Bombay Romance ♡ COMPLETED

[ 24 ] You Love Her ■

Police sirens are whining. People have crowded in the open ground in front of a half-constructed six-storey building on the outskirts of the Dharavi-Dadar intersection. Amarnath's Ambassador zooms into the ground with two other police jeeps. Furious, tense whispers linger in the air. There is already a police jeep stationed at a distance.

Murali opens the car door for Amarnath and salutes him. 'I think this is Pramod's work, Sir,'

'The constables assigned for his protection?' Amarnath hazards, almost wincing as he guesses the answer.

'Both are serious,' Murali replies. 'One of them has two bullets in his chest ... it is doubtful.'

A couple of journalists are present too, behind the police barricade tapes, clicking photographs from their large cameras. Amar can already envision the headlines in tomorrow's newspapers. The commoners are quickly dispersed. Constables and inspectors salute as Amarnath walks up closer to the crime scene.

'Sir, what is your take on this? Sir? Sir!' The journalists hold her pen and notepad, furiously trying to get closer. The constables block them with their lathis.

Amarnath lifts the yellow DO NOT CROSS police barricade tape and walks into the restricted area.

DCP Parthiban, already inspecting the scene, turns around, arms on his waist. 'Ohho, the great crime branch DCP is here. Welcome, welcome!'

Amarnath does not look at him. He stares at the crime scene.

On the concrete floor flowing out from the building is the body of a huge man in his early fifties, stabbed gruesomely in the stomach. He is the same builder who has been threatened with death by Pramod Fernandes. There is an open, empty briefcase lying beside him. A few inches away, on the ground, large words are written in blood, now dried up into a dark red colour, almost a dirty shade of brown.

BOMBAY KA NAYA BAAP - PRAMOD BHAI ZINDABAD

Amarnath stares at the scene with wooden eyes, temper sparking inside him. Rather abruptly, he turns to his former batchmate. 'I want your help.'

'I'm so honoured,' Parthiban blinks.

'This is serious, Parthiban,' Amarnath says irritably. 'I've heard you have some good informants. I need all the help I can get. Will you tell them to look for Pramod?'

Parthiban scowls. 'Are you mad? This is Bombay. Don't try your famous small-town tricks here.'

'Can you do it or not?' Amarnath asks, ignoring the jab. 

Parthiban looks away, contemplating the request.

Okay,' he says finally. 'But it has to be between you guys. I'm not getting involved.'

●●●

It is silent outside, except for the crickets buzzing and the portable radio switched running at a low volume. It is almost midnight. Amarnath and Murali are on the terrace of Amar's home, after a long, tiring day, downing their second round of Whiskey. A melodious tune emanates from the radio.

Chahe kaho ise meri mohabbat ...chahe hasi mein uda do ... 

Yeh kya hua mujhe, mujhko khabar nahin ... ho sake tum hi bata do ....