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.
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