Six
“Lime Juice” said Maran looking around those people dressed in wet raincoats sipping hot tea. It was raining and it was a dirty place, the detective was thinking about the missing boy and the dead girl. He could break into anything; he searched his mental archive as to how detectives in movies cracked cases. Only a little while later he realized that these stories were scripted by smart writers. If this case had been a screenplay, at this point some anonymous source would throw an unused matchbox with a hidden message which would ultimately end the case.
It didn’t make sense, The Mangals were not as important as they thought to have their son to be abducted, if there were any internal squabbles they weren’t anything major.
And at that moment of thought, Maran was interrupted by a mobile message. It was the message that broke the case and swept the remaining pieces under the rug.
“Mangal boy returned home, no clue on abductors. Come immediately to Mangal household.”
It was a telegraphic message from inspector Daniel. Maran quietly finished the lime juice, he should be happy but he wasn’t. It was still raining.
The Lowly Laureate 