Episode 4

Death at Midnight

Episode 4: A Web of Lies

Inspector Aryan Mehta stared at Mohan, his mind racing.

"Meera wasn’t just Karan’s mistress… she was his first wife."

That one revelation changed everything. Karan Malhotra hadn’t just been having an affair—he had been hiding a secret marriage.

Aryan leaned forward. "Start from the beginning, Mohan. Tell me everything."

The old butler took a deep breath. "It was more than fifteen years ago. Before Karan married Anjali, he was already married to Meera. She was young, beautiful, and deeply in love with him. But Karan… he was always ambitious. He wanted power, wealth, and status. And when he found out that Anjali came from a rich and influential family, he did the unthinkable—he abandoned Meera."

Aryan frowned. "Abandoned? He didn’t divorce her?"

Mohan shook his head. "No, sir. He simply… erased her from his life. He married Anjali and made sure that no one ever found out about Meera. She was left with nothing."

Aryan clenched his jaw. "And she wanted revenge."

"Yes," Mohan whispered. "She spent years waiting for the right moment. And then, when Karan started seeing her again—this time as his mistress—she saw her chance."

The Disappearing Widow

Aryan stood up. "Where is Meera now?"

Mohan shook his head. "I don’t know. She told me she would make Karan pay, but she never told me how."

Aryan turned to his assistant, Ramesh. "We need to find her. Now."

Ramesh nodded. "Sir, I already sent out a team to search her apartment, but—" He hesitated.

"But what?" Aryan pressed.

"She’s gone, sir. Vanished. Her home is empty, and the neighbors say they haven’t seen her since last night."

Aryan’s mind raced. Was Meera running because she was guilty? Or was she in danger too?

One thing was clear—she knew something.

A Clue in the Vents

Aryan turned back to the crime scene. The cyanide vial hidden in the air vent proved that the murder was carefully planned.

But there was still a missing piece.

How did Meera get access to the vents?

He called the Malhotra mansion’s maintenance staff for questioning. After an hour, a man named Suraj arrived—a middle-aged worker who had been handling the estate’s maintenance for the past five years.

"Who else has access to the air vents?" Aryan asked.

Suraj scratched his head. "No one, sir. Only me and my team."

"Has anyone tampered with them recently?"

Suraj hesitated. "Well… actually, there was some repair work done two days ago. One of the vents was damaged, and I was told to replace it."

Aryan’s eyes sharpened. "Who told you to do it?"

Suraj looked nervous. "Mohan, sir."

The butler’s head snapped up. "I… I was just following instructions! Karan himself told me to get it fixed."

Aryan felt the pieces clicking together.

Karan Malhotra had ordered the vents to be fixed.

And then, two days later, someone had used those same vents to kill him.

Was it a coincidence? Or had Karan suspected something before his death?

A Mysterious Phone Call

Just then, Aryan’s phone buzzed. An unknown number.

He answered. "Inspector Aryan Mehta."

A female voice whispered, "I know who killed Karan Malhotra."

Aryan stiffened. "Who is this?"

A pause. Then—

"I don’t have much time. Meet me at the old railway bridge at midnight. Come alone."

The call ended.

Aryan turned to Ramesh. "Trace that number."

Ramesh got to work, but after a minute, he looked up, frustrated. "Sir, it’s a burner phone. No way to track it."

Aryan exhaled. Whoever the caller was, they didn’t want to be found.

Could it be Meera? Or was it someone else?

There was only one way to find out.

He would go to the railway bridge.

The Midnight Meeting

At exactly 11:59 PM, Aryan stood under the old railway bridge on the outskirts of town. The air was thick with fog, the distant hoot of an owl breaking the silence.

Then, footsteps.

A shadow emerged from the darkness—a woman, draped in a black shawl, her face partially hidden.

Aryan’s hand hovered over his gun. "Who are you?"

The woman stepped closer, her voice trembling. "Inspector, you’re looking in the wrong place. Karan’s killer isn’t Meera."

Aryan’s eyes narrowed. "Then who is it?"

She hesitated, looking over her shoulder nervously. "It’s—"

A gunshot rang through the night.

The woman gasped, clutching her chest. Blood spread across her shawl.

Aryan rushed forward, catching her as she collapsed.

"Who did this?" he demanded.

She coughed, blood trickling from her lips. Then, in a whisper, she said the last words Aryan expected—

"The killer… is in the house."