Poison shop Part -1

It was a typical afternoon at the bustling Saffron Bites restaurant. The clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations, and the fragrant aroma of spices filled the air. A group of five friends sat around a table in the corner, laughing and chatting, enjoying a long-awaited reunion. The laughter was infectious, spreading from their table to the nearby diners.

Among them was Sameer, who had just returned from a two-year stint abroad. "You guys have no idea how much I missed Indian food," he said, leaning back in his chair and eyeing the plates in front of them. "The food there is nothing compared to this."

"You've been raving about Saffron Bites for weeks," his friend Rajiv chuckled, slicing into his paneer tikka. "I hope it lives up to the hype."

"It will," Sameer said confidently. "You'll see."

They dug into their meals with gusto, exchanging stories of work, travels, and old memories. The food was rich and flavorful, and everything seemed perfect—until it wasn't.

Suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, Sameer stopped. His face twisted in discomfort, and he began coughing. At first, it seemed harmless, just a bit of food going down the wrong way. But then his coughing grew violent. His friends watched, concern spreading across their faces.

"Sameer? You okay?" Rajiv asked, leaning toward him.

Sameer tried to respond but was overtaken by another fit of coughing. His hand flew to his mouth, and when he pulled it away, there were specks of blood. His eyes widened in shock.

"Oh my God," gasped Aditi, another of their friends. "He's coughing blood!"

Panic set in. Sameer's body convulsed with each cough, blood now staining his shirt. The others at the table began to feel a tightness in their throats. One by one, they started coughing too—first Rajiv, then Aditi, then the others. The scene escalated quickly. The restaurant, once filled with the sounds of casual dining, fell into stunned silence as the group's violent coughing fits drew the attention of everyone around.

"Call an ambulance!" someone shouted from another table.

Within minutes, paramedics arrived and rushed the friends to the hospital. Their bodies were weak, and their faces were pale as they were wheeled out on stretchers, the terror of the unknown etched into their expressions. In the chaos, someone called the police.

---

Vikram Mehra, now few weeks passed into his job as a police officer, arrived at the scene. His eyes immediately scanned the room, taking in the worried faces of the remaining diners, the frantic whispers, and the restaurant owner, a middle-aged man named Arjun, who stood in the center of the room looking completely bewildered.

"What happened here?" Vikram asked as he approached one of the waiters.

The waiter, a young man barely out of his teens, was trembling. "S-sir, we don't know! They were just eating, and suddenly they started coughing—coughing up blood!"

"Did you serve them something unusual? Any new dishes?" Vikram's voice was calm but authoritative.

"No, sir. They ordered the usual—tandoori, dal makhani, paneer tikka—nothing different."

Vikram frowned. His instincts told him there was more to this. As he turned toward the kitchen, a woman from the food safety department approached. She introduced herself as Officer Meena Sharma and gestured for Vikram to follow her into the kitchen.

"We've tested the food samples," Meena said, her voice grave as she led Vikram through the swinging doors. "There's something you need to see."

Inside the kitchen, she showed him the test results on her tablet. "We found traces of a chemical in the food—a slow-acting poison. Use to enhance taste of the food. It appears that the restaurant has been mixing a small amount of this toxin into the meals they serve, likely to keep customers returning. We're still testing for the exact substance, but today, it seems they made a mistake. The amount they put in the group's food was far too high."

Vikram's expression hardened. "Poison? So this was deliberate?"

Meena nodded. "It looks that way. The restaurant's been quietly poisoning its customers for some time, but today the dose was fatal."

Vikram felt a surge of anger. "Who's responsible for this?"

Before Meena could answer, they heard a commotion from the dining area. Vikram rushed back to find the restaurant's owner, Arjun, kneeling on the floor, his hands clasped together, pleading with the officers.

"I swear, I didn't do it!" Arjun cried, his voice desperate. "I don't know anything about any poison! I've been running this place for thirty years—there's never been anything like this! Please, you have to believe me!"

Vikram approached, his eyes narrowing. "Your kitchen staff have been mixing poison into the food. How do you explain that?"

Arjun's face went pale, his eyes wide with shock. "Poison? No! That's impossible! I would never—"

"You can't be serious!" one of the customers shouted from a nearby table. "You've been poisoning people this whole time, and now you act like you had no idea? Shame on you!"

"Lock him up!" another diner yelled, their voice filled with anger. "He tried to kill those kids!"

A crowd was beginning to form around Arjun, their accusations growing louder. Vikram motioned for his officers to step in, but Arjun's voice cut through the noise, trembling with desperation.

"I swear on my life, I had no idea! I've trusted my chefs for years! They've been with me since the beginning—there's no way they would do this! There has to be some kind of mistake!" Arjun's voice cracked with emotion. "Please… I'm innocent…"

But the crowd was unforgiving. "You expect us to believe that? You should rot in prison for what you've done!"

Vikram stepped forward, silencing the room with a raised hand. "Enough!" His voice was firm. "We'll get to the bottom of this. But for now, we need to take Mr. Arjun into custody for questioning."

Arjun shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! You can't do this!"

"I'm sorry," Vikram said, his tone softer now, but resolute. "Until we figure out who's responsible, we need to take you in."

The officers moved toward Arjun, placing handcuffs around his wrists. He didn't resist, but the defeated look in his eyes told Vikram everything. Whether he was guilty or not, this man's world had just collapsed.

As they led him out of the restaurant, the whispers of the crowd followed. Some were filled with disgust, others with disbelief.

Vikram watched as the restaurant doors closed behind them, sealing off the chaos inside. This was only the beginning of the investigation. Something about Arjun's pleas seemed genuine, but there was no denying the evidence in front of them. Poison had been found in the food, and lives had been endangered. Arjun got arrested.

It had been a long day at the police station, and Vikram Mehra was sitting at his desk, reviewing the files on the restaurant poisoning case. The evidence seemed damning—traces of poison in the food, the restaurant owner Arjun's desperate pleas of innocence, and now, the lives of the five friends hanging in the balance at the hospital. Vikram couldn't shake the nagging doubt that gnawed at him, though. Something about Arjun's raw emotion had felt sincere.

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of his desk phone. Vikram picked it up, his voice calm and professional. "Vikram Mehra."

"Officer Mehra, this is Dr. Iyer from City General Hospital," came a voice from the other end. "One of the patients, Sameer, has regained consciousness. He's asking to speak with you urgently. He says he has information about the poisoning."

Vikram straightened in his chair, his instincts kicking in. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

He grabbed his jacket, briefed his team on his temporary leave, and headed out. The drive to the hospital was swift, but the weight of the case pressed heavy on his mind. If Sameer had something to say, it might provide the breakthrough they needed.

---

At the hospital, Vikram was quickly directed to Sameer's room. The young man lay pale and weak in the bed, an IV drip attached to his arm, but his eyes were sharp, filled with an intensity that seemed to push past the fatigue.

Sameer's father sat beside him, a frail but composed man with salt-and-pepper hair, holding his son's hand gently. When Vikram entered, the father looked up with a mix of hope and exhaustion.

"Officer Mehra," Sameer said, his voice raspy but firm. "Thank you for coming."

Vikram nodded, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "I'm glad to see you're awake, Sameer. The doctor said you wanted to talk to me."

Sameer nodded weakly, taking a slow breath before speaking. "It's about Arjun Uncle, the owner of the restaurant. I heard… I heard you've arrested him."

Vikram met his gaze. "He's in custody, yes. We found poison in the food, Sameer. It's hard to overlook that."

"I know," Sameer said, his eyes darkening with emotion. "But Arjun Uncle would never do something like that. He's practically family to us."

Vikram frowned, intrigued. "What do you mean by 'family'? How do you know him?"

Sameer glanced at his father, who gave him an encouraging nod before he continued. "My mom… she died when I was really young. I was just five years old. After she passed, my dad… he didn't know how to cook. He barely knew how to take care of me." Sameer's voice softened, memories flashing in his eyes. "Arjun Uncle lived next door. He used to run a small food stall back then. He's the one who took care of us. Every day, he'd bring us food—he never asked for anything in return. Over time, he became like family. He's been feeding me for years, even before he opened Saffron Bites."

Sameer's father, who had remained silent, now spoke up, his voice low but steady. "Sameer is telling the truth, Officer. Arjun is a good man. He's been a part of our lives for nearly two decades. I can't believe he would ever poison anyone. Someone must be framing him."

Vikram leaned back, absorbing the new information. This was a different side of the story, one that hadn't been revealed until now. "Sameer," he said carefully, "why would someone try to frame Arjun? Have you noticed anything unusual recently, anything that might suggest trouble?"

Sameer shook his head, but his father spoke again. "There have been rumors, Officer. Arjun's restaurant has been getting more popular, and there are competitors—people who don't like that he's doing well. Some of them have tried to buy him out, but he refused."

Vikram's brows furrowed. "Do you have any names? Anyone specific who tried to pressure him?"

"I don't know for sure," Sameer's father admitted. "But I've heard talk in the neighborhood. Some people in the food business… they weren't happy with how successful he's become."

Vikram nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "Thank you for telling me this. I'll look into it." He stood up, offering Sameer and his father a reassuring smile. "I'll make sure we investigate this thoroughly. If what you're saying is true, we'll find out who's really behind this."

Sameer gave a weak smile, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Officer Mehra. Please don't let Arjun Uncle suffer for something he didn't do."

---

Back at the station, Vikram wasted no time in updating his superior, Inspector Murthy, on what he had learned.

"Interesting," Murthy mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "So the boy claims Arjun has been a father figure to him. If that's true, it would explain the restaurant owner's desperate pleas of innocence."

Vikram nodded. "Sameer's story checks out. His father confirmed it. They both believe Arjun is being framed, possibly by a competitor."

Murthy leaned back in his chair, considering the new angle. "We need to investigate this deeply, Vikram. The evidence against Arjun is still strong, but if there's a chance he's being set up, we owe it to him to find out the truth. Start digging into his competitors—anyone who might have had a reason to see his business fail."

Vikram agreed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. The case had taken a sharp turn, and now it was his responsibility to find out whether Arjun was truly innocent or if there was more to this twisted plot than met the eye.