Murder?

It was nine o'clock at night upon the 29th of July. One would say that the god's curse was hanging in the sultry and stagnant air. Lack of wind and a full moon could send shivers down the spine of even a strong muscled man.

Every police officer, in the city, would expect a murder to take place at this time of the night. And, alas they were not disappointed as just before a quarter past nine, they had a case of death registered in their records!

The street was buzzing like that of a packed swarm of bees. The photographers stood behind the various barriers kept by the local police. The gleam of yellow tape and the rapid clicking of photos by the reporters summed it all. The death of a person!

Crowd was slowly gathering outside the house. The well wishers, relatives and others were trying to go inside but the police kept barricading them.

After a minute or so, a red, blazing car arrived. The superintendent strode out of it in an alarming speed. A couple of constables paved his way by pushing a lot of photographers aside.

After asking some formal questions to the constables, the superintendent hopped over the gleaming tape and found himself staring at the white chalk outline of the dead figure. The body was still there. But he made up his mind that the body would be the last thing he would look onto. There were other matters which had more importance.

Though the pool of blood certainly made the case look a bit interesting, his eyes were looking on to something else. Sound of flowing water! Water was flowing continuously. The wash basin was a minute away from overflowing.

The tap had not been closed. With the short temper he had, he roared for a policeman and scolded him very badly.

"Sorry sir, I didn't touch it because I had read in novels that fingerprints are a crucial element in the case of murder. I didn't want my fingerprint to surface anywhere." The short heighted constable blurted out these words at the drop of the hat.

"Are you a new joining?" The superintendent asked in a callous way.

"Yes sir."

"You are a gadha (donkey). You and your bookish knowledge! How did you manage to become a constable? Don't you have minimum common sense? Murkho! You idiot, what do you have in your pockets?"

The constable, with a trembling hand, took out a pack of cigarettes and showed it to his boss.

"You are a real gadha. Don't you have a pair of gloves in your back pocket?"

"Yes sir," the constable grinned. "Sir, do you want this pair of gloves for quality check?"

"Arey murkho! I wonder how did you become a police officer! Can't you put on your gloves and close the tap? Where are your type of men bred? In asylums? That's the correct place for you. Now pack your bags and get out of here, otherwise I don't know where my limbs would be!" The superintendent shouted with a threatening voice.

"Sorry sir," the constable uttered. Before leaving, he asked a question.

"Sir, do you want this pair of gloves or shall I take it away with me?"

"Shut up and just get out of my sight!" The superintendent yelled. After the constable left, he calmed down a bit but he continued murmuring and scolding the idiotic constable at his heart.

There was nothing else interesting to be seen except the white outline made with chalk and the body. Alas, one should not expect a bathroom to show up interesting things.

Blood was oozing out of the head. The ambulance was on the way. He took his pair of gloves and touched the body. With the experience he had, he could say that the skull was broken.