The Real Killer

"Passengers, your attention, please. Flight number 6E 5519 to Mumbai scheduled at 1:15 pm has been delayed due to bad weather. We regret your inconvenience." Mr. Ashish Awasthi sighed and nodded his head in irritation. He came out of the waiting lounge and started searching for a place in one of the cafes near his departure gate. Finally, he succeeded in finding a corner, dragged his suitcase to the table, ordered a coffee, and settled.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here? All the tables are occupied." Ashish looked at the gentlemen and examined him from head to toe. "Did I see him somewhere?" He said to himself. Then a noise from some other table broke into his thoughts and he came back to the present. The man was waiting for his answer. "Yeah, sure!" He said in an inaudible voice. "Thank you so much." The man replied and sat down.

The man took out some papers and started scribbling something. His pen though was not in a mood to obey. "Give it to me." Ashish took out the refill, blew at the end, and scribbled again at the corner of the paper. It was working smoothly this time.

"Aah! Experience speaks. Thanks, Mr. Awasthi." Ashish got nervous. "How do you know my name?"

"Well, 90% of people write their own name while trying a pen!" He winked.

"Oh! Hahaha. Nice presence of mind I must say." Ashish gave a half-hearted laugh and unfolded his newspaper.

"Mr. Awasthi, your cappuccino with whipped cream and two cubes of sugar and your oats cookies." The waiter spilled everything he had mugged up and placed the tray on the table. "Thank you." Replied Ashish.

"Sir!" The waiter stood with a blushed face. "What?" Ashish asked.

"Are you the author 'Ashish Awasthi'? The author of the famous novel A Killer So Perfect"

A sense of pride and happiness squirted across Ashish's face. He beamed with vanity. "Yes, you got it right." Meanwhile, the other man looked at both the faces and listened to the conversation with complete concentration.

"Can I get an autograph, please? I loved the novel. Never thought, murder mystery can get so interesting. I am a huge fan of Agatha Christie but you definitely left her stories behind." The waiter said excitedly while handing a tissue and a pen.

"Ohh no no, the comparison is too much. Thanks, much for reading and loving my novel." Ashish signed and the waiter left.

The man was still staring at him and Ashish finally caught him watching and smiled.

"So Mr. Awasthi you are the infamous and famous crime genre author?" The man started.

"Oh, am I infamous as well?" Ashish said playfully while sipping from his coffee.

"People say that it's your story. You had committed that." The man replied.

"Yes, some of them say so." Ashish said, "But I have left it to them. Let the readers decide what they want to believe. I am happy that people have started believing in perfect murders and are reading my words."

"Sorry to differ, but no murder is perfect. Murderers can never be perfectionists." The man said and got back to his papers.

"Have you read my book? How else can you be so confident?" Asked Ashish.

"That's my theory. And I haven't read your novel. I'm sorry!" He replied.

The commotion at the airport got louder. Due to bad weather, almost all the flights got delayed.

"Where are you traveling? I mean when's your flight? Mine got delayed by two hours I guess!" Ashish asked, thinking of something.

"I am traveling to Hyderabad. The flight is scheduled at 4, which means I still have an hour or so." He replied.

"Perfect. Let's do one thing then. I will read my novel to you. In short. I will try to make it as short as I can. And then you can decide if the killer is a perfectionist or not. And what you would have written?" Said Ashish and took out the book from his duffle bag.

The man took a deep breath. He looked at Ashish, thought for a second more and agreed.

"Okay, so here we go! My story is in first person and I will be narrating it in the same way." Ashish cleared his throat and started reading, "Businessmen are self-made people. Mostly. And so was I. I built everything from scratch. Fame, money, mansion, a business empire, and whatnot. And I got a beautiful wife as well. Her name is Tina. But maintaining this fame and money isn't easy. You have to sacrifice a lot of things. I had to sacrifice my time for my wife and we used to fight every single day. One day, she broke into tears.

'Tina, why don't you understand? How are you going to show off your lavish lifestyle if I stop working? I understand you need a break from your monotony. Why don't you go out shopping with your best friend, Amy? She returned permanently to Delhi, I heard somewhere.' Tina looked at me for some time and then said just one word 'fine'. The day ended just like that.

But next evening when I returned from work, I saw Tina in a full new aura. 'You are looking different.' I commented. 'Thanks.' She replied. 'So what's new?' I asked. 'I got a piano teacher for myself. Stephen. Amy had introduced us.' 'Oh! I see.' I felt uncomfortable. No answer to my doubts though.

Days went by and she too had built her own zone like me. But one day, things changed. I heard some giggles coming from our study. I tip-toed to the door and opened it. Both were too startled to see me there. As if I had intruded on someone's privacy. I saw Stephen for the first time. We shook hands and he left. The seeds of doubt already started to form plants and I kept waiting to grow them into trees. I was always seeking opportunities to cease her phone and check it. And I succeeded one day when she was not around and her phone was lying on the bedside table. I tried unlocking it when I saw 30 missed calls. I dialed the number from my phone. The phone rang and a man picked up from the other side. I asked, 'Who's this?' 'It's Stephen, who's speaking?' My anger knew no bounds. But I chose not to say anything to my wife. I asked my driver to keep a watch and inform me about her whereabouts.

So one day, I got a call. 'Sir, I dropped Tina madam with Stephen at the DLF mall.' I took the address and immediately reached that cafe. I saw Stephen and Tina sitting together, laughing and giggling. I got blind. I could have smashed Stephen's head right over there. I was fiddling with the phone in my hand when a feminine voice rang in my ears. 'Mr. Awasthi, so nice to see you here. This is my husband, Peter Fernandes.' It was Amy with her husband. Peter was a tall and fair-looking man. He owns some paper mill as far as I remembered. It was the second time I met the couple. I saw them at my wedding before that. 'Hello!' I replied and tried faking a smile. The husband and wife said something and left. I didn't listen to a word. My mind and eyes were glued to my wife there who was cheating on me with some man who was not even his age.

I thought of confronting her. But I couldn't. I didn't know how to do it. My nights went sleepless and my days were some sort of illusion. Only one thing in my voids- hatred, and vengeance. But time had even more in its box to add to my sorrowed life. I got a call from a Hotel in Mussourie while I was working in my office. 'Am I speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Stephen? Well, we were wondering if we could ask for feedback. How was your stay last week here and did you like our ambiance? Would you mind give a rating on our website?' I felt the floor beneath me slipping away. 'Hello?' The caller was waiting for a reply but I threw my phone away. Yes, Tina went somewhere last week. But she told me she was going to visit her mom. Oh yes, no wife would tell her husband that she's going on a vacation with her lover. Still, to be reasonable, I sent one of my men to check the register of that hotel. My man bribed the manager and brought the records. That was enough motivation. The register read, 'Mr. and Mrs. Stephen'.

My mind started plotting a plan. All I wanted was justice and revenge. I arranged a party. A cruise party in Goa only for men. I Invited a few of my colleagues and friends. And I invited Stephen. I asked him if he could play his piano and that would be a sort of special performance. He agreed.

The party night came. Things went as I had planned. After the piano performance, I made sure everyone was madly drunk, including Stephen. He did drink. A way too much. I went to him. 'Stephen, will you come with me?'

'Whhat a party, thanks, dude.' He stuttered, not in his senses.

'Yeah! Now come with me.' I took him by his arm and went to the deck.

'Why you did this? With my wife? Why you both cheated on me?' I went breathless. He tried his best to get back his soberness. 'No sir, you are mistaken. With Tina, what are you saying?'

'Don't you fool me! I know everything. I know about the cafes and the vacation and everything.' I screamed.

'No sir, none of is true. I.... exshplain.' Stephen was still stuttering, but he understood everything I had said. But I was in a hangover despite being completely sober.

'Sir, I saying.... that cafe...' Before he could have said anything, I took out the knife from my pocket and stabbed him hard. And again."

Ashish was in sweat from head to toe. He was going breathless. As if it was him who was killed. Or rather who killed. The man didn't let his eyes drift from Ashish. He had a wicked smile on his face. He asked, 'And you threw him in the sea? Didn't you? Ashish looked up. "I mean the killer?" The man corrected himself.

"Not just yet!" Ashish continued, "If I had thrown him like that, his corpse would have started floating on the surface after a few hours or days. I took the fire extinguisher cylinders since they are heavy. Found a net, wrapped him with the cylinders, and then threw him. There was chaos the next morning, of course, seeing all the blood. Police came, searched, and investigated for a few days. And closed the file after few months since no one remembered anything due to the alcohol effect and there were no CCTV cameras."

Ashish took a deep breath. As if he completed a super marathon. He kept the book on the table and asked the man, "So, wasn't it perfect?"

"Ummm, no!" The man said.

"Then what makes a killer perfect?" replied Ashish with frustration this time.

"Well, let's take it the other way round. Let's answer this, 'Who is the Real killer?" The man started.

"The real killer?" Ashish took to surprise.

"It's going to be my story, so I can do anything to it, right?"

Ashish nodded in a yes and the man continued, "So let's pick it from the piano lessons. One day, Peter happened to return home early. He was about to call Amy when he heard high-pitched giggles coming from the gallery. Peter tip-toed and hid behind the curtains. He heard Stephen and Amy talking, 'You know what, you won't believe this!' It was Stephen saying, 'Tina's husband doubts her so much. He thinks me and Tina are having an affair. What a fool he would be if he comes to know that it's us who are together.' Peter's mind went blank. He froze. Then Amy's voice emerged, 'Please, I don't want anybody to know about us. Let him doubt his wife. What would I do without you if he learns the truth? Forget about Tina and her husband, Peter's going to kill you first and then me!' Well yes, Amy was right. Peter was going to kill Stephen."

"Amy and Stephen being together? And Peter be the mastermind?" Ashish was getting increasingly uncomfortable.

"Why not? It's my version and I can do anything!" The man replied "So, Peter already knew Tina's husband doubted Tina. So he only had to add some petrol to the fire.

The first step. Peter gave 30 missed calls on Tina's cell phone. He immediately knew when an unknown number flashed on his screen, so he confidently replied that it's Stephen when Tina's husband asked who's number was that.

Second step. He came to know that Tina's husband asked his driver to keep an eye on Tina. So, Peter deliberately planned an afternoon coffee treat with his wife and invited Stephen and Tina there. He made sure it looked like a sudden plan. He then called Tina's husband and said that Tina was with Stephen in a cafe. Tina's husband didn't even bother to notice that it was not his driver's number. It was some unknown private number. Peter anticipated how much time Tina's husband would take to reach the cafe. Peter came out with Amy as soon as he arrived so that the picture only had Stephen and Tina alone.

And now the final step. Peter went on a short trip to Mussourie with Amy. He didn't book a hotel in advance. Or else he had to give his own number. So he booked a room after he reached Mussourie with the name Mr. and Mrs. Stephen and wrote Tina and Tina's husband's number. Amy wasn't around and was least interested in whatever Peter was doing. It's not that difficult to arrange someone's numbers these days especially when you got sources, you know! And when the hotel people rang Mr. Stephen, it straightaway went on Tina's husband's phone.

And the rest, as you had narrated, Mr. Awasthi, the baton of the murder race was now passed on to Tina's husband. Peter didn't care if he did it with so much perfection or not. Peter got his justice. The killer getting perfect and gaining perfectionism was simply icing on the top. So how's that?"

Ashish was speechless. He didn't know what more to say. He kept staring at the man for how long he didn't remember. He tried saying something but he had lost his voice.

And then an announcement echoed, "Passengers for Delhi-Hyderabad Indigo flight 6E 635, please proceed to gate number 6 for boarding."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Awasthi! Thanks for entertaining me with your superb story of the perfect killer. Hope you identify the 'Real Killer' as well."

The man got up and left.

'The REAL killer? I was not the real killer?" Ashish murmured to himself. He started shivering. His mind was blank and his eyes got stuck on the cover of his book.

Meanwhile, he heard his name being called. "Mr. Ashish Awasthi, this is a final call for you. Please proceed to gate number 8 for boarding."

He didn't even realize when was the first announcement made. He asked the waiter for the bill. The waiter appeared with a frown on his forehead. "What happened?" Ashish asked.

"Your bill has been already paid, sir!" The waiter replied.

"What? Who paid for me?" Ashish asked with a pale face.

"Mr. Peter Fernandes" The waiter replied.

"Come again? Peter Fernandes? Where's he?" Ashish could feel his heart skipping beats.

"Yes, Peter Fernandes. The man who was sitting with you. Right here, on your table." The waiter replied, with a hint of surprise.

"Sir, Mr. Awasthi?" The waiter jerked Ashish.

Ashish looked at the waiter with a blank expression.

"They are calling your name I guess. And you left your novel on the table." The waiter handed the book and went back to work.

There couldn't have been a revelation bigger than this. Ashish looked at his novel and tossed it in the bin.

He killed a man for nothing. He found the real killer. And he lost his wife and his pride in being a perfect killer. Oh yes, Mr. Ashish missed his flight as well....