Vrushabha Chavadannavar

Crime


4.0  

Vrushabha Chavadannavar

Crime


Mystery

Mystery

10 mins 17.3K 10 mins 17.3K

I was standing in front of her, holding a ring in my hand inside my pockets. I explained her that we'd be a better companion of each other if we take our relationship a step ahead. After all, how many years more should we yearn for each other and work only as professionals. I decided I must think of our personal life too. She looked surprised and was filled with joy and happiness. She hugged me blithely. I kissed her on her forehead. It was now time for the show. I took out the ring from my pocket, went down on one knee and asked her “Will you…..” and she interrupted me even before I completed my sentence - “Of course yes, Ruben, Of course.”

I stood up, held her hand and was about to put the ring on her finger, just when the alarm rang like a cacophony at 5:30 am sharp and I regretted having set the alarm for today. Most of my friends call me an austere person for they are really astonished at my lifestyle. There have been people who ask me how can I do the stuff that I do on an everyday basis. Most of them find it difficult even to wake up at 7 am.

I went out for a lovely jog after brushing my teeth and freshening up. It was extremely cold out there, no bog-standard person could easily wake up in the cold winter morning and get out of his warm and calm bedroom. I got back home after the jog and made myself a cup of coffee. How I wish Fizza was here right next to me and we both enjoy the morning with a hot cup of coffee made by me! How I wish! I can only dream of her and think of imaginary romantic moments between us but I had not enough courage to ask her out like how I did in my dream this morning.

Whilst I was lost in my imagination, I got a call from a private number. Not everyday I get a call from a private number, it's only when something was related to the case I'm solving, I got calls from such numbers. But this time I hadn't been solving any mysterious murder nor was I spying on someone to get to know his intentions - that's what people hired me for I was a well known detective in the entire city of Manali.

Someone on the other side of the phone, “Sir, please hurry up to your office, I've left some important documents on your table” and the call hung up.

I was not surprised though as such random phone calls were a part of my career. Nevertheless, I hurried immediately to my office. It was then I saw what the random person on the phone was talking about. Fizza lay there with her veins cut.

I wanted to burst out loudly into tears. I started recalling all the nostalgic memories and the love I had for her. I could no more see the crime scene. I've been in a lot of crime scenes for investigation, but I just couldn't see this one. “I just can't” I said to myself. I walked out of my cabin to the corridor. I finally burst into tears - I couldn't resist imagining her penultimate sighs and saintly eyes, those glossy lips and the curvy eyelashes, how my heart coveted for her. I deeply regret not having confessed my feelings for her. I should've told it to her before it was too late.

Nevertheless, I buckled up courage and decided to examine what was the reason for her to commit suicide. Then, I went into my cabin where the corpse of Fizza lay. She sat on the chair I usually sit and there were some files kept in front on the table. I was then reminded of the call I received morning. I decided to look into those files later as Fizza's death was more important to me.

Her head was resting on the top rail of the chair and the lumbar support of the chair was erect. On looking closely, I found that her right hand was cut, with the cut starting from the portion just below the end of thumb finger and was slanted towards the left part of her hand. A piece of glass laid down on the ground just below her left hand which rested on the machete. I just took a glance around my cabin and found nothing suspicious.

I half expected this to be a murder and not actually suicide. My experience and insight was enough to guess this. Fizza was a right handed person and it's not practical that she would cut her right hand by holding a sharp object in her left hand. Also, the angle of the cut would be perpendicular to fingers when one cuts their veins. Besides this, the cut looked like it was cut from a knife because when someone cuts their hands with a piece of glass there can't be a straight line cut and the cut will usually be distorted. Plus, a lot of blood oozes out when one cuts their veins before they die and there were no blood stains anywhere in the cabin except on her hand. The most striking part was the piece of glass fallen down. When someone holds something in their hands while dying, there is very little possibility that they let go of that thing after they die as their hands become hard due to blockage of veins.

I decided to call up the forensic laboratory to further investigate with the corpse. As soon as I picked up the telephone hand, I accidentally touched the file that lay beside the telephone, making it fall and in turn making the papers inside the file come out of it. There was a paper calendar with some stains on top of it and a handwritten letter, which apparently was the death note of Fizza. It read -

“Dear Ruben,

I deeply regret doing this. I never really felt good working with you. I always wanted to break away from your detective agency. But my family insisted that I work with you for you paid a lot to look after my entire family. I've decided that enough is enough I can't bear you as my boss. I hope you'll find a better assistant.”

I was disheartened at the thought that the person whom I yearned for years had a negative feeling about me. I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams that Fizza hated me so much that eventually she ended up giving her life. But then the earlier thought of a suspected murder made to look like a suicide came into my instincts. I decided to take a second look at the letter. I didn't find anything fishy. I went to the drawers next to the chair and pulled out some documents and then I hunted for a handwritten letter of Fizza, which I successfully found.

I compared both the letters side by side and then to my surprise I was immediately able to infer that the letter was written by a different person and not definitely Fizza. The way Fizza wrote the letter ‘f’ in her letter was entirely different. Her ‘f’ looked like ‘f’ and in the letter, it was written like ‘f’. It was time for me to confirm someone murdered Fizza. But who??

I was now assured that at least the reason written in the letter was false and Fizza didn't have any kind of hatred against me. Such a sigh of relief. “Thank you The Almighty, I ain't no reason for someone's death, especially Fizza's” I said to myself.

I now called up the forensic to visit the crime scene and collect the corpse of Fizza for critical examination through post-mortem. While they arrived I was alone and felt really depressed because of Fizza's death. I started talking to her corpse - “Fizza, I'm so sorry I didn't protect you from whoever did this to you. I've always loved you and will continue to do the same. I don't understand why did God have to choose you to separate from me. I'd have given up anything for you. I love you Fizza, I love you a lot!” - and I bursted into tears.

While I lamented for quite a lot of time, the forensic men came to collect the dead body. They clearly marked the crime scene of the relevant details. Also, since I had told them that it is a suspected murder and not suicide as such, they had brought with them a local sheriff, who, I knew personally because of my job. He expressed his sympathy and condolences to me for the death of my assistant, but hardly did he know that Fizza was more than an assistant to me.

After collecting the corpse, one of the two forensic men asked me to complete some paperwork. While I was signing the paper, I read the name of the person collecting the corpse - John Alfred. I had a second look at it and asked who was John. The person helping me with the paperwork told that it was him.

I was then reminded of a conversation Fizza and I had. One day, we were at the Circa having hot chocolate and discussing about a case we were solving. Right then Fizza showed me a guy who had been following us since that morning. She told me that this guy had a huge crush on her and wanted to marry her. But she had told me that she was least interested in him and didn't like him much. His face was covered with the scarf he had worn and I was not able to see him clearly. She also added that he was one among the guys that worked with the forensic we send our corpses to. After we left Circa, he followed our car in his. My Royce had special gadgets designed for a detective agent. I pressed the nail throw button and a sharp nail hit exactly on to the tyres of our honored guest. We then fled away and never saw him ever after until today.

“Why did you kill her?” I asked.

“What! I'm sorry” John Replied.

“I know it's you mahalo mother. Your handwriting match exactly with the one on the letter you left on the table and I'm pretty sure it was you who called me in the morning with a private number. It's no use defending yourself now. Tell me!”

“You son of a….. I didn't expect you to be this brilliant detective. Yes I killed her...I loved her and wanted to marry her. But she…. she always yearned for you. She loved you.”

A gust of anger arose inside me. I wanted to kill John right away for snatching the love of my life. I walked towards him and grabbed his collar. Right then, the sheriff witnessing all this separated me from him and immediately handcuffed John and made him sit down for further inquiry.

“As I told I wanted to marry her. I proposed her once too. But she turned her deaf ears towards me. She then told me that she loved someone else and when asked who was it, she told “Ruben”. It was then I decided that she'll neither be yours nor mine and ended up doing this” said John.

“You bloody…” said I.

“In what cumbersome ways did you kill her?” asked the sheriff.

“I kidnapped her. Satisfied all my pleasure…”

I couldn't hear this and I rose yelling against him in anger and sooner the sheriff took out his gun and asked me to sit down.

Continuing, John told, “Then I murdered her and tried to make it appear as a suicide”

The sheriff took John into custody and the preparations for performing last rights of Fizza were set in process. I attended her death ceremony and saw her for the last time. If only God could grant me one wish, I'd ask the almighty to take me to the place Fizza has gone right now.


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