The Stranger with A Briefcase

Highway Five cuts right through the middle of my native village. I visited my place almost after a year, even though it was just fifty kilometers away from the town, where I settled down as a taxi driver. Nothing was special with the visit, except that we commemorated my grandfather’s hundredth death anniversary. As my wife and children wished to stay back for couple of days more, on the excuse of duty, I bid farewell to everybody and started back.

Even though the village was on a highway, it never changed much over the last twenty years. May be, some villages and towns were always like that, nothing changes much. I crossed the main street and took the highway towards my town. The twenty five year old teashop was still there at the center bus stop and a new cool drink shop was opened some time back last year next to it. I was born in this village and lived for almost one third of my life there.

After I crossed the Cherukupally village, I noticed a nicely dressed man with a briefcase standing on the roadside waving his hand to stop. I wondered what such a person was doing at a remote place like that. The closest village from Cherukupally must be at least three miles from there. Normally I was not that good at heart in giving people the lift sort of thing. But, in that case, I felt probably I could earn little money.

I pulled over to the side and stopped little ahead of him. He hurriedly walked over to my side window and asked me whether I could take him to the town’s railway station. “At any cost”, he added at the end. I bent over to my back door and opened it for him to get in. He hurled his briefcase to the corner and jumped inside, shutting the door with a big bang.

As my mind quickly calculated how much he would be willing to pay for that trip, I muttered, “It would be one thousand rupees.” Before I could even finish the sentence, he replied, “Ok”. Normally I would charge around two to three hundred rupees for such a ride, I felt happy because he accepted without any bargain.

I started the car engine and pulled it back onto the highway. He threw himself back in a relaxed position and started wiping his face with a handkerchief. With a round face and a small stature body and with little tummy to add, he appeared to me as a wealthy businessman. What in the name of God would have brought him down to such a place at such an hour? My mind started to ask questions curiously.

“Where are you from, sir”, I started pulling him into conversation.

“Not from here”, he gave a blunt reply.

I hesitated a moment to ask the next question. But my restless mind with innumerable questions could not obey.

“What brought you down to this remote place?”

He grunted loudly and said, “I am on a trip to Hyderabad. My car broke down on the highway. I have to reach the railway station to catch the last train to Hyderabad now.” So he was heading to Hyderabad. My mind rested little with that reply.

As we continued, we talked over many topics ranging from movies to the great business plans. He didn’t appear to have the complex, which many rich people have, particularly in talking to the drivers. He got the ease of answering any question comfortably and at one moment I felt he must have been very shrewd to the core.

I learnt from the conversation that he was in the business of leather exports. When I tried to request for a job for me in the city, he politely refused telling that city jobs are hard and miserable. He suggested me to continue in the same job and warned me about the job brokers.

When we entered the town, he asked me to stop at the best restaurant in the town. He went inside and brought a parcel of food with him, while I was waiting in the parking area. I opened the door for him and again he hurled his briefcase to the corner and pushed himself in with the parcel bag.

Then it struck to me that there must be something important in the suitcase and that was why he was always carrying it with him. My thoughts lingered around the briefcase for sometime, imagining how much money it must be carrying. Most probably, it must be carrying the amount, which I might not earn in a single life span.

The parking in railway station was empty and I parked very close to the main entrance. I jumped out of the car and opened the door for him to get out. He was already having the money notes in his hand, which he handed it over to me after he got out. Then he pulled his briefcase from inside and grabbed it firmly and moved towards the entrance.

I offered him my help in carrying the briefcase, but he refused. I observed him till he vanished in to the crowd and counted the money. I took out a five-rupee note to pay the parking fees and tried to close the backseat door with the other hand.

In the flashlight coming from the top of the main entrance, I noticed some dark colored spots at the edge of the seat cover. I didn’t remember noticing them before. I slowly touched them with my hand and surprisingly found them to be still wet. I smelled my finger and suddenly realized that it was blood. My entire body shivered in fear. Immediately I switched on the top car reading lights and checked up my entire car. I found those blood spots at two other places on the seat cover and also on the side doormat.

I wondered where they came from. It must be from the suitcase as he was always sitting on the left hand corner only. He dragged the briefcase couple of times from that end to this end, so I concluded that the spots would have been formed then. I touched and smelled those spots again and again to make sure that they were not from some red ink.

I had the worst ideas into my mind. I got a suspicion that the stranger must have been a murderer and was concealing his weapon in the briefcase. Otherwise what must be he doing at such a remote place? ‘Liar!’ I cursed him for all the stories he had told. That must be the reason why he was clinging to that briefcase so diligently. As the idea of the stranger being a murderer grew in my mind, I became restless. I debated whether to go to police or to go after him myself. As the clock was clicking off, I did not hesitate any more.

Immediately I locked my car and rushed into the railway station. As I did not find him at the ticketing office, I rushed immediately towards the platform in search of him. I bought the platform ticket and went inside. As I entered the platform, I found a police constable standing at the security booth. I went close to him and explained what had happened. Immediately we both started searching for him.

We found him standing near a bookshop, holding a magazine in one hand and the briefcase in the other. On seeing me, he smiled enquiringly. Then after seeing the policeman with me, I could clearly notice the tensed look in his face.

“The taxi driver found some blood marks on his back seat”, the constable said in an inquiring voice and gave a pause as if to give a chance for him to explain.

He thought for a second and then he smiled and said,

“Blood? Yes, my left little finger got cut at the sharp edges of the briefcase lock”

He lifted his left little finger up and we could see a small cut, which was fresh with dried blood marks around it.

-Preethi

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