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





23 J Hardy Carroll 11 February 2018

By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma eyed the corridor from behind the staircase walls.

The narrow ill lit pathway ended up in a single door that he was told led to a double room.

Opposite it were three other rooms__single, two on the left and one on the right.

‘Sir, they checked in last night_three men, and a woman,’ was all the informer had to offer.

There could be trouble, Sharma surmised. His fingers tightened on the triggers of the Glock semi automatic pistol.

He turned around and jabbed a finger at the bell boy.

It was the signal that the latter awaited.

He tiptoed past Sharma and stepped into the corridor, his right hand holding on to a tray with a tea pot and two cups.

From behind Sharma watched with baited breath.

It was the then that the unforeseen happened; the lights went off, the entire hotel plunged into darkness.

What happened after this is shrouded in mystery.

Which of the doors opened first, who fired the first shot, who escaped and how? Everything was a matter of conjecture.

A day later Inspector Sharma was suspended and charged for the cold blooded murder of three innocent civilians including a baby_six months old.

©neelanilpanicker2018 #sundayphotofiction #shortstory #200words

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 11th 2018


[Enter Post Title Here]





By Neel Anil Panicker

Inspector Sharma lifted his head from the sheaf of papers at his desk and asked, “How long have been working with me?’

Constable Pandey sprang to attention and pulling his stomach in, squirmed. “Nine months, Sir.”
‘Nine months, eight days, seventeen hours, 42 minutes and some fleeting seconds since you’ve been deputed to assist me here at the Crime Branch Special Unit, right?’

“Yes…yes, Sir”.

“Well, it’s time you prove yourself. Tell me about this ‘Delhi Psycho Killer.’

Pandey eyes lit brighter than a 100 watt bulb.

“Sir, it’s simple. There have been seven killings in the past seven years. All the killings have happened in parks during winters, between mid-November to late December, early mornings, between 5 and 6. The murdered were all women, above 60, either widowed or divorced.”

‘Hmm…impressive, but what does this imply, Pandey?’

“Sir, looks like the killer loves the winters.”

‘Or, maybe that he hates the winters but hunts for victims who love them’.


Weekend Writing Prompt #41 – Weather

Word Prompt




By Neel Anil Panicker

‘Sir, it’s suicide. This guy, name’s Thomas, around sixtyish moonlighted at the hotel__waited tables, occasionally cooked. Seems his fish curry was a favourite among the backpackers. Yesterday, they fished him out of the sea. The manager says he was sprawled on the upper deck floor after shutdown. Had a bottle beside him.”

“You’ve haven’t dug enough, Pandey”.

‘I’m sorry Sir, I don’t get you’.

“You won’t, you buffoon. This guy drinks but not on a Monday, the day he died. Means somebody forced liquor down his throat and hurled him into the waters. Got to find out who and why.”





Image by Bikurgurl

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Sir, I’ve checked. There’s only one entrance to the building. Spoke to the lone watchman. Name’s Stephen. Whisky Stephen, they call him around. Says didn’t see no one else. Says she came in around noon Sunday. Was alone, he affirms.”

Inspector Sharma eyed his aide and replied.

‘He must be drunk. Did you scour the CCTVs. Any footage?’

“No luck. Only one was functional. Got this one, a long shot. Came from the tower behind it. Have a look, Sir”.

‘Hmm…interesting. Pandey, see those shadows. A man’s. Now look at her face. She seems scared. It’s no suicide, for sure’.

(c)neelanilpanicker2018 #fiction #shortstory #100wordwednesday

100 Word Wednesday: Week 57

100 Word Wednesday: Week 57




By Neel Anil Panicker

“It smelled? Well, it smelled of burnt plasticky, with overtones of sweet gunpowdery, charring fleshery, and concrete dustery.”

Inspector Sharma looked bemusedly at his colleague and shook his head.

When will these trainee newbies forego their English bred tongue and speak the language of the plebs, he wondered.

‘Yadav, I’m sure you must have taken pictures of the spot. Let me have a look at them.”

Moments later, the two men were peering into a pack of black and white photographs.”

“Sir, I spoke to the tribals. They say it’s always like this__i mean the air’s full of toxic smell. Gun shots, they say. Say it’s the Naxals undergoing weapon training, the forests serving as a natural shooting range”.

‘Ssshhhh…have  a look at this.’

Sharma stabbed his forefinger at a grainy image.

‘See that white patch sticking out of the pot hole. That’s sulphur. It proves an IED blast killed the Home Minister. Now all we have to figure out is who killed him. And that’s a lesson I shall impart you post lunch, ok’.

©neelanilpanicker2018 #flashfictionforaspiringwriters #fiction #shortstory #175words

FFfAW Challenge-Week of February 6, 2018





22 Dawn Miller February 4th 2018

By Neel Anil Panicker

“Have you heard of serial killers,”?

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’

Inspector Sharma repeated his question.

The two were at a forest clearing deep inside the Yerrahahalli forests, some twenty miles from civilization.

Assistant Chief Conservatorof Forests Rajat Pandit squinted his eyes as the harsh June sun bore down at his face and looked across at his childhood mate. A mynah chirped above their heads. Somewhere around, a gang of monkeys gibbered.

“Look Sharma, besides being my best friend, you’re also a damn good cop. But I te/ll you, you’re grossly mistaken here. This is no serial killer’s work.”

“What the body count so far”.

‘A what’?

“I asked how many people have disappeared in the past four months.”

‘Thirteen including the two that went missing since yesterday.

Inspector Sharma looked at the half filled wheel barrow and the timber logs around it. Something on the ground below held his attention. He bent down and inspected the patch of freshly trampled earth. It was then that he found it__the footprints, clear ones, its toes dug deep into the still damp earth.

Getting up, he said calmly, “It’s a serial killer. A man eating serial killer at that, Ish.”


22 Dawn Miller February 4th 2018

© Dawn Miller