RABID ROCK- RABBIT

Ron was a tentative bastard. Occultly obsessive, cautiously compulsive and subtly superstitious. He used lift but when he had to use staircase, he would count the steps in each flight of stairs. If counted even he would put his right foot forward and if counted odd he would put his left foot first. He was entering the Panama house; the building nearly 70 years old was about twice the age of Ron. Ron was stout, neither tall nor short. Once carved but now he had a little curved abdomen. He had round face, boggy eyes and inky lips due to smoking. He was nonchalantly dressed in chappals, denim and olive-green polo. Ducking the low hanging electricals, Ron kept his left foot on the badly battered staircase of Panama house.

When he entered the petite apartment on the third floor, he couldn't help but notice the block number. It was 324. He quickly added it and the sum total was 9. Thank God it was not his unlucky number. The house was old fashioned and gloomy. The green paint had peeled off years ago giving each wall a geographical map like look. He entered the bedroom and straight away noticed the seashore which could be seen from the window. While staring at the sea line he asked “What brings us here?”

“An old chap died in bed. The nursing care taker called in for the doctor. The doctor confirmed the death and because rigor mortis was set in, he was not taken to the hospital.” Answered one of the assistants.

“Who called the police?” asked Ron unmoved from the window.

“The nurse called us.” Was the reply.

“So do we have anything?” asked Ron.

“Yes, a couple of things.” Answered one of his guys.

“But I guess it would just add on to the paper work.” Concluded the guy.

“Fair enough; wrap it off.” Ordered Ron.

He continued looking out of the window. At horizon the ocean blue softened into sky blue. The beach was full of handmade sand castles. One particular sand castle with a twig flag was in the waves reach. Ron called in his colleagues and pointed at his object of interest.

“If the water reaches that sand castle in next couple of waves, we open up the old chap. If not, we do the paper work and sweep it under the rug.” Said Ron.

The waves advanced the beach and stole some sand each time while retrieving. The first wave kissed the base of the castle and went back. Everyone was engrossed in the little gamble against the nature. Everyone hoped that the sea strength remained at bay. It was a Saturday and everyone had dinner plans. And then within a split second, the next wave dismantled the structure. The twig flag got drowned and the mud fortress just melted away.

“Let’s roll ladies, we are taking him for post- mortem. We have a busy day at hand.” Said Ron while clucking.

♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  

Annamarie was in her late twenties, chocolate complexion and a voluminous personality. Just recently she had colored a streak of her hair into rusty brown. She was a nurse and this was her first job and only job for past ten years. Presently she was sitting in a local police station and recording her statement.

“This dead body….What it is to be called….hmmm....Malcom, how was he?” an unexcited police clerk asked.

For a moment, Malcom’s image floated in her teary eyes. Withered Malcom was touching his ninety. Thin, tall and bent at his nape like a lamp post. Through the soda bottle glasses, one could see his eyes frog like. The crooked, drumstick fingers had long lost their coordination. The perpetual frown on his face made him look frustrated. Equally frustrating were his bowel habits. They ranged from droughts to floods to roaring thunders. All his hinges were squeaky and, some oiling could have worked. Once agile but now fragile was Malcom. Rich but depleted, emaciated and mostly bed-bound. This is how he was, when he breathed his last.

“Like any other oldie, he was stubborn.” Said Annamarie.

“Multiple times you had requested the nursing bureau for change of posting. Why?” said the policeman with passive aggression.

“Malcom was dependent on me but hated to admit it. He never respected me. He was abusive, paranoid and a selfish prick.” She paused to take a sip of water.

“The entire life he evaded taxes and made money. Ill-treated his family, cheated many. His wife died childless and unhappy. He had a nephew but even he was in distaste with his uncle.” Said Annamarie.

“You do only mornings?” asked the clerk.

“Yes, 6 mornings and Sunday off. On Sundays and at night he used to be all by himself. He used to manage it well.” Answered Annamarie.

“Who paid his bills and everything?” asked the policeman.

“I did. He used to give me the cheques and I would withdraw from the bank.” Answered Annamarie.

“Was he rich?” was the next question.

“Rich enough to live on to see his hundred without hampering his lifestyle.” Said the nurse.

“He had made any will?” asked the clerk.

“I don’t know but he had lawyers coming and going once in a while.” Answered Annamarie.

“Anything happened out of the box on Friday evening when you were done for the day?” asked another cynical clerk picking his nose.

“Nothing unusual. I left at 5.30 pm.” Was the answer.

“So, lets conclude. You were his only companion slash employee. You knew about his finances. You were basically his only thread with the outer world. You had motive, his money and you despised him as well.” Said one of the clerks who was jotting down the statement winking at his partner.

“You obviously had chance to kill him. When the grandpa dies no one really cares but then when a rich grandpa dies, graves are dug open.” Continued the partner.

“Excuse me!” Shouted Annamarie with eyes wide open.

When she realized, she was being considered as a culprit and not witness; all she could do was mumble, splutter, cry in disbelief and worry.

In came Ron and said “In court everyone is innocent until proven guilty. In police remand everyone is guilty unless and until proven otherwise. You are not allowed to leave the city. Report 9 am sharp daily to sign on the register.”

Ron took his cell phone from the pocket. Looked at it for some time. Clucked once and left.

For next few days she went to the police station sharp at 9 in the morning. Every day she was grilled with same questions. Every day she pleaded to stop. She had not killed Malcom, she kept on saying. No one listened. When the boss was around, he just clucked and left, but at least she was relieved early on those days. When he was not around, she was ragged and harassed for hours before she signed. On that day she expected nothing new when she went to register her presence. She was about to sign the register and leave when a constable came in with a message “Ron sir is calling you inside.”

When she entered everyone was sitting on the netted wooden chairs. Ron was pacing in the room in his chappals, denim and white shirt; clucking and checking his cell phone time and again.

“Common….confess and tell how you killed Malcom?” asked one of the boys.

But before she could answer Ron hurried into his question “Ask correct questions to get correct answers. What was Malcom’s diet?”

Confused Annamarie kept mum. In so many days for the first time someone was asking some different question to her.

“Don’t sush….speak up….quick.” Ron ordered her with unsettling restlessness in his eyes.

“Malcom had less teeth and was against dentures because they pricked him. He mostly had soups, soft rice and stews.” Answered Annamarie.

“Was he techno- savvy?” asked Ron.

“Not at all. He had simple phone with keypad. He was more of a leave me alone with my television and remote kind of person.”

He continued clucking but this time he smiled too. For a change his perpetual frown had disappeared  “Let’s recreate the scene boys.” He said.

“When I entered, the oldie was on his bed. There were restrain marks on his ankles and wrists. His mouth was full of vomit, as if he had drowned in his own secretions. He had stubble which had peeled off around the corner of the mouth. Like waxing.” He checked his cell phone and continued.

“Probably someone had taped his mouth. Then there was this pizza box. Which box was that?” asked Ron looking at one of his assistants.

“Magic pizza.” Answered his subordinate.

“Now, why would Malcom order pizza if he cannot eat. Also, when we checked the portal, it was ordered online. Malcom was not cool with gadgets, which means it was ordered by and ordered for someone else. We have to find this someone else.” Ron concluded finally catching the breath.

“And sir, we checked with Malcom’s routine pharmacy. His dose of insulin and sleeping pills had not changed in years. When we counter checked with his prescription and the actual medications clearly, he was overdosed.” Added Ron’s colleague.

“And all this does corroborate with the PM report which came in this morning.” Added the clerk who had taken Annamarie’s statement on day one.

“Annamarie, you can go. You still have to come and sign. The time of death is around 9 pm to midnight. The CCTV footage of your building is your alibi that you entered the premises at around 6 pm on Friday evening and exited next morning at around 8 am. Also, we have confirmed with delivery portal. The pizza delivery was made at 6.30 pm on that Friday.” Concluded Ron.

Annamarie was relieved and for the first time in so many days she could breathe light. Annamarie wanted to thank him, but before she could, Ron had gone out for a smoke. The waft of the burning air could be felt nonetheless.

♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠

Two weeks had passed since Ron had first kept his left foot in the Panama house. This time he miscalculated the steps and hence had to reshuffle a bit with a hop. He thought no one noticed but in fact everyone did. In the apartment Malcom’s nephew was waiting for Ron. He had just buried his uncle without any respect or remorse. He just wanted the things to be get done with.

“I hope we are close enough?” asked the relative.

“You have recorded my statement as well as the statement of my alibi. I guess we are done over here on this matter.”

“Yes, of course.” Said Ron.

The kin asked “Anything you want to share about the case?”

“Yes, of course.” Replied Ron promptly. Then he paused for a good long minute and continued.

“There was a pizza delivered two blocks away on that day in that time frame. That was the only pizza delivered in that locality so it could very well have some connection with our mystery.” Said Ron confidently.

“Then we interrogated the delivery boy. He remembers the person to whom he delivered the package.” Ron again paused to look at his cell phone.

“So, the pizza boy has identified the suspect. Who is he?” asked the nephew.

“It is she.” Replied Ron with a grin.

“It was a girl who killed my uncle? Who is she and why and how did she kill?”  lot many questions were bombarded at Ron.

“It is still a theory; but the delivery guy said that he gave it to a girl in pink jacket. Then we checked the surveillance cameras and it showed a girl with pink jacket loitering up and down the blocks for two hours before disappearing in the thin air. Now Panama house has no cameras so we cannot concretely say if she entered the building or what. But the time sure does coincide with Annamarie finishing the duty and leaving. Also, the RTO cameras saw her on the crossroad near Panama house just about after the midnight. We are heading to interrogate her.” Concluded Ron.

"How did you caught her?" asked the kin.

"Routine police work. We had the cell number registered n the food delivery app. We traced it back to the address." Bragged Ron.

Awkward pleasantries were followed by awkward silence. Then they left.

♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠

 “At times I feel like burying myself in the backyard and pretend to be a carrot.” Said a slim, little shrill voice from behind the husky vocal cords. It was Kairon; a cachectic persona with curly blonds, big buccal bones and in-drawn cheeks.

“Excuse me!” exclaimed the lady constable.

Kairon was unperturbed. She continued rubbing her fingernails on one another. Slowly she started swaying sideways and started a dreamy hum. The hum soon erupted into a mumble, then into a rhyme which continued as a chant.

“Rabid rock- rabbit is restless for respite,

Rabid rock- rabbit relentless for respite

Rabid rock- rabbit is reluctant recruit,

Rabid rock- rabbit is really rude,

Rabid….Rabid….Rabid rock- rabbit

Rabid….Rabid….Rabid rock- rabbit…!!”

Ron was observing all this from better side of the two-way mirror. When he saw the lady constable exiting out from the white interrogation room, he asked impatiently. “Did she give anything?”

“Yes. She has confessed of killing Malcom.” Answered the lady investigator.

“However, she is not telling how and why.”

“She will.” Said Ron.

“Yeah, but that is not going to be easy. She is mentally derailed Ron. She is tangential in answering. She needs a shrink.” concluded the lady interrogator.

Ron entered the white room with his mug of cappuccino. He sat in front of her across the steel table. “Hi!” said he.

Kairon continued her antics without paying any attention towards Ron. Ron sipped a big one from his mug and kept it on the table leaving a ring of brown moisture behind. This unsettled Kairon. This made her irritable and she shouted “You wipe it off.”

Ron slowly picked up the mug, wiped the ring with his palm and again kept the mug on the table. This time around too his coffee stained the table.

“Don’t you have coaster over here. Please, please I beg you. Clean it. I cannot stand dirt and muck. I am already feeling unclean now. Give me sanitizer. You….you clean it please or- or- or- or-else I will start feeling breathless. Call for help I am feeling dizzy. I will be swooned. I will collapse.” Pleaded Kairon while gasping.

“Okay. Okay. I will listen to you. But you will have to answer couple of my questions. You play nice and I would play nicer. You take me for a gunny bag ride and I will see to it that you go in the ugliest prison cell where the stench of the human detritus would be your constant companion along with the stains of sweat, blood and spittle. Do we have an agreement on this?” bargained Ron shrewdly.

“Why and how did you kill Malcom?” asked Ron giving stress on each and every utterance.

Kairon remained unmoved and the questions remained unanswered. Ron not liking this got tad irritated and held his coffee mug at an arm’s stretch. His wrist was just about to writhe to spill the coffee.

 Kairon shouted “Stop! I will tell you everything. It was Dr. Je who asked me to kill Malcom. It was Dr. Je…. Now please give me my bastard mind back, please!!”

Then she fainted leaving Ron clucking and unsatiated with many queries.

♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠

Frank Sinatra jazz was sprinkled in the air. The blue waves were kissing the sparkling seashore. The sand glittered under the crimson hue of the eve. Children were busy making sand castles with twig flags. The Frisbee were flying around and bikini bodies were splattering into the foamy high tide. The sun rays pierced through the large tinted expanse. The fragrance of the wet sand wafted and the breezy humid was admixed with giggle, laughter and merriment. The landscape was happy, tranquil and mesmerizing. It was not fair that Malcom had to die on such a beautiful day. He ought to be killed, there was no other way.

In disbelief I read and re read the stanza. I sweated coldly and profusely. Bile churned in my stomach and the dribble of the mouth turned metallic. My legs ached and cramped. My breathing was just a formality at that point in time; and so were the heart beats which were racing. I had no control over my emotional and physical realm. I felt like I was thrown in a pitch-dark pit with a blind fold.

The emptiness slowly filled with sense. I was seeing Dr. Je an eminent counselor who had said that my phobias and compulsiveness was due to neuronal misfiring. He was sure that he would make me livable in the society again. I won’t be looked down upon as a misfit and as an object of deject. I was asked to read and follow his book. I obeyed each and every word of it. It did help me too. But today the locution of the book was extreme. I tried confirming what was written with Dr. Je; but he simply cut me off in between and said “I know what I have written. You just follow.”

He stopped seeing me and cancelled even my regular follow up visits. I gradually got convinced that I had to kill a man called Malcom so as to get better. Then began the search from yellow pages. I shortlisted many and stalked the select few. When I saw Malcom of Panama house I was more so convinced. My jittery became determination. When I visited his house on a Sunday under the pretense of some survey, I could imagine myself enjoying the pizza from the window; exactly as written in the book.

On that Friday I left the office early. I was hovering around the Panama house rehearsing in my mind each and every move. I ordered a pizza but meticulously accepted the delivery couple of blocks away. Then at around 8.30 pm I entered the building. Entry in the house was easy as I was no more a stranger. I coaxed him for a coffee. I helped myself into the kitchen. I waited until the 4 sleeping pills stopped floating over the foamy latte. Then I stirred it well. The next 40 minutes or so we talked. We talked about life and philosophy. He was remarkably shallow for his wrinkles. This made it easy for me to make up my mind. Then finally his head was heavy.

“What happened? Are you OK?” I asked

“I am spinning.” He said.

“Oh! Your sugars must be up or down. Let me check.” I said.

His sugars were fine; what was not fine was my bitterness towards him. I told him his sugars were too high and needed a shot of insulin. He asked me to talk to Annamarie but I convinced him that I take care of my mother’s diabetes and he need not worry. I do not have a mother....

I don’t know how much but I sure gave a lot of insulin in his vein. As he became more delirious, I glued a long thick thread to the adhesive side of the strong tape and stuck it over his mouth. The thread irritated his throat and he gagged. He vomited. The vomit had no way out and he aspirated. His wind pipe got clogged and he couldn’t breathe. The old bones were strong, he struggled and he struggled too much. I had to tie him down. I admit I enjoyed every bit of this. Then he stopped grappling and stopped breathing. He breathed his last at around midnight. I enjoyed the last piece of pizza at the window. Then I started with the next chapter of the book.

The recorded tape of Kairon’s confession went blank.

♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠  ♠

A woman gazing at the carmine sky through a window. This was the cover page of the book which captioned ‘The Bastard Mind.’ The small tape recorder which had blurted out the truth was lying next to it.

“Cornered.... Pinned down?” Ron asked intimidatingly.

“Interesting indeed.” Said a coy blue suit with grey left partitioned hair and bucket handle mustachio. His eyes behind the rimless glasses looked soothing and calm. The smile however was eerie, ear to ear Grinchy type.  Each time when Dr. Je smiled, it poked Ron. As if the smile said 'Innocent me not but can you prove it?'

“Correct answers of the wrong questions are still pretty useless you know.” Said Dr. Je.

“I am using lot of my ATPs, not to grab your neck across the table.” Said Ron angrily.

“Dented souls don’t talk about morals Ron.” Said Dr. Je while cleaning his specs. At that time Ron saw the real cunning in his eyes. He had the eyes of a bully.

“Life is not black or white Ron. It is grey. Some have darker shade than others, that’s it.” Explained Dr. Je.

“You like puzzles, Dr. Je?” asked Ron.

“I love riddles.” Answered Dr. Je

“So, tell me, why the book written by you, when bought from book stores has no chapter about Malcom but the one found at the crime scene has. The puzzle is why four other patients of yours are under the trial for various crimes. And please tell me why all of them have the same book with one different chapter of crime.” asked Ron.

“Questions known, answers unknown.” Poked Dr. Je.

“I admit it is a top- notch cop work.” Complimented the doctor.

“You are going to prison but hey you can write a book about it!” chuckled Ron while looking at the watch.

“Do you know what is an anagram? You know same letters making different words with different meanings. WORDS….. SWORD. Both can cut you open into half but with words there is no bloodshed. Your mind is the deepest enigma and to fiddle around with this greatest riddle; isn’t it a pure ecstasy.” Grandiosely answered the medic.

“Let me tell you little secret. You have not come to arrest me. You have come in your capacity as a lamb to meet the shepherd. There is a craving in your mind which you need to satiate and that is why you are here.” Continued the muscular blue suit which was now towering over Ron.

“Half hour in my waiting area and you are like an open book to me Ron. You are a nervous wreck. You smoke each time you think of your mistakes and I bet you, they are plenty. Your gimmick with the steps. Checking of phone time and again. When you are indecisive you indulge in little gambles. You cluck a lot and based on its frequency one can make out if it is a happy clucking or tense. The muscles which you use the most are the forehead muscles, because you constantly frown. Any number you see you have this obsessive compulsion to add it up till the single digit and see if its odd or even. There is no difference between you and those scumbags my friend.” Heavy hypnotizing voice reverberated.

Ron felt weak in his knees. He felt naked. Dr. Je had ransacked his mind as if it was his own cupboard. The alpha male was reduced to timid, submissive beta male.

“At times life is so unfair, but then who told you it was supposed to be fair in the first place. Centripetal or centrifugal, the force will either suck you in the vacuum or throw you out. The emotions strongly torque the actions but dwelling in the past often acts like a big barricade. The incline only ramps up the speed for the greater leap but inertia to change acts like a speed bump halting the juggernaut. That is the story of all you stuck- ups. But I can help. The choice is your.” Concluded the doctor.

 

He doesn’t remember what happened next. Ron left the doctor’s clinic as a much-diminished man. He no more cared about stairs or clucking or smoking or adding. He was lost in his own mindless jargon.

Rabid rock- rabbit is restless for respite,

Rabid rock- rabbit relentless for respite

Rabid rock- rabbit is reluctant recruit,

Rabid rock- rabbit is really rude,

Rabid….Rabid….Rabid rock- rabbit

Rabid….Rabid….Rabid rock- rabbit…!!

This was the first page of the book given by Dr. Je. It was a special edition with author’s signatory on it. Now the herdsman had one more sheep to take care of.