The Pen Killer
Prologue
I was inspired to write this story by the stories about Sukumar Ray's 'Abol Tabol' that they broadcast on Radio Mirchi's Sunday Suspense program, marking the 100th anniversary of 'Abol Tabol'. My story is similar.
I wanted to release the story during the Durga Puja, but it was delayed due to special circumstances, so I am releasing it now. During the Puja, someone is killing teachers one after another with a pen, leaving behind a notebook. Can Vedanta solve the mystery?
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It was around ten past ten at night. Durga Puja was still a week away. The whole of Kolkata was immersed in the festival of Agomoni (the arrival). Even the small station area of Baranagar, which was bustling for the festival market, was completely packed. As the 'Naihati Local' arrived at the small station, which was decorated like an urban park due to the crowd, two specific people, along with everyone else, got off the 'General Compartment'. The first person maintained a normal rhythm and pushed through the crowd, heading down the subway. The second person's gait was somewhat unnatural, as if he was trying to follow the first person, avoiding everyone's eyes. The suspicion was confirmed when he also went down the subway, following the first person's path (it seemed that this was not the second person's usual destination). Reaching the road via the subway, the first person took a turn and entered a relatively deserted, dark alleyway. This road goes straight towards the old residential buildings of the area. This alley remains dark and deserted all year round. However, it is a shortcut from the station to the old residential area, so the residents take this path to go to that area. Both of the main characters in our current incident are proceeding along this path.
As he walked, a pen and a pocket notebook appeared in the hand of the person behind, taken from his shoulder bag. The person's eyes sparkled with an unknown, cruel joy. The person's walking speed increased, as if he wanted to catch up with the person in front at any cost. The alleyway was almost dark, with two light posts at the beginning and the end of the alley, leaving the middle part completely dark. The first gentleman turned on his smartphone's flash. The eyes of the person behind him glowed like a wild animal's. The person behind now came within half a hand's distance of the one in front and called out in a low voice, "Brother, oh brother?" The person in front turned around, "Yes, tell me. How can I help?" The questioner now made a strange gesture, swaying like a serpent's hood, and recited a rhyme: "Hothat ki taar kheyaal holo/ chollo she taar haat gunte/ phirey elo shukno mukhe, thok thoka thok laagchhe daante/ shudhle she koy naa kotha, aakaash paane roy shey cheye/ maajhe maajhe shieurey othe, porey jol chokkhu beye(Suddenly what occurred to him / Off he went to count his hands / Came back with a dry face, teeth chattering / Asked, he says no word, keeps staring at the sky / Shudders sometimes, then eyes fill with water)". "What are you rambling about?" the first gentleman said in an annoyed voice, "Are you crazy, mister?" The second person's eyes seemed to truly blaze now. Before the first person could understand anything, the man made an animalistic sound and leaped onto the person in front. Almost immediately, the sound of something heavy falling shattered all the silence of the dark alley.
...The attacker now stood up. Several rapid footsteps left the alleyway towards the station road outside. The number of people on the road had still not decreased.
The man took out a water bottle from his bag and stood in the relatively dark corner of the road, wetting his handkerchief and cleaning the bloodstains on his face and body. He washed the wet handkerchief with water once more, wrung it out, and put it back in his shoulder bag, then started walking.
The passers-by, engrossed in the Puja excitement, seemed not to notice a killer standing in the dark of the road. On this day of joy, no one thought of anyone's ruin. Only one unfortunate soul lay in a nearby alleyway, his lifeless body lying amidst the clamour of the Puja.
Since morning, Bedda's flat in Bagbazar has been the center of gossip and food. Bedda's elder sister, Oishee, has come for the Puja. She is a lawyer at the Delhi High Court, and like other Bengalis, she comes to Kolkata during this time of the year. Besides her, there are Bedda's friend Arnab, myself, Aankhi, and Inspector Neelanjan Banerjee—Neelda—of the 'Homicide Squad' at Lalbazar. The evening gathering is centered around them.
Only Neelda is somewhat distracted. He seems unable to see the plate of cutlets in front of him, and instead of reaching for a cutlet, his hand dipped into the teacup. He immediately jumped up and said, "Sorry, sorry," and sat down awkwardly. "What's the matter?" Bedda asked, putting down the teacup, "What could have happened right before the Puja?" Neelda said, while applying kasundi (mustard sauce) to a cutlet, "Have you stopped reading the newspaper?"
Bedda said, "Which one, the incident on Station Road?" "Yes," Neelda said, "It's under my jurisdiction now."
Oishee-di said, addressing Bedda, "What, are you going to roam around like Felu Mistir (a detective) even during the Puja?" Bedda looked at Oishee-di and said, "If the case is something like that, and Lalbazar is kind enough. And as for Puja, it's not much, just two days of excitement." Neelda took a sip of tea and said, "I won't be kind, rather you will have to be kind - Vedanta." Neelda took a second sip of tea and said, "The case is very interesting, a person has been murdered simply with a pen." Bedda said, addressing Neelda, "Tell me more clearly, the newspaper didn't make the matter so clear." Neelda sat quietly for a while, probably mentally arranging his words. Then, sitting up straight, Neelda said, "The incident happened two days ago, on October 7th, in an alley adjacent to Baranagar Station Road. The alley is a shortcut to the old residential area. The dead body of a man named Amal Kumar Nandi was found inside this alley. The man was murdered with a pen. Nothing was found beside the body except a notebook and fingerprints." As soon as Neelda stopped, Bedda asked his first question, "Where did the gentleman live?"
"In that old residential area, in 'Bijon Nibas'."
"What did he do?"
"He was a Maths teacher at Bidhan Nagar Shivprasad Memorial High School."
"What time was the murder?"
"According to the post-mortem report, between ten twenty and ten twenty-two at night."
"Did Amal Babu return home at the same time every day?"
"No. We found out that he was at a colleague's house until half-past eight that night."
"Reason?"
"Just casually."
"How many times was the pen used?"
"According to the post-mortem report, five times."
"Neelda, since the pen was used five times, this is not a case of murder in a fit of rage." Neelda said with a grave face, "That's where the case has become complicated. The murder was committed with something that cannot be called a planned murder. Yet, by using the weapon five times, it was ensured that the victim was completely dead. The matter does not quite fit, Vedanta." Like everyone else in the room, Oishee-di was also listening carefully to the case history. She commented seriously, "It could be that It's a part of a plan and this strategy is just for distract the investigation." "Could be," Bedda said, "but why a pen? This could have been done with a stick too." Aankhi said, addressing Bedda, "Maybe criminal wants to prove that it happened by chance during a conversation."
"What's the main point, you know?" Bedda said, sitting up straight, "The pen was struck five times, and that too exactly in the middle of the forehead." Now Arnab, one of the members present in the room, said, "As a psychologist, I think Vedanta is right. No person of sound mind, no matter how professional a killer, could do this."
Bedda pointed his index finger at Arnab and said, "Correct. The horrifying scene created by striking the same spot on the head so many times is unbearable for any person of sound mind." I sat up straight and said, "So, is it a psychopath, serial killing?" Bedda looked at me and scolded, "Saikat, how many murders have happened that you are calling it a serial killing? Are you also like the journalists?" Scolded, I fell silent.
We stayed at Bedda's flat for another couple of hours after that.
Eleven o'clock at night, Bagbazar. There is hardly any crowd on the street. The sole resident of the pavement is also fast asleep. An auto rickshaw stopped by the footpath. Almost simultaneously, two men got out of the auto. The auto left. The first person was dressed in a suit, probably returning from an event. The second person's attire was ordinary, but his eyes glowed with a primitive vengeance. The second person followed the first person, maintaining a distance of fifteen yards.
There is no one on this side of the footpath. The only people on the street at the moment are our two companions. The owner of the last shop had just left after pulling down the shutter. Only a couple of lorries can be seen after a long wait for vehicles. A wall clock visible through the open window of a second-floor room in a flat by the road was showing ten past eleven. The second person had come within almost an arm's length of the first gentleman. Suddenly, he called out to the first person, "Brother, oh brother?"
The gentleman looked back. And said to the person in front, "You! Do you need something, is everything alright?..."
Before the gentleman could finish speaking, the second person, swaying like a snake, began reciting in a rhythmic tone: "Dur dur chhute jaai dur theke dekhi pranonpone thont chaate kaan kaataa neki/ gaal bhoraa mukhe taar maalpoaa thaasaa. dhup kore nibhe gelo buk bhoraa aashaa(Far, far away I run, from afar I see / Licking her lips with all her might, the ear-cut neki (a derogatory term) / Her mouth full of malpoa (a sweet pancake) / Dhup (a sound) the heart full of hope extinguished...)"
"What? I don't quite understand what you're saying." Before the man could figure anything out, the person in front leaped onto him. The pen in his hand was completely embedded in the victim's forehead. The attacker's hand rose and fell five times in succession. The attacker stood up. With a blood-stained body, he proceeded forward. After walking a little, he stood at a corner, took out a water bottle from his bag, wet his handkerchief, cleaned his face, head, and shirt, looked at the corpse once, and then went to the other side of the road; his destination was probably the station.
It is very natural for Bedda and Aankhi to meet while shopping. Today, Oishee-di and Arnab-da have joined them. The four were returning after shopping. Seeing the police in front of 'Adi Dhakeswari Bastralaya' (a cloth store), the four stopped. I stood with my shopping bag to see what was happening; though curious, I didn't dare to step forward. Where they say, touching the police brings eighteen troubles. Seeing Bedda, I approached him.
Looking at Bedda, I smiled, wished him good morning, and joked, "The detective is here as soon as there's a murder." Bedda was surprised and said, "Murder. How do you know?"
"You ask this question even after seeing so many police?"
"Do you know anything about the case?"
"I haven't messed with the police that much, you see.
"Will you come?"
"Yes," I added, "Haven't you seen it?"
"I actually went shopping through another route, so I didn't notice the matter," Bedda said. The five of us figures proceeded together towards the crime scene. We went ahead and saw that the post-mortem team had not arrived yet. The police had surrounded the area with a 'Do not cross crime zone' barricade. And standing in front of it was Inspector Neelanjan Banerjee. As we entered through the curious crowd, Neelda gave us a sidelong glance, finished giving some instructions to the constable standing in front, and then approached us. Neelda said with a serious face, "It's good that you came, Bed. I was just thinking of calling you." Bedda's brow furrowed, "Why, is anything serious?"
"Would I call you if it wasn't serious, dear? See for yourself."
Bedda did not ask any more questions. He proceeded toward the 'crime scene' with Neelda. The four of us were right behind Bedda. Bedda gave me the bag and took out his wallet from his pocket. I know he always keeps a pair of rubber gloves inside it. He took them out and lifted the barricade to enter. I stepped back when my eyes fell on the corpse. Ugh, what a gruesome sight. The lifeless body of a man in a suit lay there. Right in the middle of his forehead was a hole, and a thick, dry, dark stream of blood had run down from it. His suit was stained red by it (the colour of the inner shirt was probably white). And a dry, dark halo of blood had formed around the corpse.
Bedda knelt in front of the corpse. Then, with his gloved hands, he examined the clothing of the corpse and the surroundings. After finishing the examination, he asked me, "Well Doctor, can you tell when the murder took place?" I put down the shopping bag and entered the 'crime scene'. Sitting in a way that my shoe prints would not fall near the corpse, I examined it and said, "The time is roughly between eleven and twelve. We will be able to tell more accurately after the post-mortem." Bedda examined the corpse's sleeve and the surroundings for a while longer and then got up. We came out. Removing the gloves and putting them back in place, Bedda addressed Neelda and asked, "What did you find in the investigation?" Neelda had the items found in the investigation brought over. What was found from the investigation were a 'wallet', an Aadhaar card, a PAN card, a total of four thousand rupees. And a bloody pen, and a pocket book. The name of the man was found to be Achintya Bagchi - age 50, resident of Bagbazar, 1/5 Nikunj Abasan.
Among all this, the notebook is the most 'interesting'. There is no name on the first page of the notebook. Only one number is written on the first inner page: 091023.
Aankhi said in a grave voice, "What number is this 091023, Vedanta?" Bedda returned the diary and said, "Only a telephone number is six digits."
"It could also be tomorrow's date, 09/10/23," Oishee-di said.
Bedda said, "Then it has to be a planned murder."
Bedda now asked Neelda, "Well, what was in the previous notebook?" Neelda suddenly said, as if remembering something, "Right. It had several six-digit numbers written just like this." Arnab-da now commented, "Is the man a contract killer? Maybe this is his murder style." Neelda rejected his suggestion and said, "No. A murder has never been done in this style before." Bedda said, "The biggest question here is this out-of-place notebook. The pen is the murder weapon, the function of the Aadhaar card, PAN card, ATM card is understood, but this notebook and the six-digit numbers are the linkless part." After a moment of silence, he asked Neelda, "What were the previous six-digit numbers?" Neelda said, "Four six-digit numbers were found. 250923, 310923, 011023, 071023."
"071023," Bedda said, "071023 means the seventh date. That was the day the first murder happened." After a pause, he said to Neelda, "The post-mortem team is going to be late, are you going for a routine inquiry right now?"
"Yes."
"Good, bring the interrogation footage of the previous case in the afternoon." We left the place.
On the way back home, Bedda asked me, "Well Saikat Babu, are you going to the chamber (doctor's office)?" I replied, "Yes. Why?"
"Nothing, I was asking if you could be directly involved as a character in your storytelling time."
Oishee-di said in a commanding tone, "Are you going out to inquire now?"
"Please, don't be angry. I'll join you tomorrow," Bedda said in a truly helpless manner. Oishee-di said, "Stop acting helpless, Arnab and I will go." Then, addressing Aankhi, she said, "And you, Aankhi?"
Aankhi replied, "I will go with Vedanta."
Oishee-di and Arnab-da went towards their homes, I went towards mine, and Aankhi went with Bedda.
"What, aren't you going home?" The question came from Bedda.
"Why, when will your home's guest washroom be used?" Aankhi said in a normal tone. "The dress brought from the ironing shop is also with you, let's go."
"You know the deceased person's house, right?" Bedda said indifferently.
"I know, I know."
Thirty minutes later, Bedda's bike stopped in the 'compound' of 'Nikunj Abasan'. They got off the bike and went upstairs using the front staircase.
"The last room on the second floor," Aankhi said.
Reaching the last room, it was quite clear that this was the room of the deceased Achintya Bagchi. A few moments after pressing the doorbell, a young woman of twenty-eight or twenty-nine opened the door. She was wearing modern casual clothes.
"Who do you want?" The voice clearly carried an impression of personality.
"Namaskar," Bedda said, "I am Vedanta Biswas, and this is my friend and assistant, Aankhi Dasgupta. We are helping the police in the murder case of Mr. Achintya Bagchi. Just came to do a few routine inquiries."
The young woman said in an irritated and tired voice, "The police just finished, now will private detectives also muddy the water with this, how disgusting?"
Bedda said politely, "Actually, this is a special kind of murder, serial killing..."
Interrupting Bedda mid-sentence, the young woman said, "Listen, every Bengali knows what serial killing is from watching films by modern Tollywood directors." She stepped away from the door, "Come inside, ask me whatever questions you have, leave Mom alone, she is not in the mental state."
The three sat facing each other on the sofa inside. Aankhi turned on the recorder.
"Tea or coffee?"
"No thanks," Aankhi said.
Bedda asked, "Your name?"
"Anamika Bagchi."
"What did Mr. Bagchi do?"
"He was a Professor, Sociology, CU."
"Where did he go yesterday?"
"To a friend's daughter's reception."
"Friend's name, where does he live?"
"Name is Gagan Kar. Lives in Beniatala, 22/A."
"What does he do?"
"He has a saree shop on Sealdah Station Road, Kar Ladies House."
"Was there any quarrel with a friend or anyone else?"
"My Bapi (father) is a very quiet and non-violent person. And he doesn't have many friends, so it's not possible for him to have any enemies or have an argument with anyone."
"Weren't you worried when he didn't return home last night?"
"Bapi went out saying he would return in the morning."
"Alright." Bedda stood up, along with Aankhi, "Thank you." They came out.
..... To be continued