The metal door creaked open and Vijay stepped into the musty room. He closed the door with his back against it and walked towards the rusty and heavy pedestal fan placed a couple of feet away from the table at the center of the room. He didn’t pay much attention to the person sitting on the other side of it. A soft click announced the door being locked from the outside.
Vijay pulled on the string dangling from the fan, and it sprung to life. It swiveled lethargically from side to side, spreading hot air around the room.
‘Much better don’t you think?’ Vijay said as he sat on the wooden chair from across the man on the other side. The old chair groaned under his weight. The man remained silent, his gaze steady.
Vijay took out a pen from his white shirt pocket, started clicking it, and stared at the man. The man had both his hands on the table and was looking right back at him.
Two can play at that game, Vijay thought, and kept staring. And he kept on clicking the pen. He hoped the sound would annoy the man, but he didn’t even flinch. Vijay felt the air get hotter and heavier and felt perspiration build up around the shirt collar wrapped tightly around his neck. The smell of sweat hung heavy in the air.
This is going nowhere, he thought. He unbuttoned his collar and broke the silence.
‘Why did you do it?’
Vijay thought he saw a shadow of a smile appear on the man’s thin face but it quickly disappeared.
‘Why did you do it?’
‘I need some water,’ the man whispered, his voice an antonym to Vijay’s husky one.
‘What?’ Vijay asked even though he had perfectly heard what the man had asked for.
‘Water,’ the man whispered again, this time a tiny bit more louder.
Vijay turned his head around, looked at the dirty mirror to his right, and signaled for water.
‘Now tell me, why did you do it?’
‘Water first.’
Vijay clicked the pen faster, growing impatient. He saw the same subtle smile appear again on the man’s face and then vanish. The silence was broken when the metal door clicked open and a young police officer came inside with a paper cup filled to the brim with water. Some spilled onto Vijay’s shirt as the young man handed it to him but Vijay ignored it. His shirt had wet patches all over from sweat. The young officer stepped outside and locked the door. Vijay slid the paper cup towards the man.
The man’s frail hand picked it up and he took a sip. Vijay noticed that the man’s hand had a slight tremor. He wondered how this thin, fragile man could ever have the strength to kill and cut up a body. He’d save that question for later. First he wanted to know why he did it in the first place.
‘Why did you kill her?’
The man took a few more sips, and slowly placed the cup back on the table.
‘I want to complete the set’, the man said softly, very childlike.
‘The set?’ Vijay frowned.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nobody does. Nobody ever did.’
Vijay looked at the mirror again. He imagined his colleagues behind it sharing the same feeling of confusion.
‘What set?’
‘A family,’ the man replied. The smile had reappeared and this time it stayed. ‘A small family of three.’
‘Three?’, Vijay asked.
‘Yes. A mother, father, and a daughter,’ the man said, his voice a bit louder and clearer than before.
‘Do you have a family?’ Vijay asked. He wanted to ask something else, but maybe that could wait.
‘Yes. Once upon a time.’
‘Who all were there in your family?’
‘Appa, amma, Priya.’ (translation: appa – father, amma – mother)
‘Who’s Priya?’
‘Sister.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘Dead.’
‘When?’
The man took another sip of water. ‘I don’t remember,’ he whispered.
Vijay took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The pen felt heavy in his hand.
‘Have you killed before?’
‘Yes.’
‘How many?’
‘I don’t know.’
Vijay leaned back on his chair. His assumptions were coming true.
‘Who did you kill before this woman?’
‘A girl.’
‘How old?’
‘Same as Priya.’
‘How old was Priya when she died?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Anyone before that?’
‘I don’t remember.’
Vijay stared at the man. His expressionless face was staring right back at him.
‘Why did you kill the girl?’
‘To complete the set.’
A creeping horror dawned on Vijay as he connected the dots.
A woman, a girl.
Amma, Priya.
The man picked up the paper cup again and took a sip. The water thrown at him caught Vijay off guard. He leaned back to avoid it. The chair slipped, and Vijay toppled backward. The pen escaped his hand and rolled under the table towards the man’s feet. The man picked it up, jumped over the table towards Vijay who was trying to get up, and jabbed the pen into Vijay’s right eye. Vijay felt the world darken around him and felt hot liquid ooze out onto his cheeks. He screamed.
The man took Vijay’s chair, walked over to the door and jammed it against the handle. He walked back and stood over Vijay.
‘Please…,’ Vijay whispered. One hand was wrapped around the pen which was half way inside his head, and the other was frantically trying to push him off the ground.
The man heard shouts from the other side of the mirror. Huge metallic thuds followed from the door. He walked over slowly to the pedestal fan and unplugged it.
***
The policemen standing behind the two way mirror watched in horror as the thin man raised the pedestal fan over his head and swung it straight down. The fan rose up, then came crashing down again. Then again. And again. Blood dripped down from its ends.
The door burst open and three policemen came running in. Two of them grabbed the man while the other pulled out the fan from his hands. Vijay lay motionless on the floor.
The set was complete.
