The Rose Behind the Verdict - The Door That Closed Itself - Part 8

 Dev Bishan’s smile faded for the first time that night.

“I did not lock any door,” he said.

Harish struggled upright despite the pain in his shoulder.

“Lies! He attacked me, stole papers, then fled.”

“With what wings?” Niraj asked. “The windows are decorative.”

Arindam ignored them both and turned to the study door.

Heavy teak. Brass latch outside. Inner bolt inside.

He examined the frame carefully, then the floor near the threshold. A thin line of moisture gleamed in the lamplight.

Rainwater.

But not enough to come from shoes.

He followed the droplets upward.

From the top hinge hung a nearly invisible strand of silk thread.

Blue silk.

He removed it gently.

“The door was pulled shut from the corridor,” he said. “Then the latch dropped by thread through the gap.”

Niraj brightened. “So the room locked itself by assistance.”

Harish’s face hardened.

“This proves nothing.”

“It proves planning,” Arindam replied.

He moved to the desk again. The scattered papers were mostly household accounts, but one torn envelope remained under the chair leg.

Addressed to Leela Bishan.

Unopened.

He lifted it.

Inside was a railway ticket for two passengers from Kolkata to Darjeeling dated tomorrow morning.

And a note in hurried handwriting:

Trust no one after midnight. Wait at the old chapel.

Mira sank into a chair.

“She meant to run away.”

“Or meant someone to think so,” said Arindam.

Dev stepped forward.

“That note is hers.”

“You recognize the hand quickly.”

“I know every line she writes.”

The admission hung in the room like a confession of another kind.

Harish spat bitterly. “Shameless.”

Sarojini Devi’s voice cut through the room.

“Love shames only those who never felt it.”

No one answered her.

Arindam looked again at Dev.

“You knew of this escape plan?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not stop it?”

“Because I arranged it.”

Mira stared at him in disbelief.

“You helped Leela flee?”

“I helped her choose.”

“Choose whom?” Harish barked.

Dev met his eyes steadily.

“Herself.”

The old man lunged but winced from his wound.

Arindam raised a hand.

“Enough theatre.”

He crossed to the bookcase. One shelf showed fresh scrape marks in dust. A book had recently been removed.

He pressed the back panel.

A narrow compartment opened.

Inside lay bundles of documents tied in red cloth.

Property transfers.

Loan deeds.

And one unsigned will of the late Raghav Bishan.

Beneficiary: Leela.

Executor: Dev Bishan.

Harish turned white.

Niraj whispered, “Ah. Now money enters with perfect timing.”

Arindam closed the compartment slowly.

“So this is why everyone fears the missing bride.”

Before he could continue, the grandfather clock in the hall began striking twelve.

With the twelfth stroke came three knocks from somewhere below.

Then a servant’s terrified cry:

“Someone has come from the chapel!”