By Neel Anil Panicker
Holy smoke! One look at the woman seated opposite him and Inspector Sharma felt a stirring in his loins even as a slow bulge began to build up under his pants.
Thick lustrous auburn hair pulled straight back only further accentuated the air brushed smoothness of a high cheek boned porcelain china face that sat majestically atop an hour glass figure that looked as it had popped out of a glossy movie poster.
Looking at the smoking hot beauty for a moment he wondered if had made a mistake, wondered whether for once his famed powers of deduction had gone wrong, that she wasn’t the killer, and that she had absolutely nothing to do with the body that lay dead in the inner bedroom of this sprawling sea side bungalow in Lutyen’s Delhi___the lifeless bullet ridden body of the man the world knew as the ‘Diamond King of India.’
In a bid to clear the doubt that was plaguing his mind, Inspector Sharma decided to probe the woman one last time. “Could you please tell me Mrs Khurana where and what exactly were you doing between four and six today morning”?
‘I…we…I mean I was …’
That’s it!_the smoking gun. He had got the answer, the small iota of doubt that had nested in his brain, even it was for a nano second, had now completely vanished; this lady was all smoke and mirrors, she indeed was the killer.
Suave upper crust English bred women born into wealth who lived in 100 crore mansions the size of a football stadium and travelled the globe in their own private jets did not blabber and get tongue tied when facing questions from lowly keepers of the law.
©neelanilpanciker2018 #fiction #shortstory #sixsentencestories #inspectorsharmacrimeseries #285words