The sun had just risen in the east, turning the sky orange-red. He wasn’t happy to wake up so early, but as a police inspector, this was regular for him. People would invariably pop up dead at odd times, and if they ended up in his jurisdiction, he had to attend them at those strange times.
This time, a guy had hanged himself in an abandoned house. This house was surrounded by a compound that had weeds and wild patches growing on it. The front porch had wild grass up to the knee. The house had walls with most of its paintings peeled off. As they entered, they saw that everything in it was covered in dust after not using it for several years. It was a small house with a hall, kitchen, and bedroom. There was a stair on one end that led to the terrace.
The guy had hanged himself in the hall. He probably had used the dining table to get up and tie the rope to the fan. The table was flipped to its side. The forensics were already doing their work, collecting evidence from the place.
He came out of the house and saw a fancy car parked outside of the compound of this abandoned house. He wondered why the guy who seemed to be rich enough to have a luxurious vehicle would come to this place and kill himself. One of the forensic guys handed him something.
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“The dead guy had this in his pocket.”
It was a photograph. There was a man at the center holding a young kid. There were rows of balloons behind them, one of them spelled out “Happy Birthday.” There was a table before them and a cake with a single candle shaped like the number one on it. To the man’s right was a woman who was most likely pregnant. Mostly the man’s wife. To his left was another man and a woman. Those two seemed like a couple.
As he closely looked at the man in the center, he had a faint hint of recognition. At the same time, the forensics brought the dead man out on a stroller, his entire body covered in a white sheet. A hospital van had reached the place to take the man and perform an autopsy.
The constable got close to him and asked, “It’s the guy in the center who committed suicide, right?”
The dead man’s face had warped out of shape, his eyes bulged out of his face, and his tongue had twisted out of his mouth, but there was no doubt it was the guy at the center in that photograph.
“Yeah, Do you recognize him?”
The constable replied, “No, sir!”
“I have seen him before. He was a wealthy business tycoon.”
The constable was surprised, “If he was so rich, then he must have had everything in his life. I wonder why he resorted to suicide.”
He gazed as they pulled the stroller into the van, and then he looked at the photograph again and all those smiles in that photo. The man at the center seemed so happy on his daughter’s first birthday, and it made no sense that he would commit suicide.