The Investigation Begins

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"Namaste, Buaji," greeted Khushi as she stepped into the small but cozy single-story home. Taking a deep breath, she commented, "That smells delicious."

"Namaste," answered the lively older lady from the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready, hurry and go change."

Khushi grinned before complying. She had really lucked out in terms of living conditions. Initially, she'd planned on living in a hostel. But one of the professors in her law school in Mumbai knew of a mechanic in Delhi. He'd contacted the mechanic, who verily happily informed the professor of a family in his very neighborhood that were interested in finding a paying guest.

So for half the price of a hostel room, Khushi was able to rent a warm, safe, dry room and was fed twice a day to boot. On top of that, Buaji, despite being brash, had a way of taking care of Khushi that reminded her of days when Garima was still alive. Then there was Payal, Buaji's niece that lived with her.

Khushi hadn't had many friends in life, but Payal had fast become one. The two had much in common. Like Khushi, Payal was an orphan, having lost her mother at birth and her father four years prior to a heart attack. Both the young women were self-made, working to pay for their educations and focusing on their careers afterwards.

Currently, Payal worked as a designer for a small boutique in the bustling marketplace. However, given her talent and innovative designs, Khushi was sure that demand for her work would grow higher.

Dinner, as usual, was a boisterous affair. The three ladies conversed loudly over the clatter of dishes, discussing the events of their day, politics and neighborhood gossip. Afterwards, Khushi and Payal helped Buaji clean the kitchen and then they took a short walk before retiring to their respective bedrooms.

Khushi treasured these few hours of the day the most; it was the closest thing to family time that she'd ever had. While Garima had done her best to care for Khushi and provide her with all the necessities of life, the grieving woman could give her little in terms of emotional stability or happiness. Khushi had spent most of her childhood watching Garima blaming herself for the events of the past, constantly trying to atone for sins that she didn't have the courage to ask forgiveness for.

The environment of Buaji's house was a welcome change.

Usually, at this time, Khushi would either read something or go through another case file. Today, she took out the copies of the marriage certificates. Pulling out her laptop, she started by googling Ajay Varma and Ramya Malhotra. Of all the couples, they'd been married first, about six years ago. After a quarter of an hour of searching, she gave up on trying to find anything useful on the man. Most of the Ajay Varmas that she found did not appear to be married, and if they were, then not to a Ramya Malhotra. She was a little bit more lucky with Ramya Malhotra, who had a public facebook account. On it, she proudly proclaimed her relationship status as married and had written a rather nauseating post describing her love to her darling Ajay. Strangely, there were no pictures of the husband whose praises she was singing.

Digging through the girl's facebook, Khushi saw that she'd come from a well-to-do middle class family from Kolkata. She seemed rather happy, and her most recent post announced her pregnancy of three months. Khushi was shocked to see that had been a little over five years ago. Why hadn't she updated since then?

Khushi got her answer when she checked the comments Ramya received on the post--messages from friends and family, expressing grief for the loss of Ramya and her unborn child. There was no indication of what was the cause of death. So Khushi logged onto an archive of nationwide newspapers that she had access to through her law school. Honing in on Kolkata around the time when she estimated Ramya's death to be, Khushi discovered several things: Ramya had been murdered--the newspaper stated that it was a robbery gone wrong. Her house had been broken into and Ramya had been both beaten over the head and stabbed multiple times. Given the excessive violence, Khushi felt it sounded more like a crime of passion, committed by someone who personally knew the victim.

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