HOLISM- @4:01Am

RED TUNIC

                  @ 4:01Am

“So what do you think?”

         “Back stab. Close take.”

         “About the weapon? Any design cue?”

         “Dagger. 11’. Chipped side-line. The whole metal has probably penetrated. No finger prints. Aimed at heart probably; incised at the bottom. Some local pro rookie; hired by some landlord I guess. The dead man lives in this tenant for years; the neighbours say. And they say he’s a total mess, as he’s now. A common scene of ousting the rodent for better living space. I think a local parading of your hit list will suffice the chapter. “

Simon again looked at the corpse. A smart kill it had been. It was not a mere stab scene, but had involved a better choice of weapon, a clever positioning of the stab, a good run-out time given for the blood flow; a surprise attack overpowering the victim’s instinct to scream. The Commissioner was busy taking the notes from Simon’s preliminary inspection. He wanted to feed the media people waiting for their lexicon autopsy. As the victim had no relatives, the crime scene cleaners had it easy to wrap things up. Simon scooted before flashlights took over his senior officer, Rattan Singh who waved him off in low.

Driving his Gypsy through the busy roads, Simon’s mind had the snapshots of the corpse. Dennis Philip, the murdered. His neighbours’ declaration conclude him as a self-employed loafer; one among the clan representing a major part of population of the city. It would be clearly impossible to know what these people do in the city. And Simon need not find the murderer, but how he did that. He was the Crime Scene Investigation [CSI] officer hired by City’s police department. A freelancer in his profession, the identity of what he performed remained in covert from the common people. And he had almost completed his job in this murder, as the scene was not a bigger deal. Only jobs left were, a detailed report on the design of knife used and finding a foreign finger prints if any from the room. Night, and commotion had broken the day’s job. And he was speeding to a place called ‘El Dorado’ pizza corner.

It was his moonlighting. Cashier-cum-delivery boy at a pizza shop. It served as a camouflage to his original identity. The administration wanted his brains free from bribes and threats, and it to work impeccable and unbiased. Because he was the person, primal and prelim, in saving the city from crime and criminals. On recommendation from the city commissioner, the owner of El Dorado, Hakim Nasir had to supress his eager to fire Simon, who came infrequently to the job and performing it the most dismissive way. The only resort to which Hakim held was the fact of not paying him the full; and who cared?

On his appointment day Rattan Singh told Hakim;

         “He’s my second cousin. A village simpleton. However, he got a job in the civil station as a peon. But as you can guess, city life seek more income. Afternoon hours he is free and your shop require more hands in the peak time. Give him some meagre amount. “

         “Sure saabji, you are asking me something, and I’m privileged. “

Hakim stood in his shop’s footboard, regretting those ultra-complaisant words, waiting for Simon.

Parking his Gypsy at the apartment and wearing the pizza-boy dress, Simon sped fast, only to get invited by the angry owner.

         “Late by an hour.”

         “Yes Sir.”

         “May I ask why?”

         “Sorry sir.”

         “Do you know why I kept this name for my shop? El Dorado?”

         “No sir.”

         “It means a place of fabulous things, precious opportunities. I meant that for my customers alone and not for my staff. You’ll get your salary and the opportunity to continue the job only if do your job better and reach on time.”

         “OK Sir”

Simon winked his contemporaries and took over the counter.

A dull afternoon it was for Hakim’s El Dorado. The City was famous for its night parties. Pizzas had been a vital accomplice in most night bashes and ganging, at least for those non-drinkers and in kitty parties. But the day seemed devoid of them. Even the single orders to houses too were minimal. The clock ticked 11:30pm and most employees had left the shop. Hakim wanted to close the shop but he didn’t want to give away the day’s money to Simon without ticking 12:00. Both of them waited for a final customer or a final phone call.

         “What’s the time now, Simon?”

         “11:45.”

         “Don’t think there is anything more for today. Let’s pack. “

         “Yes sir.”

Simon closed the accounts and locked the stash when the telephone rang.

         “Hello! El Dorado Pizza Hut! ………. 3 Mexican Green wave, 1l Coke and French fries. That’s all ma’am? Ok. Address, please? [Scribbles]. Thank you ma’am. At your door in 45 minutes.”

Elated Hakim gave the slip and bike’s key.

         “I’ll set the order in 10mins. You be ready, and after delivery return to your home. Get the money tomorrow. All clear?”

Simon nodded in apathy. He thought it would be an early scoot but it was going to be late like never before. He would have to race in 70s to reach the address in time. Delivery bike had gone. His bike didn’t have a pizza box and so he might have to carry the order in between his hands and the handle.

         ‘Crazy!! ...’

The road was deprived of vehicles. Simon cruised through. The day, though lukewarm had been totally busy for him. A meeting with Crime Branch officers in the morning, a murder scene later, and then his moonlighting. He wished the delivery house came to him.

Finally he reached the address……………………………. And that made him furious over the wear. The gates were locked. No footwear outside. No lights. No sign of people in there for at least few hours.

         ‘Some prankster ass****. Damn.’

Cursing, Simon turned his bike and started to return when he heard the faint squealing noise.

         “Heyyy... Hallo… Help!!!!!!!”

Simon could see a woman running towards him. He stopped the engine. As she approached, he saw her clearly. Fair, blonde haired, high heeled woman wearing a blushing RED TUNIC; and he could easily guess she was a whore.

         “What is it lady?”

         “Please hel----, Wait, who are you?”

         “What?”      Simon got confused at her query.

         “Er. Sorry. Please help me. Save my life. A man out there. He has got mad. He killed his wife. Now he will search me. Please take me away. “

         “But why is he killing?”

         “I’ll tell everything. Now let’s go”

Saying that she pushed Simon and the packet to the back, and triggered the engine to fly away from the place. She drove in full speed to a few kms and then asked Simon the en route to his home.  Simon directed. Within 25 mins, they reached his apartment.

Simon opened the door; the lady pushed him in and jilted herself into the couch.

         “Get me something to drink, please?”

Simon didn’t like the lady’s attitude. She; overpowering his bike, riding it like a tow vehicle, and asking him to fetch water lying at his couch. He felt ridiculed. But he went to the kitchen and took the jug of water. He stood compliant to her; for two reasons. Firstly, she was her tomorrow’s cue, a murder-escaped victim and most importantly, a witness. He couldn’t spare her without his notepad being filled. And secondly, she was impeccably beautiful. Though a whore, in that red tunic, he found her the most beautiful woman yet seen. He gave her the water and managed to find space in the same couch she was lying.

She gulped half the jug and gave a deep sigh. Simon breathed her breathe and that too had a magic in it. It smothered him like a winter breeze. A total relief to his hectic schedule of the day.

         “Thank you. Thank you so much. I need to say you something. And I have to escape ASAP. I would need your help for that too.”

         “Take your time. Be comfortable.”

         “I’m ok. My name is Irene. I live here; in the city. I’m self-employed…. Usually work in rich people’s houses…… My family is in the South. “

Simon knew it, but pushed to make things clear and also to blow the barrier between them.

         “Self-employed means?”

         “……. An escort to them……… yeah … I’m a prostitute. “

         “OK, [in serious tone]. So tell me. What happened?”

Irene cleared her throat, drank a little more water, and started talking;

         “My latest employer was Thomson Scrooge. You might have heard about him, a multi-millionaire having a lot of exports. He is having two mansions in this city and a number of others in different places. Last month, he took me to the snow covered mountains of Manali and he had a hotel into his name there. He was a nice person to me. But today he was like a beast!!! Frankenstein…!!! His poor wife. Ohhhhhhh.”

Simon inspected her totally. She was not a whore-material, rather, not THE whore material. Her body was devoid of any tattoos. And had no pierce marks in the eyelids or on the lips. And her face was angelic.

‘Why did she go for this job? Anyways, may not be self-interest. Probably circumstances.’

         “But there need to be a reason, a logic for a person to go out of mind. And to kill someone there need to be a thriving pull. What was that?”

Irene looked Simon carefully. This man doesn’t talk like a pizza boy.

         “What is your name?”

         “Is that necessary for you?”

         “Actually yes. Because I want to know who you are. I’m going to give a vital avowal and my life is in danger. I need a surety that you will pass my message to the authorities later and take me to the railway station soon. “

Simon sat musing at her. She had a blistering alarm glowing in her eyes. Those resembling a frightened rabbit’s. But he didn’t want to disclose himself, at least the ‘danger part’. Whores always disliked police. And he was their ally.

         “My name is Joe. I work in El Dorado pizza corner. I’m the cashier, but often go for delivery. And this is such a BAD delivery [chuckles].”

She joined in the lighter moment. Simon could see her laugh was cooked up. She had fears, anxiety and restlessness in her eyes. A feel of guilt roamed over her from the moment he met her. He suspected her.

         “You see…... Joe right... Well, I’m not a straight woman. I rent myself for money. I need that to live. So I went with this person, Scrooge. I guess he was not in good terms with his wife   [she lifted her hand and supported her neck, the smell of cologne kicked in Simon’s nose; he saw her armpits, white like a paper; impossible among whores!!!]    though they lived together.”

Simon closed his eyes and cued her to continue. He needed concentration.

“Probably then came my need in his life. In earlier times, I went there in the evening and returned by night. As days left he wanted me to stay with him all time. He didn’t go to his business and never looked at his wife for a wink… Once he said me he was going to marry me. I refused plainly.”

         “And why did you?”

         “Because I didn’t want to lead such a life.”

         “Why? Why can’t you lead a normal life? Why can’t you marry such a millionaire and get settled? The fury of lust is more important than that?”

The awkward questioning by a pizza boy made Irene feel pissed. But she needed him to complete her job. So she continued in the same composure.

         “I don’t think being settled like that bring you better life. My employer’s wife was the perfect example. She sat outside his bedroom when we had sex. She spent her time inside the house when we enjoyed the snow. Such a pitiful life; and who guarantees my security once I got married with him. What if he leave me like he did to his wife?”

         “That’s too feeble a reasoning. You’re his mistress. And when he marries you, why would you feel embarrassed on his infidelity? You prostitutes care for things like self-dignity and esteem? I don’t think so!”

         “I actually don’t have time for this shit. I’m going. Thank you Joe, for your help”

She took her small red wallet [Simon noticed it then only] and started leaving when Simon stopped her, holding her shoulders. 

         “No, don’t leave. I’m sorry. Just tell me why he killed her. I’ll drop you at the station. Sorry Irene.”

She kept her bag down and wept silently. Simon could understand, she was afraid. He approached her in the suspicion and left her distressed. He helped her to sit on the couch and tapped on her shoulders. He could feel her shuddering. He hugged her gently. He could feel the cold in her silky skin. She hugged him back. Simon couldn’t feel a bit of lust in her hugging. It was a gratitude for giving her a hand. After sometime she talked lowering her intermittent sobs;

         “I didn’t take birth as a prostitute. I didn’t choose this job too. It all came as time went by. And I had no love for that fat pig, but needed his money. But in the raging bullfight with his wife, he masqueraded a love for me.

Today when I went there, they were going through a brawl. He wanted her to leave the house as soon as possible. She fought back, abusing him and claiming for her portion in their assets. On my entry he told her about him-marrying-me; probably she came to know about it then only; and he also said I’ll enjoy his fortunes and not her. This aroused Jennifer; that’s Scrooge’s wife; and she came running with a flower vase to hit him. He ducked and she fell on the floor. This act might have probably brought that man mad…. He took some kind of rod from his stash and started beating her. She was screaming louder, when he stuffed her mouth with his dingy socks. He bet her badly on her head; she bled like an open pipe. I started to run when I heard her stuffed sound going to a stop….. I saw that man stabbing her with a dagger; I couldn’t stay there for more time. No sound came from my throat. Instincts told me to run, and I ran and ran till I saw you……….”

Simon contemplated the whole scenario in his imagination. He couldn’t completely accept the killing. But the whole matter had a logic. A mad wife can react violently at an awful instance and that could arouse a godforsaken husband… Yeah, it made sense.

Simon gave her the pizza box and changed his pizza dress. After refreshing they were to leave when Simon asked without looking at her face,

         “Irene? Why can’t you say this to the Police by yourself? If afraid then not directly, but at least by phone? Why you want me to...?”

         “Cops always look hookers with suspicion. They won’t hear us but will try to hook up without paying. And if I’m going there saying that Scrooge killed his wife for me, do you think they’ll leave me?”

Simon wanted more,

         “So what about telephoning?”

         “Probably I didn’t think about that. Or I feared being involved in this. I didn’t want those law abiders spare that mad man that, he’d come for me. And I didn’t get time to sort things out….”

Simon nodded. Plausible.

Irene kept her wallet down. She turned and moved closer to him.

         “And if I went for phone, I would have missed you. Being with you really comforted me. I loved it. I don’t think you’ll believe me, but truly; I loved the time with you. Thanks Joe”

Irene kissed him. She locked her lips with his’ gently for a minute. They both closed their eyes and enjoyed the heartbeats in unison. Simon found those lips; the most beautiful thing ever made on earth.

         “….Let’s…. go...”

Simon nodded and rushed to the Gypsy.

Throughout the drive Simon couldn’t think of the murder, or Scrooge, or of anything. He had not been with a woman alone, for this long. And he was on a high. Irene kept her face the other side, but Simon could see her smiling. He knew she was a hooker, but from the moment he saw her, that was the hardest part to believe for him. He wished she wasn’t…

Fewer people at the railway station made both of them feel a little relaxed. Probably Scrooge was not in his quest for Irene.

         “So where are you heading to? Family?”

         “Nope. I don’t want to bring them trouble, Joe. I’m going north. That’s the best I can say to you. If the police prod you more, you might say. [Chuckles]. “

Simon knew she was smart. He looked around and kept his head low.

         “Joe, do you have change for a 1000?”

         “Nope I guess.”

         “These railway guys ask for that a lot.”

         “It’s OK. I’ll pay for you. Come.”

         “Nope. That isn’t fair. You have done a hell of a help for me today. You shouldn’t pay for me too. Okay. Get me your wallet. I’ll give the fare from it. And will stuff it with my 1000/-. “

         “That is appreciable, and I guess I can’t come with you; for your location privacy [chuckles].”

         “Yup ma boy”

Irene took his purse and moved to the ticket counter. Simon looked at his watch. 2:30 Am.

He pondered, what a day it had been!

An unending stream of happenings, a lot of surprises, a hug, a kiss… what more!!!!

In parallel, he was also getting ready for tomorrow’s early work. A brutal murder scene to be inspected. He knew the address but; he took the address slip from his shirt’s pocket and looked.

Irene took a whole of 35 minutes to reach back.

         “Why late?”

         “It’s pretty much crowded there; and I had a confusion on which train to take. There were two trains going north, at 2:45 and 3:10Am. I chose the latter…”

Simon again wanted to hear from here clearly; and this time he was desperate;

         “And why would you choose that.”

         “………. Felt to stay with you for 15 mins more”

Simon could see his heart laughing like a baby; he felt the by-standers in the railway station gave him a hi-five; everything said to him, ‘ Kudos’; he found himself floating………… Though this woman will leave him in half an hour and probably would not return to the city, he could not resist enjoying the moments, leaving all headaches apart. Simon smiled to himself.

They both talked about few silly matters; just like two newbies would do, and both gave each other useful suggestions on each other’s looks, lives, future; and so on.

         “I hadn’t got such a good time ever since I landed in this godforsaken city. Thanks again, Joe. Let me get some water. “

Her beautiful body moved like a mermaid in water. Simon believed no man with flesh and blood could be blamed, trying to possess such a beauty. The red tunic she was wearing. Ahhhhhhhhh... Nothing better. But then Simon thought of that. She had no luggage with her. Was she going to another city without even a pair of dress in back-up? He then saw a small red wallet lying on the bench they were sitting. Irene’s… He hesitated. Not manners… But she had taken his in full freedom. Simon took it. It had nearly 100 thousand rupee notes and two golden rings.

         ‘How careless she is?’

It might have been Scrooge’s gifts for her. He continued searching. It had nothing more, but a few credit cards and a passport.

‘Nowadays even whores had multiple credit cards and passports.’

He doubted if she was planning to go abroad. Places like Thailand, Malaysia welcomed women of her ilk. He eyed through the pages…; and saw a number of emigration seals on it…

Simon felt it odd. She said about Manali trip but never said anything about going abroad. May be with other customers…. He had a hunch. Is it hers?????

He took the first page and got cleared………………… It was not Irene’s, but of Jennifer Scrooge’s … But it had no photograph. Probably an old one. He looked the credit cards and found the same name………

Why did she took these papers???? What was she up to?? Or is she???????????

         “Joe… Are you okay? You look baffled?”

         ‘Hell I Am!!!’ Simon thought.

Simon had safely kept her wallet back. He saw a somber expression in her eyes. She had an expression of a victorious woman. A number of possibilities came through Simon’s mind but he had only one strong belief…

         “Your train will arrive soon. Let’s go the platform.”

Silently they walked to the station. Both of them were thinking what went through the other’s mind. Announcement of the train came in and Simon covertly noted the train number. He wanted to see off Irene without suspicion and tried hard to be the man he was a few moments before.

         “I will miss you, will miss this night, this experience…”

         “You sure will....”

         “Will you come back?”

         “I don’t think….. But I would love to see you again.”

         “Same here….”

         “Get me your phone number. I’ll call you once I get settled. “

Simon was not sure. But he decided to give her. He had two numbers, and the generic would be enough for her. A tracking would be needed in later time.

The train arrived. It wasn’t crowded and Irene got a seat. Simon stood by the window with a face masqueraded in love. She kissed at his fingers on the window panel and said,

         “I’ll call you…… Soon.”

         “OK.”

The train started moving. They both locked their eyes for the final time and bid adieu….. For the final time.

Simon waited till the train was out of sight and rushed to the parking space. He looked at his watch.

3:15Am.

He reversed the gypsy in a jiffy and stopped. He thought for a moment and accelerated the wheels. He knew exactly where to go, and what to find out….

A call at midnight for pizza order to a locked door, an unknown hooker coming and seeking a rescue from a derailed person, a convincing story by her ending in a kiss; Simon tried to recollect every instances happened with Irene on that night. He drove in 70s and barely focused on the objects on roads. She never said anything about her address of stay or anything clear about her parents. She used the words North, South to hide possibly these clues. Simon fumed his brains hard. He wanted a clue, just a clue from their confrontation to allude if the whole night was a cooked up script from a body double hooker; which he was almost sure of. Only thing Simon could recap was that, Irene asked him who he was when she met her. Was that she expected somebody else?

Simon reached the gates. The same gate which he left in dismay, a few hours ago. He jumped the fence and got near the door. Using his handkerchief aid to prevent his finger prints, he tried to torque the handle but it was locked. He looked through the glasses but the inside was dark like an abyss. He tried the back door but failed to succeed. Simon squatted on the steps and revised. If his prime doubt regarding Irene was correct, then she should be the last person leaving that house. But her wallet didn’t contain any keys. Or is that she disposed those away??????

Simon didn’t stop. He continued searching for a long window pane or a feeble door to scoot in. He found all windows shut tight and from each of them he was unable to see the inside. It was not the dew, but something…… something was smothered to all of them; probably from inside. He found himself restless. He looked at his watch,

3:40Am.

After a couple of swaggers around the house, Simon got back to his Gypsy. He was totally devastated. The feel of losing crept inside him. A filthy bi**h making him a jackass; he couldn’t comprehend that. In frustration, he struck hard on the steering….. A cringing sound was the result of the vehicle’s jerk….. A pile of keys had fell from somewhere on the car’s bed. He kneeled and took those. Wasting no time he rushed to the locked doors……..

         ‘Eureka!!!!’

Probably Irene had missed those keys inside the car. He didn’t know how but he had gone through the dilemma.

‘Criminals leave some vital clue at the haste of doing a crime’. Simon smiled.

He opened the door and was kicked in by the smell of some costly alcohol. He could smell that everywhere and suddenly he felt dizzy. Without touching anywhere; preserving the place pristinely for his tomorrow’s work; Simon moved in the faint light of his pen torch. The whole place seemed intact, furniture, upholsteries, crockery on the table, everything; no signs of a violent attack from a mad man. He moved more into the middle of that huge mansion, with the smell of alcohol being more pungent and pungent. And suddenly he stopped. His pen torch beamed at a framed photo on the wall, with Irene standing beside a middle aged man. And Simon could see a totally new Irene, with a white princess-like gown, and her hair…… black like a panther’s. Now Simon was affirmative about his prime suspicion. The whore he met that night, Irene, was a body double of Mrs. Scrooge,,, Jennifer Scrooge. Simon felt despicable on the thought of getting befooled by a wealthy housewife. He continued moving. Faint light of a zero bulb diffracted through a room and Simon sped towards it….. And he saw them…………….

         ‘You’re screwed Irene. You probably got the wrong person to ask for a lift’.

Mr. Scrooge seated on the couch with his chest holed by a 6’ screw driver; blood had stopped spilling from its open end; and the probable-whore of Scrooge’s with her head pooled in blood, which had almost gone solid. Plausibly the original Irene; if that was the name. Even in this room, Simon could smell alcohol. He found an empty bottle of some Vodka in Scrooge’s dead hand. Simon cursed himself for not bringing his inspection gloves. He sat near the female corpse and inspected her. The hit had been on back of her head; and he also saw a sharp cut on her side neck,,, a double surety chipping [he mused]. Moving closer to her, Simon found some crystals on her body; like it was erratically sprayed. And he could find her body drenched with alcohol; the smell emanated from her body very much. Using his handkerchief, he stocked a crystal and inspected it close using the torch……. Sugar. He swiftly moved to Scrooge’s dead body and saw the same texture. Alcohol and Sugar!!!! Bloody combo, enough to burn even bones….. He moved to the nearest window and smelled. Yeah! It was nothing but alcohol smothered on the windows. Alarms struck in Simon’s mind. He was startled by the clinging of the giant clock in that room…… 4 times.

It was 4:00Am.

He was again shocked from the sounds from his pocket.

Simon’s phone rang.    

It was Irene.

Simon waited for a three rings, to decide on attending or not, and finally neared the phone to his ears.

         “Hi, Irene! Where have you reached dear?”

         “That’s not important. If my guess is right, you are standing inside my house… Is it?”

Simon stood startled at her words.

         “Your silence assure that, Simon Joe.

Simon froze. ‘How the hell does she know my name?’ Few persons knew his full name.

“And you now know who Jennifer is and who Irene is. My cue…; of leaving the wallet at the bench and letting you reach my passport; you followed it…. And it was too childish from your part to give your wallet without hiding your CSI id…”

Simon damned himself.

         “And I wanted you to reach my home now. Yup. Exactly now. I took the train at 3:15Am to chart you, Simon. I befriended a simpleton delivery boy from your pizza shop few days back; in Irene’s identity; and was expecting him when I ordered the pizza. I needed just a lift, and a common man’s ears to pass my words to police. But it was your turn. So I had to play smarter. And glad I did well.”

Simon heard a faint beeping sound somewhere in the room.

         “Its 10 seconds to 4:01. Simon, let your tombstone read CSI Officer Simon Joe rather than the Pizza Boy Joe. Adios!!!!” 

Simon dropped the phone. He found himself running. He saw nothing but darkness. His pen-torch wasn’t good enough to get through. He ran into cupboard that protruded from the wall and crashed himself to the ground. Lying; he looked towards the faint zero bulb light and saw the lean legs of Irene and a lifeless Scrooge looking at him. The beep stopped and in a second's lag, the sound of detonation deafened Simon. Final vision he had was the corpse of Scrooge getting into flames, like a paper into ashes, just before the flames engulfed him…………………..

Voices creaked into silence in Jennifer’s cellphone, who stood at of the train. She threw the phone along with her passports and credit cards. Those meant nothing to her; for, a new name, a new life and a new city awaited her. She looked at her red tunic and smiled. It was the next to get ridded of…………………..

LAMA SIGNING OUT……………