A/N: This is the first chapter of the new novel I’m writing right now.
“I killed my wife,” the voice at the other end of the phone might have been discussing the weather, so matter-of-fact and emotionless was it. On second thoughts, Aftab felt that a discussion of the weather might have been more animated.
“Come again?” Said he, wondering if he heard right. It was not every day that someone called up the city police commissioner and confessed to a murder.
“You heard me the first time,” replied the voice. “However I shall tell you once more. I killed my wife. I am not going to tell you why, that is your job to find out.”
A chill went down Aftab’s spine.
“My job?” Aftab sent a message from his cell phone to trace the call to his landline.
“You see,” said the man, still talking calmly and impersonally. “I am talking from beside her body. She’s been dead for an hour now. If you find her and find out why I killed her, I shall surrender to you.”
“Find her?” Aftab’s eyes were on the watch. The trace had been activated. But the man needed to keep talking for at least sixty seconds more.
“Find her body and my motive and you shall find me! I am in your city itself!” The line disconnected.
“Damn!” Aftab swore. The trace could not be completed. He wondered if it was a crank call. But he had a gut feeling the call was genuine.
He picked up his cell, and dialled the control room number. What if they got lucky?
“We could not complete the trace,” Vivek sounded apologetic. “What was it, sir?”
“Some maniac who claimed he’s killed his wife. Said he’d surrender if we could find her body and his motive!”
Vivek whistled softly. “You mean we have a killer, but no body!”
“We don’t have anything,” said Aftab. “Other than a voice over the phone.”
“Crank call, sir?”
“On the surface, I would say yes, but somehow my gut says its a genuine thing.”
“So what next, sir?”
“We find this man, we find the body.” Aftab’s voice was hard. “And then we nail that bastard!”