Mystery of the Old Age Home

  Elizabeth sat chewing the end of her pencil which looked as if it had been nibbled by a creature of the rodent family. Despairing and demoralising thoughts had wrung out all hope of a promising future. She rued having taken up Journalism as her career. She realised being a Reporter was a tough job. It was not that she flinched from taking on a challenge but in her case whenever she presumed that she was the first to get the scent of some sensational news and was gloating over the fact, it was already in print in one of the road side stalls. She had lost her sleep and her peace of mind because of the tough competition.               

                   

        As for confronting her boss in the office, it was a daunting and a nerve-wracking proposition. She felt she would lose her job any day as her performance had been miserable and below the mark. It would not only be disgraceful but a downright disaster. How could she face the world! It was then that her eyes fell on a comment in the newspaper criticising the police department for their lackadaisical service. It was reported that they had not gone into in-depth investigation in probing the death of a Senior Citizen in a Home for the Aged. The circumstances seemed to be highly suspicious so she decided that she should go to the location at once and perhaps be able to extract some juicy and spicy information.

It was noon when she neared the remote village of Shankarpur through a winding path with wildflowers on both sides bobbing their heads in unison in the gentle breeze. The Municipality had not constructed a metaled road as the tourist spot had not become popular till date. It was not too comfortable a ride on the rickety van which was the only mode of transport available there. It rumbled and tumbled along on the uneven surface to Elizabeth’s utter frustration and dismay. She was impatient to reach as the slightest delay might have made her visit futile.

 When she spotted a cluster of cottages in the distance, her wilted spirit once more revived. She observed the isolated location of the Home for the Aged, almost balancing on the protruding ledge jutting out into the sea. The sea was calm, somnolent in the lap of the blue expanse of the sky. A few gulls could be seen gliding lazily as if they had all eternity to do so. Elizabeth gingerly stepped out from the van with renewed hope---was this not the perfect setting for a murder!      

She had to take special permission to enter the Home.  As she stepped in, one by one the curious inmates thronged round her to find out who the stranger was encroaching on their privacy. It was quite an exciting event for them as they hardly had visitors. They were vociferous in trying to tell her whatever she wanted to know but in the cacophony of so many voices together, little could be made out.

  It was then that a rotund buxom lady, perhaps in her eighties, started pushing everybody who was in front of her in a most unceremonious fashion and took the most prominent position. Her fleshy cheeks sagged on both sides and freckles dotted her nose. She had lost two of her front teeth but made up the loss by fixing a pair of shiny silver teeth in the cavity. Now as she spoke, one’s attention got focused on those dazzling pieces of metal.    

                                                                            

  “I will tell you Mam the actual facts. He was a quiet man I tell you, very secretive! What was going on his mind no one could guess. They say his wife had died many years back. He had no one to look after him, that’s why he was brought to the home.’                                                             

           “That is not true”, chirped in another lady, frail and skinny, in a vehement protest. ”What do you know about him---I sometimes had long chats with him—I can enlighten you on that issue. He has a daughter living in England.’       

 “That is absolutely the correct information’, added another lady. She was younger than the other two and seemed to be more lively and vivacious. She went on to say, “I have heard that if he has no one to inherit his property. His entire assets will go to the Home after his demise. Besides his daughter who is a brilliant Surgeon practising in the U.K. has told her father that she does not want any of his wealth as she earns more than she will ever need”. This statement evoked a guttural rejoinder from a septuagenarian who, though incapacitated with a rheumatoid knee, was vociferous in making his opinion known.   

                                

 “I tell you these old fogies are out of their minds when it comes to making their wills. They become soft in the head. Now tell me what we get from the Home, just a miserable existence----day in and day out the same potato hash and watery gruel with ninety percentage water and ten percentage oats. It is criminal to support these good –for- nothing institutions and people who do so should be decimated before they can make such blunders.’ After having given vent to his stifled dissatisfaction with the poor food offered in the Home, he slowly shuffled his way out.  

 “What you say about the will has to be mo-modi-modified----in case of ab-absence of next to kin, his as-assets will devolve on the Home,” contradicted an emaciated shrivelled up man, stuttering and stammering as he spoke.     

                                                                               

Elizabeth then changed the topic to get to the crux of the matter. What she gathered was the tragic end of a lonesome man who had lost everything. Having lost his will to live or perhaps because of mental aberration due to unbearable mental trauma, he had taken his own life. When his wife Emma expired, his daughter working abroad put him up in the Home as she had such a busy schedule as a doctor that she could not look after him. He had become very weak and needed constant attention and care. But she was very fond of him and regularly called him on her mobile phone and sent chocolates for him which he loved. Three years had elapsed since she had visited him. Then one day she rang up and said she was coming to see him and asked him what he would like from England. He as usual asked for the liquor chocolates which were his favourite. Teresa knew she had to get what her dad had asked for, even in the short span of time before the flight. She took out her white Sedan and drove like a bullet to be back on time. In a blinding moment the car crashed and Teresa did not see the light of day after that. All was over in a second.

 The police found the ticket for the flight in her brief case. They also came to know that her father was in the Home from her papers. They rang up the Home but were advised that the police department should not mention anything about the accident to the father. They were told to send the remains in a body bag which could be arranged through the Overseas Medical Insurance. The tactful breaking of the tragic news should be left to his close friends.

Hubert, the father was elated that his daughter was coming to see him. He had woven fantastic dreams of what he and Emma would do together. He was a happy man and an envy of all around him. He dressed up after a long time in his immaculate white shirt and navy blue corduroy trousers. He took care to comb his thinning hair and spray a few puffs of cologne on his shirt. He was ready to welcome his daughter.

At the Airport he waited with bated breath for his cherished daughter. All the passengers came out one by one. No sign of his little girl. Then the Captain and the crew in a solemn hand-over delivered a body-bag with his daughter in it. He gave a loud scream and collapsed.

After that traumatic experience, day after day he would dress up and go to the Airport in tireless anticipation of his daughter’s coming. He would wait and wait. When his legs gave way, he would be carried back home.         

 This went on for a year. Then the frequency of his going to the Airport became less and then stopped. But at the exact hour of his daughter’s would-be arrival time he would invariably call out her name and start sobbing. Sometimes he would throw things or give into temper tantrums. He was heard mumbling that he did not want to live and would end his meaningless life. So when the incident occurred everybody inferred that he had taken his own life. It was a simple deduction. Hubert having become a psychiatric case must have jumped into the sea from the jutting out ledge to be washed away by the high tide. It was a normal finale of a senior Citizen, neglected and forgotten in a Home for the Aged. Elizabeth was disappointed at again coming up against a blank wall.

 As she made her way out, a diminutive man, hardly four feet tall, tapped her on her arm. He then screwed up his face in a comical way and whispered, “I want to tell you something”. He looked around to see whether anybody was watching then lowering his voice he whispered, “I am bursting to tell this to someone but there is no one in whom I can confide.” He placed his wrinkled hand on hers and pulled her aside. “You see, it was lunchtime. All the inmates had gone down to have their lunch. Hubert had been difficult. He was up to his tantrums again. Usually at that time he was never normal. He insisted that unless his daughter went down for lunch with him, he would not eat anything. Mr Brown who owned the Home had come up to take him down”. The speaker then looked all around and lowered his voice still further and coming close to Elizabeth’s ears whispered, “He did it—I swear I saw with my own eyes “.             

“What did he do”? Elizabeth asked puzzled.  

“He gave him a hard push and Hubert fell right over and the roaring writhing monstrous waves devoured him in one gulp.”                                                                                                 

“Where were you to see all this?” asked Elizabeth.                                      

 “I had come up to get my dentures. I was so worked up seeing it happen I could not eat or sleep. Anyway now that I have told you all this, I feel better, and I must go otherwise I will be in trouble”. In no time he vanished and could not be seen anywhere.

  Elizabeth’s head was in a whir. Indeed, long last she had got something sensational. How everything fitted in like the squares of a jigsaw puzzle. The owner of the Home would get the entire inheritance as Hubert’s daughter had predeceased him and if Hubert was also done away with, matters would be simple. Mr Brown took the first opportunity to eliminate all obstacles and misappropriate the money. His Old Age Home was just a cover for his heinous crimes and black money laundering. As Elizabeth wended her way out of the village, her only thought was how her boss would react to hearing about her first successful performance!