The formidable building that lay sprawled infront of him,
with inexplicable and hideous facts tucked away safely into each crevice, brought jitters to Aryan’s already muddled
thought flux.
‘ Paresh was indeed one of those shrewd kinds, the likes of which
most often escaped the porous clutches of judiciary with their mean crooked
ways. Who couldn’t say that. Look at his house!’. Aryan wondered while he
alighted the array of steps garnished with red carpet which led to the porch.
His juniors, all of
them serene faced and surprisingly young for the post, greeted him at the
entrance, brimming with ardour and enthusiasm.
‘Goodevening . So what do we have here?’
The next half and hour ticked away in a jiffy with Aryan
being briefed about a couple of vital clues his juniors had amassed from the surroundings.
He couldn’t help but feel a heaviness unfolding inside of him while he jotted
down the clues onto a note pad, something which he carried around with him at
any time owing to habit.
-
His juniors had stumbled upon a pattern on the
sand path that led to Paresh’s garage,which, in all probability resembled a
tyre pattern – of that of a car well embedded in mud. This fresh piece of
nugget was worth saving as there was torrential rain the day Paresh was killed, which brought them to the next clue – The autopsy
report.
- The autopsy was finished by afternoon and the imminent
points of the same could be briefed as :-
1. Paresh’s
death happened on Thursday, the previous day sometime between 11-11.30p.m.
2. And
the gore that were the injuries on his body were actually incised wounds –
Something which could be produced by an object with sharp edge. ‘Something like
a razor?”!
Aryan sat down on the
couch mulling over this information, racking his brain to its extreme. If
Paresh had come to his house in his car,reaching his house after the rain dried
up, which seems the most obvious thing to be concerning his work schedules,
what must have happened to his car? Where did it vanish? Or was Paresh home
during the time of the attack ? That would mean the car coud be that of the
murderer’s.
Aryan scanned the points he had scribbled down on his
notepad. ‘Sharp incised wounds’. Could that for definite be by a razor? And if
so, what does that indicate? The one who assaulted 8 human beings two years ago
is on a deadly prowl once again?! What for? – The reason of which Aryan couldn’t
conjure at that moment for his head was splitting up with an attack of
vertiginous migraine. Or better yet, was
the attack being mimicked? So that the real killer could slip away unidentified
amidst the hullaballo this murder will bring about so like the hype the past 8
murders showered the country in a matter of weeks.
Aryan gulped down a crocin tablet with a glass of water that his associate had handed him before tucking away his notepad into
his pocket.
Before leaving the place, he remembered to instruct his
juniors to have a background check on Paresh’s assets, especially regarding the
cars he owned. He wanted to know whether Paresh owned an SUV –an SUV with
Kerala registration.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in God’s Own Country, the setting sun was spraying
vibrant hues on Jenny’s petite body. The smouldering hot ball that the sun was,
was rolling down into the pool of water after the longest day it had withstood
in a long time. The row boats sailing on the sea presented a scenic beauty to
the panorama. A warm breeze brushed past Cyrus and Jenny and Cyrus
watched intently as Jenny swept back flocks of hair from her flushed face. The
setting sun granted a final ray which illuminated the drop of wetness that had
collected on the corners of Jenny’s eyes.
"How are you feeling now, Jenny? Cyrus enquired, an air of
concern dancing in his words.
‘ I feel awful, Cyrus’ Jenny touched her eyes, fearing the
dampness would give way to a torrent of tears.
‘Dont be Jenny. It is only human to err and everyone
deserves a second chance, don’t they?’
‘But do i deserve one, Cyrus? After all that happened over
the past two years, I feel disgusted to say the least. ‘
‘ Relax Jenny. Let us sort this out later. Maybe after
reaching Chuna Mundi. But remember one thing – I will always be there for you,
no matter what’
Jenny rested her head on Cyrus’s
strong broad shoulders as Cyrus softly caressed the butterfly on Jenny’s
arm. The soft lull of the sea was the
sole sound that could be heard lending life to the moment that transpired
between them.
‘The only person who had a connection with Kerala that Tara
knew of was Jenny. But that didn’t make sense!
Or did it?’ Tara thought in between stroking her husband’s hair who lay
sleeping dejected and confused after all the weird happenings of the day.
"Yes, Mr. Literary
Adept
The ground beneath your feet has been swept
Sure you'll be the ninth one this Monday
But, why not, while the Sun shines, make hay?
Your Daughter, for one...
Your wife comes next...
And, that irritant Cop!
Will their attacks, he prevent?"
The ground beneath your feet has been swept
Sure you'll be the ninth one this Monday
But, why not, while the Sun shines, make hay?
Your Daughter, for one...
Your wife comes next...
And, that irritant Cop!
Will their attacks, he prevent?"
The final note sent
shivers down Tara’s spine. Harking back, hasn’t the whole drama started with just a Cyrus and herself? Eventually
Shekhar was dragged into the plot and now he is being targeted as the final
victim of a murderous rage! And to think that even little Roohi isn’t spared –
Moron!
Whoever is it that
finds immense pleasure in toying with her family isn’t going to live a peaceful
life – Tara made up her mind. She is going to protect her family, come hell come
high water! The hideous past of her husband isn’t going to be an excuse for letting
the murderer go on with his or her plan! She was strong, Tara knew. Maybe
stronger than her husband when it came to matters regarding judiciary and the
police. The many years of media experience had turned her skin thick and
unyielding. If she cannot fight it, nobody can!
The thunderous roll
of Aryan’s bullet revived her back to her senses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Having had their dinner,
Cyrus wished Jenny goodnight and retreated back to his room. Opening his laptop
he clicked on his blog link which was bookmarked and started reading his
previous posts one after the other, especially the ones which had Jenny as his
muse.
A hurried knock on
the door startled him and he jumped up from his bed fearing danger at this odd
hour. Jenny stood at the door, her eyes drooping down, staring at her feet as
she hugged a diary close to her heaving chest.
‘Dont judge me Cyrus’ saying those words Jenny handed the diary
over to Cyrus and slowly retraced her steps back to her room.
An unprecedented rush made Cyrus swoon , but quickly retrieving
his balance Cyrus huddled on his bed to devour Jenny’s diary.
What lay scribbled in blue and black before him in the crumbled
pages of Jenny’s diary was her life. Cyrus drafted a summary from the various scattered pages of Jenny's diary and sketched an outline of Jenny's life in his head :-
Jenny’s father was a naval officer with a high rank serving at the Delhi naval base. During the initial days of her schooling, Jenny’s family stayed at the navy headquarters as her school was in the naval premises. Having had a thorough knowledge about the premises she used to go around cycling through the wide well tended to roads inside with her friends and sometimes alone. During one such much looked forward to tours alone she was left aghast by the ghastly sight of a couple of her father’s friends threatening a lady inside a thatched hut, the one built as kind of a picnic spot for the officers and their family. The lady had her body wrapped in a ragged cotton saree and she had a weary face worn down with the scorching heat of the day. With her accent Jenny could make out that that the lady belonged to the poor fishing community. Her father’s friends were warning the lady regarding something which Jenny couldn’t make out completely from the distance she was standing. To her dismay one of her father’s friends dragged the lady onto him the very next moment and shook her wildly such that his point was made clearer. The lady left the place weeping , drops of tears wiped away with the ragged edges of her saree.
Jenny’s father was a naval officer with a high rank serving at the Delhi naval base. During the initial days of her schooling, Jenny’s family stayed at the navy headquarters as her school was in the naval premises. Having had a thorough knowledge about the premises she used to go around cycling through the wide well tended to roads inside with her friends and sometimes alone. During one such much looked forward to tours alone she was left aghast by the ghastly sight of a couple of her father’s friends threatening a lady inside a thatched hut, the one built as kind of a picnic spot for the officers and their family. The lady had her body wrapped in a ragged cotton saree and she had a weary face worn down with the scorching heat of the day. With her accent Jenny could make out that that the lady belonged to the poor fishing community. Her father’s friends were warning the lady regarding something which Jenny couldn’t make out completely from the distance she was standing. To her dismay one of her father’s friends dragged the lady onto him the very next moment and shook her wildly such that his point was made clearer. The lady left the place weeping , drops of tears wiped away with the ragged edges of her saree.
The
scared little Jenny tried her best to avoid the place where she had witnessed
the miserable incidence from then on. Nonetheless she was once again dragged into the scene a few
years later after she graduated from her college.
One night after dinner
Jenny overheard her father discussing a matter with her mother regarding the
unruly behaviour of few of his friends to the women of the nearby fishing
community. With the immense power that came with their position they could
easily take advantage of the poor fishermen, bedding their wifes sans word of
mouth regarding the incidents.
A
recent visit to the nearby fishing area proved her fears right. The fisherwomen lived in a world
cloaked with the blanket of fear – fear that they would be called upon any time
of the day to the nearby thatched houses for playing their part in satisfying the
officers. The pained wails of the women stung deep into her heart and she
decided for once and for all that she wouldn’t let this carry on forever. With
the best of her ability she tried hinting the officer’s wives about the
misdeeds of their husbands but her words reached dead ears. Moreover they even
harassed her saying they would move to court if she came up with further news
that would taint their families. Jenny was deeply ashamed by the attitude of
the wives that she decided to seek alternate ways to bring an end to the
nefarious routine. Moreover she feared that a couple of those officers even had an eye on
her sister everytime they came across her.
And
that was how Lallan courted her and started using her as his alibi. Without
Lallan knowing, she mastered his weaknesses and about his well networked
connections and strengths. Masquerading as Don J, she bullied Lallan and brought
him to threaten the wives of the officers. But sadly it was all or none for psychotic
Lallan – Either he seeked extreme measures or he never bothered at all. Jenny
found things slipping from her hands once she informed Lallan about her plans
regarding the wives of the 9 officers who were unlawful. Neither Jenny nor any other force could chain
Lallan or pull him back to his normal senses. He was already on a murderous rage,
a rage which would be satiated with blood and flesh alone . And thus ensued the
series of Delhi murders which spanned over two months shaking the country. With
Samantha’s and Paresh’s help Lallan erased all the vital clues without disclosing that he was the murderer and Don J, supposedly the killer on a spree with her unique gadget - a razor, and with a unique tagline - ' My Paintbrush Is A Razor!' remained a mystery to all.
Cyrus took a deep breath and stared ahead into the darkness of the
night.
Read the next chapter here : Sojourn for tracing past
#CelebrateBlogging with us.
Well done Malani! Her paintbrush is a mystery is well solved and most of the twists have been ended well :)
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