The Gift Read online

  Chapter Two

  Rajan heaved on his bed, gasping long breaths. Nothing made sense for a while, everything was fuzzy. The only last thing he remembered was the golden masked man and his knife; the mere thought made his body shiver. He knew it was foolish, he could not resist the urge to check his chest for any kind of scars. To his relief, it had not a single scratch. Damn it! He muttered a curse under his breath.

  Something moved near his feet and bounced at him, licking his face.

  Rajan pushed his pet dog, Fido, away.

  Fido moaned, tilting his head.

  Rajan was certain that his beast had sensed his uncertainty. Just to make sure that only one person remains worried in the room, he ruffled Fido's head. "Nothing, bud," he said, sighing. "Some memories just turns into twisted nightmares."

  Fido pushed his head affectionately towards his master, licked his face for the last time and curled into a ball near him, dozing off, making a rumbling sound.

  Beside the fluffy pillow, the phone beeped.

  Reluctantly, Rajan grabbed it and checked the message. A smile curved his lips only by seeing the sender's name. Chitra.

  Happy B'day, dumbo. You just aged 26, but you are still the same idiot I met at my clinic.

  Like a magical spell, her words vanished every traces of the nightmare from Rajan's mind temporarily. Smiling sheepishly, he typed - Thank You, love. He revised it and concluded that it was not the right time to reveal his jumbled feelings. Deleting the entire message, he simply typed thanks with a smiling emoji at its rear. He was about to touch the send button when his phone flashed a name, filling the air with a vintage tone, a tone which his father used to hum.

  "What's the matter?" Rajan asked.

  "Sorry to disturb you at this hour of the night," Sarthak's husky voice came from the other side, "but it's emergency."

  Rajan's brow knitted in confusion. "At least, brief me something."

  "Someone broke into Mr. Mehra's mansion and murdered him." Sarthak took a pause before he continued. "Sir, this case is particularly assigned to you for a reason. I am texting you Mr. Mehra's address and please come as quickly as possible."

  Before Rajan could press his aged sub-ordinate more regarding the case, Sarthak ended the call. A moment later a message arrived.

  Quickly refreshing himself, he put on a white shirt and jeans. Gathering his cop's accessories, he made his way downstairs, crossed the hall stealthily and turned the knob of the main door.

  "Going somewhere?" A woman's voice ceased his progress.

  Rajan turned on his heels, an apologetic smile plastered over his face. "I didn't want to disturb your sleep, Maa."

  With ageless affection carried in her eyes, his mother descended from the upper floor. "You are a big man now, son. And how can a mother sleep on his son's birthday." She hugged her. "Happy B'day, Rajan."

  "Thanks, Maa," he said, pulling himself back from the embrace of blessings. "I need to be going."

  "You are forgetting something," Maa said.

  Rajan mentally rechecked the list of his daily items and found extremely difficult to spot what was he missing. Scratching the back of his head, he said, "And that is?"

  "Your jacket," she said, smiling. "You tossed it last evening on the sofa. Wait a minute, I'll grab it for you."

  "Maa, it's okay," he resisted as she walked to pick his jacket. "It's not so cold out there."

  "Don't be so fool, Rajan," she snapped. "You aren't going out without it. Do you get it?"

  Rajan took his jacket from his mother and slipped his hands into its warm leather sleeves. "May I have the permission now?"

  She nodded, worry creasing her forehead. "Be careful."

  "I'll be," Rajan assured, kissing her forehead. "It's just an another case, an another puzzle to be solved."

  Mr. Mehra's mansion was on the other side of the city and it would take nearly more than an hour from Rajan's house. However, as he veered his car in to the nearby alley, a figure materialized suddenly from the mist of the night, in middle of the road. Surprised, Rajan slammed the brake hard; tires screeching against the asphalt. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt. For a heartbeat, he thought he had knocked down the crazy man. Furious and concerned, he alighted from his car and found the man still standing in the pools of his car's lights. Safe and sound.

  "Have you lost your nuts?!" Rajan thundered.

  "The same question I can ask."

  Rajan immediately recognized the husky tone of his sub-ordinate. "Sarthak!" he barked. Then realizing that Sarthak was at an age of retirement, and possibly this case would be his last one, he somehow placid his anger-laced voice. "What are you doing here? You are supposed to be at Mr. Mehra's mansion."

  "We are at Mr. Mehra's mansion," said Sarthak, gesturing his left hand to other side of the road.

  Rajan squinted and spotted an outline of a majestic structure veiled by darkness and mist. "This doesn't make any sense," he voiced his confusion. "How can I reach so fast here?"

  "It's a game of mind," Sarthak said. "Something worries you, something is keeping your mind so occupied that you failed to notice the passing of time, and to not to forget, the distance too. A mind is restless and vulnerable when it is alone."

  Rajan pondered at what Sarthak said. The reason tends to be fair. Sighing his frustration, he turned to face Sarthak. By professional level Sarthak was under him, but by age and experience Sarthak surpassed his dexterity. He was glad that the old investigator was his companion and his teacher in the field of crime investigation. However, the fact of Sarthak's honest service of thirty years to the police department had brought no promotion pinched Rajan every time.

  "We must go inside," Sarthak said, rubbing his hands, "it's cold here."

  The duo entered through the large iron gate, security boxes installed at its both sides. They silently crossed the gardens, and then they were in the magnificent hall. Without wasting any further time in the breathtaking decorations of the mansion, they both climbed the broad staircase. Following Sarthak, he turned left and entered a passage, its floor carpeted with rug.

  Sarthak stopped. "Rajan, I want you to be mentally prepared before what you see inside the room."

  Gauging the seriousness of Sarthak's face, Rajan nodded and got inside the crime scene.

  Forensic team, garbed in their baggy, plastic uniforms, had spread themselves across the room, searching for fingerprints. A young man at one corner was clicking the photographs. Mr. Mehra's body lay dead on the bed, a knife jutted at his heart. A large stain of absorbed blood by the bed encircled the corpse. It seemed to be a normal crime scene.

  "Take a close look," Sarthak said.

  Cautiously, stepping forward he noticed Mr. Mehra's mouth was gagged with a glittering gift paper, and a sticky note plastered on his forehead. Scribbled on it were the two words Rajan could never forget. They were etched deeply to his consciousness and sub consciousness, both. He again looked at the note.

  THE GIFT

  Fear seized him from inside like a forgotten enemy, and then blackness clouded his sight.

  Fifteen years ago, Rajan witnessed his father being murdered by the golden masked man in the same fashion.

  The murderer had delivered his gift, again.