Pal Detective Agency

Pal Detective AgencyA short storyVineet Verma This story is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed are fictitious. Similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental.Copyright ©️ 2023 Vineet VermaCover design by ebooklaunch.comAll rights reserved. The distribution of this story without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use any material (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Contents Prologue 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 Thank you for reading! Other titles by Vineet Verma PrologueWhen it comes to ransom, what’s the right number? The figure hunched at the desk grappled with this question. If you ask for too much, chances are you will be disappointed. Demand too little, and you’re leaving money on the table. The sheet of paper on the desk was filled with doodles interspersed with some crossed-out numbers. Seeing it all laid out in tangible form aided the thought process. Who knew kidnapping was such hard work? All the preparation and planning, the stress, the doubts, all of it. But the opportunity had presented itself, and it would be a shame to waste it.Eventually, pen met paper once again, and a fresh set of digits made its appearance. It elicited a smile, for it was a number that would ensure a comfortable life for a while. The smile dampened the next instant with the realization that this amount would have to be split. It was a two-person job, after all. The figure sighed and crossed out the digits before writing a new set. This would have to work. Chapter OneLos Altos Man Still Missing , screamed the headline in The Mercury News. It was the kind of news that evoked concern and sympathy. One could only imagine what the family and friends of that man would be going through. I, for one, was always affected by such stories, and this one cut deeper because I knew the missing man well. Jared Foley was my manager and mentor back in the day, when I was starting out as a techie. It was my good fortune to have worked under his guidance as I navigated my career as a software engineer. And it was Jared who always encouraged me to follow my dreams.Three days without a trace meant things were bad. Pushing the negative thoughts out of my head, I took another sip of tea from the steaming hot mug and sighed with satisfaction. It was real chai, nothing like the dishwater sold at most places under the ridiculous name of chai-tea. I had brewed the beverage to perfection, with a dash of cardamom and ginger, just like my parents enjoyed it. Each sip brought me closer to them, though they were thousands of miles away in their home in Mumbai, and here I was gazing out the window of my eighteenth-floor condo in downtown San Jose. I could see the entire city and beyond. The view was one of the key selling points when I purchased the place a few years ago. I pictured Ma and Pa seated on the couch, with Ma dunking a cookie in her teacup and taking a bite before the cookie collapsed, and Pa regaling us with anecdotes, trying to sneak an extra spoonful of sugar into his tea when Ma was not looking.I drained the last of my tea and rinsed the mug. Thirty minutes later, showered and energized, I headed out the door. In another ten, I was at the entrance to my office after a brisk walk. The Indian restaurant next door hadn’t opened yet, so instead of the enticing aroma of curry I was treated to the disgusting odors from the alley on the other side of my office. Ignoring that, my chest swelled with pride as it always did when I saw the lettering on the door saying “Pal Detective Agency.” Following my childhood dream, I had quit my tech job around a year ago to found the agency and work as a private investigator. Ma and Pa blamed this on the popular detective show Karamchand which beamed across televisions once a week in 1980s India. The brilliant, carrot-chomping lead character was beloved by all as he went about his business, solving mysteries with ease. I hoped one day I would be just as successful and would have an assistant who would say, “Sir, you are a genius” every time I nailed a culprit.Alas, life as a private eye wasn’t easy. I’d only had three cases since I had opened shop, and two of them had me searching for missing cats. Whatever happened to crowdsourcing the effort by plastering the neighborhood with “Missing cat — answers to Tabby” flyers? Anyway, I was successful in locating the pets, but it was neither satisfying nor did it pay much.My third client was a woman who suspected her husband was cheating on her, and she wanted me to confirm it. Now, that sounded a lot more exciting until I discovered that the man was innocent. The poor sod had been busy planning a surprise birthday party for his wife. Contrary to my expectation, my client was disappointed with my report. On the bright side, the sneaky husband netted me a lot more money than the adventurous cats.I estimated it was another three months before I would burn through my savings and be forced to camp out in front of a computer screen again. Reflection complete, I opened the office door and entered.It was a compact room, with just enough space for a desk, a couple of chairs, a bookshelf, and a chest of drawers. I had given it my nerdy touches, paying homage to my inspirations. A smoking pipe