Love, Hate & Deceit

Day 1
The rising sun did not bring a ray of hope into the large room. Rather, it cast despondent shadows on the white floor tiles. Now and then, bluish light danced on the floor from the wall-mounted television and merged with the shadows. The volume was so high, it would have awakened even the dead in their graves.
Well, not really! For a figure lay sprawled on the large bed, unaffected by either the loud sounds or the flickering lights. 
The room itself was a colourless wonder: white floor, white curtains, white bedsheets and pillows, and the occupant’s pallid skin tone. The monotony was broken only by a string of muddy brown shoe prints running over the floor.  
Khaki-clad officers examined the scene. A team of forensic officials moved busily about collecting evidence - fingerprints, strands of hair strewn on the pillow, and photographing the scene. 
Inspector Mishra stepped out of the apartment and followed the trail of shoe prints, which turned left and went up the stairs, stopping outside a door at the end of the corridor. He banged on the door with his gloved hands. When it opened, his jaws clenched. 
He recognised the towel-clad person standing in front of him.
 ***
Day 4
“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Sir.” Sandhya thanked the caller and returned to her laptop. 
She typed in a summary report of her most recent case-the details of leads, follow-ups, and final closure. Then, she saved the password-protected file and hid the folder. 
A triumphant smile spread over her face as she leaned against the hard-backed leather chair. Her eyes rested on her father’s Param Vir Chakra occupying a place of pride on the wall of her unassuming office. She pushed the chair back and veered closer to the wall, her fingers brushing against the medals of honour. Tears sparkled on her long eyelashes. 
I miss you, Appa. 
The frame beside it filled her heart with pride—her husband, Raj’s Vir Chakra. It had been almost 3 months since his transfer. Sandhya and their two children had not joined him as it was not a family posting, and her job required her to be in the Capital. 
Well, not an actual job. Rather, her passion. 
She had been a private detective for more than a decade and was still as passionate as she had been when she had cracked her first case - a series of carjackings. She had come a long way since then. Now, she even got to work closely with the law-enforcement agencies on confidential cases. In fact, just this morning, she had helped the Customs Department solve a smuggling case. 
Despite being well-known amongst her peers, she maintained a low profile. Except for her family members and a few close friends, to the rest of the world, she was an unassuming housewife who spent her time managing her household. 
Her work phone trilled and she returned to her desk. 
“Detective Sandhya Iyer,” she said as she opened a new document on her laptop. Calls on this number meant only one thing—a new case. 
“Good morning, Sandhya Ji. Mishra from LN Nagar Police station.”
“Arey, Mishra Ji. How are you?”
“Okay. DSP (South) told me to get in touch with you regarding a case,” he breathed hard into the phone. 
Sandhya registered the note of baffled intrigue in his voice and pricked her ears.
She placed the phone on speaker and keyed in the details: murder, victim clobbered to death, the suspect—the heir of Choudhury Industries, a huge business conglomerate—taken in for questioning, claimed innocence, the media attention making matters worse.
“Let’s discuss this further at the station? I can be there at 11.30.” 
Sandhya grabbed her cap and raced to her car. As she drove, she tuned into a news channel and listened to reporters going ballistic about a high-profile murder case.
***
A medley of curious onlookers had swarmed the Choudhury mansion: reporters, journalists, cameramen, and commoners. The lone watchman posted at the wrought-iron gates stood helplessly as, despite his best efforts, the unruly crowd grew larger by the minute.  
In contrast, the insides of the mansion seemed starkly abandoned. Deathly silence seeped into every nook and cranny. Just two months ago, the family had lost their matriarch and now another calamity had befallen them.  
Lalit Kant and the family lawyer were engaged in a serious discussion in the study, while Neelam, Lalit’s wife, had taken refuge in her bedroom which smelt strongly of medicines and ointments. 
She browsed through a fashion magazine listlessly. Had it been any other day, she would have placed orders for the latest clothes, accessories, or footwear by now.
But this wasn’t just another day.
Neelam glanced at the phone, which had been ringing non-stop for the past few hours. She flinched as the horrid memories clogged her thoughts again. 
An early morning call from Tushaar, her older son, two days ago, had turned her world upside down. 
“Ma, I’ve been arrested!” 
“What?! Why?!” 
“The cops say I’ve killed someone! But Ma-”
Neelam couldn’t hear the rest. A wave of dizziness overpowered her, and she fainted. When she regained consciousness, she was stunned to find IV tubes running through her veins. Purple bruises covered her hands, and she felt a searing pain in her knees. 
Lalit sat next to her, holding her hand. He looked like he’d aged ten years in a few days. 
She drifted in and out of consciousness, inquiring about Tushaar every time she woke up. It was late evening when she regained her strength and could comprehend what had happened.
According to the police, Tushaar had killed a woman. Even though he claimed his innocence, police believed otherwise.
“I am going to the police station.” Lalit placed a hand on her shoulder. 
The touch did not evoke a response from his wife. He waited by her side for a while but when she continued staring at the wall, he left.
***
“Thank you for coming, Sandhya Ji.” Inspector Mishra greeted the detective in his office and gestured to her to take the chair across from him. 
“It’s my pleasure. So, what do we have so far?”
The inspector filled Sandhya in on the case.  
“We found a dead body in the Choudhury guest house. Forensics confirmed the fingerprints on the murder weapon belong to the elder son. I think he killed the girl over some dispute.”
“How did you find him?”
“Believe it or not, he was at the same location. Just up the stairs in a different room. I’m sure he thought he could get rid of the body before the police arrived. Unfortunately for him, the cleaner reported for duty saw the body and informed us. The lady was so scared, she didn’t even run upstairs to see if the guest house was occupied.”
He paused and gave Sandhya a knowing glance. 
“The boy insists that he’s innocent. He’s called for his lawyer and is refusing to speak to us. We have reached a dead-end madam. There’s a lot of pressure from the top. It’s become a circus, thanks to the media.” He pointed towards the reporters hovering outside the station for a quick byte. “They want a quick trial.” 
A constable placed all the case-related documents on the table. 
Sandhya picked up the case file and began reading. 
“See if you can make the boy see sense,” the Inspector said with a sheepish grin. “A quick confession would be ideal. DSP Sir is confident you can crack this perp. He spoke highly of your track record, and how you don’t have a single unsolved case to date.”
Sandhya brushed aside the compliment, but she knew the DSP meant it. They had worked closely on many cases, and Sandhya had proved her competence every time. 
“I’d like to question the boy. Where are you holding him?”
“He’s in a safe house outside city limits. Thought it’d be better to keep him away from the circus for now. I’ll have the directions drawn up for you once you are done.”
Sandhya spent the next hour studying the case files. 
It seemed to be an open and shut case, except her instincts told her otherwise. Even though the evidence was irrefutable, something didn’t sit right. The police could not establish any link between the Choudhury boy and the victim, whose identity was as yet unknown. 
It looked too convenient, almost as if someone had attempted to commit a perfect crime.
She left the police station with a multitude of questions buzzing inside her. Fortunately, this was one of the few times in her experience when she knew where to look for answers.
In thirty minutes, Sandhya pulled up outside the building where their suspect was being held and noticed the absence of media with glee. The red brick building hardly looked like a police station. It didn’t even have a signboard. 
The door creaked as she pulled it open. The two constables paused the video they’d been watching and stood up, saluting her. One of them led her to a room where a boy of about 22 sat resting his head on a table, using his arms as a pillow. 
She pulled the chair across from him and sat down. 
A wave of confusion passed over his handsome features. A chiselled jawline, tanned skin, sunken eyes, shoulder-length hair with streaks of brown, and a raised scar that ran along his hairy arm. The boy could be a chick magnet if not for the look of perpetual contempt on his face.
“Hello, I am Sandhya Iyer, a private detective.”
“Did Ma send you? I’m not talking to anyone except my lawyer.” He crossed his palms behind his head and stared at her.
“Why not? What are you hiding?”
“Damn it! How many times should I tell you guys I am innocent?” 
“Okay, in that case, you need to talk to me. Cause right now, I am the only one who can help you.” 
Tushaar averted his gaze.
“Walk me through what happened that day. Let me help you. Please.” Sandhya insisted.
Tushaar closed his eyes and leaned against the chair. 
“Hmph… I had an argument with Ma, so I spent the night at the guesthouse.”
“Guesthouse?”
“Yes, our company guest house, normally used by outstation office staff. I drank a little, or probably more than a little, and then slept off. I woke up around 11 in the morning and went to take a shower. Then, someone started banging on the door. I was so shocked that it was the police, I think I blanked out for a while.” He shook his head. “Next thing I know, I am in this hellhole. Bastards! They don’t know who they are messing with. Oh, they’ll find out soon enough.” He smirked maliciously as he rocked the chair back and forth.
“Tushaar, you aren’t taking this seriously.”
“Why should I? I know it’s taking longer than expected, but I’m sure Ma will grease their palms and all this will be over soon.”
“You’ve been arrested for murder. There’s a lot of evidence against you. They found your hair on the bed near the body. A trail of footprints that led the cops to your room. They found the muddy shoes under your bed.”
Tushaar stopped rocking, and the chair fell back to the floor with a thud. His lips trembled, “I don’t even know who died!”  
“It was a girl. She was hit with a vase on her head—a vase with your fingerprints on it.” 
All the colour drained from his face.
She showed him the victim’s photograph. There was not even a faint flicker of recognition in his eyes. 
Either you are innocent, or a very good actor.
“I didn’t do this!”
“Did you see anyone at the guest house that night? A guard or a servant?”
Sandhya started writing in her notebook, as Tushaar spoke. 
“No! We have a watchman, a cleaner, and a cook, but they come only when there are guests. The main gate opens with a passcode, and the rooms are never locked. Our admin department coordinates everything.”
“Why did you go to the room on the first floor? Why not the one on the ground floor?”
Tushaar shrugged. “That’s my room. I always go there when I am upset.”
“What was the argument about?”
“With Ma? Well, we’ve been arguing for a while now, and that night I couldn’t tolerate her bickering anymore. You see, my granny, my father’s mother, died two months ago. The doctors said she died of sudden liver failure. But I don’t believe it.”
“Why?”
“My father, Mahendra Choudhury, died of liver failure when I was four. Ma married Lalit three years later, and they had my step-brother, Ronny. I have nothing against her remarrying, just to be clear. It’s just that, for the last few months, Lalit has been fighting with Ma over granny’s will. You see, the entire business and the house belong to my father’s family and so to me.” He puffed up his chest, but his eyes did not light up with pride. 
Sandhya was aware of most of these details. “Do you suspect foul play?”
“I’m sure he wants the inheritance to be bequeathed to Ronny.”
“But-”
Tushaar held up his hand and tsked impatiently. “A few days after granny died, her maid was clearing out her stuff. Among them were some unused medicine sheets and a pharmacy receipt. There was no prescription, just a scribble on the receipt in Hindi—four tablets twice a day. Thing is, granny was never sick. When I questioned the maid about them, she mumbled something about just doing her job.”
“Who asked her to do that?”
“I never found out. She stopped coming to work. I thought Lalit must be behind it, so I shared my suspicions with Ma. I remember how shocked she was! Absolutely speechless! She assured me she would dig into the matter.”
“Anything else?”
“Uhm… not really.” He paused, thinking. “The medicine name sounded unfamiliar, so I looked it up on Google. It was Merci… or something. I don’t remember exactly. It would be in my search history!” His voice boomed inside the room as if he had found a ray of hope in the abyss. 
“Here, use this.” Sandhya handed over her phone and watched as he took it with his left hand. 
He continued running his finger over the screen, before exclaiming, “here, it is! Mersyndol. Why… it’s nothing but Paracetamol.” 
Sandhya noted the name of the medicine in her notebook. 
“What about the receipt? Is it with your mother? Anything you can remember about it?”
“Well… I think… It was not in granny’s name. It had someone else’s name on it!”
“Whose name?”
“Dunno.”
“Where is it?”
“In my wallet.”
“And your wallet is…?”
“In the guest house.”
Abruptly, Tushaar’s gaze veered towards the door behind her. Sandhya turned around to find the constable beckoning her. 
“Mishra Ji just called. Some family members are on their way to meet him.”
“Ma must be coming.” Tushaar’s creased brows slackened and his eyes sparkled for the first time. 
“Inform the constable if you need to talk to me.” Sandhya shoved her notebook into her bag, hung it on her shoulders, and got up, pushing the chair behind. “And it’s best if nobody finds out about my visit yet. No one at all.”
***
A visibly irritated Sandhya got into her car and turned on the ignition. Wish I could have spoken with him a little longer. 
She remained seated in the car; her eyes glued to the entrance. The car AC came to life and she felt her stiff muscles relax with the blast of cold air. 
“Ah! So, you are the visitor!” 
She scrolled through the photographs in her phone gallery to confirm the visitor’s identity and then jotted down the name in her notebook.
Then she keyed in an address on the GPS.
Bright yellow police tape fluttered in the wind as Sandhya drove up to the large black gate. She noticed the CCTV mounted right next to the gate, and the number pad affixed on the pillar next to it. 
The constable posted at the gate stood and after checking her credentials, let her inside. 
Sandhya examined the ground floor room but could find nothing new. Careful not to disturb anything, she entered Tushaar’s room. With her gloved hands, she opened the bedside drawer and took out Tushaar’s wallet. 
Hidden underneath the credit cards was the neatly folded pharmacy receipt. She bagged the wallet and the receipt as part of the evidence.
Her phone rang. 
The police had identified the victim. An escort named Suhani.
Sandhya typed out a quick text and received a thumbs-up emoji in seconds.
***
The pharmacy was located on a busy street, about 10 km away from the Choudhury mansion. Sandhya entered the shop and emerged soon, sporting a victorious look. 
One mystery solved! Lalit’s driver had bought the medicines. 
She settled in her car and made a note of all the queries fogging her mind. 
Did Lalit kill the old lady and is now framing Tushaar so the property would go to Ronny? Why did he meet Tushaar? To force him to confess?
Lost in thoughts, she chewed on the back of her pen. Her phone’s jarring ringtone broke her reverie. It was the informant she’d reached out to. The news sent her heart racing.
Suhani was close to someone in the family. The caller shared the escort’s last known residence. 
Sandhya drove on towards the swanky high rise in Gurgaon and smirked at the absence of media outside the gated community. 
Ha! I beat the journalists this time. 
One security post. 2 cameras at the entrance. This shouldn’t be too challenging. She grinned mischievously as she pulled her cap over her head.
“Madam, sign the entry register.” The bored security guard said, without even looking up from his phone. 
Sandhya heard an enthusiastic voice cheering Delhi Daredevils. She quickly scribbled a fake name and phone number and drove through as the boom barriers lifted.
She chose a vantage point in the visitor’s parking and observed the residents. Fitness-conscious joggers. Retired men engaged in brisk walking. A bevy of ladies chit-chatting while their kids played nearby. 
Sandhya brushed her hair, put on extra-large sunglasses, and trotted towards the group, but not before exchanging her running shoes for a pair of high-heeled sandals. 
“Hello!” she said in a posh accent, “Sorry for disturbing you, I’m here to meet Suhani. I forgot her flat number and her mobile is unreachable. Can you help me? It’s a little urgent.”
The women looked at each other, confusion written across their faces.
“Suhani, who?”
“Sorry, we don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Is she new here?”
Sandhya showed them Suhani’s picture on her phone. They must have noticed this woman. The crew cut, high cheekbones, creamy skin, and cat eyes made her quite noticeable, if not memorable.
“Oh, her! Her name is Suhani?”
“I think she lives in Tower 28, but I don’t know the flat number,” said another. 
“I haven’t seen her for the last 4-5 days.”
“Oh, is it!” Sandhya pouted. “She had a photo shoot today. My boss sent me here to check on her. If I don’t find her, he will fire me!”
“Photoshoot? She is a model!”
“Ah, no wonder she’s always coming and going at weird hours. That too, with so many men!”
Sandhya caught on to the word she’d been hoping to hear. Men! 
“Oh! They must be her colleagues. Is it okay if I show you a few pictures? If you recognise any of them, I can get in touch with them. The modelling world is all about contacts, you know?” Sandhya let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope it’s not too much of a bother? I’ll be so grateful.”
She scrolled through her gallery as the women crowded around her. But it was of no use. 
“Wait! I think I have some photos.” Someone said, “she’d brought a friend to our society’s Christmas Party.”
Sandhya shifted her weight from one foot to another as the lady scrolled through her phone gallery. 
Ten minutes later, a delighted Sandhya scrambled back into her car.
“Mishra Ji, get a search warrant for Suhani’s flat.”
***
Day 5
“Mishra Ji, good morning,” The inspector almost choked on his samosa as Sandhya entered the LN Nagar Police station early in the morning.
“Any progress, madam?”
“Yes, that’s why I am here. But before that, can I see the autopsy report?”
“Sure. She died of a head injury.” He opened the drawer and handed over a thin file. 
“One day before Tushaar was arrested, right?”
“Yes,” he said as he chomped on another samosa. 
Sandhya went through the report carefully. She leaned closer to the table and whispered, “What about the guest house CCTV footage?”
“There’s no footage, madam. The CCTV is switched on only when they have guests.”
Sandhya nodded and noted a few details in her notebook.
If Tushaar is the killer, he’s not foolish enough to stay on the same premises after the fact.
Based on the vital evidence found at Suhani’s flat, the link between the victim and the Choudhury family was now established. 
The autopsy report had given her an important clue, which the police seemed to have missed.
Lalit’s driver had bought the medicines—the only thing that she’d to establish was how the granny’s death factored in this case.
It was unfortunate that there was no footage. She still had to find out the motive. Though she had a suspect in mind, she still didn’t have enough evidence for a firm conviction. Despite that, she felt convinced about Tushaar’s innocence.
“Alright, I’ll take your leave now. I’ll be back once I have an update.” Sandhya left before the inspector could gulp down his samosa and question her.
Her next stop was the Choudhury guest house again. But this time, she did not enter. Rather, she strolled around to the back. 
Tall wild grass swayed in the breeze, except for a patch where it looked crushed. Right outside the first-floor window. Sandhya kneeled and rooted around in the patch of grass. After about ten minutes, she unearthed an object with a wave of euphoria.
And just like that, the final piece of this puzzle slid into place.
“Inspector Mishra, call Tushaar’s family to the station. And, bring Tushaar, too.” She lowered her voice as if she feared the wind might eavesdrop on her conversation. “Yes, I’m certain. Proceed with the formalities.”
At the station, the crowd of reporters milling outside the gate was bigger than ever. She flashed her card, and the guard let her in, much to the curiosity of the bystanders. 
Four people were huddled in a serious discussion in the lobby. She instantly recognised three of them — Neelam, Ronny, and Lalit. And guessing the fourth person’s identity was easy. He was the same lawyer who was with Lalit when they’d come to meet Tushaar.
“Hi, I am Sandhya Iyer. I am working with the police on Tushaar’s case.” She led them to Mishra’s cabin, where an agitated Tushaar was seated on a bench in a corner. The group quickly settled down on chairs and benches. 
“Why have you called us here?” Lalit asked.
Inspector Mishra cleared his throat. “You will be happy to know we have solved the case, and Tushaar is innocent.” 
Tushaar broke down with apparent relief. Sobbing, he approached his mother and sat on the floor beside her.
The reaction was as Sandhya had expected — a mix of blanched and relieved faces. 
“Sandhya Ji, why don’t you share all the details?”
“The murder victim is a girl named Suhani-” 
“We don’t know anyone by that name. I’m not sure if she is a staff member.” Lalit’s creased brows showed his confusion.
“I would appreciate it if you let me complete without interruptions.” Sandhya placed her bag on the table and took out a folder. 
“This should answer your question.” She spread some pictures on the table.
The colour drained off Ronny and Neelam’s faces — intimate photographs of Suhani and Ronny found at Suhani’s residence. 
Sandhya continued, “Suhani was Ronny’s girlfriend. They were together at the guest house six days ago when Ronny had a fight with Suhani.”
“It was an accident!” Ronny screamed. “She cheated me! She told me she was an air hostess. Far from it! She was a fucking call-girl! I was breaking up with her when she threatened me with blackmail!” Ronny banged his fists against his head.
A constable quickly walked over and stood by his side.
“But the police said Tushaar’s fingerprints were found on the vase,” asked a visibly distraught Lalit.
Sandhya smiled, “well, this is where your wife comes in.”
“Stop this nonsense!” Neelam shrieked and advanced toward the detective. 
Sandhya’s stare was unflinching. She held up her palm. “It’s better you remain seated.” She turned to face Lalit. “When Ronny realised his folly, he ran to his mother, who promised to take care of everything.
“No… No… There’s some mistake. Neelam wouldn’t…” Lalit’s panic brimmed over in his objections.
Sandhya continued, “There’s no mistake, Mr. Lalit. The facts speak for themselves. Upon learning of the incident, Neelam went to the guest house that morning, carrying a bag containing a vase, a coffee mug, and a hairbrush. Things from Tushaar’s room. She changed the sheets, replaced the vase, and dropped strands of hair on the pillow.”
“Ma?” Tushaar’s shaky voice forced Sandhya to pause. 
A cold sigh escaped Neelam’s mouth as her shoulders slumped. 
“That same evening, she deliberately picked a fight with Tushaar, knowing he would go to the guest house. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, she took Tushaar’s old shoes, muddied them, and left a trail of prints leading up to his room. Her phone records show she called the cleaner to come and clean the ground-floor rooms. She executed an almost perfect plan.”
“Ma would never do this!” Tushaar held his mother’s hand. “You are lying. Is Lalit paying you to frame Ma and me?”
Sandhya felt sorry for the young man. “If you let me speak, you will find all your answers. You mentioned your granny’s will and the fights, right?”
She removed some papers and handed them to the inspector, and a copy to Tushaar. “This is your granny’s will. Your mother forced her to change it. According to this, the inheritance belongs to Ronny.”
“What?!”
“Yes, in fact, Lalit had been fighting to get Ronny’s name removed.” 
Tushaar looked towards Lalit, but couldn’t meet his eyes. 
“When Neelam couldn’t handle the daily arguments, she drugged your granny. An overdose of Paracetamol causes sudden liver failure. With your granny gone, there was no way to change the will again. Unfortunately for her, you got suspicious.”
Sandhya laid out two pages on the table. “The maid’s and Lalit’s driver’s confessions. They say Neelam coerced them into buying the medicines and giving them to your granny. When you questioned the maid, Neelam paid her to leave.”
Next, she laid out some photographs with time stamps. They showed Ronny and Suhani entering the guest house, followed by Ronny exiting in the wee hours of the night. The next evening, Tushaar arrived, drunk. The photographs clearly showed that Neelam had visited the guest house twice. 
“The guest house CCTV wasn’t operational. But the security cameras of the showroom across the street have a clear view of the guest house entrance.”
There was absolute silence in the room. 
“Neelam framed you, Tushaar. But she forgot one thing. According to the coroner’s report, Suhani was hit on the left side of her head. Whereas, you are left-handed. If you’d hit her, the injury would’ve been on the right side. Really proves there’s no such thing as a perfect murder.”
She took a deep breath. “And lastly, as Neelam didn’t want to risk damaging the fake footsteps with hers, she jumped off the balcony in your room.” Sandhya showed them a small Ziplock bag containing the object she’d picked up from the guest house grounds. “One of Neelam’s earrings. It must have fallen off when she jumped. If you check, there would be some injuries on Neelam’s hands and knees because of the fall.”
Tushaar knew he didn’t have to check anything. His mother’s bowed head was proof enough. 
“Why, Ma? Why?! How could you? I thought you loved me!”
She remained silent, as if in a trance. When she spoke up, Tushaar felt his world collapsing. 
“No! I never loved you! I have always hated you. You reminded me of your father, the bastard who raped me every night until the day he died. Paracetamol has always been my friend.” Her eyes lit up and her cackle echoed in the stunned silence. “I have only loved Lalit and Ronny. Lalit was forcing me to change the will, but I couldn’t leave Ronny penniless. When the girl died, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get you out of our lives forever. The three of us could finally be a happy family.”
The station rang with Tushaar’s screams of denial and Neelam’s silent acceptance. The police charged Ronny with Suhani’s accidental murder and concealment of the fact afterward. Neelam was charged with obstruction of justice by tampering with evidence related to murder and for the cold-blooded murder of her mother-in-law and first husband.
Lalit half-carried; half dragged a broken Tushaar outside as he quietly dealt with his own loss. 
Sandhya felt profoundly sad knowing the darkness that awaited them. For now, she took heart in the knowledge that her instinct and sleuthing skills had once again proved right and saved an innocent man from being wrongly convicted. 
Her work phone buzzed. She turned around and answered the call. Another case awaited her.  
***