of people calling her a murderer, but no one had ever said it to her face before. Anger quickly replaced hurt. “I understand yourconcern, Mrs Chauhan, but I don’t have any intention of interfering with your family. Thank you for calling.” Naina said politely and slammed the phone down on the old cow.
The music blared from the jeep stereo
“
Apna kaam chalta, bhaad mein jaaye janta Ye desh tha veer jawaano ka Ab reh gaya beimano ka…
”
Abhay smiled at the aptness of the song as he drove towards the Chauhans’ residence. Somehow he had never liked politicians.
He wanted to pee so he parked his jeep and decided to commune privately with nature behind a convenient bush in their house, too modest to flaunt his equipment. An odd little smile twinkled through his face as he zipped up and walked across the lawns to the main gate.
The Chauhan family was one of the richest families in Allahabad, and Suchitra Devi knew everyone who was important in town. She was a society matriarch and would do anything to ensure her alcoholic grandson’s future in politics.
To what lengths would she go to protect her family
, Abhay thought, as he reached the door. A servant greeted him at the door and showed him to the formal sitting room where Suchitra Devi Chauhan was. She was wearing a designer golden sari and heavy gold jewellery, and even at her age, she looked royal and quite formidable. The diamond studded rings in every finger, her shrewd eyes and pointed chin added to the aura.
It was time to dive in without knowing how deep the water was.
Jo hoga dekha jayega!
Abhay thought.
“I think your family is making a lot of money in politics.” Abhay pointed towards her diamond rings. “
Kuch paisa gareebon key liye bhi chhor diya karo
.”
“What we do for the poor is talked of all over. Don’t you read the papers?”
“
Newspaper toh neta ki jageer hotey hain, jo marzi likhwalo
,” Abhay retorted as he moved his hand on his scarf.
“Inspector!” Suchitra Devi shouted as she stood up from her chair. “For a public servant, you’re bloody insolent.”
“
Itna gussa sehat ke liye acha nahin hai devi ji
. Just chill chill… just chill!” Abhay hummed as he poked a cigarette into his mouth and scratched a match on the table.
Suchitra Devi’s eyes spat fire. “I find you offensive.”
“Then you’re in good company, Suchitra Devi. Mind you, I find it offensive that rich people can kill innocent people and get away with it.” Abhay lined up the ends of his scarf.
“Let’s come to the point.” Abhay fiddled with his cigarette. Smoke drifted from Abhay’s mouth and lazily twisted and turned.
“What can I do for you, inspector?”
“I want to discuss something that happened a few years ago.”
“Is this about Naina?”
“
Kamaal hai, aap toh antaryaami hain
.” Abhay grinned.
“I saw the two of you flirting at Girish’s party.”
“
Badhiya hai!
When you know so much, then please throw some light on her parents’ murder case also.”
The woman’s lower lip curled into a look of disdain that only a true snob could pull off. “It was a horrid thing that happened; I feel sorry for that poor child.”
“I believe you and your son visited her in the hospital shortly after the incident.”
Shock widened the woman’s eyes momentarily, but she quickly masked it and fanned her face, her diamonds glittering as she waved her hand back and forth. “Yes, my son was…worried. And in his position, we thought it was a good to show concern for the child,” she said.
“So, you did it for making the news?” A bitter taste filled Abhay’s mouth. “
Kaminey neta log
,” he muttered, adding a salvo of smoke rings to the already murky atmosphere.
The old woman smiled, glad he understood.
“Mrs Chauhan, Mr Sinha’s diary indicates that you and your grandson visited him the week before he died.”
A blush tinged the old woman’s white pallor as she dug her bony fingers into her lap. “Yes. He was
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham