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SUMMARY: This is a terrific and possible murder plot - set in modern world - without traditional weapons (Revolver, Knife etc), executed remotely.

YOU NEED NOT BE THERE
Ramesh R. Baliga
The Corpse
Diffused light refracted into the kitchenette through the translucent window drapes, silhouetting contour of the body sprawled on floor. The muted susurrus of the air conditioner is the only audible distraction in comparison to the muted traffic snarl from down below but a whisper.
The unbearable stench of decay mingled with the stink of rotting vegetable, curdled-milk-gone-sour emanating from the jumbo double door fridge with lower door ajar, molting grains in the storeroom, and the musty smell of furniture. The slit of light from the fridge drew lucent stripe on the supine body, and the reflected beam from the large mirror put a reverse stripe on the corpse: an ominous surreal cross of the death in blue.
Dorai- readjusting the mask on the nose bridge- reached and flicked on the switch, flooding the rooms with soft indirect glow, bringing to life the tasteful, unobtrusive, and subtle room décor.
Dorai's baggy vertically striped Kurta and Pajama barely managed to camouflage the burly and rotund overweight five feet nothing frame; the flushed plump pinkish-red cheeks- the old fox's beer indulgence were legendry- the bulbous nostrils, and the barren pink pate came aglow in the light. The graying wayward moustache and the bushy eyebrows framing the beady eyes completed the gnome-like look and, setting him apart from the sundry and the routine. His bulk redefined his economy of movement in contrast to his sharp mind.
In contrast, Santhanam- Dorai's understudy- looked more human in his blue denim, standing at 6' plus, handsome rugged sort of way, the dark and large brooding eyes, shock of unruly crop of dark hair. That he is doctorate in forensic medicine bellied his easy demeanor and the smile that came easily without asking. He walked in with panther like easy but strident gait.
Dorai undid the nose mask; to facilitate mounting of the monocle on to his left eye, crinkling a wee bit to refocus- took a long steadied look at the body, absorbing the details. The beady eyes darting, moving and settling on to the next object of scrutiny- without a slightest attempt to move any closer to the body.
The long disheveled tresses spawned the floor, and the sari pallu covering most of the face. While one hand trapped unnaturally beneath the body, the other hand was stretched out- empty chubby manicure fingers in half-curl. The blood drain had clotted the pallu and, the water drips had gathered into a stagnant cesspool tinged crimson red. The thick carpet edge running parallel to the fridge was about one-feet away was soaked, too. The other side of carpet edge firmly aligned with the farthest wall, seamlessly. Several wild hump and the forced folds were visible on the carpet, which presumably was the cause of fall.
The drenched portion of sari- blue ray of light filtering through the wedge of the open fridge door- took an unusual hue and, was hitched well above the knees. The right leg forming L-shape with toes resting on the carpet and the other leg straight as can be- exposing the firm fleshy thigh and the bare feet, looked pale and colorless.