Mumbai Noir

1

I stand alone in the shadowy alleyways of Mumbai, the air thick with the scent of impending danger. I clutch the receiver of a vintage rotary phone tightly in his hand.

"Hello?" a voice crackles through the line, tinged with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

"I've caught him," I said in a  steady voice, masking the turmoil raging within me. "I know who's the women cheating with your husband on you. I'll send you the details via letter, I promise."

The client's gratitude pours forth like a floodgate opening, drowning out my own doubts and fears. I  can almost feel the weight of the girl's safety resting on my shoulders, a burden I am too familiar with carrying.

"Thank you, thank you so much," the client's voice trembles with emotion. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"I am also happy, that I could help you," I said.

"I'm sorry, the doorbell just rang," the girl says hurriedly, the sound of footsteps echoing in the background.

My heart seizes in mine chest as I listen intently, every nerve on edge. The line goes silent, but I can sense something is amiss, a foreboding whisper in the stillness of the night.

Then, the nightmare unfolds before my very ears. Gunshots ring out like thunderclaps, followed by a chilling scream that slices through the silence like a knife.

"You ugly bitch, did you think that this fucking investigator would catch me, huh? Seeing your face makes me feel throw up, ugly ugly bitch," a voice screamed, as I heard it carefully, I thought that things are pretty fucked up there.

My breath catch in my throat as the voice draws closer, a menacing specter looming ever nearer. "You asshole, you are dead," it hisses, a promise of vengeance hanging heavy in the air.

With a gasp, I jolt awake, my heart pounding in mine chest like a drumbeat. Beads of sweat glisten on my brow as I took time to get back to my surroundings, the familiar sights and sounds of my home brought me back to reality.

Shaken but resolute, I reach for a pack of cigarettes on the desk, the soft glow of the city lights casting long shadows across the room. With trembling hands, I  light a cigarette, the ember flickering like a beacon in the darkness. As I took a long drag, my gaze drifts out the window, the twinkling lights of Mumbai stretching out before me like a sea of stars.

The knot of worry in my gut tightened as I stared at the file on my desk. Cheating spouse, another one. I rubbed my temples, the phantom ache of danger pulsing behind my eyes. This wasn't the first time this week I'd gotten a case like this. It was almost… predictable. Too predictable.

My mind drifted back to the nightmare, vivid and terrifying. My client, a women named Ragini, her face contorted in fear, her eyes wide with betrayal. The memory chilled me. Ragini had hired me for a similar case, and then… nothing. Just a closed file and a gnawing emptiness where answers should have been. With a sigh, I pushed the Ragini file aside and glanced at the stack of others – all cheating cases, all seemingly straightforward. Maybe those were safer bets. Sticking to the mundane, the predictable, felt better than flirting with another potential nightmare. Besides, the pay was the same, and honestly, catching a cheating spouse didn't keep me up at night the way other cases did. I dug into the new file, Anjali Verma requesting surveillance on her husband, Dev. Standard procedure. Stakeouts, photos, the whole nine yards. It looked like a walk in the park compared to some of the things I'd dealt with.

Hours melted into the night as I devoured background reports,  statements, anything that might offer even a hint of a deeper story. By the time the first rays of dawn peeked through the blinds, my head throbbed and my eyes burned. My reflection in the computer screen – pale, unshaven, dark circles under my eyes – resembled a bhút more than a private investigator.

I'm jolted awake by a gentle hand on my shoulder, a voice calling my name. Blinking away the fog of sleep, I find myself face to face with her - my girlfriend, a vision of beauty in the morning light.

"What are you doing again, Vikram?" she asks, concern etched in her features.

"Maya," I breathed, relief flooding through me, "How did you get in?"

She shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Door was open, Vikram. You alright? You know pulling an all-nighter isn't exactly healthy, right? What were you doing?"

I didn't know how the door remained open? Am I taking too much stress? Might be, I have never let the door open as I fear death.

I then rubbed my eyes, struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Just some late-night research," I mumble, my voice thick with exhaustion.

My gaze flicked nervously around the room, a primal instinct to check for anything out of place.

"What are you working on anyway?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Oh, just… a case," I said vaguely. "Nothing important."

Maya, being the perceptive woman she was, wasn't buying it. Her eyes flitted to the open file, catching a glimpse of the words 'surveillance' and 'Dev Verma.'

"Another cheating husband?"

My shoulders slumped. "Yeah, something like that."

She sighs, her hand gently brushing the stray strands of hair from my face. "You know, Vikram, sometimes you need to take a break from all this. Let's watch a movie tonight, just the two of us."

The suggestion was tempting. A day away from the shadows I inhabited, a day spent simply enjoying her company – it sounded divine. "Yeah, sure," I agreed. "Sounds good."

"Okay, I will wait for you, sweetheart, come early and now stop working and give me a hug," she said and shut files down and the computer off.

I think I will marry her soon, she is lovely.