Crush - KarEena

Chapter 4

Karishma wore running shorts, a tank top, and athletic shoes. If she bumped into a nosy neighbour, she could always pretend to be a jogger who was looking for a place to rent. That might not go over well, but it was better than the truth: that she was doing her cop friend a favour by illegally breaking into a suspect's house to obtain information.

To make the disguise believable, she ran several laps around the city park a few blocks away from Haseena Malik's house. By the time she vaulted the fence that separated her backyard from the rear alley, she had worked up a plausible sweat.

From several houses down came the hum of a lawn mower. Otherwise, the neighbourhood was quiet. They'd picked this time of day for her to break in. It was too early for most people to be returning home from work and too hot for stay-at-homers to be doing outdoor chores or activities.

She went up her back steps and unzipped the fanny pack strapped to her waist. From it, she removed a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on, which she might have difficulty explaining to a nosy neighbour in the I'm-just-taking- a-look scenario. But better a neighbour than a judge with an indisputable fingerprint match. Next, she took her Master Card from the zippered pouch. In under three seconds, the back door was unlocked.

With Santosh's final warning echoing through her mind "If you get caught I never heard of you" she slipped inside.

Rarely was Karishma stunned into silence and left without a clever comeback. But last night, when Santosh had told her about Haseena Malik's recent court duty it was several moments before she found her words, and all she could manage was an ineloquent, "Huh."

Santosh had baited her and knew she had Karishma hooked.

Now inside the expert doctor's house, she paused to listen. They hadn't expected a security system. Santosh had checked city records for the required registration. No such registration was on file, and no electronic beep alerted Karishma now that a system had been breached.

All that came back to her was the hollow silence of an empty house. For almost a week Dr. Malik had been under police surveillance. They knew she lived alone, and Santosh had said you could set your clock by her schedule. She didn't return for the day until after making evening hospital rounds. According to her, there was rarely more than twenty minutes' variance in her ETA.

The back door had placed Karishma in the kitchen, which was compact and spotlessly clean. Only two items were in the sink: a coffee cup and the coffeemaker carafe. Each held an inch of soapy water.

In the drawer nearest the stove, cooking utensils were lined up like surgical instruments on a sterile tray. Among her knives was a filleting knife. It had a hilt made of some synthetic material that matched the others in the set.

Inside the bread box was half a loaf of whole wheat, tightly resealed and clamped. Every opened cereal box in the pantry had a tab inserted into the slot. The vegetables weren't alphabetized, but the neatness of the rows was almost that extreme.

The contents of the refrigerator indicated that she was a conscientious eater but she wasn't a fanatic weight watcher. There were two half-gallon cartons of ice cream in the freezer. Of course, the ice cream could have been for a guest.

She checked the drawer in the small built-in desk and found a laminated list of emergency telephone numbers, a ruled notepad with no doodles or notes, and several pens, all black. Nothing personal or significant.

Through a connecting door, she entered the living room. It could have been a catalogue layout. Cushions were plumped and evenly spaced along the back of the sofa. Magazines were in neat stacks, the edges lined up like a deck of cards. The TV's remote control was squared up with the corner of the end table.