn’t telling’ Khar had said, and Pavil had no reason to question his senior but what exactly did he not tell them?

Dr Chattur had called up in the morning. He’d swing by their office for a brief visit he said, and even though Pavil hoped he’d have something new to add to this case, he desperately hoped the bread knife wasn’t the answer they were looking for.

Two more weeks and it would be another year. This case would have dragged on for months by then, for some, it would be last year and Pavil couldn’t bear the thought of this mystery stretching itself into a loop any longer... It had been an important assignment for him initially, but after all these weeks of getting to know and understand the confusions underlying as the very tonal hue to this riddle, he realized how much easier it had been to round up junkies and squatters. 

Pavil had allowed the despondency go unchecked on his face and Dr Chattur had noted it immediately. ‘You look like one of my cadavers.’ 

The fact that he thought the cadavers in the morgue were his, was enough to make Pavil feel the beginning of nausea swelling in the pit of his stomach. 

‘You know I could write you a prescription for your condition.’

‘No thank you.’

‘Well?’ Khar asked Dr Chattur, wasting no time as he entered the room.

Dr Chattur put the knife on the table among the files and Pavil saw how closely it resembled the murder weapon. The doctor opened a large register like notebook, and briefly read a few notes he’d made.

‘This could be a murder weapon’ at length he spoke, ‘but it’s not the murder weapon you are after, Khar.’ 

Pavil exhaled a low slow breath of relief.

‘There are a lot of reasons why this couldn’t be the murder weapon.’ He looked at the knife so as to examine it. ‘Firstly the size of the handle of this knife makes it difficult for the wielder to create the kind of cuts that appeared on the boy’s body. To ensure such strokes, the murderer would have to lay the child on his back to create such slashes.’ He brought about a clinical disaffection to his voice. ‘Secondly, it would be difficult, near impossible for this knife to cut through clothes and make neat slashes as were on the body, one would have to literally saw in a to and fro motion to accomplish that but the occurring wounds would not have been the same as appeared on the body.’ He looked at Khar’s face that hinted at slight disappointment.

‘So this isn’t the weapon in question?’ Khar asked.

‘Not by a long shot.’ Dr Chattur replied ‘though the serrated edges of this knife are quiet consistent with the kind of jagged edged wounds that were on the body, but,’ he pointed at the tip of the toothed edge ‘the surface area on the tips of these teeth would have to be much smaller than these ones here to pierce through the clothing and flesh and enter abdominal cavities, and this handle’ he held up the knife, balancing it to show the handle ‘is far too small and straight to have provided the convenience of easily holding it while sawing through the body.’ He shot Pavil’s paling face a glance. ‘You’re still looking for a saw, Khar, especially one with a handle that is either curved or is easy to hold, with a grip.’ He sat looking at Khar’s vacant face. 

It was almost dark, the evening had descended with a noiseless thud, bringing with it an air of frigid restlessness that Pavil couldn’t understand. He felt his feet cold but sweaty at the same time.

It was the kind of nervousness his body exuded during exam times, and he didn’t like how still real that tension felt.

Khar hadn’t said much since Dr Chattur’s visit. They were looking for a saw, someone who wielded a saw, and who could that be?

To Pavil even this bread knife, that lay forgotten on the table looked like a saw, but then it wasn’t really one. So maybe it was something like a saw? Pavil envisioned rounding everyone in the city who bought saws in recent year when he saw Khar pointing at his pocket. ‘Looks like your phone is ringing, Pavil.’

His eyes were momentarily surprised and suddenly hopeful at that call from Welcome Inn.

The scent that lingers -28

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

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---

That there are knives specially meant for bread was not nearly as surprising as the sharpness its serrated edges exhibited.

Pavil never had any reason to slice bread since he didn’t buy anything other than pre-sliced bread and his skills in the kitchen were elementary at best, but a knife the size of a saw with blades like shark teeth would ever be an essential item in the kitchen for slicing bread was a concept wholly new to him and worrisome to boot, now that he knew Nehar had something similar in her kitchen.

‘You think this could be the murder weapon?’

Khar didn’t reply and Pavil felt the pit of his stomach churn uneasily. Maybe she just needed a bread knife she bought at a bad time. It’s all about timing, isn’t it? and she came much later after Majid had been murdered or did she arrive early? Now there were questions swirling in his head that only Nehar knew answers to, or maybe this knife. 

Khar had probably thought the same because Pavil found himself trailing behind the unsympathetic senior officer, who seemed to nurse a grudge against the beautiful Nehar, but then again wouldn’t Pavil have done the same?

They halted in front of a disregardful white door that looked like it had not seen paint in several years, not least because it was situated in the non-glamorous senior faculty department of a prestigious medical school and hospital.

Dr Chattur was seated inside a chamber that smelled like formaldehyde and boredom. He immediately brightened on seeing Khar.

‘What a surprise’ he excitedly exclaimed. Had Khar been the chummy kinds they would probably have greeted in a hug, but seeing that he had icicles ingrained inside of him they cordially smiled and Khar immediately came to the point.

‘You think this could be a murder weapon?’ 

Dr Chattur blinked a moment before realizing what Khar was talking about. ‘The child’s murder case?’ he broodingly asked.

Pavil was still looking around the small room that they’d found Dr Chattur in. It was unfurnished except a stretcher like bed in one corner, a large table with a computer from the early civilizations and other medical paraphernalia which made him avert his eyes, because he realized he’d never been keen on visiting hospitals or other places that were redolent with chemical smells that reminded him of that time from the morgue.

So this is what this doctor does on days when he’s not dissecting bodies.

Dr Chattur was examining the bread knife.

‘This is astounding.’ He remarked and smiled at Khar. ‘I can’t say for sure, but I’ll have to consult my notes and photographs of the victims to make any inferences.’ His eyes lit up as he said these words.

Khar looked at him questioningly.

‘Oh, I won’t take long, in fact, it’d be interesting. I was just about getting bored here. Will you have all the postmortem reports and photographs sent to me? I think this would make for some interesting experiment’ 

‘You’ll have them by the afternoon’ Pavil hated the insensitivity in Khar’s voice. What exactly was he getting at? Nehar couldn’t have been the one if that’s what he was thinking, but they were fresh out of suspects and there was no point groping in the dark.

‘The only thing established so far from my jaunt to that hotel is that Jumaid had checked in during the afternoon like he mentioned and there was someone resembling Veda’s appearance during his checkout.’ Pavil spoke while decanting fresh tea from a flask into his cup.

Khar didn’t look up from his table. He’d busied himself with paperwork just moments after they’d arrived, but Pavil knew he’d been listening.

‘But we also know that he’d had gone out to Wok Fusion, which couldn’t be corroborated by the elderly proprietor and met Nehar, but we know it to be true. So he must have come back after that in order to check out at six’ Pavil concluded. ‘Their story more or less checks out. Veda and Jumaid’s.’ 

Khar was scratching at his temples and looking directly at Pavil. ‘Well, what do you think?’ Pavil enthusiastically asked.

Khar stood up still looking straight at what Pavil thought was his face, but in fact, he’d been looking right behind him. ‘Please come in’ Khar spoke in his usual deep resonating unemotional voice.

‘Huh, what?’ Pavil was puzzled and looked back to see Meina Wasim standing at the door.

She looked better than the last time they’d seen her. Her face looked to have been hastily made up, but the colour had returned to her sallow cheeks and her eyes had lost a bit of their deathly dullness.

Her shaking voice was the only give away that she still mourned the loss of her only son.

She tried stretching her lips which Pavil thought were meant to denote a smile, but quickly gave up on that and silently sat on a chair opposite saying nothing.

Pavil felt a bit embarrassed by her presence. They still had no answers for this grieving mother and he wished he could tell her something to comfort her.

‘I..I’ she began to speak but said nothing for a long while. 

Khar noted her hesitance and gestured Pavil to offer her some tea, which she immediately accepted. She looked ill-dressed for such a cold season. A shabby sweater that didn’t look like it had the capacity to ward off any idea of chill was loosely draped around her shoulders and her nails looked haphazardly chewed.

‘I am leaving Jumaid’ she finally said after a long pause and looked almost relieved like it were a confession.

Khar nodded by blinking his eyes and Pavil found his eyebrows knitting again.

‘It had been too long, us fooling each other, or maybe it was just me, misleading myself. The only reason that kept us together now lies under the earth, in my heart and I don’t see why I need torture myself with Jumaid anymore. I find it repulsing to see him day after day.’

Pavil wanted to say something consoling but Khar’s unmoving face kept him from doing that, moreover, he didn’t think it would be appropriate, and what could he even say?

‘I thought I could find some peace in living with him, maybe we could be a normal couple, whatever that is, but ever since it happened, that man hasn’t once had a word to say to me. He’s hardly ever at the house, and he makes no pretence that my presence in the house bothers me. He’s passively tormenting me and I can’t take it anymore because you see..uh..I..hate him, and that house. It’s driving me mad. Sometimes I feel maybe I am going insane. Odd things keep happening there.’

‘Like what?’ Khar asked plainly.

‘Nothing serious. He entertains his business friends till late at night when he’s home. He’s suddenly become so busy with his work. The business has never been so good he said. Things randomly disappear and appear again.’

‘What things?’

‘Uh..nothing important..uh, except our car was suddenly missing for two weeks. He said his friend had borrowed it. But it’s back now, and other things. My bedsheets, my pillows, my scarves, and other things..Oh, I can’t remember. My life is fast disappearing too.’ she began laughing hysterically.

‘Mrs Wasim, are you sure you’re okay?’ Khar asked gently.

‘Oh, you think I’m mad?’

‘No, I don’t, but you do need some rest’

‘Oh, its alright. I’ve rested enough. Jumaid thinks I’ve lost my mind because he just doesn’t seem to care that our..’ Meina blinked rapidly and lowered her head to her knees.

When she looked up her face had reddened with pain and she looked embarrassed ‘I..I have to tell you something. I wasn’t honest with you last time. I’d told you that maid had left in the afternoon and come back at about four.’ She pressed her lips together, looking away from the policemen. ‘He’d actually left sometime in noon and came back late in the evening.’

‘How late?’ Pavil asked.

‘Sometime around nine’ Meina Wasim’s voice was hurtful. ‘He’s having an affair with Nehar and he probably was with her that day’ she said holding back her tears.