under the wraps

Crime Scene

Inspector Mohit silently followed her as she stepped into the restricted area the sergeant had been preventing her from accessing.

The air inside felt heavier than the chaos outside. The murmurs dulled the moment she entered, as if the space itself acknowledged authority. A young woman lay lifeless on the floor, her body stretched unnaturally, eyes half-open, staring at nothing. Vera slowed her steps, not out of hesitation but habit. Every scene demanded patience.

The people surrounding the body noticed her presence and instinctively moved aside, creating a clear path. Vera crouched slightly, observing from a distance before coming closer. She examined the body, then the surrounding floor, the walls, the angles of the building above them. Her gaze traveled upward, measuring invisible distances, calculating the height from which one would have to fall for the body to land the way it had. It was second nature now—numbers forming silently in her mind.

Vera: "The girl appears to be quite young."

She straightened her legs and knees, yet her eyes never left the body. Her attention shifted briefly to the sealed polythenes lying beside it—evidence already collected by the forensic team. Her fingers hovered over them but did not touch.

Inspector Mohit: "Yes, ma'am. She may be nineteen or twenty years old."

He answered while watching Vera carefully, already anticipating the direction her thoughts might take.

Vera: "Who first reported the body?"

Her eyes moved away from the corpse and scanned the gathered crowd. They lingered on a few individuals dressed in casual clothes—out of place among uniforms and authority. Her stare was sharp, precise, almost unsettling.

Mohit: "Ma'am, that person standing there did."

He pointed subtly, using both hand and eyes. A sergeant stood nearby, speaking less but gesturing frequently, listening to a man in his mid-forties who appeared anxious yet composed, narrating his version of events.

Vera walked toward him without hesitation. She stopped uncomfortably close.

Vera: "So you were the first to notice the body?"

She held his gaze steadily, ensuring her directness did not shock him into silence, yet clearly demanding honesty.

Man: "Yes, ma'am. I came here to throw away the trash when I noticed the body. Everyone in our colony dumps their trash here."

His voice was steady. His eyes reflected fear, but not deception.

Vera: "Did you hear, see, or smell anything unusual?"

She asked again, testing consistency rather than suspicion.

Man: "No, ma'am. I called the police as soon as I saw her."

He avoided unnecessary details, as though he knew excess words often betrayed lies.

Vera: "I'll let you go now."

She stepped away, already convinced he had nothing more to offer. Prolonging the conversation would serve no purpose. She glanced at the notes the sergeant had taken and turned back toward Mohit when a voice cut through the scene.

"Don't you feel that looking the way you are is not the best idea for inspecting a death scene?"

Vera turned her head slowly. The owner of the deep voice stood a short distance away, wearing an amused grin. He looked no older than his late twenties, yet carried authority effortlessly.

It was Rudra Singh—DIG. And unfortunately, her senior.

Vera looked at him briefly, then leaned toward Mohit and spoke in a low voice, barely audible.

Vera: "What would a DIG be doing in a typical murder case?"

Mohit: "His grandfather was familiar with the girl's family, ma'am. He asked that he, along with the commissioner, keep a close watch on the case."

He matched her tone as best as he could.

Vera: "Oh... so that's the case."

She straightened, composed her expression, and allowed a faint smirk to settle on her lips as she noticed Rudra still smiling.

Vera: "What sort of attire, in your opinion, would be ideal for conducting an investigation, sir?"

Rudra: "Am I required now to advise an SSP on what to wear while working? Since your promotion, I assumed you would focus more on work. All I see is you adding more cosmetics."

His words were deliberate, his eyes fixed on her face, waiting for a reaction.

Vera (with a smirk): "Sir, your level of general awareness seems rather low today. This is merely party attire. I was off duty when the commissioner asked me to visit the scene. He appears to have more faith in my judgment than yours."

She knew exactly where to strike—and she did.

Before Rudra could respond, a forensic medicine expert stepped forward, interrupting the tension.

Forensic Expert: "The case appears to be suicide, sir. There are no marks on her neck or any other part of her body suggesting assault. No weapon has been found, and there are no footprints indicating the presence of another individual. Based on the injuries and surroundings, it seems she jumped from the building above. The expression on her face suggests recent emotional trauma. I can confirm more after the autopsy."

Vera: "But why would a young girl choose to end her life?"

She spoke before Mohit could.

Rudra: "She lived with her single mother, who runs a small bakery. She attended college, helped at the shop, and also gave tuitions. She recently won a scholarship from the NGO my grandfather founded. By all accounts, she was handling a lot."

Vera: "But why now?"

Rudra: "How would I know? Maybe she finally lost the strength to carry it all."

Mohit: "What if there's university bullying involved?"

Vera: "Investigate it. We can't draw conclusions from assumptions."

Forensic Expert: "Ma'am, may we proceed with taking the body?"

Vera: "Yes. Go ahead."

As the body was lifted, Vera turned to face it one last time. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Life is always going to be tough... but why did you give up?"

She turned away and began walking out of the area. That was when something caught her eye. Near the corner of the boundary wall, partially hidden behind an overturned dustbin, lay a small object