Seven
17th March 2003
Dusk. The winds whispered humidity. Jeel slid all those window ceilings down, hiding the view with curtains, it was time. They might have found out about her, he must have told them. She couldn't blame him, though, how long would he sit tight-lipped, after all, he wasn't even aware of that event.
Ring Ring!
She knew very well who the caller was. Poor David, if only he knew! But things didn't work out for her, as well. After the mass- murder, one thing was for sure, she had lost it too. Her motives and intentions didn't match with David's wishes, and then the interrogation, the cops were after her. She realized she was the prime suspect of the case. And she knew things, secrets, which put her in danger. If I'm caught, then there'd be no repair to what was done, instead, the problem would just widen, she thought.
She had decided to shift to some other place, somewhere quieter. But leaving the city at such times would make her a fugitive and things could go worse, so she decided to go to the other place. The dummy address, she thought and chuckled. But she did curse her boss, damn him, why had he given her such a tough job? Jeel had never faced such an issue, in all of her career.
*****
18th March 2003
Himanshu Savla strolled happily back to his villa, though he was well aware that he was under secret surveillance by the cops. At least something went as planned. The interrogation was easy for him to crack. He was pressed hard by the authorities but was backed up by confidence. His alibi worked!
He didn't have a lawyer, but with the help of his friend, he was able to get the ticket of the train which he travelled to, for his drama show in another town. That ticket was dated for the same day that the party was held, so the authorities had no choice, but to believe that he had no part to play in the murder. The supervisor of the drama company was also contacted, but he confirmed Himanshu Savla's presence in the show. The colony members' answers about Himanshu being an alcoholic also worked in his favour, as it justified his drinking the leftover wine. And then he was asked about the locket, he did see it, but he couldn't remember where. The only question where he stumbled on was,
'David always invited you to his parties, but our reports show that you weren't invited to the last two parties held in the previous month. Neither were you invited to this party, what do you have to say about that?'
This question could have spilt the water, but the terrain was strong, and Himanshu countered it easily by bringing up the change in timings of his drama shows, and how he had to skip those parties due to that. He focused on the final quest now. After all, there had to be something to make up for the loss he suffered.
*****
Syna sent Dexter on an unofficial task. She ordered him to set off in the morning, grab a seat on the first bus he saw and head to the address of the sender for that letter.
'It's a fake address of-course! Why do you think The Stalker would send you a letter with his real address?' he argued with Syna.
'Right now, we aren't sure if it's him. Furthermore, there's something I want to check, so are you going to follow my orders or do you want me to have second thoughts about whether or not I can rely on you?' she taunted and he backed off.
Syna wanted the task to be completely discreet, so he had no accomplice to help him. He carried a 9mm revolver with him, for safety. It was his only chance to prove something. Looking around, he observed that the bus was hardly occupied, there were just eleven of them. An old woman, probably in her sixties, knitting a sweater, sitting right behind him. A couple with their son, enjoying their journey. He then noticed a strange man in the back seat, reading a newspaper. That face somehow seemed familiar. He glanced at the address,
Plot no, 23,
Ajmera's,
Malabar Hills,
Shimla.
It had to be an abandoned area, he thought. He wasn't sure what Syna wanted to achieve out of this. Did she know something? Or maybe received another letter from him? He wondered if she would hide something from him.
The bus halted, pushing Dexter back to reality. He stood up slowly and got down the bus. He checked his watch, it was 9:30, one and a half hour from where it began. The board in front of him said,
'Centre Square road - 500m'
*****
18th March 2003
10 A.M
The residents of the nearby areas were peeping from their windows, pedestrians halting from their work, all desperate and curious to know why the police had gathered around in their area. There were three cars, a few cops were standing right beside them, pointing their guns at the window, whereas four of them ran towards the second floor, one of them a female cop, who knocked on the door,
'Miss Jeel, open the door! This is Shimla Police.' She pounded and received no response.
'Miss Jeel, please cooperate and open the door.' After another try, she signaled to her subordinates and with four strong pushes, they broke into the apartment, their guns upright. They scanned through every corner of the house, the curtains were on, windows closed, room clean. They could find nothing in the wardrobe, no files, no human presence. There was a cell phone lying on the bedside table which proved that she had gotten another sim card and a device to avoid tracking her location.
'She's gone.' The cop informed over the wireless receiver. Mr. Khatri banged his hand on the car out of frustration. He had to talk to Syna about sending a search party right away before Jeel thought of escaping. He was sick of all of this, something was strange, Syna wasn't acting and commanding at her full potential, as before. He knew something was cooking between her and Dexter. Maybe it was time she passed the reins to me, he thought and grinned.
*****
Half an hour later, Dexter finally reached the plot. As he had predicted, it was a very old plot and seemed god-forsaken. The iron gates rusted and dust all over them, windows broken and shabby, outer walls scratched, the color dull, and the plaster fallen off. He could see the huge lock on the front door, although judging by its condition, the door could easily be broken by a single push. He was informed by the neighbors that the plot had been empty for many years and the owner died a decade ago.
Sighing, he decided to look around, even though he didn't want to. The carpet laid down was red, with simple designs on it, it was torn partly. The paintings hanging on the decaying walls looked old and gloomy. There were hardly any couches or tables, the place seemed deserted.
He paced slowly, scanning, looking for any unusual object. He surfed through the main hall, the kitchen, and the bedrooms, at the lower half of the villa. He headed for the stairs when suddenly a misstep shot a sharp arrow right at him. Luckily, it missed his neck and hit the painting, which portrayed an old man, wearing huge spectacles and looking intently at Dexter. Poor old man! Dexter thought, cautious about taking another step. The Stalker was definitely here, that booby trap backed his doubt. He kept his dominant arm on the revolver and moved ahead slowly, with a stance that would ease him to fire.
His senses were alert now. There were only two rooms on the top floor, he glanced in the first one. There were just a single bed and an old wardrobe, he checked and found nothing in them. He then headed towards the next one and walked in slowly. There was a small television in one corner, a medium-sized bed with a torn mattress, a huge wardrobe, bigger than the previous room, and a small box. He stepped in and his leg twitched into something sharp, forcing his knees to bend. Before he could understand that it was a thin sharp string tied to trap the ankles, he fell. Grunting, he looked up, there came a loud sound. He forced his vision towards the television, somehow it was on. He noticed that the string was attached to the cable, in contact with his legs, it forced the television to switch on. Before he could comprehend what was going on, he heard two deafening gunshots, from two different directions, one of them saving his life.
Dexter saw someone that he had least expected to see there.
*****
The work was divided efficiently. Perhaps she was good at team management and division of work. Henri Fayol's principles were indeed effective when it came to management, but the Father of Modern Management forgot to mention that such principles were made only for the ethical tasks. Syna had perfectly carried out the investigation, she had ordered Dexter to check the address but on an unofficial basis, unethical. The other crucial task which she had assigned to Mr. Khatri was to find Jeel on the grounds that she was the prime suspect of the case, but the actual reason why Syna wanted her was that she had some questions for her, based on that letter, which the authorities were not informed of yet, again unethical. And lastly, the task she was performing since morning, investigating the apartments of all the victims to find some clue that would link to the case, and also for any object that would match with the locket.
Her next target was "Paul's", it now legally belonged to Akash Paul, she was surprised to know that he wasn't present in the house. 'Mr. Handsome is busy. Maybe trying to solve the case.' She thought and gave a wicked grin to herself. She chuckled imagining the look on his face when he'd realize that his house was searched without any notice, he might be pissed off. Her juniors were examining all the rooms, drawers, wardrobes for any evidence.
Syna was impressed by Paul's Villa, it was huge and furnished well. She checked each room and went to the stairs, Akash's room had to be on the upper side of the villa, she opened one of the doors, there was a huge study table, a huge board which consisted of various pictures and news articles clipped with the help of a pin. Syna paced towards the board. Everything he owned was clipped neatly together, except for the interrogation part and the letter. She realized that he was working hard for the case, after all his uncle had died in the attack. Syna pitied him and decided to rope him in for the investigation. Her cells released the scent of excitement in her body at the mere thought of them working together on the case, but she was cuffed from doing so.
But there was something which disturbed her eyes, there was something wrong about that room. She felt an unusual feeling, something was clumsy but her instinct refused to solve her curiosity. She knew what was wrong in the room, but she was unable to name the problem. The window panels, the door, the wardrobe, the television, and the bed, they appeared ordinary but there was something wrong about each of them. She had seen and felt the same in many different apartments or rooms, but she couldn't comprehend what it was.
Finally, after a couple of minutes when there was nothing left to discover, the cops left Paul's Villa and continued their investigation in the remaining targets.
*****
Just when they thought about ending the case, I made my preparation of beginning the chase, and that's where I always won, for I never stopped when they started, and never paused when they departed.
~The Stalker