In the glamorous cityscape of Mumbai, renowned business tycoon and philanthropist, Shivaay Singh Oberoi, dies under mysterious circumstances on the night of November 18th, 2017. Coincidentally, on that very same night, Manushi Chillar from India is...
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"Wednesday 10 a.m , 6 November"
The Oberoi household was in the midst of a tense discussion about their next steps when the doorbell rang, cutting through the air like a knife. Omkara stood up and went to answer it, his movements deliberate and wary.
“Who is it, Omkara?” Anika asked, her voice edged with concern.
“It’s the police,” Omkara replied, a frown creasing his forehead.
“What’s the issue now?” whispered Sayani, her nervousness was evident.
“Shhh….” hissed Rajeev Siddhartha, placing a finger to her lips to silence her.
Omkara opened the door to find a stern-faced inspector standing there, flanked by a constable.
“Why are you here, Inspector? Is there an issue?” Omkara asked, his tone guarded.
“Good morning, Mr. Oberoi,” the inspector said, tipping his hat slightly. “Actually, we found a piece of information that might be of interest to you.”
With a nod, the constable handed the inspector a sheet of paper. The inspector then passed it to Omkara, who quickly scanned it before handing it to Anika. It was a record of Mr. Shivaay Singh Oberoi’s call logs on the day of his death.
The inspector didn’t stay long, leaving behind a sense of confusion and shock as Anika stared at the records. They showed a series of incoming calls from an unknown number, each lasting exactly eleven minutes and occurring every half hour.
Gauri leaned in to get a better look. “Maybe we should try calling the number?” she suggested.
Rajeev shook his head. “No, the number might not be in use anymore. We need to be more strategic. Look at the pattern—each call is exactly eleven minutes long and spaced thirty minutes apart. That’s too precise to be a coincidence.”
Sayani turned to Anika, her eyes pleading. “Anika, can you remember anything from that day that might help us understand these calls?”
Anika’s brow furrowed in concentration. “As far as I remember, Shivaay was getting phone calls from an unknown number. I answered one of them around 5 p.m.,” she recalled, her voice trembling slightly.
“And, Mrs. Oberoi, after 5 p.m., there were no more calls received, as shown on the sheet,” Rajeev pointed out, his voice steady as he pieced the puzzle together.
“By the way, Mrs. Oberoi, can you tell us what you and Shivaay were doing after five that day?” Rajeev’s tone was probing, eager for details.
