Introduction- A change of genre. Enjoy the fictional mystery. I had to use the sentence written in italics in the story for a competition for which i had submitted this story.

                             Mr&Mrs. Sur

                                 It was late in the evening and my office light was still burning. Heena had called me at least five times in the last half hour to remind me of Dev’s 25^th anniversary. “Dev mama is my only living relative, how can we miss such a big event” she had tearfully screamed in the last phone. The ping went on again and I knew it was her frantic message. The mobile must be sued for denying us our basic right of freedom, I thought wearily as I read her message, her anger palpable through the words. Closing down the computer I was about to get up when the lone remaining office boy walked in with a customer.

                             Dressed nattily in a sheer blouse over a dark slip, a pair of dark blue denims complementing her graceful figure and smelling gently of jasmine and tea-rose, she looked the quintessential working girl as she delicately pulled a chair opposite me and sat down. No permission or no asking if I was still working.

I quickly assessed her. She was well groomed, suave and had bright dancing eyes. Her face seemed poised and the only sign of anxiety came from her rapidly moving ring finger by the way her fake solitaire dazzled in my eyes.

“I have just closed down my office, Mam” I said without letting the irritation show, throwing an angry glance towards my office boy.

                             “This will not take much time, but it’s urgent” she said as casually as she fished out a photograph from her faux leather purse. “My husband is cheating on me and I want you to tail him”. I noticed a slight quiver in her voice. I couldn’t say no.

                       “Hi, I am Malini Sur. I work as a project consultant in the firm where my husband is the vice-president. We have been married for three years now. Since the last six months I have a feeling he is seeing someone” she began. I shut down my mobile and pressed the Dictaphone button placed under my wooden table.

                        Dev will have to wait and Heena will now sharpen her claws.

                       I have had the dubious distinction of solving hundreds of infidelity cases as a private detective and this one was so obvious that it looked solved even before I had heard it completely. All I had to do was tail the man with my best agent, click some pictures and submit proof. I also thought of charging a little more for making me face the wrath of Heena.

                     “I think he is seeing someone from a client company” the Dictaphone whirred into action as I pressed the play button. “Suddenly he seems to be taking off to various places frequently on week-ends for client meetings. I tried to ask but the answers are evasive. He snaps at me for questioning his motives. Says his company has big plans and that I will eventually know. Oh yes, just once I thought I smelt a feminine perfume in his travel bag” she said and as an afterthought she let me know that she would like a daily progress report and incriminating evidence. “I trust you do that” she said.

                      Armed with the information and the photo, Ravi, my trusted agent set out the next morning. The plan was simple. Just tail the man in the photo and report it to the client on her mobile phone.. A few days later, Ravi barged into my office. He looked perturbed. He showed me pictures of our quarry talking to the lady in question, driving her to office and even entering a flat together. There was no attempt at hiding the relationship. Ravi had been sending the pictures and the information to Malini all the while.

                   I was disturbed. Years of training had sharpened my antennae towards body language and expressions. Very few people in this world can act very well, Bollywood included, I thought. I decided to follow the quarry myself, a task I had almost forgotten but then one does swim well even when thrown in water after a long absence.

                Handing over most of my project report work to my assistant, I set out one late evening at the designated place. There was a small roadside temple on the curb opposite the office where my quarry worked and I let myself on the cement bench next to it, looking as discrete as one of those evening home bound loiterers who wait for the mandatory sunset to drown a quick quarter of tipple before heading to the hell they call home. I observed them as they came out, he sombre and she admonishing him to give her the car keys. My eyes looked keenly through the lens shutter to detect that guilt on the face, ever so slightly, but they seemed oblivious. I sat there thinking, almost forgetting to follow their car as they drove to the building where they lived, just as Ravi had said.

                   Something was not right. My detective brain was sending sharp signals. I decided to talk to Malini. “The number you have dialled is currently switched off” the mobile number she had given me just wouldn’t budge. I had to talk to her once again. There was something not right. For the next whole week I tried contacting my elusive client. The mobile phone messages too went unpicked by the number after the day I had started following Malini’s husband. For once, the case did not seem as open and shut as I had thought.

                   My contact in the mobile business gave me the name of the number holder. To my utter surprise it was listed as Roshan Bal. The address of the owner turned out to be from Mangalore. I arrived in Mangalore the next morning and by evening I was convinced that no such address or no such person exists. I then decided to casually confront Mr.Sur. A few visits to the office gave me some idea about their work and I booked an appointment on the pretext of being a client.                       “Hello,I would like to see Mr.Sur” I began before being abruptly told that Mr.Sur no longer worked there and he had resigned a month ago. I desperately tried to hide my shock/surprise/bafflement as I walked out of the building not knowing how to untie this knot.

                  A few days later a small piece of news caught my attention. A woman had been found dead in a small apartment, apparently a case of suicide. Her description vaguely fitted Malini. I was intrigued. I called my contact in the police department. It was Malini but the name was Malini Aks. I needed to see the body. I urged my contact. Later in the evening as the mortuary office shut down, I was discretely shown into the inner room by my contact. It took me less than a minute to know it was the same Malini who had walked into my office a couple of months ago. I felt a tinge of sadness at the beautiful life lost. I vowed to get to the bottom of this.

                         I had a plan.

                         I had to find out the main link in this mystery, Mr.Sur. Over the next few days posing as a client I befriended the receptionist. Fortunately she loved to drink so we became drinking buddies and over pitchers of Long island iced tea, I discovered a few surprising facts. Malini was Mr.Sur’s secretary while his wife was his boss, the one who went home with him every day. Mr.Sur hated his bossy wife and fell for this girl. Over the next few months they hatched a plan to eliminate his wife. They had even planned to hire a detective to make it look real and quietly tail the wife’s movements. God knows what went wrong and a few days later Malini stopped coming to work and Mr. and Mrs. Sur resigned and left for Mangalore.

                       I had got my first lead.

                           I arrived in Mangalore early one morning. The humidity was still trying to catch up with the early morning chill and the ubiquitous coffee cuppa put my strained muscles to rest as I contemplated my next move. I had checked into a fairly decent hotel called Krishna Residency and after freshening up I decided to befriend the manager. My business had taught me to be fluent in many languages, tulu being one and I quickly got talking to the short, balding round faced jovial manager. Although I made very little headway, I had made a contact.

Next day I headed out to Gunjimutt industrial area for a recce of the offices where Mr.Sur could have taken up a job. I decided to stay there till I had seen almost all the offices disgorge their employees. Three days and no luck. On the fourth day, I saw a familiar face coming out of a tall building along with other office goers heading home. Her eyes were hiding behind large glares but the face was unmistakable. It was Mrs.Sur. I followed her. To my surprise I saw her hurriedly climbing into a car driven by a tall rough looking man who certainly wasn’t Mr.Sur. Soon they drove out along the highway and stopped at a wayside lodge. I waited for almost an hour before I saw them come out and drive back. I followed them till he dropped her off at a small apartment complex.

                  Through my newly found contact at Krishna residency, I managed to rent a one room flat in the same apartment complex where Mr.& Mrs. Sur stayed. I followed their routine and one day when I was sure about it, I entered the flat where she stayed. A small photo-frame of Mr.& Mrs. Sur stood on a corner table. Rest of the flat was sparsely but tastefully decorated. With gloves on, I rummaged through the drawers where I found a small black diary with dates and numbers written in it. The date 5 on one page coincided with the same day as Malini’s suicide with the number 5L written next to it. The next entry showed the date 10, two days from today,10pm, and the number 10L. A small ‘s’ was scribbled at the bottom of the page. I turned to the first page again. A small ‘m’ was scribbled at the bottom. And then I knew.

                        I had to warn Mr.Sur. But first I had to find him. I had not seen him during my entire stay in Mangalore.

                        I flew back to Mumbai hoping to find some way to trace him. I did not have proof but my sensors told me a story and I had to protect the next victim.

I called the receptionist friend for a drink.  After a few glasses, she let go of information. No, she hadn’t heard of Mr. Sur. Yes, she hated Mrs.Sur. No, she didn’t know why Malini had disappeared into thin air. Yes, she had Mr. Sur’s forwarding address. My money was well spent.

                        Next day I flew down to Bengaluru where Mr.Sur had taken a new job. I patiently waited across the office building to accost him as he came out. The time in the diary was just 12 hours away. I had to move fast. But he was nowhere to be seen.

                      I waited patiently for the man to show up. It was almost eight in the evening. The lights of the building threw a bright shadow on the road. The night had sprung to life. The thousands of cars, two-wheelers, autos moved in their own rhythm as people hurried home. And then suddenly I saw him.

                I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven..." Could I tell him what was waiting for him. I had no proof.

                 I mustered courage and walked up to him. “I bring greetings from Malini” I said, noting the sudden surprise and fear on his face. “We need to talk”. I had done my job!

                “Heena, calm down. I am on my way home. Yes, I know it’s been three days and I will make it up to you. Let’s begin by visiting Dev Mama” I said chuckling under my breath as the wheels left the runway and the aeroplane flung towards Mumbai.