‘Yes, we have it in stock. Where do you want it delivered?’ typed the pharmacist at Bright Chemists in response to the WhatsApp message that had just come in from a number he didn’t recognize.
A moment later, the reply came in with a name and address. Surprised, he checked the profile photo of the sender and found a familiar face that matched the name.
‘Oh, new number?’ wrote the pharmacist.
‘Yes, this is my other number,’ came the reply.
‘Just saw the address and recognized your photo. No need for a prescription since you’re a regular. My delivery boy will get you the Barbital by evening.’
After he read the last message, Gopal removed the new SIM card from his phone and switched back to his old one.
‘Boss,’ he typed to Russi. ‘Confirmed.’
Russi could hear Vichare speaking animatedly on the phone in a distant corner of Dhobi Talao Police Station but was only able to pick up a smattering of the conversation. ‘Fixing … voice … clear … evidence... charges’. He surmised that the inspector must be discussing the matter of Choksi’s detention—and perhaps the damning recordings they had just heard—with his higher-ups.
Despite having been at the station for a couple of hours, Russi had not seen Choksi. He pictured the politician’s potato-shaped figure and his slimy lawyer Wadhwa inside one of the interrogation rooms down the corridor from where he and Lobo were sitting. The image of Choksi’s oily face and arrogant grin made Russi’s stomach turn.
‘To think that he would have been coolly relaxing in Dubai by now,’ said Lobo. He was watching the video of Choksi’s thwarted escape that he had captured on his phone the previous evening. Choksi was seen scurrying through the international airport only to be accosted moments before he was about to board his flight to safety.
‘Now I need to do with this video what we discussed with Vichare sir,’ said Lobo determinedly.
‘Have you prepared the photographs on your laptop?’ asked Russi.
‘Yes, Russiji, it is set up along with the projector in the seminar hall. I’ve also contacted Rishi Girhotra. He’s agreed to come to the station. I only wish we could have discussed these things with Vichare sir too,’ said Lobo hesitantly.
The duo could still hear Vichare’s faint voice in the background—the sun had set behind the station, but there was no sign of the phone call with the bosses ending.
‘Time is of the essence, Lobo,’ said Russi. ‘We need to get everyone here.’
Lobo sprang to his feet, mentally going over his list of actions.
‘After this video thing is done, I’ll go to Churchgate and ensure Justice Shankar is brought here safely,’ he said. He grabbed hold of his motorcycle helmet and strode out of the station purposefully.
Russi was now alone in Vichare’s office. The same office where he had first spoken with the inspector—not even a week ago, the morning after Shreya Ved’s murder. Russi recalled Vichare’s initial reluctance to invite this unknown cricket umpire near his investigation, and how both of them and Constable Lobo had eventually forged a strong, trusting team.
‘Less than a week! Is that all it’s been? It feels like an eternity!’ Russi thought.
He wondered if all investigations—from the discovery of the crime to the unmasking of the culprit—felt like an age to detectives.
‘Unmasking the culprit,’ he said softly to himself. ‘In this dastardly case, the time for that will arrive very soon. All that’s remaining is—’
Russi was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.
‘Mr Batliwala, this is Gurleen. I’m unable to reach either Inspector Vichare or Constable Lobo, so I’m calling you. The fingerprint analysis has been completed. I think you’ll be interested in what we have found.’
Russi’s heart began racing. ‘There’s a match?’
After the doctor gave him the details, Russi disconnected the call. He closed his eyes, stroked his chin and ran through his own mental checklist.
He could no longer hear Vichare on the phone but picked up footsteps approaching him. When he opened his eyes, Vichare was walking to his desk, his uniform wet with sweat and his shoulders slumped.
‘Russiji—’ began Vichare, landing heavily in his chair.
‘Inspector saheb, how much longer can you keep Choksi in custody?’ interrupted Russi.
‘A few hours,’ said Vichare drearily. ‘After that, we’ll have to release him.’
‘Excellent,’ said Russi. ‘No question of him leaving custody. We’ll need him.’
Vichare sat up in the chair. ‘Need him? For what?’
‘We’ll also need Aziz Khan. Would you be kind enough to call him here?’
‘What’s happening, Russiji?’ asked Vichare.
Russi looked him directly in the eye.
‘What’s happening, Inspector saheb, is that we have found our killer.’