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The Chronicles Of Detective Roy Arora: Episode-1. The Case Of The Deadly Bridge
The Chronicles Of Detective Roy Arora: Episode-1. The Case Of The Deadly Bridge
★★★★★

© Trambak Ray

Crime Others Thriller

27 Minutes   973    18


Content Ranking

Well, when I look back at all those years that I was young, I realize I wasn’t in youth until I reached my 30s and met an awesome guy. And while writing this, I am feeling the same aura when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s John Watson wrote a book for Sherlock Holmes. It never occurred to me that after meeting Roy, I’d have a life full of adventures. Me, being just an IAS officer. What started as a crime and murder hunting scenes in my job vacation turned out to be the thing I really liked. And with a genius for best friend like Roy Arora, things couldn’t have been better. Yes, you can say I was the John Watson and Roy was the Sherlock Holmes. But well, you can’t compare yourselves with fictional characters. Especially when things get real. I was a good writer until I gave up the dream of being an author and started studies. That was when I became an IAS officer. But being a regular journal writer, after joining IAS, writing diaries had been my habit. After I met Roy Arora, I kept another diary. A diary of cases and murders, which I solved with him. I had known this guy since I was a kid. But I never knew how awesome he was until I met him 12 years after college.

10th November, 2027

Place: New Delhi

First thing I wanted to do was to punch that piece of shit, Roy Arora. I mean, I was his best friend since school until during the college years, and this person just vanished without saying anything. He stopped social networking, stopped using messaging apps and always kept his phone switched off. When I tried to ask his friends, nothing yielded. All said the same thing: He is underground. It was not until this summer when I was sitting in my cosy villa, reading newspaper that I stumbled upon an article:

“The mystery murder of MP Goyal has been solved by an unnamed detective, who helped the police significantly. Though who is this man and what secret service he is associated with, is unknown. Detective inspector Patil seemed rather surprised as the media spotted the unnamed man with him and he refused to comment on who he was, but he is congratulated anyway.”

What surprised me was the photo. He was covering his face with a hat and sunglasses. But I could easily make out it was him because of the small birthmark circle on his chin and his ears. I then tried to contact him. Being an IAS officer has its own privileges. But when I asked the newspaper, they had no idea who he was. But they gave me the number of inspector Patil. I directly contacted him.

“I understand it. Yes, it was Roy and I know him. But I really don’t know his whereabouts or how to contact him. Although he has called me from a certain number a couple of times. Note it down. It might of help,” inspector Patil said. I took the phone number and called. It was some Albert who picked it up.

“Is this Roy Arora’s number?” I asked.

“Who is this?” The guy answered.

“I am his old friend.  Arjun Bakshi. Tell him AJ called,” I said.

“My name is Albert. And I have no idea who Roy Arora is. Goodbye,” he said.

But two days later I got a call from the same number.

“40-C, Victoria street, New Delhi. Be there if you want to meet Roy,” he said.

“But who…”

And he cut the phone. It was strange. I tried calling that number again, but no one answered. Anyway, I decided to go there. It was a 3-month vacation for me. Since I had been working well, so I got awarded the extra month. I decided to leave Mumbai for Delhi. I wasn’t married, nor did I have time for a girlfriend and my parents lived far away so there was no one to say goodbye to. So, I took the first flight the next morning.

Victoria street was rather a crowded place. Tidy, with the high-rise buildings. But, crowded. I looked for 40-C and saw an apartment. It was an old looking, 3-floor apartment. And withered. Being a civil engineer too, seeing a damp apartment like that really hurts. I entered and saw the nameplate, his house was in the second floor. I reached the door and rang the bell. It was answered within seconds. It flew open and an old man stood before me. He was wearing a suit, and white gloves in his hand. He looked like a butler. Anyways, I answered.

“Hi, uh. I was told to come here…to meet Roy Arora. I am Arjun. AJ Bakshi,” I said.

“Yes, of course, Sir. Please come in. Let me handle the luggage,” he said.

I entered the house. On the outside, it looked old and withered. But on the inside, it was amazing. A modern sofa, electronic massaging chairs, a 60-inch screen television and 3-4 split ACs. It looked like a modern sci-fi set with all the neon lights and some gadgets I didn’t even recognize.

“This way, sir,” Albert called and showed me into a room.

“Master Roy is in here.”

I went in. The room was twice as big as the living room. It was dark. Not that dark to not be able to see, but yes, it was dark. And very unorganized. Vodka and beer bottles lying on the floor, then I saw the bar filled with drinks. There were about 5-6 computers and then I saw 4 laptops and 7 mobile phones on the bed. There were newspaper cuttings everywhere. On the study table, on the walls. And a specific person’s photo with a red “X” marked. Then I saw him. He was sitting on his back and with his headphones on, he was sitting cross-legged in front of a computer. When I looked at him from the front, he had his eyes closed. He still looked the same when we were kids. Handsome, amazing cheekbones, Big ears, Long, straight hair. He was unshaved. Probably for months. The birthmark could be seen on his right ear and near his chin. And he had a great physique. He exercised regularly. He was having a vodka bottle in his hand and the Laptop screen in front of him was displaying an Interpol wanted list website. He suddenly spoke out.

“Hello, AJ. Been 12 years, I guess,” he said without opening his eyes. Then he opened his eyes and sprang up from the chair.

“And you owe me an apology, I guess,” I said.

“Sure I do,” he said and gave me a friendly hug.

“I haven’t been the best of friends, AJ. But things changed. One thing led to another and well…I thought staying out of touch was the best thing,” he said.

“The best thing? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even know how much I tried to find you? Anyway. What’s up with you? And what the hell you were doing in a crime scene. Weren’t you doing engineering?” I asked.

“I’ll answer everything. Tell me about yourself first. So, a 3-month vacation and the IAS officer tries to find his friend?” he asked.

“Yeah, well I saw the newspaper and—hey! How did you know I’m on a 3-month vacation? And how did you know it was me without even opening your eyes?” I asked.

“Well, to answer the latter question. I know you were coming. And I knew you were leaving from Mumbai. After your call yesterday and considering all the power you have as an IAS officer, I knew you’d take the next flight as you don’t really have a family so you don’t care to say goodbye to anyone. Anyway, there were 22 flights today and I knew you’re not one for afternoon or night travel. That narrowed the number to 8. You can stay awake till 5 A.M.’s but you’ll never wake up at 5 A.M. So, I removed three flights with the 5-6 A.M.’s. That remains 5. 3 were of Air India. 1 of Jet Airways and 1 of Indigo. I know how you love Indigo so I was certain that was the flight you were gonna take. You landed in Delhi, gave the address to the taxi driver and he drove you here easily as it is a well-recognized street of Delhi. It took you approximately 15 minutes to detect my house. And that’s when I thought in the 16th minute you’ll arrive. And you did. I gave Albert a 30 seconds heads up to stand near the door, that being the reason you got the door answered within 5 seconds of your ringing the bell,” he said. I was totally dumbstruck. I stood there staring for some seconds of everything he just said.

“I-I have no idea what to say,” I said.

“Don’t say it then. I’m going out, wanna join?” Roy asked.

“Where?”

“There’s been a murder. Patil needs me,” he said.

“Yeah, that! How the hell did you end up being a detective? And who do you work for? CBI?” I asked.

“CBI? Ha! I'd rather be a car-cleaner. I’m a private detective,” he said.

“Private detective? How exactly does it works?” I asked,

“Simple. I love solving crimes and murders. People pay me for doing just that. And occasionally when the thick brain Patil and his stupid police force can’t solve cases, he calls me,” he said.

“Okay. So where are you going? And who’s the guy in the photo you marked an “X?” I asked.

“There’s been a murder. And as expected, it’s something the police can’t solve. So I’m going there. You’re welcome to join,” he said.

“Yes, I will but who…”

“Stop asking questions and keep quiet when I have my arms crossed. Otherwise, I won’t be able to think and I’ll have to kill you,” he said.

Then we got on a cab. It was an awkward silence. Roy took some accessories on the way. A smart watch type something, but it was showing just plain green lines. He got a Bluetooth and stuck it on his ear, and also a gun. He didn’t speak all the way. He was wearing a black hoodie, black pants, black sports shoes.

We reached the crime scene. It was the Nehru bridge, flowing over the river Yamuna. Just near the edge, I could see a body.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” said inspector Patil. Patil was a typical Indian police officer, except that he was promoted to a detective post. He was fat, bald and had a weird looking moustache. He was somewhat old and was smoking a cigarette.

“Who’s this guy?” he asked, looking at me.

“Arjun Bakshi. I call him AJ. He’s with me,” Roy said.

“Hi, Inspector. I called you yesterday,” I said.

“Yeah. You found Roy in a day, huh? And…”

“Can we cut the fucking introductory crap and proceed to the main event?” Roy asked.

We proceeded towards the body. It was of a woman’s. She was lying on the floor with the head tilted to the right side. No blood signs were visible.

“And you didn’t find anything, I guess?” Roy asked.

“Well…”

“Shut up,” he said and proceeded towards the body. Roy moved in circles three times, knelt down, checked the neck, the arms, then he took out a glass tube and put it in the victim’s mouth. Then, he clicked something in his watch and a small disc-like container came out. He dropped the woman’s saliva on it and came towards us.

“Wasn’t there a murder in this very particular bridge four days ago?” he asked.

“Not a murder. A suicide. There were two more suicides on 3rd and 1st November,” Patil said.

“Okay. So this lady was murdered. Checked the body temperature. She’s been dead for over 9 hours. No signs of struggle, no injuries. It’s just a plain cold blooded murder.”

“Murder without any struggle? How?” Then we heard a beep on Roy’s watch as he fiddled with it.

“I think we have our answer. Neuroleptics,” he said.

“Neuroleptics? What is Neuroleptics?” Patil asked.

“Neuroleptics is a deadly drug. It’s too poisonous and when taken in a large amount, instant death is certain. This woman, though, was given a medium dose of Neuroleptics. This enables the person to walk or talk a certain distance before he/she dies,” Roy said.

“But isn’t Neuroleptics rare in India? Also, I’ve heard it’s used only in certain hospitals for emergency situations,” I said.

“Wow, AJ. Being an engineer, you have hell lot of knowledge on pharmaceuticals. Yes, Neuroleptics is rare. So we are dealing with a black market dealer and the murderer. Patil, have your men check her bag and purse for any medicine related bills or anything,” Roy said.

“Sure. So, how do we catch this guy if it’s a murder?” Patil asked.

“And I thought you were a detective,” Roy said.

“Well, I call you for a certain reason because I don’t have hi-fi gadgets like you have which detect neuroleptics! Where do you get those anyway?” Patil asked.

“I make them,” Roy replied.

“You make them?” I asked.

“A woman is dead. We are yet to find the murderer and all you care about is my fucking watch? Just shut the fuck up and let me think!” he said.

“Okay. But…” Patil began to say.

“Shut up, fat-ass or I’m leaving this case,” Roy said. Patil shut up instantly like an obedient dog. Then Roy stood still with his hand crossed and didn’t move at all. Then, after like 5 minutes, he spoke again.

“What did you say, Patil? There were three more deaths, here, on this bridge?” Roy asked.

“Yes. The first on 1st November, the second on 3rd November, the third on 6th November and a murder today, 10th November. Except today, no bodies were found. But they were suicides most probably as this bridge is a favourite for people who don’t have guts to face life anymore,” Patil said.

“No. They were not suicides. They were murdered. The same way as today. Killed by Neuroleptics. Every victim walked and went over the ledge under the drug’s effect and finally got mad and drowned,” Roy said.

“How are you so sure?” I asked.

“There is a pattern here. The first death on 1st November, second death on 3rd, third death on 6th and fourth death on 10th. Don’t you see a pattern here?” Roy asked.

“I really don’t,” I said.

“No clue,” Patil answer.

“Oh, common. It’s an Equilateral triangle series! Consider this: you want to draw an equal triangle with nothing but pencil dots. So first, you put a dot. Then two more dots on the left and right-hand side below the first dot. It forms a triangle. Then if you want to expand it, you have to draw 4 more dots in the next line. Get it?” he asked.

“I do,” I said.

“I still don’t,” Patil answered.

“Damn it. Give me a pen and a paper,” then Roy drew this

.

.  .

.  .  .

.  .  .  .

.  .  .  .  .

“That is an equilateral series. To make a triangle, you have to draw an extra circle underneath the left and right side to the blank space below the circle on the next line. If you still don’t understand, look at the figure.”

“Yes, got it. But what’s that to do with the deaths?” Patil asked.

“Everything. The first circle is 1st November. Then two more circles are underneath it. Add those with the first. 1+2=3. 3rd November. Then the next line. 1+2+3=6thNovember,” Roy said.

“And the next line 1+2+3+4=10th November. TODAY! It was planned!” I said.

“Yes! It was. Guess when’s the next death?” Roy asked.

“15th November. Damn it. But she didn’t jump and drown. She was just near the ledge. What is your explanation about that?” Patil asked.

“As I told you before, she was given a medium dose of neuroleptics. Maybe the murderer fell out of supply or whatever the reason, he couldn’t give her the full dosage. That’s why she didn’t go completely mad to jump and die but instead died a slow, sad death,” Roy said.

“Let me just digest it. These were murders, not suicides. We are dealing with a psychopath murderer who’s in love with mathematical series and shit and the next murder is on 15th?!” Patil said.

“Yes. The worst part is, we know there’s a next murder. And it’s the best part too.”

“Sir, we found no receipts or bills in the woman’s bag. I’ll keep the bag with the one found in the riverbank,” A constable said.

“Damn it! I forgot! Roy, we found a bag belonging to one of the victims. It floated to the riverbank,” Patil said.

“You have it now?” Roy asked.

“Yes.”

“Then give that to me and the lady's bag. Okay. Now AJ and I shall leave,” Roy said.

“But what about the murderer?” Patil asked.

“You’ll hear about it soon. And another thing. Make sure there is no media when I’m solving a case with you. My photo came in the newspaper goddamnit. I was lucky to have a cap and sunglasses. Make sure it doesn’t happen again otherwise I’ll break all hell loose. Let’s go AJ,” Roy said.

We took a cab and reached his house. Roy went in and jumped on the bed.

“Any questions?” Roy asked.

“Yeah. Why the heck you don’t own a car? I heard you did a two-year job in Microsoft which paid around 95k a month,” I asked.

“Yes. But I left it and my pay is almost the same currently. But the thing is, I can’t waste my time on cars. And I’ve already calculated. 365-day journeys in cabs is cheaper than owing a car,” Roy said.

“And those gadgets? You made them on your own?” I asked.

“Yeah. I did hell lot of self-learning. So I made the gadgets which would help me. The one I used shows the composition and name of any liquid or chemical I put it in. Even the toxicity in the blood. The device cleans itself with small laser beams. I’ve hacked and installed a mini computer chip which makes the watch a mobile phone-cum-search engine with an internal router of a 5MBPS speed. The chemicals are searched by the computer present at the United States drugs research organization because I’ve hacked and installed a permanent search network link. Else, the watch works as a normal watch, a phone and thankfully sets alarms. Anything else?” Roy asked.

“Amazing. So what about the murderer?” I asked.

“That comes later. How about we have some beer and pizza? You must’ve been tired after the flight and then the murder and all,” He said.

Then we had a great time. We ate pizza, played video games and drank beer. And we relished all the school days. Though he didn’t reveal why he had disappeared, he did say the reason for his change of professions from a software engineer to a detective.

“I was being taught the things which were a complete waste. That’s when I decided to self-educate myself. I took the job at Microsoft anyway so after getting enough money, I started making gadgets. How did I become a detective? Let’s just say I was born to do that. I realized only then,” he said.

Then we finally sat down.

“So, let’s talk about the case. Figured anything yet?” I asked.

“Nope. But, let’s just look at the two gifts Patil gave us. The purses,” Roy said.

“But they said they didn’t find any receipt,” I said.

“Yes. But they left the mobile phones untouched. Patil knows that I’m better than any forensics. So I, that means we, get to open the treasures. Let’s start!”

I took the bag of the woman on the bridge, he took the other one. I first searched everywhere for a receipt, searched for secret chambers, but didn’t find any. I finally tried to open her mobile phone. But it was password protected.

“Roy, it’s protected,” I said.

“There’s a red and blue coloured USB cable in the drawer below the TV. Take that and attach to this mobile.”

Then he handed me a mobile phone with a USB port of a size of the ones used in computers. He was busy so I didn’t ask further questions. I took out the USB cable, connected the two phones and within seconds the woman’s phone unlocked. Roy was seriously a genius. Then I checked the messages. There was a certain message which caught my eye. She probably had depression and sent a message to a number asking for help. The same number was in her call history for  the day before.

“Roy, I found something,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“This woman had a depression and she sent messages to a guy asking for help. That’s her chat. And she didn’t want to die. She wanted to ease the pain and was looking for a drug. She even called the same number 7 times yesterday. See this,” I said. Roy came and saw.

“Well, isn’t this one coincidence!” he exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“That’s the same number to whom the woman who died from jumping out of the bridge wrote,” I saw. And it was the same!

“So do you think that is the murderer?” I asked. Roy didn’t answer. He turned to the other side and stood folding his hands and keeping his head low - his thinking stance.

“No,” Roy said.

“What?” I asked.

“The murderer is not the man these women sent messages and calls to,” he said.

“Elaborate, please.”

“Well, a murderer who knows the equilateral triangle series and applies it in real life where no one, not even you, an IAS officer, but me, could recognize, has got to be a genius. Plus, a level of that intelligence means that he will be 100% self-aware of the consequences. He would’ve already known that when they die and their purses get discovered, their cell phones will be checked first. So, he is not the message handler. The guy to whom these women sent messages and called is, in fact, the murderer’s hostage,” Roy said.

“Hostage? How?” I asked.

“Geniuses tend to work alone. Furthermore, even if the murderer has friends, he won’t risk getting caught with them. So naturally, he chose someone who was vulnerable and weak and he could make him do whatever if the guy was in pressure. That kind of person who does these things for our killer can’t be anyone but the hostage. Albert! Bring the C60 mobile from my room!” he shouted.

Albert came in with a blue coloured fancy touch screen phone.

“Here, take this phone, write about a depressive situation to that number, and ask him to help you. Don’t forget to mention you need Neuroleptics,” he said and handed me the phone.

I quickly typed saying I needed help to relieve the pain of losing my beloved and I added the name neuroleptics. Within 5 minutes, he replied and gave an address.

“He replied. With an address. He told me to meet him alone at a pharmacists’ store and when everybody goes out. He asked me to give a call then,” I said.

“Excellent! Grab your coat, AJ. It gets chilling at night,” Roy said.

We reached the store at around 11:30. There were only a few customers there. While the last of the people were going out, Roy quickly hid himself behind some shelves and signalled me to call. I called and the guy at the counter picked it up. Then out of there, Roy came in with a gun and pointed at the man.

“Do not move or I’ll blow your brains out!” he shouted.

“Please! This is just a pharmaceutical store. There’s nothing you’ll get from here.” He said.

“Is that why you sell neuroleptics?!” Roy shouted. The guy looked shocked for a few seconds but then spoke.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. At that moment, Roy bashed in and threw a punch right at the guy’s face.

“Who are you selling these drugs for? What is his name?” Roy asked.

“Please stop it. I don’t know, I swear!” he said. BAM! Roy smashed the man’s whole body into the glass cabinet and broke it. He then took him out, twisted the guy’s right hand as she shouted in pain.

“I’m asking you one last time. Who is this guy you’re working for? And why?” Roy asked.

“Mukund Sharma. It’s Mukund Sharma. Now please let me go. It’s hurting!” He shouted. Roy let him go.

“Why?”

“I have a wife and two children. This guy just shows up at this store and says he knows everything about my family. He forced me to buy neuroleptics and act as a sender and receiver to get customers. I use his replies and answer to messages. Then I send the money to him and he lets me keep a very little amount of it. But if anyone else knows about this, he’s going to kill my family. Please, it’s not my mistake. Believe me,” he said.

“You think he’s speaking the truth?” I asked Roy.

“Yes,” he turned to the man.

“Send that Mukund a message. Tell him this customer wants to meet him and set up a meeting. Right now,” Roy said.

The main dialled a number and set up a meeting.

“422, 4th floor, Candice apartments near Gandhi park. Please promise me my family will be okay,” he said.

“I promise,” Roy said.

Then we got out of the store.

“So, what next?” I asked.

“I have a plan. Here, take this wrench. It’ll open any window in the world. Luckily, I’ve seen that apartment. I’ll go through the main door, and you climb the fire escape. Luckily there is a ladder. You stay near the window, and when he comes to open the door, enter the window and hide and don’t move until I say so. And if it’s difficult you don’t really have to do this,” Roy said.

“Are you kidding? I’m really bored with all that office work. And this is exciting!” I said.

“You’re an IAS officer. You carry a gun, right?” Roy asked.

Then I showed him the one I was carrying.

“Good. Just do me one favour, AJ. Don’t fall off,” Roy said.

After some time, we reached the apartment. No light was on at 2:00 AM except two. One of them was the room we were going to go to - 422. I went to the back and saw the fire escape ladder. It was steep. Then chilling cold made things harder. I climbed and finally after huff and puff, reached the window. Roy hadn’t entered yet cause he told me he’d buzz me through the watch he have given. Finally, peeking outside the window, I saw a movement. An old guy wearing specs opened the door. He was having a gun and pointed straight at Roy after he opened the door. Some words later, I saw that they both put down the guns and entered the living room. It was my call. Roy buzzed and I quietly opened the window with the wrench and it opened quite easily. I saw them going to the dining table and sitting there. I sat just behind the sofa, facing Mukund, the killer.  As I have said before, he was old. He wore half-circle spectacles and had a rather funny nose. He had one or two hairs left on his head and he was chewing on tobacco.

“So, I finally meet THE Roy Arora,” Mukund said.

“How do you know me?” Roy asked.

“Let’s not answer that question. So how is life in Victoria street?” Mukund asked. Roy didn’t answer.

“Very well. You want to ask me something?” Mukund asked.

“What’s with all those murders and the equilateral sequence? What harm did those people do to you?” Roy asked.

“Power, detective. Willpower. It’s such a shame that people give up so easily on things. They can’t even handle the littlest of things. The Man who texted me on 31st October said that he didn’t have money to handle 3 kids. What a loser! So, I gave him something he could handle - DEATH,” Mukund said.

“So you just kill innocent and depressed people? What do you achieve from that?” Roy asked.

“Firstly, money. Secondly, I help ease their pain. And thirdly, they come to me. They message me. They call me. I don’t force them. And detective, I believe you’re not here just for some depression rounds, are you?” He asked.

“You’re a genius. You think,” Roy said.

“Ah, a genius. See? You are a genius too. I am a genius too. And we are such a rare species. When you see all those mediocre, boring, depression-filled minds, I get frustrated. Common, what competition they have with us anyway? Still here you are, helping and solving cases. Making stupid money while I make millions. Join me, Roy. We’ll be a great team,” Mukund said.

“Well, if I was in a room with Osama Bin Laden, Adolf Hitler and you and if I had one gun with one bullet, I’d definitely shoot you,” Roy said. Mukund gave a weird laugh.

“That’s a no, I guess. Very well detective. Please know that this is your last day. And you will die. But not the way you expected. There’s a twist,” he said.

“What twist?” Roy asked.

“We’ll play a game. If I win, you take the pills. But if I lose, I take the neuroleptics. And you don’t have an option. You have to play. Let’s begin!” he said.

“Even if you lose, you’re going to kill me anyway,” Roy said.

“Oh no, no no, Detective. Like you, I have some principles. And killing a genius like you with a simple bullet? That’s too mainstream. So, anyway. The game is this - I ask you three questions from any topic and you ask me three questions from any topic, and who answers more, wins,” He said.

“Very well,” Roy said.

“Also, just so you know, detective. I know you never or rarely watch movies. So in advance, be prepared to die,” Mukund said. Shit. He was right. Roy never watched Hindi movies and rarely English. He was so in trouble. Even then, he didn’t flinch.

“Let’s start, then. My question is: Who was the director of a 2012 film, 12 years a slave?” Mukund asked.

Roy thought for a moment or two but I knew he wouldn’t get the answer. He barely knew 12 years a slave was even made.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Poor, poor detective. You lose one. Your turn,” Roy thought for a moment and asked.

“When did Constantinople disintegrate?” Roy asked. Mukund thought for some minutes but couldn’t answer.

“Guess I don’t know this answer. Wow, we’re at 0-0! This is fun! Okay, let me think…ummm…ok. Who was the singer of the title song of the movie Skyfall?” Mukund asked.

“You think I’m a detective and I won’t watch a James bond film? What a dumbass you are. It is Adele, fuck face,” Roy said.

“Wow. Someone is getting on flames, huh? Ask me, oh, mighty, dying detective.”

“Who was the twenty-third President of the United States?” Roy asked.

“America is my baby. The answer is Benjamin Harrison! Okay, okay. Now my turn! When was Taylor Swift born?” Mukund asked. This was the end of it. I knew Roy won’t be able to answer it so I got ready with my gun. But suddenly, he did.

“December 13, 1989,” Roy said.

“Great! Taylor Swift fans, are we. You are 2-1 up. Well, well well. Be ready for the tie and the tiebreaker later!” Mukund said.

“That’s if you answer this, you old psychopath. When did the Egyptian queen, Cleopatra, die?” Roy asked. Mukund was stunned by the question. He looked at him as if a mouse had seen a lion.

“Uh..20 BC?” he asked.

“No. August 12, 30 BC. You lose, Sharma,” Roy said.

“Not so fast, detective,” I suddenly noted his hands moving around the table. He was carrying a gun!

Just as he got up and pointed the gun, I got up and I don’t know how, I just pressed the trigger. In a matter of seconds, the bullet hit Mukund’s thigh and he was down. Before I knew, I pressed again and the another bullet hit his left arm. Mukund was screaming in pain. I went over.

“You cheat! You liar Roy Arora! You brought someone even though I told you to come alone! You filthy mouse!” Mukund was shouting and screaming.

“Well, you used a gun even though we agreed not to. Joke’s on you, fuck face. Enjoy how you rot in jail. Also, I recorded everything you said. So well, no need to call a lawyer. You’re fucked anyway." Then I 

called Patil and soon the police force came up.

“Amazing work Roy. You helped us catch an incredibly notorious criminal. I am grateful to you again,” Patil said.

“Well, this time, AJ saved my ass. And yours too, for solving the case. Thank him,” Roy said.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Just carry on the work. Roy and I better get going,” I said as we walked away. We went to the park nearby, to take a walk.

“So. How does it feel to live my life for a day?” Roy asked me.

“To say the truth, I really enjoyed it. I do have to work on the shooting, though.” I said.

“Yeah, you could’ve easily struck his heart. Anyway. Now that you’re on a vacation, how about you stay with me and come with me in these cases if you want?” Roy asked.

“But you only have one room!” I said.

“Four. There’s a guest room and the next door apartment is rented by me too. You can live there if you want. Plus, it will help me in rents,” He said.

“Why do you have two apartments?” I asked.

“Well for one thing, things get filled up in my apartment pretty fast. Books, papers and all. So I need to shift them. But don’t worry, I’ll have it cleaned. So, what do you say?” Roy asked.

“Well….”

“Yes?”

“I’m up for it, man!” I said.

“Great! Now let’s have some pizza and some beer. Best friends need the best food, right?” Roy asked.

“Right, Detective.”

THE END

Detective Suspense Fiction story suspense

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