Mumbai Noir

12

My head pounded like a drum solo as I raced towards Mr. Verma's place. His call, cryptic and urgent, echoed in my ears. "The truth, Ragu," he'd rasped, "you need to hear it. Come now." My gut churned. Was this some elaborate lie to deflect suspicion? Or a genuine confession?

Reaching his doorstep, I buzzed impatiently. The door creaked open, revealing a haggard Mr. Verma. His eyes were bloodshot, his face etched with desperation. "Ragu, come in," he muttered, ushering me into his dimly lit apartment.

The air hung heavy with a stale tang. Mr. Verma slumped into a chair, his hands trembling. "There's something I need to tell you," he croaked. "Something I lied about before."

My pulse quickened. Could this be the break we needed? "What is it, Mr. Verma?"

He took a shaky breath. "Ayushi... her disappearance... it wasn't me." A flicker of disbelief sparked within me.

"Then who?"

"Her mother," he blurted out, his voice laced with a tremor. "Mrs. Kapoor and I... we had an affair." The world tilted on its axis. Mrs. Kapoor? The grieving mother, the pillar of composure? It was impossible. "We were close," he confessed.

My mind reeled. Mr. Verma, the man who vehemently denied any wrongdoing, was now accusing Mrs. Kapoor? The carefully constructed narrative in my head shattered.  Was he playing another angle?  Suspicion gnawed at me even as a sliver of morbid curiosity took root.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I pressed, my voice tight.

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "Because the teacher, Ranjan, that spineless worm, is spreading lies! Blaming me to save his own skin. He had a fling with Mrs. Kapoor, but she rejected him, he was always jealous of me, Now he's twisting it into something more, hoping to deflect blame."

His words fueled the fire of suspicion already burning within me. Was there any truth to his claims? Or was he a desperate man lashing out?

Leaving Mr. Verma's apartment, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. The ground beneath me constantly shifted, the truth slipping through my grasp. With a heavy heart, I headed towards Mrs. Kapoor's house. Shame gnawed at me for my previous actions, but I needed answers.

The door swung open before I could knock. Mrs. Kapoor stood there, her eyes puffy from tears. Her vulnerability cut through me. "Ragu," she murmured, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

"Mrs. Kapoor," I stammered, unsure of how to proceed.  "I need to talk to you."

"I know you're here with some evidence,  right?," she said, her voice breaking.

I said her about Mr. Verma

"Mr. Verma, that... that wretched man." Tears welled up in her eyes. "He's lying, Ragu. Spinning stories to save himself."

Her words mirrored his, but the raw emotion in her voice resonated with a truth I couldn't ignore. "He claims you had an affair," I admitted, feeling like a voyeur prying into forbidden territory.

"An affair?" She scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "He was obsessed, Ragu. When I rejected his closeness to me, he threatened me. Threatened Ayushi." Her voice hitched, tears cascading down her cheeks.

She reached for my hand, her touch sending a jolt through me. "He's trying to shift the blame, to paint me as the monster. Please, Ragu, find my daughter. Bring her back to me."

The warmth of her hand lingered long after I pulled away.  The feelings I harbored were dangerous, a betrayal of professionalism and my own morals. But seeing her grief, the raw desperation in her eyes, choked any inappropriate desires I might have entertained.

Leaving the house, a strange urge overwhelmed me.  I raised my hand to my nose, inhaling the faint scent of lavender, the lingering trace of Mrs. Kapoor's touch. Was I losing my mind?

God, she was beautiful.

Shaking off the bizarre impulse, I called Patil. We needed to get to the bottom of this, to sift through the web of lies and uncover the truth. Mr. Verma's accusations hung heavy in the air.