THE ANDHERIA MOR MURDERS
By Neel Anil Panicker
Inspector Sharma went from one room to the other, all seven of them.
Broken glasses, half empty beer bottles, three packets of condoms, several plates of food, some holding pizza pieces , one full of cherry pie and the bare earth floor splattered with what looked very suspiciously like human blood.
The cop flared his nostrils as he entered the last of the rooms, the one that was at the far corner of the single story hall like house that overlooked an abandoned electric pump house located in the interiors of North-West Delhi, a place that was a village still untouched by the winds of globalisation despite being a arm’s throw away from ` metropolitan New Delhi___an anachronism if any there was.
There it was__all over___on the damp floor, on the plaster peeled off yellowing walls, a nauseating, putrid smell of burnt skin, of flesh having been boiled and allowed to vaporise, of…
And then he saw it___the bowl, a huge drum like receptacle, and as he stepped forward and peered into it, he let out a gasp.
It was filled to the brim with a cobra, its hood smashed to pulp, the belly opened and all the disgusting paraphernalia spilling all over the edges.
Without any further wasting of time, the cop rushed out of the building and once out in the open sunshine, he drew in a few sharp breath, and then texted Ahmed, his trusted side kick__’Come in two minutes, or else your goose is cooked’.
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Three Things Challenge, 31 August 2018
Today’s things are: cobra, goose, cherry pie