What did I do?

“Hello.

Is it me you’re looking for?”

The song played in the background and I couldn’t help but feel the same when I saw the massive wanted posters all across the city. They were all looking for me and I wasn’t to be found anywhere.

But, of course, I was right here.

In fact I was in my car, driving to a meeting at my office. And all around me the city was getting madder and madder to try and find me. But I was right here.

I parked my car at the office and before I stepped out I took a little time to compose myself. I knew what was coming. I had to pretend throughout the day that I was enthusiastic for finding out the real killer, the real murderer of our boss. That whoever it was was probably a sadistic asshole who deserved to die too. But it was me and I was right here.

My name is Vikram Singhania, I work as a Civil Engineer at one of the biggest developers in the country. No, I won’t tell you that. My name is enough. Think of this as a confession, of sorts.

I’m unable to talk about this with anyone in my own life so might as well with you. Because I need to tell what happened, to someone, anyone.

I killed my boss.

We were at a construction site where we had gone to verify the details with the broker. It was standard practice. I was part of the team that visited sites, and since the holidays were fast approaching, I found myself to be the only one on the team that day.

I too wanted to get out of this engagement, my mother had been calling me pretty incessantly to visit and my wife was hankering me for a holiday too. I, though, was interested in the bonus that my company was dangling in front of me. It was’t much, but with a new wife, a new house, a new car, every little counts. Plus my mother too wanted some help around the house.

So I went, and I arrived first. I knew my boss would take his sweet time, so I began working. I looked around the area, discussed with the guard about the property, called up the land owner and asked for the papers to the property. Soil sampling, structural integrity and what not would be handled later, once the lease was finalised. In the meantime we needed to vet the location itself.

I knew the inspection today was redundant, the entire team needed to sign off on this. It couldn’t be just me. Yet, here I was. And the reason was the flimsy bonus.

After a while I just stood near the guard, hands in my pocket and staring at the vista around me. A half made road, a bunch of construction material littered all around, some trees in the distance and a sun that couldn’t really care about any of this as it glared down.

Then I saw the sleek Silver Mercedes of my boss approaching fast, the kachha road throwing up a trail of dust and small stones behind. I stood next to the guard and once the Mercedes was sufficiently close I began to move towards it.

As it stopped I ventured to open the gate but the Boss opened it up himself.

“No need Vikram, I can manage opening my own door.” He said and smiled at me. He stepped out of the car and I couldn’t help but feel impressed in his presence. He wore khaki pants and a polo t-shirt that went quite well with his aviators. His hair was, as usual, impeccable and he stood straight, his body chiseled and showing the regular work he did in the gym.

“Well, are you the only one here today?” Vishwas asked me.

I nodded and looked to the ground. I waited for him to say something.

Vishwas had his hands on his waist as he surveyed the area and then said, “Ah, screw it. Let’s just go. It’s the holiday season.”

I nodded and hesitated for a moment to which he said, “Don’t worry, your bonus will be fine.” And then he smiled at me.

“Thank you!” I said and started walking towards my car.

“Wait, you were around this site for a bit right?”

I nodded.

“How about we get a couple of drinks and you fill me in on that?” When I hesitated remembering my wife and mother he said, “I’ll make it brief. Drinks are on me.”

I finally relented and walked towards him and his car.

“Oh no, no need to come with me. Get your car and drive behind me. It’ll be quicker that way for you and for me.”

So I hurried to my car and followed the Silver Mercedes of Vishwas to more civilised areas of the city and we finally stopped outside a fancy pub.

We both parked and headed in.

“So, one drink?” I asked Vishwas.

“One? Jeez, grow up, Vikram. One drink isn’t enough. We need a ‘few’ drinks at least.”

We walked in, he waved a hand at a passing waiter and it was a while before we both emerged. All thoughts of wife and mother were forgotten. Vishwas had that effect on people. In his company, you just didn’t care about the rest of the world. I was still careful about how much I drank, definitely a lot less than what Vishwas ended up drinking.

When we got out, the rain had started to fall and I had trouble walking straight to my car. Vishwas on the other hand, much more drunk than I was, had no problems in making a beeline for his. He sat inside the car and roared off. I too got in my car and slowly and carefully began the journey home.

That was when Vishwas called me. He said, “Vikram, I’ve crashed my car. I think you need to hurry here because I’m stuck. Just hurry.” He didn’t give me any directions. Nor did I ask for any. I was too drunk to remember that and even when I started in the direction Vikram had headed, I didn’t know what I was thinking.

It was raining quite bad by this point, and things were hardly visible. I remember wiping the windshield with my hand, but I forgot to switch the wiper on. And as I headed down the road, I failed to see my boss next to his Mercedes waving his hands in the air. I hit him right there on the road. He was dead by the time I reached him. I held him in my arms and tried to revive him but…he was gone.

I looked at the front of my car. It was damaged and there was definitely some spattering of blood on it. This I could still explain. I hadn’t yet touched the Mercedes of Vishwas, and decided not to. I rolled my sleeves onto my hands and then grabbed Vishwas and put him in his car. The door was heavily damaged, but I somehow got Vishwas in. Then I fixed up his seatbelt, closed the door and blew up the car using a kerchief and a lighter I had. Opened the fuel tank and did all this.

I left the scene quickly, I would be questioned but the waiters at the pub remembered that I drank very little and that both me and Vikram got into our cars and left. I didn’t crack under questioning, I just cried. And the tears were real. Everyone knew I adored Vishwas. Most employees looked up to him. But after his death other things happened.

The police suspected foul play, it was too choreographed. The reports didn’t reveal much but I understood what they would reveal. I knew exactly how they would’ve found Vishwas.

We found out about the crazy will next, where he was offering his wealth away to the person who killed him. I don’t know what led him to doing that. Vishwas was such a smart guy, but he left nothing to his wife and daughter. It seemed like a foolish thing but the lawyers told us this will was prepared in full awareness of Vishwas himself.

And then the hunt took a whole new meaning. First one of the biggest developers in the city died, that was news. Then the news became about the search for the murderer now heir to the 1,000 crore empire.

So I stepped into the office, listening to my colleagues speculating endlessly on who could’ve done this to Vishwas. And I had to sit there and come up with theories of my own. The question arose over and over, who knew about the will? Who knew what was at stake?

The lawyer was suspected. He knew the contents of the will and would benefit from this information, even if it was given away to someone else. But it was soon fond out that the will was delivered to the lawyer in a sealed envelope by Vishwas himself. The lawyer knew nothing of it. Then speculation turned to the wife. She would know, but she too revealed she was innocent and since there was no proof to the contrary, she was let go.

It had been a month, but every day some person or the other revealed that they were the ones who killed Vishwas. It’s too much money, there is an ongoing tussle. Some very smart people have also come across making that claim.

But you see, they can’t prove it. And I know I’m the only one who can. But I don’t know if I even want the money, if it means the world thinks of me as the man who killed Vishwas. I couldn’t live with myself if I was known as that. Sure, life would be simpler for my family, things would move more freely. But I can’t do that to the memory of Vishwas. I won’t be able to look anyone in the eye after that. And since it won’t be me putting my hat in the arena, no one would be inheriting the fortune.

For you see, when I was putting Vishwas back into his car I decided to take the one thing that would instantly mean I was there when he died. In the glove compartment of my car, buried under the license and registration papers and the chew toys my girl loved and abandoned is the ring he always kept on his person. He said it was his lucky charm and I always liked that.

To remember the man I kept the ring that has a very simple message written on it.

This too shall pass.

— — —

Written in response to the following prompt:
“You accidentally kill a reclusive millionaire and manage to cover it up so it’s untraceable to you. The next day, however, it’s all over the news that the millionaire you killed had left his fortune to whoever killed him. Now, you set out to find a way to prove it was you.”