IN THE FOG

COVER STORY

The double-storey house stared down at him. Amir sensed the same dread he had felt when he had gone over to the previous victims' houses. Amir tried to get the images of thorns and blood out of his head but it was futile. The killer's primary method of murder had been strangulation. But this time poison had been used. Was it the same person? Did he have an accomplice or was it an entirely different person? He peered up at the dark windows with curtains firmly drawn over them.

It had begun to snow lightly, white flakes fell on Amir’s shoulders and head but he remained oblivious, his eyes fixed on the house, his mind churning with a hundred possibilities and puzzles. Rauf’s house was built a bit away from the others. On the right side of the house, Amir could see the woods with tall evergreen trees and on the left side, further away he could spot Khurram sahab’s house.

At last, he raised a fist to pound on the door, hoping someone would hear him over the wind’s howl and quickly open it. A servant boy opened the door and led him inside. A few moments later, Amir found himself standing in front of the drawing room, he took off his frost covered boots and left them among the other pairs at the entrance mat. He could hear the soft hum of people talking from behind the door. “Zafar sahab is inside,” the boy told him and went away.

Zafar sahab was Rauf’s father. He had only two sons and now one of them was gone forever. Sajjad, the younger son, had arrived in Shadbad to spend his holidays at the family house. Amir could only imagine the state the whole family must be in. And Rauf's kids, who were abroad, still hadn't been told about their father's murder.

Amir slowly opened the door bracing himself to meet Rauf’s father and brother. The first thing Amir saw were the candles. At least a dozen candles had been lit, shining like fireflies in the dark. A few were placed on the centre table, and the rest were on the mantle and in corners of the room, their soft glow providing a reassuring luminance. The fire cracked and hissed in the grate, heat coming from it in waves. He loosened his muffler and greeted everyone in a low voice. The reply was equally subdued voices. The room had fallen silent, eyes of everyone in the room were turned to him.

Amir could make out the faces of his neighbours and acquaintances in the dim light. His gaze immediately fell on Zafar sahab who looked old and heartbroken, his cheeks damp from tears.

“I am deeply sorry about your loss.” Amir said.

Zafar sahab gave a small nod, his eyes watery and red.

The room once again filled with the hum of low-voiced conversations. Prayers were said for the departed Rauf and well wishes for his family. The neighbours came and went, gave reassurances to Zafar sahab, offering condolences. Some also brought food.

Zafar sahab sat next to his son who had crumpled tissue papers in his hand and a glass of water sitting in front of him on the table. Sajjad did most of the talking, accepting people’s condolences and offering explanations. Occasionally he would take a gulp of water whenever his voice grew hoarse or eyes misty. Zafar sahab, on the other hand, was now silent, his eyes staring blankly at the table. Amir noted the tremor in his hands and the way he would flinch whenever someone said Rauf’s name.

"What happened exactly?" Amir finally asked, his question directed at Sajjad. Sajjad had been giving vague answers, clearly not wanting to talk about the manner of death. So it had only been him who had been specifically told about the way Rauf had died, Amir thought to himself. The rest of the neighbours had been told that he had died in the morning. Some were speculating it was heart attack while others were guessing it was another murder.

Sajjad took a deep breath and swallowed a gulp of water. He glanced around to see if anyone was listening to their conversation and spoke in a quiet voice, leaning forwards.

"Not yet. I will tell you after everyone leaves."

"So, there was poison in Rauf's tea, huh?"

Amir looked around to see who had spoken. It was Mujeeb. It had been a while since Amir had seen him. Mujeeb’s long, dark hair was pulled back in the usual short ponytail and the sleeves of his kameez were rolled to the elbows, even though the weather was quite cold.

Sajjad frowned and asked, "Who told you that?"

Mujeeb shrugged, “I asked one of the servants."

"I specifically told all the servants to keep their mouths shut."

The vehemence in his tone surprised Amir. Everyone had quieted down, their attention pinned on Sajjad.

"What's the matter?" Khurram sahab asked, his small beady eyes curious.

" Rauf's tea was poisoned," Mujeeb replied nonchalantly.

There was a collective gasp from the rest of visitors. Many questions were thrown at Sajjad and Zafar sahab, people demanding to know more.

"We can't say more. We don't know who did it, and we are still trying to find out," Sajjad said. "My father isn't feeling well right now. I am sorry but we can't answer any more of your questions. Please understand that we are going through a terrible ordeal and need time."

The confused neighbours turned to each other, speaking in rapid whispers and forming theories.

"Someone must have slipped something in his tea. It could have been a servant or someone else," Khurram said, twirling his moustache. His eyes flicked over each one of them as if expecting them to confess to the crime.

Sajjad narrowed his eyes. "Someone else? What are you suggesting?

"I am suggesting that the poisoner could be an outsider or maybe someone from inside the house," Khurram leaned forward. "The same someone responsible for the last two murders."

Sajjad glared at Khurram. "Watch your words, Khurram. There are no murderers in this house."

"You can never be sure of that, Sajjad, "Khurram challenged. "What proof do you have to back up your claim?"

"I thoroughly interrogated the whole staff and tested the kitchen ingredients. This was done by an outsider," said Sajjad furiously.

"Enough. This house has seen a terrible tragedy and I will not allow such accusations to fly around," Zafar sahab growled. "My son's murderer will be caught and brought to justice. He will pay for what he did."

"My apologies, Zafar sahab," Khurram said, looking ashamed. "I wasn't pointing fingers; only stating that the poisoner could be anyone."

"We don't know who it is. If only the monster is caught-" Zafar sahab broke off, and looked at Amir.

Amir gave a quick nod, understanding what the grieving father meant. The guests left, leaving only Amir and Mujeeb behind. Amir suspected that it had more to do with the prospect of one of them being the killer than the approaching evening and snowfall. Amir silently hoped Mujeeb would leave as well, because he had to talk privately with Sajjad and Zafar sahab.

Mujeeb lived alone in a small house. He had been living in Shadbad for about three years and owned a shop in Perbai.

"Well, Amir bhai. How is your investigation going?" Mujeeb asked.

"What investigation?" Amir inquired, pretending ignorance. He knew the word of his investigation had spread but that didn't mean he was going to share the information he'd gathered with anyone.

"The investigation that involves you going to the victims’ houses and questioning the family."

Amir raised an eyebrow. "I suppose it's hard to keep things quiet around here."

Mujeeb shrugged. "Well, people like to gossip and news travels fast. So, have you made any progress? Do you have any suspects in mind?"

"I can't say anything yet," Amir said curtly.

Mujeeb’s face turned sour. Amir hadn't meant to sound harsh but unnecessary probing had always irritated him. Ironic, considering he had bombarded the victim's family with questions himself, but his purpose was to help solve the murder - not to satisfy his own personal curiosity. Amir wondered if he was becoming arrogant.

"Have some water, Mujeeb beta," Zafar sahab said, pushing a tray across the table to break the awkward silence.

"No, thank you," Mujeeb replied stiffly. "I want to help in finding this killer. But if my help is unwanted that is also fine."

He paused as if waiting for Amir to apologise or accept his offer but Amir did neither. He remained silent, as he preferred to work alone. Having his sister’s help with the investigation was risky enough; he didn't want to endanger anyone else.

Realising Amir was not going to accept his assistance, Mujeeb grabbed his coat and pulled it on.

"Sometimes, Amir bhai, two heads are better than one. I hope you change your mind." He looked at Sajjad. "I will check on the servants who are digging the grave. If you need my help with anything else, please let me know."

"Thank you, you are very kind." Zafar sahab said "If you see Raju, send him to me."

As soon as Mujeeb left, Amir took the chair next to Zafar sahab. "Zafar sahab, I want you to tell me exactly what happened today. Each and every detail. It will help me," Amir said taking out his notebook.

"I understand, beta. But it isn't easy for me to-"

He broke off, unable to continue.

"Abu, I will talk to Amir. Why don't you rest a bit? If he wants to ask you anything he can do it tomorrow."

Amir tried to swallow his irritation. He knew he should let the old man recover and save the questions for later but this was important. He might forget important details if he delayed any longer. Zafar sahab took a deep shuddering breath, for an alarming moment Amir thought he would burst into tears but he somehow composed himself and faced Amir.

"No, no ... it's fine. Sajjad can tell you about Rauf's murder. I will stay here and add anything if required."

Sajjad let out an exasperated breath and shook his head. He sat back on the sofa and poured his father a glass of water.

“Well, Rauf was fine in the morning. He went to his office to do some paper work at about 8:00 AM and about an hour later Raju, our servant, found him on the floor, unconscious and came to us. We were all asleep at that time," he paused as his voice turned coarse.

"We thought he had fainted; it was such a shock to wake up and find that he had collapsed. We tried to wake him up but he ... he wasn't even breathing."

Zafar sahab suddenly stood up, and and drew out from his coat pocket a piece of newspaper wrapped around something. "We found this," he said, giving Amir the wrapped newspaper.

Amir took it, his fingers fumbling as he opened the wrapping. A single object fell on his lap. Although he was expecting to see it again but he still gasped.

Thorns and blood.

The same bracelet of thorns wrapped around all the previous victim's wrists. The sharp needles digging into their skin.

The killer's mark.