The ninth clue

The Locked Door

At 2:13 in the morning, Mumbai was still awake.The city never really slept. Somewhere, a local train was moving through the darkness. Trucks rolled toward the docks. Street vendors were closing their stalls. Taxis moved through wet roads, carrying people who had nowhere else to be.In a fourth-floor apartment in Andheri West, a man was lying dead beside his dining table.His name was Arjun Malhotra.Forty-two years old.Married.Successful businessman.No criminal record.No known enemies.And according to the first call made to the police, he had killed himself.Inspector Rohan Kulkarni did not believe it.He stood outside Apartment 407 while two uniformed officers waited behind him.“Who found him?” Rohan asked.“The watchman, sir.”“Name?”“Ramesh Jadhav.”“Family?”“His wife is on the way.”Rohan looked at the apartment door.The lock was intact.No damage.No broken chain.No sign that anyone had forced their way inside.“Who opened the door?”“The watchman.”Rohan turned.“How?”“One of the neighbors had a spare key.”“Why did the neighbor have a spare key?”The constable hesitated.“Malhotra apparently gave it to him last year. In case of emergencies.”Rohan nodded.“Who is the neighbor?”“Flat 406. Mr. Prakash Mehta.”“Where is he?”“Inside his apartment.”“Bring him down.”The constable left.Rohan put on his gloves.“Sir.”He turned.Sameer Shaikh stood behind him holding a small evidence bag.“What's that?”“Phone.”Rohan looked at the bag.“Victim's?”“Yes.”“Where was it?”“Kitchen.”“Any damage?”“No.”“Locked?”“Screen was on.”Rohan looked at him.“What was open?”“Banking application.”Rohan's expression changed slightly.“Did anyone touch it?”“No, sir.”“Good.”He entered the apartment.The smell of expensive perfume mixed with the faint smell of alcohol.The living room was clean.Too clean.A large television was switched off.A leather sofa faced the window.A glass table held a newspaper, a set of car keys and a watch.Nothing appeared disturbed.Rohan walked toward the dining area.Arjun Malhotra was sitting in a chair.His head had fallen slightly to one side.There was blood on his shirt.A pistol lay on the floor near his right hand.Rohan stopped several feet away.He studied the body without touching anything.“Where's the blood spatter?”Sameer looked around.“Mostly on the shirt.”“Mostly?”“There are a few drops on the floor.”Rohan pointed toward the pistol.“Who moved that?”“No one.”“Photograph it before anyone gets close.”Sameer nodded to the forensic photographer.Rohan walked around the dining table.Arjun's right hand was close to the weapon.His left hand rested on the table.There was a small cut across one finger.Rohan looked at it.“Sameer.”“Yes?”“Photograph his left hand.”Sameer signaled the photographer.Rohan continued examining the room.A bottle of whisky stood on the table.Two glasses.One was half full.The other was empty.Rohan looked at Sameer.“Two glasses?”“Yes.”“Did anyone say he was expecting someone?”“No.”Rohan pointed toward the empty glass.“Then find out who drank from it.”Sameer nodded.Rohan walked toward the kitchen.The refrigerator door was slightly open.Inside were vegetables, bottled water, milk and several containers.Nothing unusual.Then he noticed a small piece of paper stuck beneath a magnet.It was a grocery list.Milk.Bread.Coffee.Rice.And one word written at the bottom.NINTH.Rohan stared at it.He removed the paper carefully.“Sameer.”Sameer came over.“What is it, sir?”Rohan showed him.Sameer frowned.“Could be nothing.”“Could be.”Rohan placed it inside an evidence bag.“Get handwriting comparison later.”He returned to the dining room.A forensic officer was examining the body.“Any initial findings?”“Sir, looks like a close-range gunshot.”“Suicide?”The officer shrugged.“Too early.”“Good.”Rohan looked at the dining table.There was a laptop.It was open.The screen displayed a spreadsheet.Rows of numbers.Company names.Dates.Bank transactions.Rohan leaned closer.“Who owns this laptop?”“Malhotra.”“Can we access the files?”“Cyber team is on the way.”Rohan nodded.He looked at the screen again.One column had been highlighted.The heading read:PAYMENTSSeveral amounts were listed.Most were small.Some were enormous.One transaction stood out.₹18,50,000.Recipient:K.M. LOGISTICSDate:Three days earlier.Rohan photographed the screen.“Check this company.”Sameer wrote it down.“Anything else?”“Everything.”Rohan looked toward the dead man.“Bank accounts. Phone records. company records. Travel. CCTV. Everything.”Sameer nodded.A woman's voice suddenly came from the doorway.“Arjun.”Rohan turned.A woman stood there.She looked around forty.Her face had gone pale.Two officers were holding her back.“Ma'am, please stay outside.”“That's my husband.”Rohan walked toward her.“Mrs. Malhotra?”She nodded.“I need you to remain outside until the forensic team finishes.”“What happened?”“We're investigating.”“Was it suicide?”Rohan paused.“We don't know yet.”She looked past him.The moment she saw Arjun's body, she covered her mouth.Then she noticed the whisky bottle.Her expression changed.“He doesn't drink.”Rohan looked at her.“Never?”“Very rarely.”“Was he drinking tonight?”“No.”“Did he tell you he was expecting someone?”She shook her head.“He wasn't supposed to be here.”Rohan frowned.“What do you mean?”“He told me he was going to his office.”“When?”“Yesterday evening.”“Did he come home?”“I don't know.”Rohan looked at her.“You don't know?”“He didn't answer my calls.”“How many?”“Seven.”“Did you call the police?”“No.”“Why?”She hesitated.“Because he sometimes stopped answering when he was working.”Rohan studied her face.She wasn't lying.At least, not obviously.“Did your husband have enemies?”“No.”“Business disputes?”“Of course. He had business problems like everyone else.”“Anyone threatening him?”She shook her head.Then stopped.Rohan noticed.“Mrs. Malhotra?”She looked at him.“There was a man.”“What man?”“I don't know his name.”“What did he look like?”“I never saw his face properly.”“Why?”“He came to our house two weeks ago.”“Did Arjun meet him?”“Yes.”“Did they argue?”“No.”“What happened?”Her voice dropped.“Arjun told me not to ask questions.”Rohan waited.“He said it was a business matter.”“Did this man come again?”“I think so.”“When?”“Yesterday.”Rohan looked toward Sameer.“Get the building CCTV.”Sameer nodded.Mrs. Malhotra suddenly grabbed Rohan's sleeve.“There was something else.”“What?”“Arjun was frightened.”“When?”“Yesterday.”“What did he say?”She looked at the body.“He told me that if anything happened to him, I shouldn't trust the police.”Rohan went still.“Why would he say that?”“I don't know.”“Did he mention anyone?”She shook her head.“Only one thing.”“What?”“He said…”She stopped.Rohan waited.“He said, ‘They already know about the ninth one.’”Rohan's eyes moved toward the kitchen.The grocery list.NINTH.He looked back at her.“What is the ninth one?”“I don't know.”Before Rohan could ask another question, a forensic officer called from the bedroom.“Inspector!”Rohan walked toward him.“What happened?”“We found something.”Inside the bedroom, the forensic officer pointed toward the wardrobe.The wardrobe was open.Most of the clothes were neatly arranged.But one section was empty.“Looks like something was removed recently,” the officer said.“What?”“Can't say.”Rohan examined the shelf.There was a rectangular patch of dust.Something had been sitting there for a long time.Now it was gone.“What was the size?”The officer measured it.“About twelve inches by eight.”Rohan looked around.“Any fingerprints?”“Several. We're collecting them.”Rohan nodded.Then he noticed something underneath the shelf.A small piece of black paper.He carefully picked it up with tweezers.There was a handwritten number on it.8Rohan stared at it.Eight.The kitchen had said nine.The victim had mentioned a ninth one.But something marked eight had been removed from the bedroom.He turned to Sameer.“Find out everything about Arjun Malhotra's last forty-eight hours.”“Yes, sir.”“And Sameer?”“Yes?”“Don't tell anyone about the word ninth.”Sameer understood immediately.“Not even the department?”“Not yet.”Rohan returned to the dining room.The apartment was now filled with officers.Cameras flashed.Evidence bags were being sealed.People were talking.But Rohan barely heard them.He looked at Arjun Malhotra's dead face.A man who supposedly had no enemies.A man who supposedly killed himself.A man who had warned his wife not to trust the police.And somewhere inside his apartment, someone had removed something important.Eight.Nine.Rohan walked toward the balcony.Mumbai stretched before him, enormous and restless.Thousands of windows.Thousands of lives.Thousands of secrets.His phone vibrated.An unknown number.One message.YOU FOUND EIGHT.Rohan stared at the screen.Another message arrived.DON'T LOOK FOR NINE.He didn't reply.A third message appeared.THE NINTH CLUE IS WHY HE DIED.Rohan looked back at the apartment.Then at the dead man.For the first time that night, he was certain of one thing.Arjun Malhotra had not died because someone wanted him dead.He had died because he had discovered something.Something worth killing for.And whatever that something was—someone had already started removing the evidence.