Suspense — Sunday

Arjun turned the photographs over. On the back of the last one, in faint pencil, a junior officer had scribbled: Victim’s personal diary recovered. Last entry dated yesterday. Quote: “She visits every third Sunday. I’ve made peace with it.”

Inside, Dev Mitra had been found slumped over his mahogany desk, a glass of wine toppled beside him, and on the wall behind him—written in what appeared to be his own blood—the words: THE THIRD SUNDAY. Sunday Suspense

The autopsy report arrived just as the church bells tolled six. Arjun scanned it, then went still. “The incision. It was made post-mortem.” Arjun turned the photographs over

“What?”

He paused at the door. “Come, Rohan. Let’s go meet a ghost.” Quote: “She visits every third Sunday

Tonight’s file was thin, almost insultingly so. It contained only three photographs and a single typed sheet.