The House That Let No One In - The Invisible Visitor - Part 9

 

The basement gym of Shantiniket House was less a room than a monument to unfinished reform.

Treadmill, weights, rowing machine, punching bag—each expensive, each barely used.

Arjun Malhotra stood beside the treadmill with folded arms when they entered. He had expected them.

Inspector Harish Mehta wasted no time.

“You lied about being here alone.”

Arjun laughed without humor.

“I said I was here. I did not say I was exercising.”

Devendra Sen moved directly to the treadmill console.

Its timer emitted a metallic click each minute when reaching interval marks.

Tick… tick… tick…

The same sound from the recorder.

“You recorded the message here?” asked Anil.

Arjun shrugged. “Anyone could.”

Devendra nodded. “Yes. Anyone with access to your father’s voice.”

The detective asked for household phones, old voicemail archives, and office recordings. By late afternoon they found several samples of Raghav Malhotra dictating angry instructions. Short phrases could easily be assembled.

Inspector Mehta glared at Arjun.

“So you stitched the recording.”

“Prove it.”

Devendra ignored the challenge and instead examined the gym shelves. Among towels and supplements lay a remote-control device for the study’s old wireless speakers—long disconnected.

But the batteries were fresh.

Interesting.

Then he inspected the ceiling vent near the basement stairs. A faint trail of white powder clung to its edge.

The same powder found beneath the study chair and on Arjun’s blazer.

Anil whispered, “What is this powder?”

Devendra replied, “Not poison.”

Laboratory results arrived an hour later.

It was powdered plaster and lime dust.

From inside walls.

The hidden flue.

Inspector Mehta turned sharply to Arjun.

“You used the shaft!”

Arjun slammed a fist against the bench.

“I knew it existed, yes. As a child. We played treasure hunts in this cursed house.”

Devendra spoke calmly.

“Then tell us how the invisible visitor entered.”

Arjun hesitated. For the first time, anger gave way to fear.

“I never entered the study.”

“But you reached it.”

Silence.

Devendra continued.

“The recorder was lowered through the flue on cord from the linen closet above. It could be positioned behind the side shelf. Later, a timed playback created the voice after death.”

Arjun said nothing.

“The white powder came from scraping old plaster while using the shaft. Some fell in the study, some on your blazer.”

Still silence.

Inspector Mehta stepped forward.

“And the poison?”

Arjun looked up sharply.

“I did not poison him.”

The room stilled.

Devendra watched him carefully.

“You admit staging the false argument?”

“I admit nothing.”

“You just denied only the poison.”

Arjun cursed softly.

Then he sank onto a bench.

“I wanted to scare him,” he said at last. “Make it seem Suri was turning on him. Make him paranoid. He controlled everything through fear—I wanted him to feel some.”

“So you planted the recorder,” said Devendra.

“Yes.”

“And the fake clues against your stepmother?”

Arjun looked ashamed.

“She would inherit first. I thought police would chase her while I negotiated debts.”

Inspector Mehta exploded. “You fool! Your father died!”

“I know!”

Arjun buried his face in his hands.

“When I heard the door being broken, I realized something was wrong.”

Anil stared. “Then if Arjun staged the sounds but not the murder…”

Devendra finished the thought.

“Someone else used his deception as cover.”

The inspector blinked.

“You mean two separate crimes overlapped?”

“Not two crimes,” said Devendra. “One murder, one opportunistic fraud.”

He turned to Arjun.

“Who else knew you hated your father and knew of the flue?”

Arjun answered slowly.

“Only one person ever asked me about it recently.”

“Who?”

Arjun looked toward the staircase.

“Mohan Lal.”

The old servant had vanished.