The Case of the Love Commandos Read Free Page A

since, Puri had questioned everyone who’d had access to the house. He’d also put every known fence or dealer of stolen gemstones in north India “under the scanner” in case one of them had been passed the consignment. But to no avail.
    “Only one case has slipped through my fingers in my long and illustrious career and that through no fault of my own,” Puri reminded his executive secretary, Elizabeth Rani, as he sat in his office at Khan Market that Saturday morning.
    The Jain Jewelry Heist file lay on the desk in front of him. The words STATUS: CASE SUCCESSFULLY CONCLUDED AND CLOSED, which he’d hoped to stamp in bold definitive letters across the front some days ago, were conspicuous by their absence.
    “Even the most rare of diamonds has flaws,” he added. “Yet when it comes to Vish Puri’s performance, ’til date you will not find a single one.”
    Elizabeth Rani had brought him a fresh cup of masala chai only to find the last one still lying untouched on his desk along with his favorite coconut biscuits. This was unprecedented. Usually the refreshments lasted only minutes. Things must be bad, she reflected.
    “I’m sure it will only be a question of time before you locate the jewels,” she said, as supportive as ever. “It has only been a few weeks after all. No one evades sir forever.”
    “Most true, Madam Rani, most true. Even Jagga, one of the most notorious dacoits to terrorize India ’til date, did not escape the net.”
    Puri’s eyes wandered listlessly around his office, lingering on the portrait of his late father, Om Chander Puri, who’d served with the Delhi police. Next to him hung a likeness of the patron saint of private investigators, a man synonymous with guile and cunning—the political genius Chanakya.
    The sounds of flapping feathers and cooing came from outside the office window as a pigeon landed on top of the air conditioner unit. The detective’s attention was drawn to the darkening sky beyond. A squall was brewing. It perfectly reflected his mood.
    “Madam Rani, there is no point ignoring the elephant in the room: the case has gone for a toss,” he said. “I am clueless in every way and Mr. Rajesh of First National Hindustan Insurance Corporation Incorporated is getting worried—and justifiably so. What all I should tell him, I don’t know.”
    “You visited the house again this morning, sir?”
    “I have come directly from there, only. I was doing follow-up interviews of the employees. As you are very much aware, there has not been one shred of doubt in my mind from the start that an inside man or inside female was there. Some individual guided them—that much is certain.”
    “Perhaps one of the Jain family, sir?”
    Puri gave an exasperated sigh. “Naturally, Madam Rani, I considered that as a possibility some days back. But I am satisfied none of them were party to the crime.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    She eyed the clock. It was almost six. Sir was due to leave for the railway station in fifteen minutes. She was growing concerned that he was stalling.
    “Should I call the driver?” she asked.
    Puri didn’t seem to register her question. His eyes remained fixed on the Jain Jewelry Heist file.
    “Who all provided the gang with the insider information? That is the question,” he said, half to himself.
    “Sir, your car?” prompted Elizabeth Rani.
    Puri looked up, puzzled.
    “Ma’am must have reached the station by now,” she said.
    By “ma’am,” she meant his wife, Rumpi.
    The detective responded with a half shrug like a child who didn’t want to take his medicine. “Really I don’t see how I can go out of station. What with this case pending and all, it is really impossible. Should Mr. Rajesh of First National Hindustan Insurance Corporation Incorporated come to know, my reputation would lie in tatters,” he said.
    Elizabeth Rani had feared as much. Given his workaholic nature, Puri was always loath to take offs. In the twenty-odd years she’d