Manjiri Prabhu - The Cosmic Clues (Dell Mystery)

This is Stellar Investigations and we don't read horoscopes! Jatin unsuccessfully checked the exasperation in his voice and slammed down the receiver. He thrust a restive hand through his untidy mop of hair and wheeled to face his boss.

Sonia Samarth stood by the table, scanning the newspaper with interest.

That was the twentieth call demanding if this was an Astrology institute! Jatin exclaimed.

Natural, isn't it? Sonia shrugged nonchalantly. After all, it's common fact that people do get attracted to anyone who can predict the future.

But we don't predict the future. We are Investigators! he emphasized.

With a difference, Sonia pointed out gently. Relax, Jatin, I'll take the next call. You go finish your novel, till I need you.

Sonia settled in her cushioned seat and took up the paper again. The advertisement was small and crisp, as per budget constraints, but, to be absolutely impartial, hardly deserved the misunderstanding it had created.

STELLAR INVESTIGATIONS

Now a detective agency which combines astrological science with investigations! If you have a problem, contact at...

All morning the phone had pealed constantly, ringing from all corners of Pune city. Voicestimid, uncertain, overconfident, and even incredulous, all requesting appointments. The questions were manyHow much did they charge? Did they need the horoscope? Was it possible to predict the date of marriage? Could they predict without a horoscope? Initially, Jatin had braved the tide of queries on his own, intelligently masking his inexperience. Gradually, however, his polite, wordy explanations had turned to one-liner wisecracks and finally to downright insolence and refusals.

Sonia bore the confusion with better tolerance and patience. People were basically insecure, bogged down with innumerable worries, with a tendency to clutch at hopeful straws. Sonia knew and understood that feeling. She may have just set up her business a few months ago and had barely two cases to her credit, but she had a Masters in criminal psychology. Perhaps it was her understanding of human nature which had further led her to study Vedic Astrologya science she deeply respected and used as a guideline. It had all begun in funreading horoscopes for friends, predicting their love affairs and life partners in college. Then finding missing articles at home, first for the family and then for relatives. It was when she successfully tracked down the missing son of a close friend that she realized that she had stumbled onto a rather apocalyptic and pivotal discovery. Her in-depth study of Vedic Astrology would prove invaluable in her lifelong ambition to become a detective.

A rented office and two itsy-bitsy cases later, however, the knowledge had dawned on her that people did not look kindly upon her brilliant brainwave. Reading horoscopes for fun was one thing; using them to solve life-and-death issues was quite another. The result was filling the long office hours with chores like cleaning up or reading books on Astrology and listening to music over cups of chaitea with milkand sandwiches, to avoid boredom! Luckily for Sonia, Jatin was an ardent detective-cum-office-assistant, willing to hang on for the big break, however long it may take.

Sonia recalled her parents' reaction on seeing the ad that morning and smiled. They'd just finished a hearty breakfast of poheysoft puffed rice fried in onion and potatoesand coffee. Her mother, petite and dignified in a pure silk peach sari draped around her exquisite figure, was skimming over the paper. Sonia adored her beautiful mother. She was her idea of a perfect mother and woman. Unfortunately, perfection does not always equate with compatibility of thought. Despite being a businessperson and working shoulder-to-shoulder with her husband, Mrs. Samarth had her qualms about Sonia's profession. Her voice was a sigh as she studied the advertisement.

Need you be so open about your operative methods? You may end up making a fool of yourself! I can't understand why you must make yourself an object of ridicule!

Mr. Samarth took the newspaper from his wife and spent a thoughtful, leisurely minute over it. He was tall, with an athletic body maintained in good form due to a strict tennis routine and a controlled diet. To Sonia's immense relief, he nodded in approval, sealing his role as her lifelong champion. He patted her on the shoulder and smiled that wonderful encouraging smile he'd used on her ever since she was a kid.

Keep moving, never mind in which direction, but don't sit still! he remarked with a wink.

It was exactly what she had in mind.

Now as she sat in her office, she realized that her parents, regardless of their initial hesitation, had been supportive. It hadn't been easy to accept that their only daughter had plunged into an unaccountable crazy fancy, relinquishing all claims on the family business and nipping off the lucrative marriage proposals. And yet here she was, launched in her sparsely furnished but comfortable abode of workwith no work at all!

But at least she had been lucky enough to find an office on F.C.Road. It was a prime location of Pune. She had managed to rent one of the two-room offices lying vacant on the ground floor. The box window overlooked the main road and the small garden surrounding the buildingan ideal office in the centre of the city. The only problem being the traffic sounds, since F.C.Road was a crazy route at office hours.

For a minute, she glanced out of the window. The May sun beat down like a sweltering heat wave on the passing vehicles. It had been an unusually hot summer; she only hoped the monsoons would drive away all this heat.

The traffic was at its peak hour this morning. Black and yellow autorickshaws screamed and made their way skillfully between the Maruti vans, Zens, and Indicas. And the famous scooters and motorbikescommonly called two-wheelersweaved through the gaps, at breakneck speed! Driving was a necessary evil, in the cozy yet fast-churning city of Pune. Not for the girls, though. Teenagers and women office-goers were wrapped from head to toe in scarves, suncoats, and dark glasses to escape the sun. Totally unrecognizable, they enjoyed their anonymous freedom and mobility through the city.

Sonia's attention returned to the newspaper in her hand. Her eye traveled down from the first page to the next and halted on a write-up on the Rebel Cross gang. Sonia had followed this particular news story with a great deal of interest. The Rebel Cross was a group of unidentified young people with queer ideas of morality. They wore a cross, stamped like a tattoo, on their bare upper arm. They tracked down injustice and passed their own judgement. The spate of recent happenings, thefts, or thrashings in the city was an outcome of their policy.