by Preeti Singh
Shocked was an understatement, both Kinjal and Modi were speechless. Both had only one thought in mind, how can a dog help them solve cases?
The DIG read their minds and spoke up, “Agent Amber belongs to the SSS, folks, but resigned from his post to join us”, he explained.
“SSS?” Kinjal asked, finally finding her voice.
“Special Secret Service, of the USA. Agent Amber was part of the K9 force, trained to protect the President of the USA and his guests. Once, an Indian delegation of ministers visiting USA were attacked by a terrorist cult, and in the crossfire, an Indian MP was killed. Since then, Agent Amber holds himself responsible for being unable to save him. He then wished to resign from the SSS to return to his hometown, Chandigarh, where he could use his skills to serve his own countrymen. He was decorated with the USA President’s Medal and we are proud to have him on our team”, the DIG said fondly as he shook Agent Amber’s paw and adjusted his collar which read ‘AA IPS’( Agent Amber Indian Police Service )
“But Sir, how did you know Chandigarh was his hometown and he was feeling bad? I mean..?.” Inspector Modi fumbled and dared to ask the question. Kinjal nodded alongside.
“Well, Son, the K9 dogs are trained to communicate with cops through their eyes but this guy here will actually talk to you. I met Agent Amber few months back and his trainer told me about his entire background and record. Out of all the dogs chosen for the SSS, Agent Amber was the only proud; four legged from our Indian soil. You can say he’s the only NRI we have on our team! He’s very competent in digging out hidden clues from almost anywhere, as his smelling sense is sharp. Now, you both will be taking care of him, as well as working with his expertise on this case, Officers. Am I clear?” the DIG asked authoritatively.
“Taking care of him means?” Kinjal managed to ask nervously, sensing feel Agent Amber smelling her pants and shoes. She was never fond of dogs; they gave her the creeps with their hair all over and now she would have to take care of him? What’s wrong with DIG Uncle??
“Agent Kinjal, since you are responsible for cracking this case at the earliest, our department has decided, it’s best you work closest with Agent Amber. He shall be living with you at your house and his expenses will be taken care of, by the department. Tomorrow is Sunday, so I suggest you both get acquainted with each other”, the DIG said as gently as he could but seeing the apprehension on her face he added, “You don’t have to worry, Agent Kinjal, he is well trained to take care of himself and would instead, protect you from any mishaps, trust me”.
Kinjal smiled faintly and had nothing further to say. Duty came first, even if it meant tolerating a dog in her house. Sigh!
Agent Amber moved close to her and sat on his hind legs, his eyes smiling and tail wagging profusely. It was gonna be a treat working with a hot looking woman; men had begun to bore him, he realised, casting a sleepy look at Inspector Modi who was trying to control his chuckles at Kinjal Ma’am’s plight.
“Alright, Agents, with that we call off this meeting and in a week’s time, I hope to hear from you about the progress of this case. Any questions, my hotline is open for you. Dismissed”, the DIG said in finality giving the team permission to leave.
“Sir!” said Kinjal and Modi clicking their heels and marching for the door while Agent Amber barked a goodbye and followed them, briskly.
As soon as he was out of the DIG’s office, Inspector Modi told his colleagues excitedly, about how he was assigned a case with the most sought after Agent Kinjal. Adding a bit of his own brewed masala, Modi surely made his colleagues envious of his new, pretty partner. From the window of the police department, they watched below, how Kinjal was trying to adjust with Amber sitting in the co driver seat of her jeep.
Amber’s saliva was all over Kinjal’s arm as she struggled to get away from him. She was wondering how to begin ‘talking’ with him and get acquainted. But she didn’t have to.
Agent Amber took charge and asked her, “So, Ma’am, how do I wear the seat belt please?”
Kinjal smiled nervously, not understanding how to react. She had dealt with the most ferocious criminals, but this four legged animal was giving her the goose bumps. She looked up at the sky, asking the almighty to give her strength, sighed and helped Amber wear the seat belt.
They were, by duty, bound together; so both realised, best was to bear each other, at least till the case was solved. It was new for Amber to work with a lady...now he had to watch how he sat, how he moved, hiding behind trees to pee too! Boy! He sure had to be careful in a lady’s presence! Phew!
The drive home was silent for both of them. Amber was enjoying the wind flying in his ears in an open air jeep, but more than that he was having a gala time watching all the street dogs ogling at him riding with such a pretty cop. Every dog has his day, he smiled, gloriously!
Each time she drove her father’s jeep, Kinjal would become thoughtful. She would deal with this mongrel later but now she had other important things on her mind; this new case and DIG Uncle’s inputs on finding the serial killer.
The DIG had been family friends of the Joshis’ since 3 decades now. He and Kinjal’s father hailed from the same village, had joined the police academy together, shared their joys and pain over drinks, but after her father’s accident, they rarely met.
Five years back, Kinjal had joined a medical college in Dehradun to pursue her career in medicine, while her elder sister Shivangi, a lawyer by profession, was married in Udaipur, busy raising babies.
Kinjal’s mother, Mansi Joshi, was an epileptic since birth; which was the reason Kinjal wanted to do her specialisation in Neurology, to cure her Mom, some day. But life had other plans for her. One fateful day, during her second year of MBBS, she received a call that her mother was no more. On reaching Chandigarh, she was told that her mother committed suicide by slitting her wrists and had bled to death.
All family members performed the last rites hurriedly, in a shocked state of mind, but Kinjal was sure her mother had not killed herself. That very morning itself, Mom had called Kinjal and her sister, Shivangi Di both, making plans for the Diwali holidays next week.
After Shivangi Di had got married, Kinjal and mom were like best friends and would discuss each pain and joy, whatever maybe. Mom was a devoted wife, deeply in love with Kinjal’s father, but he was always busy with his duties and never really paid attention to his wife. In spite of not getting her husband’s love, Mansi Joshi found happiness within herself, being spiritual and had joined an NGO, Helping Souls, nearby. She would devote her time doing well for society and filling the vacuum of her husband’s lack of love. But both, as parents, had brought up their daughters, beautifully.
Yet, it was not reason enough to commit suicide. There was foul play involved, Kinjal was sure. There was no suicide note too. Why was the cremation a hushed up affair? Why Dad was not keen to find the killer and rushed to close the case? Mom always locked the house from within when Dad left for work, so why the door was left open that day? Why was an autopsy not done? There were too many unanswered questions and no one let her unravel the mystery; shunning her off, as though she was a child.
She never returned to Dehradun to pursue her career in medicine but stayed in Chandigarh to look after her broken father and decided to join the CBI on DIG Uncle’s advice, to calm her restless mind.
No, Mom was definitely, brutally killed, Kinjal was convinced. No matter what the authorities declared, Kinjal refused to believe that a strong woman like her mother would do such a cowardly act. As they took Mom’s body away, she kept Mom’s wedding ring as a locket on her neck, to remind her to keep her mission alive.
The sole mission of finding her mother’s killer.
Her constant arguing with her father led him to give in and both father and daughter decided to investigate the murder, off duty hours. But again, destiny had planned otherwise.
While returning from office one day, Dad’s jeep’s brakes failed and it flew over the Zirakpur flyover onto the high
way below, crippling him on a wheelchair for life. Dad was now in a paraplegic centre unable to move his limbs, but just communicating with an unspoken sadness in his eyes. His legs and his entire left part of the body was paralysed, leaving him only to mumble few incoherent words and dependant on nurses to help him for his basic needs.
Kinjal would cry to herself, seeing her once uniformed, handsome dad, in this helpless condition, but she would never let a tear drop in front of him. She had learnt from her late mother, anything happening to us now is due to our own karmas in some past birth. This thought gave her peace and it also motivated her to move towards her goal.
Though Dad was not an ideal husband any woman would have wanted, he was a loving father, who was always a call away when she or her sister needed him. But now her father was living life like a vegetable and the one responsible for her Mom’s death was still walking the streets free.
Each pitfall put the fire in Kinjal to live each day with vengeance, to find the criminal who had done this to her family. And unlike many girls of her age who were living in the hope of finding their love one day, Kinjal just lived with one hope, to find the killer. And one day, she would, she vowed to herself.
She loved driving her Dad’s jeep. It was repaired after the accident but Kinjal didn’t remove anything from the dashboard or the glove box; she just wanted to drive it daily to work, as Dad had last driven it. It kind of connected her to him daily, giving her the strength to take each day as it comes.
The Joshis’ Villa
Sector 12, Panchkula
“Ok, Agent Amber, we are home!” she said as she undid his seat belt hesitantly. Kinjal was unsure how to behave with a dog, though DIG Uncle had specified, he was quite independent.
In a jiffy, Amber was excitedly wagging his tail at her door, waiting for it to be opened.
“Look, lady. Now you can call me Amber when we are alone; keep the Agent stuff when we are with the top brass, okay?” he winked at her as she fumbled with her keys.
“Okay...er Amber, that’s fair enough...and you can call me Kinjal”, she tried to smile, all the time trying to hide her tension of how to adjust with a dog when she herself was such a cleanliness freak. A dog? Urrrggggh !
“Well Amber...this is my humble home. You can make yourself comfortable...er...on the couch while I ...er cook up something for us..eh?,” Kinjal offered nervously not knowing his reaction.
“That’s great, Kinjal. Hmmmm this place is cool, lady, and the sofa is so soft. In USA, I always hung out with the guys in weird places, you know...doing boy stuff! And yeah, I would love some egg and beef please?” Amber called out with an air of attitude, after all he was a USA returned agent; he ensured she knew that!
“Excuse me, Amber. I am a vegetarian, Joshi ....remember? And this is India so no beef, you know; you have to adjust to my lifestyle if you are gonna muck in with me, buddy,” she replied sweetly but firmly, touching his head lightly.
“Yeah ..yeah okay. I am the adjusting kinda fella, no worries Anything to be close to you, hottie !”, Amber winked naughtily, settling himself on the comfy sofa.
“What did you say? What did you just call me?” retorted Kinjal angrily.
He wagged his tail sheepishly in response to her rolling her eyes in exasperation, as she walked off to take a shower. She badly needed one after touching that mongrel!
Oh boy! She has sharp ears, I better be careful, Amber thought. How can I forget, she’s a detective; it’s her job to be alert. He realised as he sniffed around the place, trying to make himself familiar with his new abode.
By evening, as promised, DIG Uncle had sent Amber’s food bowls, a big sack of Pedigree food, a comfortable dog bed and a police badge to hang around his neck. But Amber was upset.
“What is this? They think I am a dog? Don’t they realise I am an agent....almost a human, just trapped in a dog’s body? Why can’t they treat me like one, Kinjal?” he grumbled in frustration as she adjusted his bed in the living room.
“Chill, Amber. You are an important part of our team but for the outside world you are a dog, right? So let’s make the best of it. Now settle down and let me study the files; we have to work now, buddy!” she ruffled his chest and went to her room to retire for the night.
She softened towards Amber over the evening when she realised he was not a fussy chap with an attitude; he was only pretending to be one! He was just like her in many ways; dying for love but scared to show his emotions. Rejecting the pedigree, he loved the poha Kinjal gave him for dinner and polished his bowl clean and when she strolled in the garden while he relieved himself, Amber realised under the stars, he just may fall in love with her.....soon!
It was way past midnight and Kinjal’s house was in pin drop silence. After studying the case files, she checked her loaded gun, safely resting near her bed, she dropped off to sleep. It was an important day tomorrow and she had to open up the case with the team.
Amber kicked the dog bed aside and snuggled onto the sofa to grab his forty winks. At the USA academy he had been taught by his trainer, never to be fully asleep; it was his duty to be alert even while sleeping. The curtain was shaking in the wind and the moon was peeking in the hallway, while Amber sat up alert.
While in USA, he stayed with male cops; it was the first time he was going to live with a lady. I will have to leave the toilet seat down now for the lady and can’t even watch porn, man! He grumbled, but then thought as he saw the garden outside, this is what I had wanted...serving my mother land, even if it meant sorting out my bad habits. He felt important to take care of her and with that thought; he sprawled on the cold floor to nap a while, because tomorrow they had to begin their cases.
But while he napped, the Joshis’ villa was being keenly watched.
CHAPTER 2
The Confusing Clues
The Coroner’s Office
Govt. Hospital
Sector 32, Chandigarh
“We have been waiting for you, Ma’am. Once you complete observing the bodies, we can hand them over to the families, who are getting restless now”, the coroner said as he guided Kinjal and Inspector Modi to the mortuary where the bodies of the latest two victims lay.
“Can you brief me about the cases please, Inspector Modi?” Kinjal asked Milan, while Amber quietly looked on. Mortuaries always had that depressing effect on everyone, with death lurking around but duty was duty and they had to begin from here itself. Amber put up his paws onto the slab to have a clear view of the bodies; he just didn’t want to miss any clue. Never.
“Ma’am, the first victim is a Mrs. Anita Choudhary, who was found lying blood soaked, in her bed, with her wrists slit, making it seem like a suicide. But on further investigation, we figured she was strangled with a dupatta, which was the cause of death. The body was found by the maid who walked into an open front door, which was rather strange, as Mrs. Choudhary always locked the house after all the family members left for the day”, Milan briefed her.
Kinjal stiffened when she heard that; it was the same way her mother was found. She shook herself up and came back to the present.
With gloves on, she began examining the body from all angles, looking for any tiny detail which the police may have missed. Mrs. Choudhary was a heavy woman and she seemed to have fought for her life, seeing the choked marks around her neck; but once again there was no suicide note either. Kinjal preferred to work quietly with her thoughts running and would ask only in doubt.
Inspector Modi and Amber waited patiently watching her after the coroner had left them to their task, as was protocol.
“Inspector Modi, please show me the evidences found at the crime scene,” she asked.
“Ma’am, can I request you to please call me Milan when we are alone; actually when you call me Modi I feel like the PM of India !” he chuckled nervously.
Kinjal glared at him and that one look was enough to convey that no silly talks during work. Amber couldn’t stop wagging his tail.....this clown has had it today!
She spread the contents of the packet on the slab. The victim’s dupatta was used to strangle her. Among the contents was an empty box of Dominoes pizza, a cotton swab with nail polish remover on it and a tiny piece of an old yellow, faded photograph with Mrs Choudhary in it, in her younger days. The piece seemed to be torn away from a larger photograph, which the killer probably took away with him.
“What was the crime scene like? Read out the findings to me, Milan?” she asked as she moved to Mrs. Choudhary’s body again. Her nail polish had been removed rather roughly, with the nail paint still stuck onto her nails.
“Ma’am, by the time the police reached the crime scene, the grieved family’s prints were all over the room; and none of the killer’s, it seems.” he replied.
“How can you be so sure, Milan, one of the family members is not the killer? Everyone, I repeat everyone is a suspect till he/she is cleared. Am I clear?” Kinjal clarified.
“Yes, Ma’am” Milan fumbled. “When the police arrived on the scene, a song was written on the wall, sprayed by paint but one line was underlined specifically, which read ‘Don’t Say a Word’ and we had the same words written on a white board, when we found the second victim.”
The same song was scribbled on the wall, when her mother’s body was found; Kinjal could never forget the song; Mom always sang it for her as a lullaby.
“Hush little baby,...don’t say a word...
Papa’s gonna buy you a little mocking bird...
And, if the mocking bird won’t sing...
Papa will get you a little diamond ring”
DIG Uncle seemed right; there was some connection between her mother’s death and the new victims. The same song at the crime scenes seemed too much of a coincidence.
“No murder weapon was found on both the crime scenes, but the cuts have confirmed it was a kitchen knife, which probably the killer got with him”, Milan shook her out of her reverie.