The hallway Akshay led me through was completely foreign to me, me being the perfect stranger to this abstruse building. Though it was still morning, the walls were lit by vintage style electric lamps hung on them symmetrically, having equal length between them all. The white walls of the structure reflected the yellow light making it seem like the sun was present here to personally provide light to the passage.

At the end of the long path, there was a single door which looked like it was locked on all accounts, but Akshay twisted the knob and got in immediately. They might have kept it open for us. As we entered inside, it was as if we entered some other dimension. Although it was just a room filled with CCTV cameras and computers, it was designed in such a systematic and stylish manner that it took my breath away.

There were three long rows of computers that showcased each and every section of the hotel, from the parking lot to the kitchen, from the hallways to the cafeteria and the balcony. There was footage of every floor from every angle, making me think that the killer just had to have such stonking good luck. Because if there was power on that floor that day, there was no way he/she could have gotten out of it unscathed.

While I was lost in my analysis again, I saw Akshay moving forward from the corner of my eye. He moved with such confidence and elegance as if he owned the place, and had every right to do whatever he was doing. Though the position of a police officer is no less than what I explained, but he was just inimitable. A man who was able to make me stop in my tracks completely dumbfounded in my whole 27 years of existence was none other than this man right here.

He talked to the security officers in charge and asked for the required amount of footage while I surveyed the area a bit more. The room had a lot of piece and quiet, and was brimming with all kinds of technology. I suppose some technicians sit here during the day to maintain the smooth functioning of the system, but they were absent at the moment.

The cloud of admiration, survey and analysis cleared considerably as I heard my name being called in the most attractive way.

"Miss Shreya? Please take a seat here. I think we have found the right footage we are looking for."

I turned to him, appraising his statement with a grain of salt.

"You managed to get hold of the right footage in such a short time? Are you sure?"

"Of course, Miss. You should learn to trust me by now."

He said, the slight turn of his lips in the upward direction telling her that he was indeed mocking her.

But she found that it no longer had that effect on her as it did two days ago. By now, she had become completely accustomed to his way with words, and instead of getting actually mad, she threw him an equally challenging stare and moved towards the computer which held that vital piece of footage.

"Let's see it then. I'm hoping to end this as quickly as possible."

I said nonchalantly, but behind that pococurante facade, my heart was threatening to burst out of its shackles and tell on me to the world that I'm actually a liar, that I'm actually majorly anxious to find the killer and I do care a lot.

As we started watching the video, it dated to one week ago, that is five days before the incident happened. It showcased a scene of the giant front lobby of the hotel, where a fifty something man was lounging on one of the couches. He wore an expensive suit and his wrist was adorned with an equally astronomical gold watch. It was the kind which was worn to purposefully show off your wealth as it was of a whopping size and could be easily spotted by even a blind person.

He sat there for a while, reading a random magazine to occupy himself, but it looked like he was waiting for someone rather than being an occupant of this hotel. After a short wait of about fifteen minutes, and through the bustling of the staff and numerous visitors, appeared another man.

This man was quite familiar, and was elegantly dressed in the hotel's uniform, which was an all black suit, while his stance and gait spoke of professionalism. He was the late manager, Ashish Sharma. While he had managed to maintain his composure every single time with each of his clients, which I know due to my personal experience, he couldn't school his expression into one of a professional, as his eyes locked with the rich man's eyes who was still seated on the couch.

The camera which we were watching through was placed at such an angle that we could easily see all the happenings in the lobby, right from the couches where I and Akshay met up every time, to the hotel concierge and beyond from where Ashish had appeared.

As their eyes met and they acknowledged each other, one person's eyes squinted from ire, while another's dilated from surprise or shock. This exchange wasn't overlooked by me, and because I wasn't able to quell my curiosity anymore, I paused the video midway.

"Why did you pause it? Is there a problem?"

Akshay asked me, silently taking in all of my actions and wondering if I was thinking something.

"Before we continue, I have a question. Why was the manager so afraid of that man? Who is he?"

There it was. My unquenchable thirst to know everything beforehand. Akshay looked at me in utter seriousness which also held a hint of admiration, as if he was pleased to see that I paid attention to every detail in the video. He then gave me an answer - which shouldn't really be called an answer because it was only one half of it, but nonetheless, I still knew what was more vital.

"That man's name is Dheeraj Malhotra. He is a wealthy businessman who lives in Delhi and comes here every year. He has been a loyal customer of this hotel for over five years and had great friendship with Mr. Ashish.

He is also our suspect #2."

--------------------------------------------