Deadly incidents- 13

Read part 12- here

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Pavil stood in the empty bathroom catching his reflection in the polished mirror. 

Almost two weeks ago this face had been bloated, dishevelled and hungover in near contradiction to today’s visage bright and cheerless with an odd lightheadedness that comes from having finished a case unsatisfactorily, at least to Pavil it felt that way. he slowly walked out, staring at his feet, looking at the floor.

It was done. There was nothing more to it yet he was left feeling like he’d forgotten something vital along the way that couldn’t be located no matter how much he visited the lost and found.

Anik hadn’t exactly revelled in the news when Pavil told him the same. He was his usual morose self, still suffering from the loss and in no mood to celebrate when Pavil informed him that he was free to move back into his apartment whenever he wished.

He’d gotten too used to living in the hotel and eating their horrible breakfast it seemed and seeing how empty and forlorn this house looked he couldn’t really blame the bereaved. 

Pavil’s ears tuned in to a faint scraping noise. It was almost fuzzy, even indefinite, not least because there was enough ambient noise from outside capable of drowning most sounds but because this seemed to be coming from upstairs, in fact right above his head in the living room that the policeman found himself following his curious footsteps until once again he stood outside on the welcome mat, though why it said welcome instead of ‘get out’ was beyond him, since the ancient relic, Mr Gor only ever said these two words.

No one responded to the few knocks Pavil delivered on the door and there was a silence suddenly emanating from the house. It was eerie and Pavil’s arms were studded with goosebumps. 

The chronic honking of cars that leant a permanent background music to the city was now muted in his ears as they morphed into radars trying to pick the smallest movement from beyond the old man’s door.

Nothing stirred.

His arm silently glided to the gun holster that inaudibly grazed against the cold metal and he slowly walked forward towards the door until it near touched his face when a resounding sound almost deafened him.

‘Get out’ cried the soap breathed man, staring in his face. His abruptness at having suddenly opened the door sent Pavil reeling back in a defensive stance which to the old man was so shocking he screamed for help.

‘Shh, it’s just me Mr Gor. I was..er..just worried.’ Pavil tried to calm the old man who stared wide-eyed at the gun in Pavil’s hand. 

‘I knew it. You’re trying to kill me’  

‘Please calm down sir’ Pavil slid the gun back in its holster. ‘I was just here to check.’ there was no easy or rational way for Pavil to describe why he’d cocked the gun out and why he’d been feeling uneasy, not that the old man cared, because thank Alzheimer's or whatever it was that Mr Gor suffered from this recent aggravating incident began blurring in his mind and he began his small tirade that Pavil already knew by heart, accosting him of disturbing a dying man’s peace and what not.

‘I was just here to check’ Pavil repeated, edging in some words amidst the bloom of contemporary curses.

‘Checking what?’ he asked gruffly and his wrinkles seemed to have shifted from his usual facial contours. The powdery quality to his skin that was his decaying membrane flaking wasn’t easy to look at and Pavil politely averted his gaze to the old man’s shoes, that despite his failing years were still crisply clean.

‘I..er.. heard some noise, dragging noises to be more precise. Can I help you with something?’ 

‘Yes, you can by getting the hell out of here. Can’t let an old man pack his clothes in peace.’ he mumbled and suddenly with a raised voice in an effort to be heard by his neighbours whom the relic hated with mutual disgust cried ‘I’m moving in with my daughter. Hope that makes all you bastards happy.’ 

Pavil sneaked a peek through the thin slit of the closing door that mercilessly banged on his face of a large suitcase stuffed with the senior's favourite colours. All browns and muddied greys. He quickly glanced behind to ensure the Bedi’s hadn’t popped their heads out to learn of the commotion and retreated to the apartment downstairs for a final exhale, because, he, for the life of him couldn’t get over this incomplete feeling, like something was still left out.

Khar had mentally cursed the system that was stubborn in its insistence at wasting his time. His voluntary vacation was marred by meetings which he’d been obligated to attend, investigative reports of his former cases that he was expected to clarify and threats of transfer orders he tried ignoring. 

A waste of time for him, at a time when he was irrationally curious about a man who invited little analysis.

Pavil had submitted the report, the case was closed, a woman had died in what the report said was an accident, leaving behind a doleful man who did nothing more than repeatedly visit the dead woman’s house to find something which needled him.

Pavil could be relentless sometimes, he had felt an inconsistency but it was invisible and now that this case was closed, Khar knew it would bother him until he’d scratched the blisters raw. 

He wasn’t a part of this case, but he could feel the aberration that his friend wanted to spot and there was something about what the Hercules said that Khar couldn’t stop thinking.

He’d done a bit of investigation of his own regarding the photographs that Pavil took in the apartment. Pictures of vases, porcelain glasses, more to the point of the antique ceramic sugar bowls. 

He’d wanted to meet Toni sooner to talk to him a bit more before he could discuss it with Pavil but then he’d gotten busy and it was only this morning when he’d finally visited the gym and come back with an imperceptible worried expression and asked Reyan to get in touch with Pavil because for whatever reason Pavil was not picking up his phone.

‘No answer’ Reyan looked at an unsettled Khar. 

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No sir.’

‘Can you call the husband?’ 

‘yes, of course.’

‘No answer’ Reyan said redialing, ‘but then he never usually picks up his phone at this time. Probably in office.’ 

Khar threw a thin jacket over his shoulders, something he was accustomed to even during the hottest seasons. ‘Do you know which hotel he is staying?’

‘Yes sir’ Reyan watched Khar pragmatically check his gun before it disappeared under his jacket.

‘let’s go’ Khar said.