The House That Let No One In - The Time That Lied - Part 5

 The city laboratory confirmed by noon what the household had begun to fear.

Dr. Suresh Kulkarni arrived with a typed report and placed it before Inspector Harish Mehta.

“Cyanogenic compounds,” he said. “Likely a fast-acting poison that releases cyanide in the body.”

“The almond smell,” murmured Anil.

“Yes. Though not everyone detects it.”

Inspector Mehta straightened with satisfaction.

“So the mint was poisoned.”

“Likely,” said the doctor. “But there is something odd.”

Devendra looked up.

“The stomach contents show only partial dissolution. Meaning the poison was consumed not long before death—perhaps minutes, not half an hour.”

The inspector frowned. “You already said death occurred between eight-forty-five and nine-fifteen.”

“I said likely based on early examination. Now I would narrow it further.”

“How far?”

“Closer to nine-twenty.”

The inspector slapped the desk.

“Impossible! The valet knocked at nine-thirty. If he died at nine-twenty, why no sound, no collapse heard, no struggle?”

“There need not be struggle,” said the doctor. “Collapse can be swift.”

When he had gone, silence remained.

Then Devendra Sen said quietly:

“The dead man’s body was truthful. It is the clock that lied.”

Inspector Mehta stared. “Which clock?”

“The one everyone obeyed—the time of discovery.”

They went back to the study.

On the mantel above the sealed fireplace stood a brass clock, stopped at 9:17.

“It was damaged when the door was broken,” said the inspector. “Irrelevant.”

Devendra shook his head.

“No. Everyone remembers seeing this time after entering. Human memory anchors itself to displayed numbers.”

He examined the broken casing.

“The mechanism was already loose. A strong vibration could stop it.”

“The door being smashed.”

“Exactly. So people assumed death had occurred around nine-seventeen.”

“But the valet came at nine-thirty!”

“Did he?”

The inspector’s eyes narrowed.

Mohan Lal was summoned again.

The old servant arrived trembling.

“You said you knocked at nine-thirty,” said Devendra.

“Yes, sahib. As always.”

“How did you know it was nine-thirty?”

“The corridor clock.”

“There is no corridor clock.”

Mohan blinked.

“I… I mean the hall clock downstairs.”

“Did you check it personally?”

“No… I heard it strike half past.”

Devendra folded his hands.

“And if it struck early?”

The inspector swore under his breath.

They hurried downstairs to the great grandfather clock in the hall. A constable confirmed what no one had noticed.

The clock was running eleven minutes fast.

Anil exclaimed, “Then nine-thirty was actually nine-nineteen!”

“Precisely,” said Devendra.

Inspector Mehta turned sharply to Mohan Lal.

“You broke open the door at nine-nineteen actual time?”

“With everyone gathered… yes, sahib.”

“Then the victim may have died only moments before!”

Devendra nodded.

“And therefore he may have been alive when the first knock came.”

The inspector frowned. “But he gave no reply.”

“Because he was already unable to.”

Anil paced excitedly. “Then the poison was taken around nine-fifteen, not eight-forty-five!”

“Yes.”

“And all those earlier assumptions were false.”

“Not false,” said Devendra. “Convenient.”

He walked to the writing desk again and tapped the blank page with the crooked ink line.

“A staged pen. A misleading clock. A servant repeating inherited routine. Whoever arranged this crime relied not on locked doors…”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“…but on people trusting time.”

At that moment a constable entered carrying the victim’s mobile phone, recovered from the bedroom charger.

Inspector Mehta unlocked it with assistance from the family.

Recent calls showed one incoming number at 9:11 p.m.

Saved under a single name:

SURI

The inspector smiled grimly.

“So our man called minutes before death.”

Devendra took the phone and studied the screen.

Then he asked one quiet question.

“Why,” he said, “would a man who feared threats leave his phone charging in another room?”

No one answered.

He placed the phone down gently.

“Because,” he continued, “someone else received that call.”