Part 2

After the death of the Doctor's wife, a series of murders of murders followed. Were they connected? Doctor thinks otherwise, but something happens that might change his opinion.

December 19^th

He adjusted his bowtie, ran his fingers through his hair and took on last look at his reflected self. Straightened his white suit and checked if his black pant had any stains. Doctor Arvind Desai assured himself that he was ready for the evening. He bumped into the corner of the shelf near the door, while exiting the bathroom. It was his second week in this new house, it took time for him to get used to it. The doctor couldn’t stay in the old house after the death of his wife, he always missed her then, misses her now. This collision had knocked off the small photo frame placed on top of the shelf. Arvind picked it up and smiled as he turned it over to see a face of woman, his wife Neha.

You left me here with all these people, these formalities to attend to. It's no fun without you.

Neha was murdered in cold blood at their earlier residence while Arvind was still at his clinic earlier this month. By the time he got home, the place was swarming with police officers. There had been a series of killings in the town following this incident. The police believed these were committed by the same person. But for some reason, Arvind felt a feeling of disagreement with this, though he never was vocal about it.

He took one last look at the room making sure everything was in its right place, he glanced at the clock on the wall, smiled, as he was on time for the party.

The Doctor locked the door to his apartment and made his way to his car. A thought about having slept pretty well the previous night crossed Arvind’s mind as he made his way to his vehicle. The recent experiences of sleepless nights had taken a toll on him. This resulted in headaches the following days, as lack of sleep made his session hours all the more tedious. He hoped it would reduce with time.

In a fraction of second Arvind recollected the recent incident, when after a bad night’s sleep, he arrived at his clinic in the next morning. His receptionist greeted him as usual and mentioned about the latest killing that had taken place the previous night. Or did they saw it on the TV? He couldn’t recollect it. A college boy was stabbed in the abdomen multiple times and was discovered by his parents with his throat slit. He knew the boy. Though usually sympathetic about such an event, he merely displayed his sorrow vocally, not really feeling the same. The throbbing headache from the night before had gotten to him.

It was a cold winter's evening and the only source of light on the street was the streetlight. Arvind got into his car and made way towards the venue for the evening.

It was one of his patient’s, Mr. D’Souza’s, 75^th birthday and for this his daughter Megan had organized a grand affair at one of their cottage on the outskirts of the town. Mr. D’Souza would often make appointments with Arvind when he would get worked up due to his office chores. He had a huge real estate business, and the work pressure would usually take a toll on his temper, and that is when he would meet Arvind.

The bungalow was a little on the outskirts of the town, with some other similar bungalows at certain distance from each other.

When Arvind reached the house, there was a long line of cars waiting for their occupants to get off and be driven off to the parking. The valet at the gate would make sure everyone’s car was parked securely. Even though it was a dark winter’s evening, the lights around the house made it virtually feel like it was noon in summer.

Arvind entered the house after handing over his car to the valet, and checking his name on the guest list. He made his way through the glass doors into the main lobby. Although the event of the evening was being held in a hall straight up ahead through another pair of glass doors, there were guests scattered all over the place.

Just as the doctor was about to enter the hall, he heard someone call out his name. Instantly recognizing the voice, he turned around with a smile, “Mr. Mukherjee! Finally a familiar face.”

“It’s so good to see you socialize Arvind.” replied Mukherjee with an equally pleased expression. He also helped Arvind look for a new place after Neha’s tragic death.

“So the deal gone bad hasn’t affected the personal relations it seems”, said Arvind jokingly, referring to a recent deal which was pulled off due to ‘unrealistic demands’ from both parties. An infuriated D’Souza was quoted saying ‘over my dead body’ about any future possibilities of the deal. Mukherjee had made no public comments about the same.

“Not at all! We are good friends first, businessmen later.” said Mukherjee as they made their way into the hall. He was glad Arvind was in a good mood that evening.

“Any updates from the police?” asked Mukherjee, his voice now calm and serious in a caring fashion.

Arvind shook his head in denial, “Nothing that can advance the case. The police actually think there could be a connection between Neha and the other killings. They believe it could be a mentally unstable, psychotic killer on the loose. They even had me over at the police station to explain how or why would a person’s mind compel him to commit such actions without any logical intentions.”

“And what do you think? What did you tell them?”

“I told them what I could comprehend from the cases, based on the manner of the killings, it could be someone who just gains immense pleasure from seeing someone in pain or in this case, dead.” said Arvind, all while keeping a straight face.

“Oh dear lord! Anyway Arvind, cmon, tonight let’s have a good time and cheer up.”

Mukherjee shook him by the arm in a playful way.

“C’mon let’s get ourselves something to drink, I think I saw someone familiar at the bar, meet some people, you’ll feel good.”

Arvind and Mukherjee stood by the bar, sipping on their glasses and chatting with other guests around. As one of the guests who knew Mukherjee started a conversation.

“You heard about that college kid who got killed last week? They say it’s the work of the same psychotic serial killer.”

“Is that so?” asked Arvind with a keen interest, recollecting bits and fragments of his first morning at work after two weeks.

“Yeah, they say his throat was slit and then he was stabbed in his abdomen several times. He was found the next morning in his bed, which means he was killed the night before, the night of 12^th. Poor kid.” continued the guest.

“Okay that’s enough.” Snapped Mukherjee, who knew what this topic would do to his friend Arvind.

Mukherjee noticed a little guy wandering about in the crowd of the guests. He seemed to be asking them about the evening and the host. At once Mukherjee recognized the guy. He was Parth Choksi, a page 3 reporter who had an appetite for gossips, no wonder he was at an evening like this.

“It’s that brat Choksi!” said Mukherjee in an irritated manner to Arvind. “I bet he’s gonna pester me with that deal until I blurt out some controversial statement like that D’Souza.”

“Hey, hey I thought you were friends. Friends don’t like that about each other.” replied Arvind in his usual joking manner.

“I had-” Mukherjee’s reply was interrupted by some commotion a few seats from them, a certain person, drunk out of his mind was blabbering something.

"It's not up to me!" he shouted, "If it was up to me, I would've just ran off with his daughter, married her, and just killed anyone who got in the way! Yes even that old man!" He was talking to random people around him waving his finger in air. The people around him were just amused by this entertaining turn in this slow evening. Arvind glanced over certain people to see who it was. The guy had medium to long hair, parted down the middle, a French beard, there was just one earring in his left ear, he was wearing an all black suit with the first few buttons of his shirt open, exposing his largely manly chest hair, the overall first impression of his was that of a deranged rockstar. Arvind found his face quite familiar, but couldn't exactly nail the name in his mind.

 "Having a good time there buddy?" asked someone from the crwd almost in a teasing voice. Arvind was trying to study his facial expressions and the tone in his voice to get a rough idea of the reason as to why someone would get drunk this early in a party.

"Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Absolutely yes. Great time. Enjoying", he said, making a gesture with his left hand indicating good, hardly being able to speak.

"Easy there pal,", the person from the crowd placed his hand on his shoulder, bouncing it away with a flip of his shoulder he said in a loud drunk voice "Get your hands off me! I will marry her! And kill the old man if h gets in our way!"

Sure you will.

Thought Arvind.

"Sameer!!" a loud voice was heard from behind the crowd of men gathered to amuse themselves, as a woman ran towards him from almost the middle of a conversation with one of the guests. It was Megan, D’Souza’s daughter, in a red dress.

"Oh Megan! Love, I was just telling them how I am going to marry you, and you are going to marry me" said the drunk guy, whom the doctor now recognised. It was Megan's boyfriend, Sameer Mishra. D'Souza had mentioned him to Arvind in one or two of his sessions, stating that he was worried about him and his daughter, because to put it in his words "he wasn't even half a man his angel deserved". And Arvind could see why D'Souza would say that. The doctor recognized him from the description given by his future (probable) father-in-law.

"Shut up you idiot! It's my father's 75th birthday! Look at you, a mess. Come with me, let's make you look presentable."

Megan took Sameer by the hand as if holding a small child and dragged him upstairs, as he tried to kiss her neck many times on the way, clearly drunk, and failing as Megan just pushed him away every time.

"Quite a nice fellow." said Mukherjee arriving from behind to accompany Arvind with his drink.

“Indeed.” said Parth Choksi poking his tiny head in between Arvind and Mukherjee. He had large grin on his face, which just told why he had come to the duo.

“Oh god, Choksi, don’t bother us” said Mukherjee in a harsh voice

Upon joining Mukherjee and Arvind he asked Mukherjee about his intentions tonight, as the ‘deal’ was well known in the town. Upon clarifying that he was here only for the celebration of his fellow competetor's birthday, Parth asked about the remark made by D'Souza on the latest bid, at this point Mukherjee was quite infuriated, still he commented jokingly "I wouldn't kill someone for a deal"

"Then what would you kill them for?" asked Parth, his journalistic instincts awakened as he tried to squeeze out a controversy. Mukherjee just gave him a grim stare and sipped onto his drink upon which he moved on to Arvind with a smile of content of having someone cross questioned in the evening.

"How are you enjoying the evening doctor?" he asked

"Just here for the cake." replied Arvind, which made Mukherjee almost spit his drink as he struggled to smile through the coughing.

"How would you define the incompetency of the local police in unravelling the mystery of your wife's murder and the 2 other murders that have followed, which are believed to be committed by the same killer?"

Upon hearing this question, the smile on Arvind's face was replaced by a blank expression, emotionless, Mukherjee looked at him in sorrow and then with a sudden change of emotion in his face, he pushed away Parth in anger "Get the hell out of here. No need for any unnecessary chatter!"

Arvind came to his senses soon and just smiled and said, "I'm no detective, the police are doing their job." He reminded himself of his decision of not to think much about the killings.

"Don't take him seriously," said Mukherjee as Parth wandered off to talk to other guests, "He's just a crazy journalist, you know how they are."

"Yeah, faced quite a few two years ago." said Arvind with a smile, not a natural one.

"Hey, look at me, you enjoy today, don't let anyone ruin it for you, have a good time, you know Neha would want you to" Mukherjee patted him on his shoulder,

“You got a lighter Doctor?” asked one of the guest, who was headed to the balcony for a cigarette.

"C'mon let's have a smoke until D'Souza comes out. That’ll clear out your head" said Mukherjee, trying to cheer Arvind up.

"I left mine in the car, I'll go get them in a minute." said Arvind.

"Have mine, what's the difference", offered Mukherjee.

"I’ll just be back in a minute." replied Arvind who had already started walking towards the main doors.

He found the valet standing at the main entrance and requested for his car keys and explained the reason. When he arrived at the parking area, he had to search for his car among almost 50 other cars. It was quite a task.

Mukherjee went to the balcony with other guests, who were regular companions of his to smoke with at an event. There he was again asked about the ‘deal’ to which he replied with a rather sarcastic, but honest reply.

“I wouldn’t mind him dying, the guy is 75! And he himself suggested it”

Everyone started laughing at this reply of his.

There was a loud noise of a certain 'confetti launcher' that Megan had arranged and the house was filled with surprised gasps of the guests and small bits of coloured paper. The band started playing some upbeat music, and the waiters arrived with a huge cake on a trolley shortly, the cake was taller than the average height of a person. Everyone was clapping and shouting and asking where the 'birthday boy' was.

D'Souza had been in his room since early evening, getting ready or being forced to get ready for the grand evening. His daughter had arranged for special team of tailors and designers to get him dressed and make him 'stand out' in the crowd. He on the other hand wasn't enjoying it even a bit. D'Souza was a man who dressed simple and liked to interact with people. He was more of a listener and believed that everyone's opinion had some or the other weight and so he always, with great patience, listened to what the other person was saying. Having himself confined in his room was intolerable for him.

That evening his daughter had instructed him to come out of his room only when the band had commenced playing. The band had started playing, but there was no sign of D’Souza so after waiting for almost twenty minutes and answering to the questions of the guests inquiring about her father, Megan decided to go and get her father down herself.

Arvind entered the house and saw Megan making her way to the stairs from the bar. He heared the commotion and hurried to the main hall, to see what it was, on his way bumping into people. He found Mukherjee standing and discussing the size of the cake, clearly having finished their smoking session.

Didn’t realize how much time it took to search for my car.

"What's that on your collar?" asked Mukherjee pointing to his white collar. "Bumped into someone with wine, did you?"

Arvind glanced at the collar of his coat and noticed a small spot of maroon.

There goes another coat.

"Yeah, probably. I'll visit the restroom later and see if it can be washed away."

"I suggest you get it cleaned while it is still fresh doctor, once its dry, hard to wash off" suggested one of the guest from the circle where Mukherjee was standing.

"Alright, I’ll just be 5 minutes." replied Arvind

Arvind did not want to ruin this white coat with a wine stain. He was not a materialistic person, but he liked this coat in specific. He opened the tap at the restroom and used some water to clean out the stain while looking in the mirror in front of him. To his surprise the stain fainted pretty well and in a couple of wipes the stain almost invisible.

It was probably pretty fresh.

Arvind adjusted his bowtie a little bit to the right when suddenly he heard a shriek from the outside. He hurried to the main hall to see what the matter was, for a second he thought someone's certain belonging had been stolen. As he arrived near the cake, he saw Megan running down the stairs screaming with tears in her eyes. She ran into the arms of Sameer at the bottom of the stairs, who seemed pretty sobered up by now. Megan was blabbering about something, no one could make out her words, she seemed to be in shock deduced Arvind as he along with other guests hurried near her and asked her to calm down and inquired about her scream. Everyone at the party had just stood still, as if someone had paused time. The band had stopped playing. Mukherjee and Parth too had stood still in between of their certain heated conversation. Nobody understood what was going on.

The only words one could understand from Megan's speech were 'dad', 'on the wall' and 'blood' as she gestured upstairs. Arvind and Sameer hurried up the stairs to the bedroom were D'Souza was getting ready. Upon reaching the bedroom door, both of them froze, their eyes filled with horror, Sameer had almost stopped breathing out of shock. Mukherjee and few other guests followed behind. Arvind heard someone whisper 'Dear Lord' as they stood in front of D'Souza who was hanging from the wall with a huge blade piercing right through his chest, the only thing pinning him to the wall opposite to the door. There was blood on his clothes indicating he was stabbed. Some crimson could be seen on the floor near the mirror. The blood was still fresh and glistened in the bedroom lighting. His shoulders and hands hung from his body towards the ground. Feet pointing downwards. Eyes, lifeless.

Another one.

The Police arrived at the scene within twenty minutes after one of the guests came to their senses and made the call. Megan was still in shock and could barely speak anything. She was being consoled by her friends and Sameer. Arvind himself was shocked and was sweating through his coat, despite the air conditioning. Mukherjee sat at the table, across from Arvind, silent. Time stood still for everyone in that hall.

It must be someone from the guests. Who else could it be?

The forensic team informed the police after a close inspection of the body that D'Souza was stabbed multiple times with a smaller blade and was pinned to the wall with a final piercing of the longer blade. The throat of the corpse was slit, which led the officials to believe the blood on the floor was from the first attack on the victim’s neck.

Arvind and Sameer were questioned first, since they were the first ones at the bedroom. The police interrogated everyone throughout the night. Certain guest said they heard Sameer claiming to kill D’Souza while some said that Parth had mentioned of a murder being necessary to make the evening interesting. Some even suspected of Mukherjee, that D’Souza’s remark about the ‘deal’ could’ve been received by him as a challenge. Every guest was pointing towards some or the other person based on the gossip they had heard that or any other previous evening, since the Mass Murder Chain was quite a topic of concern in the town. Everyone claimed that this was yet another one of the serial killing, where the murderer left no evidence behind, the fourth in line after the death of the college boy a week back. And now there was another victim.

After the interrogation routine, the officers declared within themselves that it was ‘one of those murders’ and decided to allow the guests to leave for their homes but were informed to arrive at the police station when summoned and were instructed not to leave the town without prior notice. It was almost three in the morning, everyone left the house with their own theories about who they believed the killer was.

Arvind was still sweating as he wished Mukherjee and the other guests of their circle good night and he gave him a sarcastic smile. They both got into their cars and left for their homes.

On the way, Arvind felt sticky and moist inside his shirt

Need to take a shower before retiring to bed.

He took off his bowtie. Parked his car in front of his building, and thought this would be a considerable event to park the car on the roadside.

Arvind took off his coat and hung it over his stand in his house, a few drops fell to the floor, he ignored them for his sweat. He entered the bathroom to wash his face, and just froze as he stared into the mirror. His own shirt was filled with red, possibly blood. He stood there in shock, his face expressing horror.

The boy’s neck was slashed with multiple stab wounds on his abdomen.

He ran back to his coat, checked it inside, it was wet, his hand filled with blood. He felt something in the inside pocket of the coat. A knife. Small enough to fit in the pocket, large enough to stab someone with.

D'Souza was stabbed multiple times with a smaller blade.

He stared at the blade and then at the droplets of blood on his floor. He returned to the sink to wash his hands and the blade, still in shock.

Didn’t realize how much time it took to search for my car.

His thoughts running faster than his heartbeat. He thought he saw his own reflection giving out a small grin as he washed his hands and the blade. He was doing this in such a hurry, that he cut his finger while sliding it across the blade.

SHARP! Sharp enough to cut through someone’s thick blazer and pierce their skin.

His blood mixed with the flowing water and drained down the sink in a spiral. He looked up to his smiling reflection and as if acknowledging the reflected grin, he let out a little laugh, which slowly grew into a maniacal laughter. He held the blade in his hand which was bleeding. The blood now dripping onto his wrist. Arvind continued to laugh at the top of his voice with the blade in his hands.

After the long night Mukherjee woke up late the next day, and decided to directly look at the afternoon paper, which covered all the news up till ten in the morning of the next day. He thought maybe there might be some leads about last night.

Mukherjee turned the page and dropped the paper after reading the headlines and the image that was there next to the article. He sat silently at his breakfast table in shock, sweating. His face looked as if he saw a ghost. He stared at the article on the fallen newspaper.He picked it up in a moment to confirm what he saw was real.

'Serial Killer takes two kills in one night, Doctor found dead hours after local businessman's death' the headline was complimented by a picture of Doctor Arvind Desai, drenched in blood lying on the floor, bleeding from a wound in his abdomen, with the blade fallen next to him.

Author's Note

This is my first ever story here.
Feedback appreciated :)