‘Hello’ Azad Maidan Police Station,’ she said, picking up on the third ring. There was deafeningly loud music playing on the other end; she could hear nothing else.
‘Hello, is anyone there?’ asked Meera. There was no reply. She looked at Salunkhe and shrugged. He, too, stepped closer to the phone. Meera was holding the receiver a couple of inches away from her ear, but the sound was still ear-splitting. She was about to disconnect the call when the volume of the music abruptly decreased.
‘Hello,’ she repeated, slowly bringing the receiver closer to her ear.
‘Please ... please, help me,’ a weak voice said. Meera gestured to Salunkhe for a paper and pen, which he promptly produced.
‘Who are you, sir? And where are you calling from?’ Meera asked.
The line went dead.
‘Who was it, madam?’
‘No idea. He disconnected the phone. Maybe he’ll call back.’ Meera sat down at her desk again.
‘I don’t think ...’ ventured Salunkhe, but he was interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone. Meera picked up immediately. ‘Hello.’
‘Paradise ... Carter Road ... Bandra. Please help me,’ said the frightened voice on the other end of the line.
‘But what is the problem?’ asked Meera.
‘My wife ... she is trying to kill me.’