Chapter Twenty-eight
Calme heads toward Clarke’s room, limping. I probably broke the darn ankle; she mutters under her breath. Jumping from the third floor wasn’t really a good idea, but she had no choice. Gunter’s car was parked at the entrance of the edifice. She couldn’t possibly slide out of the building being inconspicuous. She has to tell Clarke what happened and to what illation she has come to. She knocks on his door.
“Who is it?” he shouts.
“I’ve got your crackers.” She answers. The door opens unveiling an unkempt in appearance Clarke beaming ear to ear. He lurches outside searching for the illustrious guest she was about to bring along.
“Where is he?” he queries.
“That’s what we’re about to discuss now.” She informs getting inside the room. “Why are you limping?” he asks getting inside and locking the door.
“Long story short; I tricked Auciello into giving me Gunter’s location, I went there as a dopehead and one of his minions directed me coincidentally to Walker’s place, he was horrified to see me but I eventually convinced him that it was totally fluky and finally bamboozled him into confessing everything.” She takes a pause then continues, “And about the bad wheel, it turns out that Gunter happened to form a doubt against me and sent his one big fawner to escort me and Walker so he could hang us upside down and torture the truth out of us, but clearly he underestimated me and since I couldn’t use the front door, I had to jump from Walker’s balcony.”
“I don’t wanna know what you did with that unfortunate bloke. Tell me what you found out.” Clarke says getting out an energy drink from the mini fridge.
“Firstly I should tell you that these energy drinks are diabetic demons, you wouldn’t wanna mess with ‘em and secondly I want you to contact CBI and ask them to reopen the cases of the Singh family and Shivanya Pathak murder cases.” She says searching in her bag for her notebook. Her intuition wasn’t wrong. Walker was innocent and has been the whole time. She already had the information that why Walker was present at Bethany’s apartment at the exact time the murder took place, he was clearly tricked and from his caller’s list she even came to know that someone verily called him from the pay phone near his building that night, certainly to tout him into leaving the country so that the whole suspicion would fall on his shoulder and from their conversation she has become more positive than ever. There is no way he has been falsifying the entire time. He’s not involved in those murders neither he’s associated with Gunter in his onslaught mission. Now all she has to do is gather evidence and to do that she needs Clarke’s help.
Clarke spits the drink he was guzzling down and looks at her as if she said earth is rectangular. He opens his mouth but she stops him. “Hold it there. It’s important.” With that she scurries out of the room all the while looking for her notebook but not able to find it.
While she passes Jason’s room trying to remember where she put her notebook, she finds his door open. She peeks inside and gets a brief look of her notebook lying on his bed. She becomes puzzled; where did he get my notebook? She enters the room and finds a girl mopping the floor and hears the water running in the bathroom.
“Sir is in the washroom.” The girl says. Calme nods picking up her notebook and runs an eye over the room. Her eyes fall over a box of contacts placed over the bedside table. She makes her way toward that and uplifts the case. It’s a brown contact lens, the color of Mazzeo’s eyes. Never noticed he used contacts; she wonders.
She opens the notebook to see if everything was in place. While flipping through the pages she suddenly finds a page missing, as if someone has torn it. She recalls, it was the page where she wrote her assumptions regarding the murders. What would he do with only those assumptions? And how dare him going through my personal stuffs! She seethes. Despite of her hissy fit her subliminal self smells the shadiness of the whole status quo. She decides to take a chance by leaving the notebook at the exact same spot. Delving into her shoulder bag she digs out the mini hidden camera she always carries and places it inside the flower vase set on the bedside table and dashes out of the room.
Maybe I’m only being paranoid; she reasons with herself. But what could be the reason behind this sneaky attempt?
She reaches her room, turns on her laptop and connects the Wi-Fi.