The Patient in Room 202 (A Short Thriller)
He looked at himself in the mirror.
A white coat and a light blue shirt within. The name tag “Dr. Singh” shining on his chest.
First Patient. Hope I do well. He thought with a laugh.
He went out of the bathroom. The hospital corridors were spick and span as always. A man in police uniform walked towards him. He was about six foot tall, bulky, and had a light beard. He looked in his thirties.
“Are you Dr. Singh?” The policeman looked weary.
“Yes, I am him.” Dr. Singh said.
“I’m Inspector Ghorpade. I was just about to question your patient. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Dr. Singh looked at the report.
‘Mr. Ramesh Patil
Gunshot Wound
Room 202.’
Of course, it’s a police case. He thought, annoyed.
“Yes. Of course.”
When he came near the room, he saw a man with a bushy mustache exit it. He had a scowl on his face. His face brightened, however, when he saw Dr. Singh. He smiled at him as he walked away.
The patient’s room was as anyone would picture it. White walls, some medical equipment, and a white sickbed. Visitor’s chairs were kept around the room. The man on the bed was thin, his face gaunt. His left leg was covered with plaster. He looked in his forties, but patient’s clothes and a hospital bed always made people look older, so it was hard to judge. He looked at the doctor.
“You’re not Dr. Mehra.”
“Of course, I’m not Dr. Mehra. I don’t have hair coming out of my ears, do I?” Dr. Singh laughed. “Although, don’t tell him I said that.”
The patient smiled.
“Dr. Mehra is busy with a surgery. That’s why he called me in. I’m Dr. Singh.”
“You look young.” The patient talked slowly. “Are you any good?”
“I guess we’ll find out, Mr. Patil.” Dr. Singh smiled. “The guy who just left, who was he?”
“Oh, no one.”
He checked his vitals. “What happened?” Dr. Singh pointed to his left leg.
Mr. Patil’s face fell. “You’ll know soon enough.”
Inspector Ghorpade entered the room. He smiled at both of them, though his eyes seemed unfocused. He placed a chair facing Mr. Patil and sat on it.
“How are you, Mr. Patil?”
“Getting better.” Mr. Patil smiled weakly.
“I’m Inspector Ghorpade. We received a statement from you over the phone. I would like you to repeat it and any additional details, if you remember.”
Mr. Patil sighed. “I was standing on my post, guarding the jewelry store as always. I didn’t even hear them coming. One of them, a man, held a gun to my head before I had time to react. There were others, two men and a woman. All of them had covered their faces with masks. I tried to grab his gun from him and got shot in the leg. They covered my mouth with a handkerchief and I fainted. Must’ve been that chemical they use in the movies.”
“You don’t remember anything after that?”
“No. I woke up in the hospital. Someone found me there and brought me here.”
“You do realize the thieves stole crores worth of jewels and gold?” The Inspector looked frustrated. “Alright. I’ll be in the hospital, for now. Call me if you remember anything else.”
There was a knock on the door. A nurse peeked in. “May I enter?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dr. Singh said.
She looked surprised to see a policeman sitting there. She was short, about five feet in height. Her hair was tucked back in a ponytail. There was a tray in her hand, laden with food. The inspector got up and left. The nurse served the food and said, “Doctor, could you come outside for a minute?”
“Okay.” Dr. Singh followed her, puzzled.
Closing the door, she said, “Do you know where the supply room is? It’s actually my first day here.” She looked embarrassed.
“Coincidentally, it’s my first day too.” He chuckled. “But I do know where it is.” He showed her the directions. “What do you need?”
“Gloves and other sanitary stuff.” She smiled.
He went back in. Mr. Patil was talking to someone on the phone.
“Just do it. I’m begging you.” He looked worried, but he immediately changed his expression after Dr. Singh entered. Mr. Patil kept the phone down. Dr. Singh adjusted the saline.
Mr. Patil looked on edge. Like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “Are you okay?” Dr. Singh asked him.
“Y-yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice shook. He pursed his lips. “Actually, no.”
He locked eyes with the doctor. “I think someone’s going to kill me.”
“What?!” Dr. Singh was flabbergasted.
“Someone threatened to kill my family if I told the police something.” He was shaking. “They-they even knew my address!”
“Who?”
“That’s not important. If I die, I want you to tell something to the police! The thieves’ car! I know the model and number plate.” He told it to him.
“You should’ve told the inspector! Or someone else, at least!”
“You’re the only one who knows. My wife and kids could die! I just told them to leave the house and run. Please wait till they get away.”
“Fine.” Dr. Singh tried to calm himself. This was too much, but he just had to be patient.
He left the room as the nurse entered again with some medicines. “What’s the matter?” she asked him.
“Nothing.” he replied.
-|-|-
All Inspector Ghorpade needed was a hot cup of tea. It had been a long night. He hadn’t slept at all. He had just got off a call with some of his subordinates. They hadn’t found anything. Another dead end. His wife kept calling him even though he told her he was going to be late.
He sat there in the cafeteria, sipping tea. A man with a bushy mustache was staring at him. He came to him. “Are you here for Ramesh Patil?”
“Yes, I am. Who are you?”
“I’m his friend, Rakesh. What happened to him? He won’t tell me anything.”
“Some people robbed the jewelry store he guards and shot him.”
“Oh, god.” The man looked fearful. “Did he say anything about them? That could … help you find them?”
Ghorpade shook his head.
“I hope you bring them to justice.”
“So do I.” The inspector took a deep breath.
A male nurse from outside ran into the cafeteria. “Inspector! The patient in room 202, he’s dead!”
The inspector jumped up. “How?!”
“We’re looking at it. Please hurry.”
The food. Inspector Ghorpade remembered. The nurse poisoned him.
“Where is she? Where’s the nurse who was just in room 202?!” He demanded of him.
“She’s in the supply room.”
“Go to the exit to see if she leaves.”
He dashed to the supply room and found the nurse there.
“What did you do?!” He shouted at her.
“Me?! What happened?” She looked shocked.
“The patient in room 202 died.”
“How?”
Ghorpade tried to steady his breathing. “You poisoned him.”
“Why would I poison him?!”
Ghorpade heard loud footsteps. It was the male nurse, sweating profusely.
“The receptionist told me Dr. Singh just called in sick! He was never here.”