EPILOGUE
Once Satya was released from police custody, Vikram got him admitted to a government hospital. Satya had learnt his lesson after being nearly indicted for murder. And his jail term had forced him to abstain from drugs. Vikram also contacted Satya’s wife Deepti. After his counselling, she decided to reconcile with Satya and support him as he struggled to overcome his addiction.
Now after settling down Deepti and Satya, Vikram had invited ACP Reddy to dinner at his house. Veena had cooked Mutton Kofta Curry and Rice. Although she was a vegan, she could cook non-vegetarian items very well. She had been impressed by Vikram’s activities over the past few weeks and this was her way of pampering him.
When they had finished eating and Veena had gone to bed leaving them to enjoy their after dinner drinks, Vikram said, ‘Reddy sir, do you remember, you told me once to be a man of value.’
‘Yes. I am sorry I know you are a good man – I was frustrated at that time and had started giving you unnecessary lectures,’ Reddy begun.
But Vikram raised a hand to stop him. He said gently, ‘No, you opened my eyes at that time. I have now reconciled Prakash with his wife. He has undergone treatment and is now working as my handyman in my office. Murali is training him. We will ensure that he does not touch drugs in the future. He is grateful to us for saving his life and is willing to turn over a new leaf. I have become a man of value sir!’
Smiling, they raised their glasses to their success.
~ END ~
TO MY READERS…
Hello!
I hope you have enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Among writers I am just a struggling author. But I like to think of my books as colourful little trinkets, in a shop. I hope that someone would pick it up and derive a little pleasure from holding and reading my book. Dear reader could you be that person? I shall be with you, take you to my world and shall try to make your trip memorable.
I’d be very grateful if you’d take out a little time and post a short review on Amazon and Goodreads. Your support really does make a difference. I read all the reviews posted and incorporate your feedback so that I can make my books better and more entertaining.
You can also write to me at [email protected]
Thanks again for your love and support.
Sharmishtha Shenoy.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Manoj Vijayan for producing such a lovely cover design.
I would also like to thank my beta readers Sushma Chepuri, Monidipa Sinha, Chowdhury Inderpreet and Sudarshan Sanyal for suffering through my first drafts and still encouraging me.
I have found the definition of cockiness, confidence and arrogance in Quora and had used the answer by Jan Gabler Malera in one of my dialogues
INFORMATION ON RANDOM KILLERS
Who are random killers? What possesses a human being to kill another human being and do it multiple times? And why do we, normal human beings find the subject fascinating?
“They represent something larger than life, something truly cartoonish, monstrous, like the horror stories you’re told as a child,” suggests James Hoare, editor of Real Crime.
“Everybody responds to the idea that there’s something nasty out there.” Schechter calls tales of random killers “fairy tales for grownups. There’s something in our psyche where we have this need to tell stories about being pursued by monsters.”
Jack the Ripper, the most notorious random murderer of all – perhaps because he was never caught – has been immortalised, with considerable artistic licence, in hundreds of novels, comics, films and TV shows. Guided tours of his killing grounds in east London still attract huge crowds, particularly at night.
Arguably what really makes random killers compelling is their humanness. An investigation into random murders by the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit in 2005 concluded that “they are not monsters and may not appear strange. Random murderers often have families and homes, are gainfully employed, and appear to be normal members of the community.”
I personally found inspiration of this story from two random killers.
First one was:
Dennis Lynn Rader (born March 9, 1945) was an American random killer who murdered ten people in Sedgwick County, Kansas, between 1974 and 1991. He is the infamous BTK random killer in the USA who called himself Bill Thomas Killman (BTK). He was also known as the BTK Strangler. "BTK" stands for "Bind, Torture, Kill", which was his infamous signature. He sent letters describing the details of the killings to police and local news outlets when the murders happened.
The second one was:
Charles Cullen As per Wikipedia, Charles Edmund Cullen (born February 22, 1960) is a former nurse who is the most prolific random killer in New Jersey. He confessed to authorities that he had killed up to 40 patients during his 16-year nursing career. Cullen stated that he gave patients overdoses so that he could end their suffering. However, many of his victims were not terminal and were about to be released from the hospital shortly when they died suddenly while under his care.
Cullen preyed on some of the most helpless, sick and trusting patients whose families believed they were safe and would be nursed with care and compassion. Little did they know that their loved ones were in grave danger at the hands of Nurse Cullen. The unsociable hours and inability for patients to communicate meant that Cullen could murder easily. There was no one to watch him and he had effortless access to his weapon of choice — prescription drugs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sharmishtha Shenoy is the author of the book Vikram Rana Investigates. Her short stories have been published in efiction magazine and Woman’s era. She loves writing murder mysteries, the kind of books that she herself likes to read.
Her favourite authors are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. She also likes the work of Satyajit Ray – especially the Feluda Series.
She was born in Calcutta and has done her post-graduation from University of Reading, Great Britain. She lives in Hyderabad.
You can reach her at [email protected]
Website : sharmishthashenoy.com
Buy a copy of the first book in the VIKRAM RANA SERIES
Excerpt from Previous book in this Series
The Mysterious Affair at the Lohia Mansion
Prologue
In the middle of the night, Kinshuk Lohia was shaken awake by his uncle, Rohan Lohia. The agitation on his face at once told Kinshuk that something was seriously wrong.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kinshuk asked, sitting up in bed, and trying to collect his scattered thoughts.
‘Your mother is very ill. She seems to be having some kind of fit. Unfortunately, she has locked herself in.’
‘I will come at once.’
Kinshuk sprang out of bed and followed his uncle, Rohan along the passage to his mother Richa’s bedroom.
Rohan’s wife, Kiara joined them along with Richa’s personal maid Lakshmi and two more servants. Everyone seemed to be in a state of awestricken fear.
Kinshuk turned to his uncle, ‘What should we do? Father is not here.’
Never had Kinshuk’s weak nature been more apparent, Rohan thought in distaste. Rohan rattled the handle of his sister-in-law Richa’s door violently, but with no effect. The whole household was aroused by now. The most alarming sounds were audible from the interior of the locked bedroom. Clearly something must be done.
‘Try going through Gaurav bhaiya’s bedroom,’ cried Lakshmi. ‘Oh, poor Richa didi.’
They went through her husband Gaurav’s room to the connecting door. That was also locked from inside. What was to be done?
‘Hey, Bhagwan,’ Lakshmi started crying loudly, wringing her hands, ‘What shall we do?’
‘We must break the door open, I suppose,’ Rohan turned towards Kiara and continued, ‘Why don’t you call Dr. Agnihotri?’
Rohan and Kinshuk heaved together. The door was solid. For a long time it resiste
d their efforts but at last, with a resounding crash, it burst open.
They stumbled in together. Mrs Richa Lohia was lying in her bed, having seizures. In her agony, she must have overturned her bedside table. As they entered, her limbs relaxed and she fell back on her pillow. The violence of the seizure seemed to be passing. She was able to speak in short gasps.
‘I cannot see properly,’ she complained. Rohan and Kinshuk looked at each other helplessly.
A strangled cry from the bed startled them. A fresh bout of pain had seized Richa. The seizures were terrible to behold. At that moment Dr Agnihotri, who lived nearby, pushed his way into the room authoritatively. At the same instant, Richa cried, ‘Rohan… Rohan...’. Then she fell back motionless on the pillows.
The doctor seized her arms and worked them energetically, applying artificial respiration. He issued a sharp order for an ambulance to be called immediately, but the expression on his face told them that he had little hope of the patient surviving.
- 1 -
Introduction
It was 8 o’clock in the morning. Vikram Rana, an ex-cop turned private investigator, was waiting for his wife Veena to give him some breakfast. He was wearing a dressing gown over his pyjamas, and picked up the newspaper which the paperboy had thrown into the balcony.
Vikram was in his late thirties. He had been born and brought up in Hyderabad. Over six feet tall, he had an athletic build. He swam for at least an hour three times a week and jogged for forty-five minutes every day. He was also a yoga addict. All this helped keep him trim and healthy. With his macho good looks, Vikram had been quite a lady-killer before his marriage. Like George Clooney, he was becoming more and more handsome with age. After leaving the police force, he opened his own detective agency, but was still waiting for his first case. He had converted a ground floor room in his home into an office.
He picked up the newspaper and was shocked to read the headlines blaring the news of noted socialite Richa Lohia’s death.
Vikram was highly interested in this news, as the victim was the sister-in-law of Rohan Lohia, his childhood friend. He had attended the same school as Rohan and Gaurav Lohia. Rohan, Gaurav’s younger brother, had been his classmate while Gaurav had been his senior by three years.
In fact, Rohan and Vikram still met occasionally at the Secunderabad Club where both men were members. Though he was not familiar with the other Lohia family members, his friendship with Rohan was an enduring one. He was pondering whether he should call Rohan to find out more when his cell phone rang. It was Rohan.
‘Hi Rohan. I just saw the news and was about to call you. What happened?’
‘I do not want to talk over the phone. Why don’t you come over?’
Vikram reviewed what he knew about his friend’s family. Rahul Lohia, the noted steel magnate and Gaurav’s and Rohan’s father, was a self-made man who had built the business empire his sons were now helming after his death. Like many first-born sons of wealthy families, Gaurav had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. After completing his MBA from the London School of Economics, he had taken over from his father in a completely efficient manner. He had been married to Richa Bajaj, daughter of the noted minister, Chetan Bajaj. Everyone knew it was more of a business deal cemented cynically by marriage between the two families. Whatever the reason for the marriage, Gaurav and Richa appeared to be happily married and had three children, two sons and a daughter, thus ensuring the continuity of the family business.
Richa was known to be an excellent hostess. She and Gaurav gave regular parties, which were very exclusive; only the rich and the famous were invited. The papers were always lyrical about the special relationship shared by husband and wife, and revelled in how their marriage only got better with age, which was so rare in high society. Richa, the lady who had been found dead, was beautiful and smart. She had been very popular in elite social circles and played an active role in Gaurav’s business ventures.
All this went through Vikram’s mind as he dressed and then got into his car to drive down to the Lohia house in Jubilee Hills in Hyderabad. It was an address of the rich and famous… movie stars, politicians, celebrity cricketers and tennis players. But the 14-year-old car, which had been his father’s, refused to start. Feeling outraged at this betrayal by his trusted car, he walked out of the gate of his house and flagged an auto. The auto refused to even stop. Feeling angrier by the minute, he walked for the next ten minutes before he could find another auto. This auto stopped, but when he asked whether it would take him to Jubilee Hills, the auto driver asked for Rs. 500. Vikram spluttered and asked, ‘Do you know that I was a cop?’
The auto driver sneered and said, ‘Well, you are an ex-cop so you probably cannot afford to shell out Rs 500,’ and drove off in a cloud of toxic fumes. Coughing, Vikram wished he had the presence of mind to note down the registration number of the auto. But it was too late. Finally, after walking for another fifteen minutes he found an honest auto driver who agreed to take him to Jubilee hills as per the meter. He got in thankfully and soon reached the Lohia estate.
The paparazzi were gathered in front of the huge gate. Security was having a tough time controlling the crowd. Rohan must have informed Security he was coming because after he produced his visiting card, Vikram was quickly allowed inside the house.
The Lohia estate was a paradise that embraced terraced lawns, formal gardens, and a swimming pool. Vikram did not like such ostentatiousness. Whenever he came across one of these gold-plated billionaire’s playgrounds, Vikram’s pitiful bank balance poked its head up and jeered at him. The drive up to the house was a winding avenue of trees, and on the way, he could see flowerbeds packed with bright coloured flowers. The avenue opened out onto a stretch of open area on which were parked five or six cars. The smallest of them was a yellow Porsche. Two chauffeurs were washing a Bentley as if their lives depended on it.
To the right of the parking lot was the house, a majestic affair of about twelve bedrooms. The main house was comprised of two storeys. One could easily drive a ten-ton truck though its front door.
On ringing the bell, Vikram was shown into the drawing room by a maid. Rohan was sitting with Inspector Gopi Reddy. Vikram Rana had worked closely with Gopi Reddy while on the police force and they knew each other very well.
Vikram looked at Rohan with compassion. Rohan looked exhausted and dishevelled. ‘I am sorry to hear about Richa,’ he commiserated. Rohan gave him a wan smile and said, ‘Yes, it was tough to see her in so much pain. And Gaurav not being here did not help matters.’
Inspector Reddy shook his hand and asked him to take a seat.
Vikram asked, ‘Has Gaurav been informed?’
‘He has been informed. He has chartered a flight and will come as soon as possible.’
Rohan then looked at the other person sitting by his side and introduced him as Mr. Kiran Dalal, the family lawyer.
The Inspector said, ‘Rohan told us that you will help with the investigation. Let us cooperate with each other and solve this at the earliest. I am so glad that you are here to help us. Rohan was just about to describe what happened.’
He turned towards Rohan and asked him to begin. The lawyer, Mr. Dalal, cleared his voice as if to make his presence felt and nodded his head to assure Rohan that he was there to support and warn him in case he said something out of turn.
Rohan said, ‘Our apartment is in the ground floor while Gaurav and his family occupy the first floor. I was sleeping in our ground floor bedroom when we heard Richa screaming as if she was in great agony. I rushed up the stairs to Gaurav’s apartment. They have two servants, Lakshmi and Mala, staying in the servant’s quarters on the first floor. Mala was already coming down to fetch me and we met on the stairs and rushed back up to Richa’s bedroom door. Gaurav had gone to London along with his younger son and daughter. I woke up Kinshuk, who had slept through the noise.
Anyway the door was locked from inside. So we went to Gaurav’s room as there is a connec
ting door between Gaurav’s and Richa’s bedrooms. But that door was locked as well. We forcibly broke down her bedroom door. When we entered, she seemed to be having some kind of seizure. She also complained of blurred vision. We called our family physician Dr Agnihotri, but by the time he arrived, she had lost consciousness. The doctor examined Richa and said she had high blood pressure and had suffered a stroke. By the time we rushed her to Apollo Hospital she was dead. Then we learned that the doctors at the hospital suspected that she had been poisoned.’
Vikram asked, ‘When did Gaurav leave for London?’
Rohan replied that his brother had left for London just a day earlier.
Vikram’s next question was about the time of death and this Inspector Gopi Reddy was able to answer.
‘She died around 3 a.m. last night. Her body has been sent to the forensic expert for autopsy.’
Inspector Reddy wanted to inspect the bedroom where the tragedy had taken place. They all trooped upstairs. Mala met them and took them to Richa’s bedroom.
The bedroom was in a messy condition. Richa must have overturned a bedside table in her agony and all the contents of the table were lying around scattered everywhere. It seemed the table had contained some of her medicines, her spectacles, a jug of water and an idol of Lord Ganesha. The carpet was soaking wet around the area where the water jug had fallen. Fortunately, it had not broken. Vikram bent down and picked up an empty bottle of Nyquil. He looked at Mala and asked, ‘Can you call Richa madam’s personal maid?’
Mala called the maid, Lakshmi. Vikram noted that Lakshmi was thick at the waist, somewhat hairy of the forearm. She would have crossed sixty but was still physically fit and active.
A Season for Dying: A Vikram Rana Mystery (Vikram Rana Series Book 2) Page 13