Ch-2
Slow pilgrimage

The sun said 4 of afternoon. Morris strolled down the bi-colored footpath, frequently kicking at some pebbles. The fluffy autumn clouds leisurely drifted overhead. The busy road rushed towards the distant horizon but Morris turned towards the right alley. He aberrantly paced down the tarmac without even noticing the truck driver who howled at him. Modest houses populated the locality giving it an urban feel. Some balconies hovered over the street, making particular places impenetrable for the decaying sun. The tortuous road led him to a banner which claimed the inscription ‘_ park’.

The park was lined with an ornate balustrade along which several wild violets fluttered in the wind. A pinkish pavement ran along its boundary, ambled down by people of all age groups . It was further adorned with see-saws, swings and merry-go-rounds . A subtle pond at the leftmost corner added to its scenic beauty.

Morris collapsed into a two-seater swing with a nonchalant expression plastered across his time-eroded face.

***********::::::::::::*********
Arthur waded through the grass when the unanticipated sight of a wan figure made a muscle jump his skinny jaw. It was the same Dr. Morris who had been honoured by the ‘best doctor of the city' award. He had seen the same constellation-blue eyes and the Pan-Am smile printed on the newspaper. The newspaper picture could by no means compete with his original elegance, thought Arthur. But through his probing eyes Arthur could only see a camouflaged virtuoso of inconspicuous crime. He briskly approached the medical personage to solidify his belief beyond the shadow of a doubt.
“Excuse me sir, are you Dr Morris of the city hospital?”
“Yes Inspector Cullen, If I am not driven crazy then I’m Morris of the city hospital.”
“How on earth do you know me?.” He equired.
“Just like the way you got to know that I was the The grim reaper, hunting during these ‘18’years. “ he put special resonance on the numerical.
“Oh come on, the newspapers do have the right to increase their TRP.”
“But they can’t do so by adding one extra year to my criminal record.” He groaned.
“Well, how much do you know about me?”
“Nothing much serious but the fact that you are an undercover cop of 25, your father died when you were two and you mother died some five years ago, leaving the house at parker street to you.”
Arthur stretched his fatigued leg. Morris was looking at him as he spoke and on seeing the signs of exhaustion on his face, Morris offered him the seat beside himself. Arthur denied at first but on the second time he acquiesced.
“You thought, mixing belladonna berries between normal ones would help you?” Arthur asked portentously, shaking his head.
“Which case are you talking about ?”
“Your latest one, the sunset cafeteria murder.” he sighed.
“It isn’t my latest one.” Morris nodded in denial.
“What? You recently did some… ?”
“You look amused?” his upper half faced Arthur.
“Why shouldn’t I be? I keep a good record of all your crimes. And after all your victims are always marked with ‘The grim reaper’s prey’. “
“Oh, sorry. Actually this time I didn’t mark them. You see it was my hospital and the mark could have added all the hospital staffs in the suspect list, which I didn’t want. “
“How did you kill them?”Arthur felt his curiosity rising.
“Potassium Chloride, it's fast and not easily recognizable during autopsy, and will apparently resemble a heart attack . Unfortunately my colleague suspected the abnormality but was unsuccessful in finding the poison. Poison's are just his hobby. He has no particular knowledge about them.”
“Seriously, your hospital is so naïve that they don’t suspect three simultaneous heart attacks? “
“Who said there were three heart attacks? I poisoned one of them as he had no natural alternative but the others had.”

"Why don't they suspect you? "
"How would they?The hospital doesn't even have cameras and it was late at night, so the majority of the hospital staff were absent. They aren't even aware that I went into that room."

Arthur pursed his lips in disdain. A single filament of his shiny hair tossed down on his forehead, which he quickly tucked back with his calloused fingers.

“By the way did they manage to figure it out. “ Morris shot a skeptic glance.
“No, no the police had only managed to check the coffee cups.They still think the coffee to be poisonous.” Arthur replied with a minor grimace.
“Oh, so you yourself managed to find it out?”
“Hm.”
"And how? "his eyebrows amassed at his nose.
" The absence of the bowl. It's the tradition of that cafe to serve a fruit basket for starters but on that table it was absent. "
Morris rewarded him with a praising smile and in return Arthur showed his gratitude by shrinking the size of his captivating eyes.
“How were you so sure that they would attempt on the very poisonous ones?"
“Because I only gave them 10 to 15 belladonna berries, but I had replaced the others with rotten ones in my garden. And anyone in their right minds wouldn’t attempt on rotten ones. “ he grinned.
"Another question, How did you make sure that the amount of berries you gave were enough to kill them? "
"So you didn't check the plastic cup from which they drank water ?"
"I never saw one. "
"Ah, How would you?They threw it in the dustbin not even realizing that they drank arsenic. "

“Abominable' was Arthur’s adjective for the doctor.

A kingfisher which perched on the lakeside shrub caught both of their attention, It's feathers brightened in the afternoon sun. It's eyes were screwed on the glittering waves and none of its muscles moved. Suddenly it dived into the water and when it reappeared a small fish lay between it's jaws.Arthur couldn't help comparing it with this old man, relaxing beside him.

“Why do you have such a mania for plant poisons?”Arthur enquired as he examined the China rose in front of him.
“You see I was always equally remarkable in both zoology and botany but as I grew up, I started prioritizing the former. Thus botany was never given proper justice. That’s why I wanted to shed some light on it after completing my medical."

"How do you manage to keep your calm?" Arthur asked with a flattered face. Morris however shrugged off the question with a oxymoronic cough.

"Honestly your crimes don’t interest me any longer. It’s just that I don’t have proofs but there isn’t that mystery and thrill in them, anymore. "

"Don’t they? I see Mr. Cullen you are a inspector who wants to exercise his powers fighting a strong opponent, or probably weak considering my age. Let’s see, I might try to surprise you in near future, after all who would want to disappoint their fans? " Morris bursted into a brief series of laughs.

"I can easily prove your involvement in all your crimes.You better confess your crimes and end the game. "Arthur tried not to portray his anger but a bit of it did spill out.

“Involvement, yes. You can arrest me and even keep me in custody till the hearing date. But How would you prove that I was the waiter who had served them the berries? And that the actual waiter was made swoon by morphine? ‘ Prisoner' doesn’t suit me, I mean just think of it ‘Prisoner.Morris' instead of ‘Dr.’ ”.


He balanced himself on his legs and adjusted his trousers as if , going to run a marathon. He gave a slight pull at Arthur's sleeve and marched towards a modest cab, parked beside an elliptical banner which was carved with a ‘No parking’.
“Will,ya make it to Parker street?” Morris asked, peeping in through the window.
“Hmm.” the driver assented.

“Where are we going?”
“To confess my crimes.”
“Why would you want to do so?”
“I am victim to four chronic diseases which according to my estimation leaves 250-300 days of my life.And I would better leave behind my hated biography than my unsolved crimes.”
“Why can’t you speak here?”
“You didn’t bring your recorder that’s why?”

********::::::::::::********
The cab swiftly drove past the skyscrapers into open fields . Morris peered out through the window and aired his wet hair, spasmodically humming a song -
“As the snow flies………. people don’t you understand……….in the ghetto ………….one night in desperation………and his mama cries……”
“ ‘In the ghetto’ by Elvis Presley.” Arthur claimed.
“ I can’t believe you have heard it!! ”
“Why? Can’t youngsters listen to old songs?"
“They certainly can, but they usually don’t." he turned back to the distant horizon.

Morris further settled himself comfortably.Arthur was a bit more stiff,sneaking furtive glances at Morris.He appeared so detached.Nothing could ruffle his feathers.He may well have been going for an afternoon tea party.He was a grizzled face and a thin moustache,his emerald green eyes a stark contrast against a pale skin.His hair was styled upwards and dyed black.Even though his face was showing wrinkles,it still held visages of his youthful handsomeness.His wiry frame sat upright and yet appeared oddly relaxed.His expression was unreadable and his eyes conveyed warmth and kindness,an effective façade.Arthur struggled to get a read on him despite his best efforts.
His infernal calm irked him to no end.He appeared perfectly content with what he had done.It was like the last bit if remorse was sapped out of his bones,Arthur wondered.
It was unnerving,to say the least.He knew that the kindness and warmth was only a veneer to his scarred character.Strangely,he found …it hard to … believe.It was unreal,a sense of dread building up in the pit of his stomach.He had encountered several criminals in his years as an officer.None if them have been a piece of cake.Some have pulled off the confident and innocent act extremely well but there has always been some underlying nerves.None of them has managed to lead him to believe that he was wrong when he was certain he... was right.
He pulled up the window.He looked around the outside as they passed the surrounding buildings and shops in a daze.He let the wind blow over his face,pushing back his silky black hair and gently brushing past his stubble.His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he tried to figure out his captive.
''How do you keep on doing this ?",he blurted out and immediately slapped himself mentally for being so desperate.
"What ?",he asked genially,not even mildly disturbed.He seemed like he was humoring a petulant five-year old about why Santa Claus didn't come
" Feel so guiltless and calm.I know I have asked you this question previously but don't you feel horrible for what you have done.",he asked,quiet anger laced in his voice.
"Mediation.You know,it is really helpful',he said silkily.He was smiling now, quite evidently enjoying himself.
Arthur glared at him.Stronger people would have quailed under the gaze Arthur sent him but a beaming smile was his smile only grew wider with every passing second.He looked up at him,meeting his gaze with an amused twinkle in his eyes.Arthur sighed,dropping his gaze.He knew when he had lost a point.But he will surely wipe that smug grin off his face.
"Do you think England will take the last match of the series ? ",he asked suddenly.
Arthur snapped up his head, startled by the change of subject.
"You see (SOMEONE ELSE)Masood's innings in the second innings was exemplary.If SOMEONEElse Shafiq had stuck longer,maybe they would have a chance.It was really unfortunate.They were so close to victory.If only …",he continued on dreamily,not a care in the world.Arthur was too stunned to say anything.He can't say that he wasn't taken aback by his offhand manner about his crimes ...but talking about Australia's Pakistan's chances against England was a bit outlandish and frankly...disconcerting when he is almost certain to be sentenced to death in the coming months.He might just as well stab Arthur and tell him that the red of his blood is good for the design of his shirt.
He watched him closely as he continue to babble on about a series(whose name Arthur has never heard before) and Taylor Swift's most recent album,apparently unconcerned about the noncommittal grunts he received in response.If he would have taken part in that conversation,he would have understood that Morris is a brilliant conversationalist and an irresistible charmer.He talked about several fields with practiced ease and the lazy elegance of his movement incited envy in Arthur .His eyes flitted actively as he spoke on.Arthur almost found himself smile and the fervent enthusiasm of Morris.
Arthur looked away suddenly,his breathing hitched.He was beginning to like him.It was true that Morris was naturally a likable person but if he wanted to prove this case,he had to remain impersonal.He tried to brush off that feeling,willing himself to remain firm and unmoving in his decision.And yet,that small voice back in her voice never stopped whispering conspiratorially.
Arthur cut him off,"Have you had breakfast ? If you haven't we can have breakfast at my place if you like.",he said pleasantly despite the bitterness that threatened to creep in.
"Yes,I have.Thank you for the offer.",he replied politely.Arthur searched for some sarcastic retort,just to see if it would ruffle him.
He looked out to see his cottage.The cottage was hunkered low on the grassy field,like a child in the elements trying to keep warm.Yet,it looked alive and welcoming with a thin silver trail curling from the crooked stone chimney.The sides were the same grey slacks as the low walls in the dales and the roof was a darker slate.The cottage was isolated from other establishments.Arthur liked it that way. Unlike its name Parker street did not have such urbanness in reality.
The rooms were small and cozy.The floors were wooden with dark coloured scatters around,a lovely contrast to the general light oak-panelled walls.The furniture was weathered and antiqued,adding a little sophistication to the relaxed atmosphere.The double-hung windows were pleasantly wide,allowing a clear view of the outside.There were plenty of comfy loveseats and one seaters scattered around.Guests often stopped by here.
However,Arthur took Morris past all these rooms to one at the back end of the house.The room was different, possessing a darker and severe ambience.It was dimly lit with vintage wall sconces that hung on the mute coloured walls like earrings.Thick velvet remained untouched as the long window was half-open,allowing a peek of the forest beyond.Two rich velvet and bronze-wing chairs stood the opposite sides of each on the hand - woven rug in the front of the ashen fireplace.The paintings and the faded tapestry panels on the walls seem to blink at them as they entered like they were greeting them.
Arthur directed Morris to a chair and himself sat on the one opposite it.Morris, perennially at ease,was looking around the room with a critical eye.His forehead was creased in deep thought as his gaze fell on a painting.
"Ah,you have got taste._ by _."
Arthur started,too lost in his musings to pay attention to the present.He looked at Morris who was pointing at a painting on the north wall.
"I inherited my father's obsession.",he said sheepishly.
He nodded,still gazing at the painting.Arthur should have known that he was a connoisseur in art as well, considering that he was one in so many other fields . Arthur had to admit that Morris was a remarkable man in terms of knowledge.
Arthur fidgeted for a few minutes,searching for a subtle way to urge Morris to start his story,who was busy admiring the artwork of the room.
"Shall we start ?" ,he asked.
Arthur jumped at the sudden question but quickly recovered himself.He took out a pen and a blue notebook, ready to take notes.He will try his best to incriminate Morris.He felt his nerves tingle with unsuppressed excitement as he patiently waited for the story.This is it.
"I am prepared.Start if you may."
Morris cringed, hesitation rippling across his face.Arthur was taken off-guard.This was the first time Arthur has seen Morris losing control.It was both fascinating and surprising at the same time.Maybe the room's atmosphere is grating on him,he thought hopefully.If this continued in this same way,he may have a fair chance of being able to intimidate him to give critical proof.He readied himself,prepared to latch on the smallest mistake.Finally,Morris began,"It….

By:Agnik Biswas
© Ignite

Co-writen by:Dipro Mondal
https:double slash like this//writco.in/profile/Dipro5265.