Checkmate

Checkmate – A Game of Wits, Deception, and Survival. When every move counts, can Stella outmaneuver the unseen forces lurking in the shadows? Dive into this gripping thriller by Karatoa Bag!

Chapter 1

“Checkmate!” I proclaimed.
“What again!”, moaned my daughter Stella.
My husband Subroto came in the room and exclaimed, “Big deal! Winning a chess match with a 10-year-old girl.”
“Did you come here to tease me?”, I asked sarcastically.
“No, no, not at all. I came here to tell you that you have got a big offer from the biggest family of South India-
the Reddy family.”, he replied.
“Well! Let’s go then. I need a break. I deserve some suspense.”, I said enthusiastically.

We took a flight from USA to India. After an 18-hour flight we reached Mumbai and then we took another flight to Mangalore, Karnataka. The smell of India is very familiar to me for I was born and brought up here. My daughter Stella (her real name, rather Indian name, was Sakuntella but she calls herse lf Stella for short) who was born and brought up in USA was finding it difficult to adjust in India as the condition in India is different from USA. We reached the Reddy house at 9:00 o’clock. The house was very big with a huge kitchen and big corridors, decorated with ancient furniture. The doors were made of sandal wood and the furniture was made of teakwood. Designs of the furniture was ancient with blackish brown polish. We sat in the living room which had pictures of Rani Lakshmi Bai and other kings and queens but I was very interested in the picture of Gautama Buddha. Mr Reddy entered the room. He was an elderly man of excellent manners. He sat in an arm chair with a red fabric cover. Mr Reddy asked the care workers for three cups of tea.

“You are interested in portraits?”, I asked.
“Yes, very much but I have not been able to do any of the paintings.”, said Mr Reddy ruefully.
“I realized that the paintings are done by a right-handed person, however, you are left handed.”, I said.
“How did you…..?”
“You gave the notation to your servant with your left hand whereas your right hand was facing the direction of
the servant”, I remarked triumphantly.
“You have remarkable talent Miss…”.
“Mrs Kaberi Banerjee,” I said, “People call me KAB in USA.”
“I will do the same”, said Mr Reddy.
I smiled. “Now, let’s go straight in the case.”

“Yeah, so well, two weeks back I got this Buddha painting,” he said pointing to the Buddha painting. “My wife received the parcel. It had a note on it ‘Give me love and money or else …..’. I did not give much thought to it but then my wife was …. murdered ….. I was in my office….when ….I….I got the message….that she…she….was murdered by an ‘accident’, a terrible fire in my house, but I know it was not an accident. The next week I got another Buddha painting which was received by me. I am scared now ….. It had the same message as before,” Mr Reddy shuddered.

“Well, can I see the room where the murder took place?”, I enquired.

“Yes,” said Mr Reddy.
“Let’s go then,” I said.

The room where the murder occurred was completely ruined with dark patches everywhere. There was a folk song CD on the table and many other folk song DVDs on the book shelf. Through the ruins there was a damp somewhat at a 30-degree angle above the floor. I realized something.

“You were right, it is a murder. The walls were damp, unless it was soaked in kerosene, the fire would not have caught and spread so easily”, I said triumphantly.

“I was right about you KAB. You are right, that’s what I thought”, said Mr Reddy.

“What does the police say,” I asked.

“The case is solved according to them. The house was cleaned with kerosene so that’s how the fire caught and spread so easily. However, that day we used phenyl to clean the house and anyway my wife Bhanumati is not so careless. When I told them that, they said phenyl is also flammable and it is possible a bit of flame from an ‘Agrabati’ could have fallen and caught fire,” Mr Reddy explained.

“I will see to the case,” I said.
“I have faith on you,” said Mr Reddy.
“First I will meet with the police,” I said.

Chapter 2

In the police station, I saw that the police were least bothered in the case. I asked a police constable and he said, “The Reddy family is not worthy anymore. They are old fashioned now and not very rich. Their stocks have declined, especially after this problem. So none of us really care about what is happening there.”

It was not shocking to me that in India it is normal to care about those who are rich instead of those who were rich and maybe Reddys are rich even now but they are deteriorating. I questioned the chief inspector Kavita Chatterjee.

“It is amazing how these things happen. She (Mrs Reddy) raised me, however, she never really loved me. She raised me out of duty as I am her sister-in-law’s daughter but I married an Indian Bengali and changed my name. I do not know what grudges she had against me but she gave me a life, a title, and Mr Reddy loves me more than anything and even more than his sons Ramakrishna Reddy and Gopalaswami Reddy,” said Mrs Kavita Chatterjee.

“Why do you think this incident took place?”, I asked.

“I will tell you that but before that I need to tell you something else. My dad cheated on uncle Reddy. He sued my uncle and ran away with uncle’s money leaving me to my uncle and aunt. My mother went with him. I suspect my father could have done well if he was alive and did not face an accident. He must be fifty now. He is very handsome here is his picture,” said Mrs Chatterjee showing me the picture of a young man with black ruffled hair and brown eyes. In one hand he held a watch and a box of chalk in the other hand. “He was a school teacher,” Mrs Chatterjee said.

“Hmm…let me think,” I left the police station.
Subroto said, “It is a complicated case.”
“Yes,” I answered calmly, “Let’s get some tea from that store”, I said.
“I am confused,” said Stella.
We laughed and went back to our hotel.

Chapter 3

We got a call early morning. “Mr Reddy is dead!”, said Kavita.

We ran to the house. It was ruined. Mr Reddy’s body lay near the shoe cabinet. His right hand stretched towards the door and the left hand holding a puff. It was over.

“He was trying to open the door, but died of suffocation. This candle caused the fire. It caught the curtains and then the newly painted house caught fire,” said Mrs Kavita ruefully.

“But the fire was not caused by the candle,” said Stella, “then the candle would have fallen in the direction of the wind that is east, but it has fallen in the direction of west.” I was very proud that my daughter was following my footsteps.

“The direction might have changed due to the wind,” said Kavita thoughtfully.

“No, she is right that the candle is too heavy to be carried by the wind to a different direction. Moreover, the wind was not strong enough to blow the curtain to the candle. It was a murder, not an accident. It is very simple,” I said. I showed them the remains of a rope tied to the window grill. It was half burnt, in fact, almost fully burnt, just a thin string was left. “This proves a rope held the curtains. The rope was dipped in kerosene and fire from the candle caught it easily. The rope was tied beside the candle. As the wax burnt then the rope and finally the curtain and the entire house along with Mr Reddy,” I concluded.

The room was quiet for some time and then Mrs Chatterjee said, “I guess you are right, but who?”

“Who? That’s the question,” I said mysteriously. Confused and bewildered everyone left the room.

“I am feeling suspicious of the two sons. I mean they did not show up today. They could have easily taken the flight and escaped after murdering their father”, said Subroto.

“For the property, yes, else no”, I said. “One thing I was sure of that the murderer knew Mr Reddy was left handed”, I added.

“Hmm..”, said Subroto.

I did not tell them but something bothered me how did Mr Reddy let the fire catch him. Did he not shout or raise the alarm? The door was not locked until we came when the police made investigations. If I am not wrong then Mr Reddy was drugged and then the fire was set but yet the doctor says that the death was because of suffocation due to the entry of carbon dioxide. Then how? Suddenly I stopped and I looked behind. I had a sudden feeling. I muttered to Subroto “Move alongside”. I got my gun from my pocket and then ‘Bang bang’ two shots came from behind the tree. I pulled the trigger twice, but the culprit ran and jumped from the window.

“Who was it?”, Subroto asked.
“The murderer”, I replied. I was certainly sure who it was.

Chapter 4

The next morning two visitors came to my hotel room and one of them said, “Good morning! This is Gopalaswami Reddy. We are from Brazil. We heard about dad so we came for the property. You know we cannot help as we need money for Brazil. By the way, who is the murderer?”

“I am not sure yet. When did you come? Today?”, I asked. Ramakrishna replied, “We decided to visit dad as we needed money. But we found that he is dead at the correct moment and we will get his property.” I thought whether to slap the sons or not.

“Well we are going to listen to his will this afternoon. Come over to see that whether you get anything or not.”, I said coldly. “And I would like to question both of you right away”, I added slyly.

They agreed. The first thing I asked them, “When did you come today? Can you show me your flight tickets?” We came at sharp 5 am and here are our flight tickets”, Ramakrishna showing me his ticket. Ramakrishna, who was tall and fair, showed me his ticket while Gopalaswami showed his.

“Who informed you about your dad’s death?”, I asked.

“I was informed by our care workers Bhopali and Shona. It was tragic to them, however, it was very lucky for us”, Gopalaswami (tall and dark) showed me a ring he was given by his father while Ramakrishna answered my questions.

When the brothers left, Subroto asked me, “KAB, what do you think?”

I said calmly, “Let’s start the show.”

Chapter 5

At 3 o’clock we were ready to hear Reddy’s will. Everyone came, sat and started talking. Inspector Kavita was talking to the lawyer. When the lawyer was going to turn the recorder on, I noticed something. Yes, it was a …..

I said, rather shouted, “move back”.

Every one moved back, shocked and bewildered and extremely scared. Two rays met each other at right angles and BOOM! It was a timed device to kill the two last Reddys.

“I am now going to announce how the murder was done”, I addressed the silent audience. “So we think that the kerosene dipped rope caught fire to the curtains. Well it did but why did Mr Reddy let the fire to catch him when he could have run away, but he chose to stay back. The truth is that he was killed and placed in the position we saw him. Then the trick of the candle was played. The killer escaped from the window using a kerosene dipped rope and entered from the same way too and later burned the rope so that it would not have
left any signs. But I found the ashes”, I said showing some ashes I had in a sealed packet, “and also found out the entrance and exit route of the killer.”

“Who is the killer?”, asked Kavita.

“The one who is trained to do all of that, the one who is good with the guns, who had access to carbon dioxide cylinders to show that it was the suffocation that killed Mr Reddy. In other words, female Inspector Kavita Chatterjee or should I say Nalli?”, I replied. Everyone was quiet for some time.

Then Nalli said, “Very funny to joke at such as moment”.

“Well it is not a joke. The impression of the cut on your thumb finger that came on the fog of this window,” I said showing a picture to the silent audience.

“But why?”, asked Ramakrishna.

“That is the answer”, I said pointing to the Buddha painting. “See behind it. From the first day I saw that the painting was tilted towards the left. There were old letters behind it. I saw a stamp sticking out. It was a Victoria stamp consists of old letters written by Mr Nagarsen Reddy to Mr Reddy. Nagarsen Reddy is the father of Nalli. According to the theory, Nagarsen Reddy was betrayed by Mr Reddy,” I added.

“Yes, yes, I killed him.” Mourned Nalli. “My father had given uncle Reddy, or the monster who killed my parents, $20,00,000 USD as my father’s real name was Nasiruddin Reddy.”

Everyone including me gasped. Nasiruddin was the richest man in South India for a long time till he died in a fire accident.

“Wait everything fits now. The idea of the murder came from the previous murder.”, I concluded.

“My father was accused of the betrayal whereas it was the opposite. My uncle took the money and all the property of my father. My father was innocent enough to trust the power of attorney to Mr Reddy and he suffered and later Mr Reddy killed my father in the same way I killed him and his wife. I destroyed his business and bankrupted him and I am very happy. And the line “give me love and money or else…” was spoken by my uncle to my father and my revenge is taken”, Nalli completed happily.

The police took her away. Mr Reddy’s case was solved and Nalli was hanged.

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And with that ends the first ever adventure of KAB; first mystery solved by KAB. Where checkmate means that people in this story are part of a chess game.