I hurried down the escalator of the mall, a horrified expression covering my face as I saw that the mannequin being taken down by the crime investigator Inspector More was actually the dead body of a famous model. Not just any famous model, but Trisha Banerjee. As I made my way to the crime scene I was hit with the putrid smell of dried blood, smeared across her back. There was complete pandemonium all around the gory crime.Inspector More, carried the body out with the utmost caution, care taken to ensure the body wasn’t tampered with.
A week ago I finally landed an internship position at the famous B.I.B or Bombay Intelligence Bureau. It was my lifelong dream to join the police force and better my nation. The sinister activities and crimes occurring in and around my neighbourhood were at an all time high. People were going missing. I too have had a foreboding since the past few days. Today marked the day Captain Sanjeev Khatri gave me my first hands on case with Inspector More. The inspector was known as a perfectionist and was highly experienced.Despite never meeting the inspector before this, the countless news excerpts and interviews praising his extraordinary achievements said enough for me to be able to trust him blindly.
He hurled me through the growing mob and scurried me into his police van. After a few minutes we reached the driveway of the police station. He urged me to make haste and ran up to the interrogation room.
The sky turned orange as the sun began to set, the chaos around the mystery of the mannequin only intensifying. The news spread and theories circulated like rapidfire leading to perplexity in the minds of the masses as well as the authorities. False allegations and misinformation took over the majority of the internet and social media. However we had to focus and stay on track if we even dreamed of solving this case. Inspector More had ever so kindly allowed me to witness the interrogation of all those present at and near the crime scene. Inspector More glowed with professionalism and intimidation and left me in a captivated sense of awe and utter admiration. Minutes turned into hours and I watched on as he tirelessly asked each witness and analyzed their version of events of the afternoon.
As interesting as the interrogations were, my mind couldn't help but wander as I noticed certain differences between the up-close real version of Inspector More and the one I had seen in the photographs.Maybe a printing warp or maybe never looked at the images close enough, either way I shrugged it off eventually. After a long day of questioning and endless work, I was exhausted both mentally and physically by the minute details of this murder. I started to question if this whole internship was actually worth it. So many hours put in yet there were no breakthroughs and I couldn’t help but begin to lose hope. Suddenly I heard my name echo against the dark wall, the voice of the captain. Inspector More had an alibi. Inspector More was supposedly nowhere near the mall that afternoon. He was in fact at a housewarming party much further from the mall. His friends had already been interrogated and there was no conclusive evidence to prove that he was near the mall that afternoon.
Just then Inspector More walked into the canteen with a takout box. He sat in front of me and as he unboxed the package, the delicious aroma of seafood filling the air in the room. He took a bite of his shrimp and rice. At first I was so exhausted that I could not have cared less about Inspector More’s food. But then something clicked in my brain and my thoughts took me back to an interview of Inspector More I had seen relative recently. At least, recently enough to be quite certain that he had mentioned that he was deathly allergic to seafood. Another discrepancy? First the images and now this.
I suspected foul play and decided to trust my instincts. I looked up at “Inspector More” and confronted him. Before I could process what was happening Inspector More leapt on the table and his palms and fingers encircled my throat. I struggled as the world went blur around me, only the desperate attempt at breathing and the grunting of the Inspector, equally desperate. Tears began forming at the base of my eyes, when I suddenly had an epiphany. Straining my arm out, I used the energy from every ounce of my body as I pressed the panic button that was provided to everyone working closely on this case. Help arrived immediately and the once secluded canteen was now chaotic and crowded. The man finally let go of his firm grasp around my neck as I sucked in the surrounding air, taking a large breath in and processing the events that took place within the last few minutes. The forensics department confirmed from a biometric test that the impersonator was not Inspector More.
After the arrest of murderer, kidnapper and high profile criminal Arjan Singh, I got promoted to the position of an assistant detective in the Mumbai Crime Branch after I skillfully deduced the mystery and resolved this homicidal case. The real Inspector More was held hostage by Arjan Singh's gang. He was recovered and the gang members were arrested too. This crime taught me that appearances can truly be very deceiving.
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