Compass Box Killer Read Online Free PDF

into her mission. She was going to whip the unsuspecting Inspector Virkar into submission and prove to her colleagues that her nickname, ‘Hunterwali’, was not unfounded.
    Hearing the click of the swivel door of the waiting room, she hastily shoved her compact into her bag. A podgy, oily-haired constable entered the room, a lascivious grin stamped on his face. He looked her up and down; Raashi let his eyes roam over her body, her tight skirt-and-blouse ensemble, until they met her steely gaze. ‘Zhala, bhau?’ she spat out in Marathi, asking him if he was done leching after her. The shocked constable immediately lowered his gaze with a sudden flush of shame.
    ‘Ma-madam, Virkar saheb is now done with his meeting,’ he stammered with embarrassment.
    Raashi sprang up without another word and exited through the swivel door. With the constable shuffling behind her, she briskly walked into the passageway that led to the main office area. Smoothening her skirt, Raashi inhaled sharply before walking through the doors.
    She instantly became the cynosure of all the appreciative eyes within the room where officers and other policemen milled about. She avoided all eye contact and marched towards the corner desk that she had earlier identified as Virkar’s by slipping a peon a ten-rupee note. As she walked across the large room, the man seated at the desk glanced up from his papers. She took in his clean-cut, unconventionally handsome, swarthy features with some amount of surprise. As he locked his gaze with hers, his dark, sleep-deprived eyes seemed to drill into her with an intensity that sent a ripple of excitement through her. She composed herself and, assuming an aggressive tone that was meant to put Virkar on the defensive, said, ‘I’m Raashi Hunerwal from the CrimeNews channel. I’ve been trying to meet you for two whole days.’ Virkar’s intense expression turned deadpan. He had been warned about the wily ‘Hunterwali’ and had secretly been awaiting her arrival. He couldn’t help noticing that she was more attractive in person than on TV.
    ‘I’ve been busy with an investigation,’ he shrugged, going back to his papers.
    Undeterred, Raashi broke into her trademark smouldering smile. ‘Yes, that’s what I wanted to speak to you about, Inspector
saheb
—your investigation.’ The exaggerated emphasis on ‘saheb’ was not lost on Virkar.
    ‘Sorry, madam, I have no comments on that,’ he said in a businesslike manner.
    Raashi calmly pulled up a chair from a nearby desk and sat down. Leaning forward, she enquired in a conspiratorial tone: ‘I heard you found another compass box?’ Virkar flinched. He was tired and extremely frustrated. He had just spent the last two days interrogating the vadapaowala and Nandu’s roommates, and had come up with nothing more than a vague description of the seemingly nondescript young man. The fingerprint experts had not found any prints on the two compass boxes, apart from Virkar’s. And, despite all his efforts to keep the details of the case a secret till he had had a breakthrough, someone had leaked information to the media. To make matters worse, Raashi’s flirtatious manner, her push-up bra, her soft but too-perfect-to-be-real curls, her artificially luminous eyes and her generously-applied lipstick were only irritating him further. He curbed his urge to question Raashi and get her to reveal her source as he was aware that any interest he showed would only confirm her suspicions. So he decided to use a technique that he had recently mastered after observing his boss at close quarters.
    He reached for his mobile phone inside his trouser pocket and pressed a key. A Bollywood item number began played loudly, indicating an incoming call. Fishing out the phone, Virkar smiled apologetically at Raashi, ‘It’s my boss,’ he said, excusing himself.
    ‘Yes sir…’ he said into the phone.
    Raashi broke into a sarcastic smile, ‘Nice try, Inspector Virkar.