Monday, December 08, 2008

The wrong key



It had been a long and tiring night. All of them were. Mad car chases, endless alleys, pools of blood and gun fights. Life of a homicide detective was far less glamorous than on the reel.

He almost fell off as he scampered out of his new SUV. He leaned against the wall for support as he slithered up the steps. He had come across many a tough opponent during his crime fighting days. But this one was beyond anything he had faced before. He, or maybe she, was as good as he himself was.

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The hour hand had done three full circles since she sneaked into his flat. She removed the magazine from her Walther and inserted it back again. For the umpteenth time. He wasn’t on her agenda until last week. The nosey bastard, she thought. He had asked for it.

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Half way up the stairs, he was still struggling with the facts of the case. Seven random people, all decapitated, in a span of just two weeks. It was a week before the first of the bodies was reported. The killings had begun much earlier. The only thing linking the murders was the severed head. On his way out, he had asked his secretary to pull out anything related, from over the last three decades. The serial killer theory was as good as established. It was too early in the day even for copycats.

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She had heard the car screech to a halt in the parking lot. Almost ten minutes had passed after she caught a glimpse of him crawl out his car and head for the stairs. Still there was no sign of him.

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The lock would just not budge. He removed the key from the keyhole and looked at it closely. Darn, the wrong key. He had left his bunch in his car. He smiled at his stupidity and cursed the hectic day. He began his hesitant crawl down the stairs, back to the parking lot.

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Was there someone at the door? She strained her ears. Yes. The wait was over. It was time. The knob turned. She got up and fired thrice at the figure. It slumped to ground with a muffled groan. Job done. She hopped over the heap on the floor as she headed for the stairs.

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Down in the parking lot, a pretty looking girl in tight fitting leather clothes hurried past him, almost knocking herself down. By the time he turned to demand an apology, she had disappeared. “Bitch,” he swore. He shook his head in frustration as he knelt down. The door of his new SUV just wouldn’t yield.

4 comments:

SrideviR said...

Scanning through the writing did not help. I had to re-read. It was worth it. Good one.

I am in the habit of misplacing keys...maybe it coulds save me too some day.

My reading frequency being irregular...missed the other posts...but caught up with everything today. Intriguing pattern of thoughts.

phoenikhs said...

@ Sridevi

Now that you've had to re-read, I completely trash the idea of reposting the piece without the demarcations. :)

phoenikhs said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
cris said...

Nickelodeon you have been tagged!