The Colours of Passion
SOURABH MUKHERJEE
Readomania Publishing
A division of Kurious Kind Media Private Limited
466, DDA SFS Apartments, Pocket 1, Sector 22, Dwarka, New Delhi – 110077
books.readomania.com
email:[email protected]
Facebook:facebook.com/iamreadomania
Twitter:twitter.com/iamreadomania
First Published in 2017 by Readomania
© Copyright Sourabh Mukherjee
Sourabh Mukherjee asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events or locations, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted (including but not limited to photocopying, scanning, cyclostating) or stored (including but not limited to computers, external memory devices, e-readers, websites etc) in any kind of retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Dedicated to
Ma & Baba
This space is too small for the why’s
Appreciation for the Author
The Times of India: Set in the city of Kolkata, In The Shadows of Death: A Detective Agni Mitra Thriller is a fast-paced potboiler which hooks you and keeps you glued to the plot from the very beginning.
The Hindu (1): With an almost Freudian understanding of how our childhood experiences influence our adult decisions, Sourabh’s novel paints a stark picture of urban life in India
The Hindu (2): When you turn the last page of the book, the theatrical finale comes as much from the extraordinary storytelling as it does from the reveal of the murderer. In clean, clear prose, Saurabh Mukherjee’s debut novel traverses the underbelly and upmarket suburbs of Kolkata…Mukherjee has the unerring eye of a master craftsman.
Business Standard: Just when you think you've got it all figured out as per the clues that the killer leaves like crumbs, the author throws you off the path repeatedly with the twists. A heady concoction of thrill, mystery, psychology and humanity is what makes this book such an engrossing fare.
The New Indian Express: A whodunit with several twists, In the Shadows of Death written by Sourabh Mukherjee has elements of romance, corporate scandals, and suspense with a strong emotional undercurrent.
Punjab Tribune: A heady concoction of thrill, mystery, psychology and humanity is what makes this book such an engrossing fare.
Yahoo News: Crisp, well-composed and in a good flow, there are no loose ends to irk your mind.
Zee News: Overall, the book is a page turner till the end with its fluid narrative infused with twists and revelations, which constantly raise your curiosity level. Several flashbacks in the book also keeps a reader's interest level high.
The Free Press Journal: A psychological thriller in the true sense of the phrase, In the Shadows of Death delves deep into the psyche of its characters.
Absolute India Tabloid: It is not only the adrenaline rush that ignites curiosity, but also a good storyline with a meaningful plot, and of course flawless writing that does the trick.
Tahelka News: The character of detective Agni Mitra has been rendered in a very believable and realistic fashion. The author has rummaged into the human psyche and used it as the basis for the detective's theories.
World News Network: Mukherjee has explored the materialistic, urban life, its turmoils and fragility of relationships.
Go-Getter, Go Air in-flight magazine: The novel explores the city of Kolkata in a way few contemporary novels have attempted. The City of Joy is not just a backdrop but another character in the novel.
About the Author
Sourabh Mukherjee is the author of the top-selling psychological thriller In the Shadows of Death: A Detective Agni Mitra Thriller and Romance Shorts, a collection of dark-romance short stories. His books have been highly appreciated by readers, bloggers and the mainstream national media. Sourabh received the Golden Pen Award in the Monsoon Romance Contest 2014 organised by Sulekha.com and judged by an eminent panel of literary luminaries.
Sourabh speaks at several events on a variety of topics. His points of view in a panel discussion on serial killings, occult crimes and ritual killings in the Supernatural Literary Festival, Kolkata (2017) with the legendary Ipsita Ray Chakraverty was highly appreciated. He was also an invited panelist in a debate organised by Rotary Club, Kolkata on International Women’s Day, 2017.
Sourabh writes a column for Sportskeeda, India’s largest all-sport website. His articles have been featured in Yahoo Sports too.
An Electronics and Telecommunications Engineer from Jadavpur University, Kolkata, with a Post Graduate Diploma in Management from School of Management Studies, New Delhi, in his day-job, Sourabh works in a senior leadership position in a technology consulting multi-national. Author of several publications on emerging trends in business and technology, Sourabh speaks regularly at various national and global conferences and technology summits.
A keen observer of human behaviour and cultural diversities, Sourabh loves travelling and has travelled across USA and various countries in Europe and Asia. An avid reader of fiction, Sourabh is equally passionate about photography, movies and music.
Sourabh can be reached at:
Website: www.sourabhmukherjee.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorsourabhmukherjee
Twitter: @sourabhm_ofcl
Blog: http://mukherjeesourabh.blogspot.in
Chapter 1
The man lay on the ground bleeding profusely, his face contorted in pain. Blood streamed past his jaw forming rivulets. His puffed-up lips moved but his voice failed him. He could barely open his eyes. Blood flowed from his nose onto his untucked shirt. One of his nostrils was clogged in blood and he had difficulty breathing. His outstretched hands grabbed the cold air of the night.
He could see blurred images of the three men dragging her away like a rag doll along the dusty road. He could see her flailing hands. Her helpless cries seemed to float in from a distant planet.
He turned his head and looked at their car parked a few feet away. They had shattered the windows. He could see their chauffeur, slouched at the wheel. Was he still alive?
He mustered the last vestiges of his strength and tried to crawl on his elbows and knees. He had not progressed even a few inches before he gave in to the excruciating pain.
***
The breeze of the night felt cold on his bare torso as Mushtaq walked out of the makeshift car garage, zipping up his trousers. Running his fingers through his grubby hair, he turned back.
He could see Rishi tottering out of the garage. Ashfaq was still at it, his hips moving back and forth between the outstretched legs of the woman, his throaty groans filling the stifled air of the dingy garage. The woman lay still under him.
‘Enough! She must be dead by now....’ The other two men chuckled. ‘Relieve yourself and slit her neck, you horny bastard. We need to get the hell out of here, fast! It’s clearing up,’ Mushtaq looked at the dull grey sky. The two men made their way towards the bike parked outside the garage.
Ashfaq finally ejaculated inside the motionless woman with a grunt. He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked around for the dagger he had been carrying in the small of his back. He remembered throwing it away carelessly when he had unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants before he pounced on the woman.
He found it lying a few inches away and picked it up. The edge of the knife had all but grazed the edge of the woman’s neck when Ashfaq suddenly stopped, as if he had remembered something.<
br />
He looked around him making sure the others were not watching. Those idiots had no appreciation for his romantic fancies. They did not call him ‘Rangeela’ without a reason.
He pulled out his mobile phone and turned on the camera.
He lay down next to the woman, his sweat-slicked cheek rubbing against hers, and held the phone a few inches above their faces. Her hair was matted in sweat, the eyes had been reduced to tiny white slits, the mouth was gaping, her lips and cheeks bruised, and her face had a deathly pallor.
Ashfaq smiled at the camera and clicked.
After all, it was not every day that one managed to click a picture lying next to Hiya Sen, the heartthrob of millions. That too, her last picture ever!
Chapter 2
‘A Macallan with three ice cubes, if you have the time,’ Agni rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Joseph flashed a sheepish grin. He had been busy showing off his cocktail mixing skills to a group of giggling college girls at the bar.
‘I have all the time for you, Sir,’ he said apologetically, still smiling.
‘I have no doubt about your mixing skills,’ Agni gestured at his cocktail flask, ‘but you are a pathetic liar.’
A live band was serenading the weekend crowd with one love song after another. Agni looked around and noted how the same song evoked different reactions among different people. The lovers lost themselves in each other, oblivious to the world around them. Single men and women were bestowed with renewed optimism about love. Those who had recently broken up with their loved ones got teary-eyed, reached for their phones in drunken stupor and started typing out messages they would invariably regret in moments of sobriety the next morning. Agni smiled to himself. If he did not fit into any of those categories, he did not complain.
As he finished his third and was about to order the next, Agni was conscious of a sudden hubbub around him. There was palpable excitement in the air which seemed to have taken over the lazy romanticism of the ambience.
Agni turned around and the reason for that radical mood shift among the guests in the bar was right there in front of his eyes. Rituja Bose had just stepped into the bar. The woman who had been ruling the Tollywood silver screen for close to two decades and who had made as many headlines for her box office successes as for her scandalous escapades, walked across the bar ignoring sighs, lusty gazes and envious glances like only celebrities of her stature can, stopping only now and then to wave and flash plastic smiles at a few equally famous socialites.
Now a middle-aged woman, she filled out her black sequined evening dress that accentuated her curves. Her hair was tied back in a bun and the make-up was loud. Members of the staff competed with each other to make her comfortable. It was, however, the manager, who finally had the privilege of escorting Rituja to her seat at the far corner of the bar.
Rituja untied her hair and lit a cigarette. Blowing out, she closed her eyes and threw her head back. When she opened her eyes again, they landed on Agni.
He had been watching her intently. Agni wondered if Rituja Bose remembered him. Several years had passed though. More than a decade now.
Did he see a faint remembrance flash across those eyes? Did those crimson lips curve just a wee bit in a smile? Was there a slight lift of the wine glass in acknowledgement of the presence of the celebrity cop? Or, was Agni’s mind playing tricks, making him see things he wanted to see?
His phone buzzed. It was the Commissioner.
We will need your help in the Hiya Sen case.
Chapter 3
Inspector Arya pushed the cup of black coffee towards Agni. He had taken up charge of the New Town police station sometime back.
‘The worst part of being in charge of a high profile case is the media glare. Everyone seems to have an opinion,’ Arya complained.
‘Arya, let’s not forget we are talking about Hiya Sen here. She was a youth icon. Her last few movies struck gold at the box office, and I read in a tabloid the other day, there were rumours that a big production house in Mumbai had approached her weeks before her tragic death for a role in their next project. And let’s not forget who she was with. I feel Manav Chauhan is not just the scion of a famous industrialist family, but, over the last few years, he has carved out a distinct identity for himself as one of the key architects of the new face of this city, building one plush mall and residential complex after another. Their wedding made headlines for a week!
And then, you have the darling of the city brutally raped and murdered in less than a fortnight after her wedding, and the business magnate is still fighting for his life in a hospital. And whether you like it or not, you are the one who is out to nab the bastards who brought this upon our city. How can you shy away from the flash bulbs, Arya?’ Agni smiled.
He took a sip of the coffee and added, ‘But I have to say you have handled it very well so far, Arya. After all, you have those three men behind bars already. Which makes me curious...’ Agni paused briefly and then said, ‘what made you reach out for my help? I thought you had it all wrapped up!’
Agni had been informed by the Commissioner that it was Arya who had put in a special request for Agni’s attention to the case.
‘Not quite, Agni, not quite,’ Arya sighed, ‘a few interesting details came to light when we questioned those three men.’
‘We’ll come to that. I know a lot about this case from the relentless media coverage over the last few days. But, it still won’t hurt to hear all about it from you. Let’s start from the start.’ Agni reclined in his chair, as Arya cleared his throat.
‘Manav and Hiya were partying that night in a club close to the airport. Manav had an argument with these three men inside the club. They had reportedly misbehaved with Hiya.’
‘They were at Tipple, I assume?’ Agni asked, referring to the club close to the Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport, which had come up a few months back and had in no time, turned into the destination of choice for the rich and the famous in the city.
‘You are right, Agni.’
Agni’s attention was again focused on Arya’s account.
‘Do we have eye-witnesses to the brawl?’
‘Yes. Quite a few, actually.’
‘Carry on....’
‘When Manav left the club with his wife in his car, the three men followed them. The car was stopped in New Town. It was heavily damaged. Manav and his chauffeur were beaten up and Hiya was dragged to a nearby garage where she was gang-raped and then, her throat slit.’
‘Who reported the incident?’ Agni asked next.
‘A police patrol car found Manav’s car by the road. The chauffeur was inside the car. Manav was found a short distance away from the vehicle. Both of them were unconscious and severely injured. They were taken to a private hospital on the Eastern Metropolitan Bypass. When we informed the family, we learnt that Manav and Hiya had gone out together that night. I sent out my men immediately to look for Hiya. Within a couple of hours, we found her inside that garage. It was not too far from where the car had been found.’
‘What about those three men? Mushtaq, Rishi and Ashfaq—right?’ Agni checked if he had the right names. Arya nodded.
‘How did you find them?’ Agni asked.
‘We made their sketches based on Manav’s descriptions. We scanned CCTV footages at Tipple. We spoke to the waiters and the bartender. Apparently, they were regulars there. The kind that has come into easy money by crooked means, spending all they earn on liquor and women. Probably henchmen of some mafia boss. It wasn’t too difficult to nab them. In fact, one of them had shot a selfie with Hiya.’ Arya smiled.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes...said he couldn’t bring himself to delete it from his phone. The others were not aware of this. But, you should have seen their attitude, Agni! They feel they own this city, just because they carry guns and have a few political and mafia connections. Makes me sick!’
‘Well, incidents of crime never turn out to be as simple as
they tend to look on the surface, do they?’ There were wrinkles on Agni’s brow.
‘I made a list of people you may want to talk to,’ Arya produced a sheet of paper and placed it on the table. Having spent close to a couple of years with Agni, Arya was beginning to get familiar with his methods.
‘You seem to have everything figured out,’ Agni smiled, reminding himself one more time why he loved working with the man sitting across the table.
‘But first things first...when can I talk to those three men you arrested?’
Chapter 4
Mushtaq, Rishi and Ashfaq looked at each other.
The man sitting in front of them was very different from the other cops who had been interrogating them all these days. This one did not use force. He never raised his voice. He never lost his composure. But the piercing look in his eyes was intimidating.
‘So, who were you after? Manav Chauhan or Hiya Sen?’ Agni transferred a paperweight from one hand to the other, his eyes sweeping across the faces of the three men sitting across the table.
None of them spoke.
Agni bent forward. ‘This is not helping. I asked you who your target was.’
Ashfaq looked up and glared at Mushtaq. His aggression was menacing.
‘You led the operation. Why don’t you answer him? You are the one who got all of us into this!’
‘Take it easy, tiger!’ Agni dissuaded Ashfaq, who seemed ready to pounce on Mushtaq.
Ashfaq hid his face in his palms and started howling. ‘I don’t believe I did that to Hiya! I gave in to my greed, Sir. I never missed any of her movies.’ He touched his heart. ‘I’m her biggest fan, Sir. And I did that to her....’
The Colours of Passion Page 1