"What? Are you sure?"

He kept down the phone and drew a long breath. According to the Post Office records, Feroz Bari had received letters and post on the Friday before her death. And that's a one week gap. So no clues from that particular detail, he concluded.

Under normal circumstances, he would've been extremely displeased. However, at present, he was still giddy over the fact that he had solved such a difficult case so soon. Well almost. And soon enough when the culprit will be behind the bars, he shall get his promotion. Finally.

Speaking of the culprit. Bagchi noted that he was late by ten minutes. And no sign of him yet. Tonight was Ansari's interrogation. That man had said that he was available only at night. And even Bagchi thought why to refuse the man's last wishes? He was never going to see the outer world now.

Killing someone is not a bailable offense.

Stopping his train of thoughts was a raspy cough. The person he was waiting for had arrived, at last. Ismail Ansari glared back at him. This was nothing but a waste of time for him. Leading the way to the room, Bagchi pulled out a chair for him. Once they were set, the room was emptied as the constables stood outside, guarding the door.

Ismail stared at the dark surroundings, his eyes taking mere seconds to observe everything. The man, a table, the chair he was sitting on, and a flickering light above him. Otherwise, the room was pretty much empty unless you count the ants marching up the walls. In short, no escape route.

"Would you like a cigarette?"

He shook his head for a 'no'. He had quit smoking long back. And even if he did want to, then why would he accept the offer from that sub-inspector of all the people?

"Well then. So Mr. Ansari. It is a pleasure to meet you again! Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? Anything?"

This was not a question, he realized. It was an order. Croaking out the word 'water', silence fell back to place.

"So Ismail. What work are you doing?"

He eyed the water in the glass. Water and glass, both so transparent. Yet water in a glass can be spotted. It doesn't camouflage in spite of trying hard. And just like that, a criminal can try to hide. But his ability to disappear in the crowd is something that makes him stand out more. Cause a person who doesn't fit the crowd can never be a part of it.

"Work ... work in the factory."

"What factory?"

Silence. Bagchi was rewarded with silence. He decided that the question wasn't related to the investigation anyway. And so he proceeded, trying to make the suspect more comfortable.

"Your family stays nearby?"

"No."

Deciding that the comfort factor might take him an entire year, he chose to shoot the question at the moment when he was least expecting it. Which would be now.

"What relation did you have with Devi? What did you think about her?"

"Nosy woman. Judgemental. Someone I wouldn't want to associate with."

Great! He was not even trying to hide his emotions. He was not as smart as he thought of him to be. Deduction one made by Bagchi.

"What had happened the day she was killed?"

"I don't know. I was not there."

Now he was lying. After all, there was a witness to prove that he had been there. These were the exact thoughts running through the Khaki-clad officer's mind.

"Why do people in the colony suspect you?"

"Their problem. They must have done something."

Accusing others. This was a great sign indeed.

"But we have got information that it was you who had killed her!"

"No. I did not."

Denial. But how could he be so calm? Agitation. He had to become agitated. Only then he would spit something out. But how to do that?

"No. It was you. We already know that. You were a stain on the reputation of Feroz Bari. And now by killing someone you have become a stain to your family, your religion! People like you need to be put behind the bars for the safety of our society! Shame on you, puh!"

Ismail had his hands clenched. But the same followed for his mouth too. And his silence. It was the biggest giveaway to the crimes he had committed. Not having words to defend himself. Bagchi had sensed that.

"Where were you on the morn of the seventh of this month?"

"Factory."

His answers shorter, afraid that his voice would sell him out. This was a common strategy used by criminals. And the same was noted by the experienced police officer.

"Fine. Last question. Do you have any witnesses who can corroborate your whereabouts at the time of that incident?"

"No."

It was not the answer which surprised him. Rather the immediate response. And before he could continue, Ismail Ansari walked away. Fair enough, he thought. After all, it was he who had told him that it was the last question.

Bagchi stared at the crumbling ceiling.

On and off. On and off.

The flickering light seemed very displeased with him. Almost clicking its tongue, disappointed with his actions. In the end, who were they to ruin his satisfaction? Alas!