Mishap at Mussoorie

MISHAP AT MUSSOORIE

Prologue:
At the cocktail hour, when the parky mountain breeze brushes against the undraped skin and the sky attains a mauve tinge, sheets of mist hide the huge mountains under them. As the mist clears, the lush green Doon Valley becomes visible and the distant snow-capped Himalayan peaks come into view. The June Sun plays over them, darkening some peaks on one side and striking a pinkish spell over some peaks on the other side.
Standing in the balcony of Orchid Lodge at Lal Tibba, I could not deny that “Mussoorie is the queen of hill stations”. Watching the sun playing hide and seek behind the mountains and casting myriad tones of colours on the white canvas from the nature’s palette is no less than viewing Paradise on earth. Anaysha had locked herself up in the hotel room and I had no wish to disturb her when we were in the penultimate stage of the case. I began watching the mountains in the distance. Rain came in that long distance, pouring, in blue streaks, over some part of the range. Half the range to my right was in sunlight, shining, and the other half to my left was in a blue haze with streaks of rain falling on it. Truly, Nature is the greatest magician.
Anaysha and I had come to spend a week at Mussoorie. She wasn’t engaged in some case in Mumbai albeit I knew mystery always followed my wife.

June 3

“Let’s book a Bolero”, I said to Anaysha, who had already started suffering from mountain sickness, “You won’t feel the bumps”.
She agreed.
We were at the Dehradun bus stop and were on our way to Mussoorie.
“Excuse me”, two voices called out in unison.
Both the men were dressed in shirts and trousers. The first man was a burly one, with a brown visage. He was clean-shaved and had a pinch of sacred ash on his forehead. The second man was tall- a stature of about six feet. This man had a French-cut beard. His wavy hair almost covered his forehead, and he wore deep blue goggles.
The two men wanted us to allow them to go on a share-trip with us. Anaysha didn’t hesitate and hence, I had to give in.
The Bolero started speeding.
“Aren’t you Advocate Shelvankar?” the man with a beard said.
Anaysha smiled at him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am. My name is Nivan. Nivan Ahmed”.
Anaysha shook hands with him.
“You seem to be interested about paranormal activities. A book on spirits is peeping its head out from your pocket”, Anaysha said. I knew she had started observing both the men in the speeding black monster. The clean-shaved man seemed to be lost in deep thought.
“Well, I won’t brag on it, but I’ve spent several nights in many haunted places. Sort of a hobby, you see”, Nivan said.
I wanted Anaysha to rest. She had vomited thrice on the way to Dehradun.
“Anaysha, why don’t you take a short nap? I guess it’s going to take us some two and a half hours to reach Mussoorie”, I said. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ahmed, but she needs rest”.
Anaysha slowly reclined her fruit-smelling head on my shoulder and dozed off. I had expected Anaysha to refuse, but she obeyed; the first time in the past three years.
I caressed her head for a few minutes and then looked out of the window. These mountains were green. Some anonymous bird called out to its mate. Slowly the lush green vegetation on the mountains changed to huge barren rocks. The driver asked us to shut the windows. We were on a dusty road.
Mr. Ahmed had also dozed off. The clean-shaved man was still lost in his thought. Two hours passed and after a ten-minute bumpy ride, we reached Mussoorie. The driver drove us to our hotel. It was growing chilly and we put our pullovers on. Anaysha was wide awake now and was capturing the mighty Himalayan ranges on her Nikon.
Our fellow passengers shook hands with us and we checked into the hotel after bidding them goodbye.

June 4
3.30am

Anaysha and I were fast asleep under the cozy blanket when there was a loud thump, followed by a shriek. Someone was in great pain. Both Anaysha and I woke up. The shriek had come from the next door villa. The shrieks continued to reach our ears through the thin-as-paper villa wall. We could distinguish between the words ‘ten’ and ‘note’.
We put on our dressing gowns, slid our feet into sandals and hurried off to the villa. A small crowd had already gathered near the villa. Locals were trying to break open the door with a crow bar. The nameplate on the villa wall read ‘Craig Villa’.
By the time the door was broken, the shrieks had ceased. Nivan Ahmed was also present in the crowd. The advocate hurried upstairs and a few locals followed her. A woman, probably in her late thirties, lay prostrate on the thickly matted floor. Anaysha turned the body over. The corpse was much bruised and excoriated. The throat was gently chafed. There were several deep scratches just below the chin, together with a series of livid spots, which were evidently the impression of fingers. Someone had throttled the young girl to death. The wrist had evidently been cut with some very sharp instrument- probably a razor. The corpse was horribly mutilated. A heavy club of wood, or a broad iron bar- any large, heavy obtuse weapon would have produced such results, in the hands of a very powerful man. On the hearth were four long and thick tresses and a few short hair strands of human hair, dabbed in blood. A razor, a few currency notes of ten and a diamond ring lay on the hearth, besmeared with blood. The locals identified her as Mrs. Jehane Craig, wife of Mr. Jason Craig.
Anaysha set to work. I brought her forensic kit from the hotel room and watched her collecting the blood samples, fingerprints and hair strands. She packed the diamond ring and the razor in two evidence packets and began searching for more evidence.
The door of the villa was locked from inside and the windows were bolted. The fireplace was still burning. The murderer could not have entered the villa through the chimney. How did the murderer come in? If at all, he had been hiding in the villa all before the murder, how did he escape now? The villa was a small one and there was only the front door for both entrance and exit. The house was thoroughly searched but no exit path could be found out.
 Anaysha began searching the cupboards and drawers.
One thing was quite evident from the crime scene. The murder had not been committed for theft. There was money in the shelves and most importantly, the diamond ring was lying on the floor.
Anaysha came out of the room with a diary and the evidences in her hands. She called for Inspector Rishabh Narayanan of Mussoorie Police Chowki, whom she had known for six years.
We traced the path back to our hotel and I knew Anaysha’s mind was already muddled up with questions and she would keep herself awake for the rest of the day.

The police van and an ambulance arrived at daybreak. Mrs. Craig’s body was sent to Dehradun Institute of Forensic Science for autopsy. Anaysha handed the diamond ring, the currency notes, the fingerprints and the blood and hair samples to the forensic expert. I wondered why she kept the diary with her.
Few minutes passed and a white Indica stopped its engine in front of the Craig Villa. A tall man came out of the car. He had a long overcoat and he wore brown trousers and a pair of black boots. His rimless spectacles protected his deep black eyes. He was clean shaved.
   
“Hello”, the man began, after raising the bridge of his spectacles, “I’m Zeeshan Siddiqui. I work at Institute of Palaeontology. The Craig family is really having a hard time. At first, Mr. Jason Craig, the Director of the Institute of Palaeontology, goes missing, and now Mrs. Craig gets mysteriously murdered at her residence”.

Anaysha shook hands with Siddiqui and turned to the forensic expert.
“Doc, how much time will it take for the DNA fingerprinting?”
“We’ll try our best to let you know the reports by the afternoon of June 5”, the forensic expert replied.
“Thank you doc”.

Anaysha and I returned to the hotel room. We finished our breakfast and Anaysha opened the diary she had taken from Mrs. Craig’s residence. The diary was absolutely blank except some calculations on electricity bills. A small piece of paper fell off from the diary and the following epistle was written on it in black ink-
‘I was just thinking how everything looks funny painted on. I’m lying here enjoying my innocent play day and I am wondering, “Before this, everything in a life meant something else. I feel hot sometimes and cold all over some days.” I feel change will be here soon. Or maybe I am being silly. Is that weird? Eh, who knows! Nothing can do anything here. I may see someone at lunch time. I plan to call.’

Now this was weird. Was it some sort of rambling of a lunatic? I could not make out anything from the note.
“I’m sure Mr. Craig wrote this”, Anaysha said abruptly.
“How do you know that?”
“You see Ronit, I had searched the shelves in their house and I found some research papers written in ink with the name Jason Craig. It’s the same handwriting. But, I don’t understand why Mr. Jason wrote this. It makes no sense. And where is he at present? Did someone kidnap him? Or is he hiding from the rest of the world? And do you remember the last words of Mrs. Craig?”
“Yes! Wait... ten and note”.
“Right. What did she mean? Anything to do with this note?”
Anaysha took out a blood stained ten rupee note from her journal.
“Good Lord! You kept one of those notes with you!”
Anaysha smiled at me and continued to examine the note with her magnifying glass.
“Ronit”, said Anaysha, “why don’t you talk to the locals and try to get some more information?”
I didn’t want to leave her alone, but I was equally curious about the murderer.
I went out.
 The snow capped peaks shone brightly under the June sun.

A group of seven people was still gathered at the front door of Craig Villa; locals probably.
I went up to a man wearing khaki shorts. He had unkempt hair.
“How long have you known Mrs. Craig?”
“Three years, Sir. The couple shifted here three years back.”
“Did anyone come to visit Mrs. Craig the day she was murdered?”
“Only one man has been visiting the couple for the past three years. He came here yesterday at near about 8p.m”.
“At what time did he leave?”
“Sorry Sir! I was busy in my work. I didn’t notice”.
“Okay! Do you know his name and address?”
“He is Anand Sir. Anand Murthy. He lives seven houses after Hotel Mist”.
“Can you help me with the details of his profile? Come with me inside the villa and help me draw a sketch of this man”.
After a toilsome work of an hour, I thanked the man and went to the hotel room with a sketch of our fellow passenger, who seemed to be lost in deep thought.



 June 4
11.30p.m.

Anaysha was busy scribbling in her notebook. I knew she was trying to decode the message we had obtained from Murthy’s residence. Anaysha had sent Murthy’s hair strands from his hairbrush to the Dehradun Forensic Department and was anxiously waiting for the reports.
Anaysha and I had thoroughly examined Murthy’s residence. The house was a house in name only. The rooms were barely furnished. Anaysha examined each and every portion of the house including the fireplace and we came back with a planner which had some secret message written on it.
I looked at the planner again. The code read:
5508 51 N445332
571550F 57735 34
8 1 19 7-B-9-10-11
   
I could not make out anything. I knew Anaysha had seen some faint light in the pitch darkness. But I dared not ask her. All I could do was to wait for the forensic reports and Anaysha’s decoded messages. All the incidents started getting muddled up in my mind and the last thing I saw was Anaysha covering my exhausted body with the cozy blanket before I shut my drowsy eyelids.

June 5
10.30 a.m.

I was visioning Anaysha caressing my weary head when I heard her voice.
“Get up Ronit! Fast! I’ve something interesting to show you”.
She was sitting near my head in a blue dressing gown. Her face shone in the beam of sunrays that entered into the room through the ventilator.
I kissed her cheeks as I had been doing every morning since the past two years.
She tried to hide her simper. She wanted to look serious.
“Now see this! I must say Mr. Craig is a man of great intelligence.”
She was holding the piece of paper we had obtained from Craig Villa.
“Read the letters carefully. Every tenth letter when joined together makes a complete and proper statement. Mrs. Craig’s last words really were a great help.
 I was just thinking how everything looks funny painted on. I’m lying here enjoying my innocent play day and I am wondering, “Before this, everything in a life meant something else. I feel hot sometimes and cold all over some days.” I feel change will be here soon. Or maybe I am being silly. Is that weird? Eh, who knows! Nothing can do anything here. I may see someone at lunch time. I plan to call.
Now start writing every tenth letter”, said Anaysha.

Good Gracious!
The decoded message read- HELP ME I AM BEING HELD HERE SEND HELP
“Mr. Craig has been kidnapped! Where do we go to seek him now? There’s no place mentioned here”.
Anaysha smiled at me and brought a candle. She asked me to light it and I obeyed her. She held up the paper near the flame. A word flashed up- MANSION
It was quite evident that Mr. Craig had used invisible ink, probably made from the juice of crushed onions.
“Mansion? There are so many big mansions in this city. How do we know which is the one?” I said.
“You see, Ronit, there must be a mansion in Mussoorie which is known by its name. Some Mansion. Let’s find out from the locals”, said Anaysha.
We put on our dresses and set out to gather information.

June 5
2.30p.m
The City Hospital

Anaysha was right. The locals, including Zeeshan Siddiqui, who was standing near the Craig Villa, said there was only one such house which was known by the name Matthew Mansion.
“You young tourists are so adventurous that someday you’ll land yourself in trouble. You’ve come for a good vacation. Spend it well and go away. The Matthew Mansion and the Monks’ Forest aren’t good places to visit. I’m not responsible if anything happens. My work was to warn you. I did my job. The rest of the decision rests absolutely on you. Excuse me now”. Siddiqui left with a stern caution. But I knew my wife. I didn’t want her to venture into such danger. I asked her to carry on with her local investigation and told her that I would rescue Mr. Craig myself. Anaysha, though reluctant, sent me to the Matthew Mansion with her six shots’ revolver. The Matthew Mansion was a crumbling skeleton of a long-forsaken colonial bungalow, and had earned quite reputation as a haunted house. There was no existence of an entrance gate. I stepped into the Matthew Mansion, holding the trigger with both hands. Two ward boys of The City Hospital and two constables followed me. We searched every nook and corner of the mansion. The so-called house was absolutely empty. There was no sign of Mr. Craig. Hardly had I turned backed to go out, when one of the ward boys tripped over something. We pulled up the worn-out carpet just to find a wooden handle attached to the floor. The two constables pulled up the handle.
“Good Lord! There’s a secret passage way down here”, I said.
We led our way down the stairs and to everyone’s astonishment, there sat some six glass jars, filled with formalin. Each of the jars had fossils in them. Mr. Jason Craig lay unconscious on the floor.
“I’m sure these have been kept for smuggling. The Institute of Palaeontology isn’t even aware of this secret lab. We need to find the kingpin of this fossil-smuggling racket as soon as possible”, said one of the constables. I captured each and every part of the lab in my cellphone and sent the images to Anaysha, telling her about the smuggling racket and that Mr. Craig had been safely rescued and we were taking him to The City Hospital.
Anaysha texted me back saying that the forensic department had confirmed that the DNA obtained from Craig Villa had matched the DNA of Anand Murthy; the fingerprints, bloodstains, hair strands had Murthy's DNA.
The murderer had been identified. My joy knew no bounds; Anaysha had successfully solved the case. The only thing to be done was to find out Murthy. The sooner the better.
I sat outside the Critical Unit of The City Hospital. Mr. Craig was not in a position to talk. The two constables were having a word with the doctor.
“The patient is out of danger. All he needs now is rest. He’ll be fine until tomorrow morning”, said the doctor.
I was eagerly waiting to see my wife and congratulate her. I bid everyone farewell and left for Orchid Lodge.


June 5
4p.m
Orchid Lodge

Anaysha was sitting on the bed, still scribbling undecipherable letters in her notebook. I came into the room and hugged her.
“Congratulations. You did it”.
She smiled at me, came closer and gave a peck on my cheek.
“Yes. Just some last minute calculations. Do you mind going out in the balcony for half an hour? I want to work alone”.
I had always obeyed her, since our courting days. I kissed her forehead and went out in the balcony and began viewing the distant mountains. I had no wish to disturb her when we had reached the climax of the case.

June 5
5.30p.m
Craig Villa

The drawing room of the Craig Villa was filled completely with people. About twelve locals had gathered in front of Anaysha. I sat down beside Nivan Ahmed on the velvet sofa. Anaysha was observing the show pieces kept on the shelves.
“Shelvankar!” a deep voice called out from the doorstep.
Inspector Rishabh Narayanan.
He was holding the push handles of a wheelchair. A pale faced Anand Murthy sat on it.
“Ah! Narayanan! Come! We were waiting for you”, said Anaysha.
“Good evening folks”, began Anaysha, “This Craig Villa was locked from inside when the murder of Mrs. Jehane Craig took place. But, if you look at this window closely,” Anaysha paused...
“Mr. Ahmed, will you please draw the blinds to the left side of the window? Thank you.
Yes! Now look!”
Anaysha pulled out a screw from the hinge. The window opened.
She continued, “This screw is so loose that anyone can open this window from outside and then again lock it just by placing the screw back in its original position. The murderer knew this. Later, he had climbed down the water pipe and escaped. Now, coming to the murder; no murderer leaves so many evidences against him at the crime scene. Contrary to this, we found four evidences against Mr. Anand Murthy. At that point of time, I knew something was fishy. Mr. Shelvankar and I visited Mr. Murthy’s residence. We found nothing but a secret code, written on a planner. I smelled almond from the fireplace. Evidently, someone had dusted a very small amount of cyanide on the burning wood to make Mr. Murthy unconscious. But, I still doubted on Mr. Murthy’s innocence. Mr. Jason Craig had somehow managed to send a message of his kidnapping. While Mr. Shelvankar was in his rescue mission, I came to this Craig Villa and searched the house thoroughly. I obtained a card which has the name Anand Murthy printed on it. The card said he’s a private detective.
Now, I hope you’re aware of the fact that besides being a tourist spot, Mussoorie is also a storehouse of fossils. Trace fossils of Treptichnus pedum, Monomorphichnus, Dimorphichnus, Planolites and Skolithos are found near Dhanaulti Road, Batagad. The Institute of Palaeontology carries out excavation at these sites in search of fossils. It’s the duty of the chief palaeontologist to inspect the work and send the fossils to the Institute without any damage. But, what if this chief smuggles these Indian fossils to foreign traders?
Smuggling is a fiasco, isn’t it Mr. Nivan Ahmed?”
“Ahhh... yes.. yes..”, said Nivan.
“Mr. Nivan, you look better without a beard”, Anaysha said, all of a sudden.
She went near him and pulled the French cut beard off Nivan’s face.
Good Lord! Mr. Siddhiqui! Zeeshan Siddiqui! The palaeontologist at the institute!

“Mr. Ahmed... ummm.. sorry, Mr. Siddhiqui, habits can be the reason of one’s downfall. You’ve adjusted the bridge of your spectacles nearly about eight times in these fifteen minutes. I noticed the same habit in Nivan. Moreover, both Nivan and Zeeshan are left-handed”, said Anaysha.
She was right! Mr. Siddhiqui had used his left hand while signing the document and Nivan had always used his left hand while doing things.
Anaysha continued, “Mr. Murthy had left a secret code, which when decoded reads as follows:
ZEESHAN IS BOSS
HE SELLS FOSSILS
HAS JASON
Mr. Siddhiqui warned us against going to the Matthew Mansion and the Monks’ Forest. I understood those were the places where he hid his secrets. I sent Mr. Shelvankar to Matthew Mansion from where Mr. Jason Craig was rescued, and Inspector Narayanan to the Monks’ Forest from where Mr. Murthy was rescued. Now, Mr. Murthy’s blood report says traces of Scopolamine have been found in his blood. This drug is used to hypnotize people. Evidently, Mr. Jason had come to know about this fossil smuggling racket and he had engaged Detective Murthy to find out the kingpin of the racket. Mr. Siddhiqui saw through the plan and kidnapped Mr. Craig at first. Then, he again came to Mussoorie with the name Nivan Ahmed, and got Mrs. Craig murdered since she had decoded Mr. Craig’s message. Mr. Siddhiqui used Mr. Murthy for this in order to not get caught. But, his habit of raising the bridge of his spectacles led to his downfall.
Narayanan! Arrest him! And send constables to the Matthew Mansion and send the fossils to the Institute of Palaeontology.
Come Ronit! We’re done here.”

June 5
7p.m
Orchid Lodge

“How did you decode Mr. Murthy’s message?” I asked Anaysha.
“Very simple”, said Anaysha, “Turn the planner upside down and try to guess the structure of the letters in the first two lines. All those numbers are alphabets in reality. Adjust the shapes of 4 and read it as H or A, wherever applicable. Coming to the third line, 8, 1 and 19 are the places of the alphabets H, A and S. Now, the entire note was written on a planner. Now, in 7-B-9-10-1, if B is read as 8, the numbers represent the months July, August, September, October, November, and December. Take the initials of the months”.
I held the planner upside down and decoded the message. It read:
ZEESHAN IS BOSS
HE SELLS FOSSILS
HAS JASON

~ Anne