Started at (K)nighted Men-Part 1

Contd from He dies a natural death-Part 3

“Ahha. Now we have a case! Ram Lal wrap up the report and send the body to postportem,” and with these words Salim sauntered out of the room.


The photograph was missing. But the note wasn’t. It lay right beside his lifeless body.

“No more charades”

That’s it. A man of mighty words and even mightier actions decided to end his life with just that.

“How much time before we get the postmortem report?” Salim asked distractedly.

“By the evening sir,” the constable on night duty answered rather quietly.

Arre, don’t you have to sleep? Five hours of duty, Ramlal. Go home,” Salim gestured away with his hand.

“No sir. I am okay. Aakhir case hai,” the constable replied.

Haan, case toh hai. Then stay and get me the report from last month’s Central Park’s murder,” Salim quickly replied.

A rather befuddled Ramlal quietly walked off to the adjacent room.


“Motive?” he asked in that rather pseudo surprise tone.

“Are you asking me what motive could I have for having him killed?” and this time his voice took a distinct mocking tone.

He laughed. Spun around in his chair for what seemed like ages but were really seconds and then suddenly stopped to face the woman across the table.

He stared at her. Deep brown eyes, a short nose and a rather crumpled forehead speaking of a worrisome demeanor. And of course that rather small mouth which almost always stumped you into believing of its limited use.

“No, say. Why will you kill him? What would you gain out of it?” she spoke in hurried but hushed tones.

“Fifteen million dollars worth of project in one single day,” he replied, keeping one hand on his heart and another on the table.

He could feel it. His heart beat faster than any time before. What if he was right? What if he had after all managed to kill the one man he hated? What if he had achieved the impossible? Without even knowing it?

“But that was always his. That deal had nothing to do with you to begin with,” she spoke in even softer tones.

“It had nothing to do with me because he made sure it was such,” his voice thundered across the small room.

This time she chose to remain silent. She could see he had worked up a temper.

And in a jiffy he reached out for the phone and spoke, “get me the Suris on line now.”


“And what did you do when the sabziwala came?” he asked her in those hurried tones. A question that had been brought forth a million times since morning.

Jee?” she spoke rather quietly, pretending she did not hear him.

“Don’t play this game with me, woman. I assigned you a task. Did you or did you not do as I told you,” he screamed.

contd. at What choice did he have-Part 5


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