Horror

Maya (chapter 2)

The mystery has just started.

“Murder!” screamed one of the guests. Vikram came rushing from the opposite direction. He identified the person, he was one of their housekeepers. He knew how one should not touch the victim’s body before the police arrives, so he just inspected him from the surface. From what looked like, he was stabbed with a fork. “But who would kill a housekeeper and why?” asked Rama.

“I do not have an answer to give you, but I’m sure the police will have.” Assured Vikram and took out his phone from his pocket. He had called the A.C.P. friend of his quite a few times but he had never thought that he would have to call him for such a reason.

A.C.P. Arijit Chatterjee though being the goofiest person in the house has a nose for mystery and secrets, unfortunately he couldn’t attend his very good friend’s mother’s funeral due to some stupid vegetable smuggler who thought they could sneak away with the vegetables without Arijit noticing. He stopped the trucks before the Bangladesh border’s check post, made his people search the entire truck, asked for the proper legal papers from them and when the drivers were unable to provide the papers, he asked one of his constables to take them a bit away from him and do the work. No, he didn’t beat the shit out of him, instead he took some cash and let them cross the border. One of his new appointed constables asked “Sir, may I ask you something?”

Arijit understood his doubt and permitted him to continue his question. “Sir, why did you let the smugglers go?” “Ah! I knew you one of you newbies would ask me this question, you see… what is your name? Yah! Nobin. You see Nobin the practical life is very different from the books you have read before joining. You have to look through some situations. These people are just smuggling vegetables, what amount of harm would that do to the nation? We have to stop the smuggling of drugs, weapons and other harmful goods. If we start stopping everything then nothing will stop, so be the criminal to stop crime” explained Arijit.

Suddenly Arijit’s phone rang, he received the call and it was Vikam. “Hey! Buddy I’m sorry I couldn’t attend auntie’s funeral” apologized Arijit. “It’s not about mom, someone got killed at my place.” Said Vikram in a very low tone. “What! Who? Wait I’m coming, don’t let anyone leave before I arrive” he then hung up the call and rushed to his car and went to the cursed beauty, the Bagui mansion. Vikram told his guests that they cannot leave before Arijit arrives and he is very sorry for this situation they are facing. Rama and Sheena were spooked but couldn’t help their gossiping nature and had already made a group of five, who together complained about everything without understanding the situation.

Arijit had sent an investigation team to the mansion as the body needed to be under their custody before anyone tries to hamper the evidences. The body was taken away, the outline of that feeble creature was made on the white floor. The team started asking questions to the guests. “I was having dessert, and suddenly I heard someone scream” said a well suited old man. “I was busy taking care of my baby” said a woman with a very adorable young boy in her arms. He then arrived, had a small chat with Vikram about the situation. “I heard a scream and then someone shouted murder, I rushed to the corridor and found everyone there staring at the body” said Vikram. “I hope you understand that you too are a suspect to me at present, Vikram so please do not hide anything.”

Arijit then went to the guests and started asking them questions. “So what were you doing before you heard the scream?” asked Arijit to Rama. “I was talking to Sheena, I was telling her how bad a host Maya is” said Rama. “Bad host? Why?”
“She asked us to come to the garden to have dinner, and then she disappeared, who does that?”
“She disappeared?”

“We have not seen her since she asked us to come here and have our dinner.”
Arijit rushed to Vikram and asked him, “Where is Maya?”

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Shreyasha Banerjee

I hardly can write, sentences that don't rhyme. As words construct my soul, poetry being it's hymn.

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