Prologue : (1)

Huge amounts of snow were falling continuously and surrounded the beautiful hill station of Manali. At times, silence was disturbed by the sound of snow under the sock’s sole which belonged to the person walking through the labyrinth of the night. It was icy and when breathing, big puffs of white mist were discerned in the air. The man was in his late forties and was well-built The man was bundled up in a large overcoat and Russian styled hat that obscured most of his face. He walked with determination on his face and narrow gaze that inspected every corner of the room.

This was ACP Rajesh Sharma, a man who is as sharp as a blade and extremely determined in getting the job done. While the outer environment was nature’s unequaled art on the canvas of Manali, his mind was a paradise of restive inflammations. He had been summoned to this town in rather queer circumstances, but this deftness weighed on him massively. He had been invited to this town under some phenomenally strange circumstances and the uncertain umbrella loomed large on him.

The invitation had reached him in an enigmatic form sent to his office in Shimla by electronic mail. It had only said, ‘Manali, now, meet now, lives are in danger’. There was no signatory at the end of the note as to who could be the sender. But there was something interesting in the message, which he could not leave unread, and, in this case, he read it. One night approaching the Vodka Diaries club, a club which was quite famous in the center of the town, there came a sense of danger.

The club was a remarkable phenomenon in this calm and quiet a holiday resort area which was known to be the favorite place for the elite and rulers where they could have fun and fight their sins late. Tonight it was very quiet, and its otherwise bright exterior had been turned off for the night.

Rajesh turned the brass handle cautiously, helped the door open and stepped in. This above description of the interior shows that the room was very dark, the only light that was coming was from the fireplace which only illuminated parts of the room.

The copper hue of the mahogany furniture and leather seats were complemented by worn down polishing giving the room a mystery old wealthy smell that could barely make out a hint of a liquor like smell. The club was still, with only one man drinking all alone at the bar. The man swiveled as Rajesh walked in/He had a weather-beaten face which mirrored a man of experience. I expected it to be some stranger, but it was Inspector Manish, who is also an old friend and the local policeman of Manali.

He had a serious look on his face and looked tired as though he had been working for long hours and rarely slept. “Rajesh,” Manish greeted him, his voice carrying a sort of relief. "It prompted me for you to be here too. “What is it, Manish?” Rajesh inquired as he joined him on the table. “That’s why I felt the message was quite mysterious.” Manish groaned pressing his hands against his temples. “It is terrible, Rajesh-we now have three murders connected to this club in the past week and the more we investigate, the feeling of a much larger picture persists.”

The first victim, which was identified as a young woman, was found in her apartment half dead with her throat cut. The second, a middle-aged businessman, was found lifeless in his hotel room, with a single bullet wound on the head. The third, a local artist, was found hanged on the tree at the outskirts of the town some days before the day of realization. Every death was painful, and calculated, and there was nothing left that could lead to the killer, save for an ornament: a small wooden doll left by the bodies.

–Sambit7294

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