Crime fiction: What was thought to be a suicide is actually a murder. Can Meenakshi find the killer?

Now – 9.00 am, December 14, 2018

“So, Meenakshi, tell me, who died?” Dr Bhatia adjusts her spectacles and smiles at her.

“Ananth fucking Reddy! He is dead,” Meenakshi wishes she’d had more than the three almonds she had quickly stuffed in her mouth while driving to Dr Bhatia’s clinic. She is glad for the cookies that lie in an exquisitely carved glass bowl on the table. She stares at the bowl and wonders how Dr Bhatia keeps the clinic like a room out of an interior décor magazine when she talks to people with filthy, messed up minds all day long.

“And does that bother you? Another crime?” she takes out her diary and pen, making a quick scribble on it. She sits opposite Meenakshi in her uniform, at least that’s what Meenakshi believes, in a cream silk shirt and carbon black pencil line skirt, which is sometimes exchanged with navy or grey skirts. Her hair is neatly tied in a bun, and large glasses adorn her pixie face. She is expensive, or that’s what Meenakshi has heard. But then again, she is the designated therapist for the Koramangala police department, Inspectors, and above. Even though she gets paid for it, she...

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