The next morning, Akbar left for Gurgaon with a photo of Ashok in his mind and gum in his mouth. He didn't want to trouble the sub-inspector as it was boundary crossing and he had to take permission via the Haryana Police that he didn't have time for. It was all paperwork and this was just one of the leads that would make sense. Or perhaps not. He thought of talking to Ashok first and then back to Madhu, asking why she lied about her situation.
But she was unwell and perhaps unconscious.
The question that probed him was about the identity of a man who had been driving his car without any license for so long. How did he survive? Bribing? But even bribes couldn't go on for this long. There could be another valid explanation. He didn't take the car often, except for emergencies. What was such an emergency that day?
Akbar reached the woods and turned the car towards a small board that said: DOGRA MANOR. He drove through the muddy platform, finally reaching a circular clearing where there were a few rose bushes and tulips. There were iron grills and the entire bungalow was made of red bricks and arches. There was even the Ambassador car, standing idly in the corner.
He stopped the car and made his way to the porch, stepping on the two stairs to finally reach the door, which he knocked. There was silence and then it was opened, revealing an old, filthy man with half of his face concealed by hair.
"Hello," Akbar said, as he was in the civilian clothes. He didn't want Delhi Police tag to come over here. "I'm looking for Ashok Dogra."
The old man glared from down to up, before finally mumbling in a husky tone, "Who are you?"
"Inspector Akbar Khan," he smiled, struggling to be friendly over here.
"Hmmm, come in," the old man opened the door.
Akbar entered the lavish room with vintage architecture, walls colored turquoise and stairs that reminded him of something straight out of gothic novels. He went for the living room sofa and seated himself while the old man staggered to the kitchen and brought him a glass of water without him even asking about it.
He sipped it as the man sat down in front of him.
"Yes?"
"Ashok Dogra? Where is he?"
"He's outside meeting a friend."
"Without his car?"
"We have different cars," the man coughed.
Akbar noticed the man had wrinkles but burnt patches too. And his eyes, they were milky white in color.
"And who might you be?"
"I handle this place in his absence."
A caretaker?
"Indeed," Akbar gulped the water down and placed the glass on the table. "The reason why I'm here is because I would like to talk to your master about his car. Apparently it was last seen at a parking lot. When I checked for the car license plate, I got to know that it has been over eight years since the license has been renewed. You do realize he can't drive a car with no license? It's illegal."
The old man coughed again but this time he had a hand around his mouth. "Are you a careful man, inspector?"
"What do you mean?"
"You are Delhi Police. You have no jurisdiction here to demand such matters."
"But I'm Police."
"I would presume as much," the old man continued. "You are here without authorization, without even letting anyone know about it."
"What if I'm not?"
"You are a foolish man."
Akbar laughed. The old man had humor and intelligence for his age. "All right, I am here without authorization. That doesn't mean I can't come again with one. Here, I'm on an informal note. I don't want to misbehave and..."
"You have a wife? A family?"
"No." Akbar replied to the odd personal question.
"No one's going to miss you then, am I right?"
"Miss me? Why would they miss me?"
"When you die."
"Who'll kill me?"
"Me," the old man smiled.
Akbar's hand was slowly tracing over the corner of his shirt, hoping to pull out his gun, while he diverted the man through idle talk. "Why would you want to kill me?"
"Because you are disturbing my sir," he said. "He had nothing to do with anyone."
"Why would you say that with such confidence?"
"Because I killed that man," the old man laughed. "I burnt his body alive; made sure his cock would slowly wither in the flames. Serves that filthy animal just right."
"I see," Akbar could almost feel the tip of his pistol, "why did you do that?"
"He was hurting my master's life," the servant spoke with solemn severity, "and you don't need to try and pull the gun out, inspector. I had laced your water with rat kill." He pulled his sleeves up to see his watch. "Any moment now, you'll start to suffocate."
And that happened. His hand had begun to shake. Was it the psychological effect or really the effect of the poison? His stomach lurched and growled. He was profusely sweating and wanted to drink water.
"S-someone will f-f-find me," he choked.
"No. No one will."
And his eyes began to close slowly, with his ears unable to hear what else was being spoken about.