Within Her Threads- A Murder Mystery

Chapter 3. She is dead

For more than hundred times, I had taken the tube from Stratford station but never did I ever noticed the man standing beside the newspaper boy selling waffles. Freshly baked- butterscotch, chocolate, honey flavoured waffles, crusty on the outside and warm, melting-in-the-mouth from inside; it was one of the best waffles I had had in my life. After eating waffles, we found ourselves getting a tub of steamed corn and had I not intervened, Shuchi'd have barged in the WH Smith store to buy something or the other. This was so Shuchi- exploring every shop, eating whatever seems delicious even if you're full. Her motto was- if you've gone out of house, then you must drink and dine outside. It was the very reason why my dad always tried his best to avoid weekend outings because for one whole day he wanted to enjoy homemade food, food cooked by my mother, but Shuchi who believed that mom should get break once in a week, always chose Sunday for outings.

Finally we made it to the train but there also she didn't keep to herself. She befriended a small pup and when it disembarked on the next station, she started playing with a toddler. A few of the passengers on the train smiled at us and a small girl offered a cookie from her box to Shuchi. Strange, it never happened to you smarty! my mind taunted. So true, I sat back frowning. When I take tube for office, my co-passengers keep their nose either in the newspaper or in case of late-for-work ladies, in their phones. I am not even noticed, let alone smiled upon. But on second thoughts, it isn't their fault- my sister has a sweet round face, genial nature and approachable vibe, with long slender legs that compliments her slim figure. I am more of an introvert. The one who hardly smiles at strangers.

I glanced at Jay, sitting opposite to us. He had retreated to sleeping. I think he suffers from motion sickness coz every time he takes bus or train, he starts snoozing. As my sister laughed and leaned on my left shoulder, her hair brushed on my neck. It was wet; strangely wet. My sister never liked wet hair. The first thing she did after taking bath is switching on her hair dryer. Then why today...

It was the first time since her arrival, I noticed her so closely. Her nose had become thin, appearing a bit squeezed; she was not wearing her usual perfume, she had one more piercing in her ear and the corner of her eyes, they seemed...dark and her hands were somewhat pale...white....Was that a gnash inside her palm? My hands on their own accord started moving to turn her hands over when she whirled towards me.

'What are you doing?' she asked.

'I am just...what's in your hands?'

'My hands...' She kept her palm shut. 'Use yours. You've got your own hands.'

'Very funny,' I said when she smiled at her own pun.

'I think I saw a cut.'

'Well-' she balled her fist and crossed her arms, '-I'm not going to show it, even if I have it.'

'Shuchi...'

'If you promise that you'll come out of your sulk zone. I'll show it to you.'

'I'm not promising anything.'

'Then I won't show you my pain.'

Curiosity was my vice and her words were my undoing. She knew that I was so bitten by the "curious bug" that I read the story of thriller movies before I watched them. Plus, if she's hurt, there was no way I'd sit still. Talking or not talking I'd pull the emergency brakes and get her to the nearest doctor.

'Fine. I'll behave for the day. Now show me your hand,' I said and pulled her hand.

There was no cut on it but it was unbelievably cold and her fingers had shrivelled up like an old prune. Why is she cold on this hot summer day? I wondered. I mean, yes, London does feel cold when you come from tropics of India but the temperature was around twenty-five degrees. Then why was her hand so cold and wrinkled as if she had been in water for a very long time? I looked up at her; she was looking at me with fixed eyes, there was something different in them, the longer I looked, the more hypnotic pull I felt. For a few seconds, I felt that it was just two of us- brother and sister- staring at each other in the whole train. I felt, she said something but I couldn't hear it.