The Man Behind the Strings

By Annsh Bhandari

An unexplainable murder sets the city of Los Angeles into motion. As Detective Joel Grum teams up with journalist Claire Dunn to find out the person responsible, the two realize the murder was just a pawn in a bigger game of chess. Watch how a simple murder case turns into a plot filled with conspiracy, crime, drama, and betrayal. When Joel digs deeper into the mystery, he finds out that bigger powers are at work and realizes how one person is controlling everything like puppets on a string. With every new find, Joel comes closer to finding out the hand controlling the puppets and the ulterior motives at play. Does Joel succeed in finding out the shocking truth, or does he fall prey to the mastermind of the plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jan 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482867978

Annsh Bhandari

I’m seventeen years old. I like reading books, and this is my amateur attempt at a full-fledged novel. I live in New Delhi with my parents.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Annsh Bhandari.

ISBN:      Softcover         978-1-4828-6798-5

                 eBook             978-1-4828-6797-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23 – The Hearing

Chapter 24 – Paris

Epilogue

Chapter 1

11:27 pm

The water splattered as she walked, the thick soles of her leather boots creating tiny ripples and splashing the dirty muddy water that was a salient indicator of yesterday night’s harsh rainfall, and a stark reminder of the municipal councils inefficiency in repairing the road-holes in the downtown area. She scuttled along her path, weary and tired from the days work at the office.

Ugh I’m late as hell again, poor Michael. I guess he must have gotten used to me coming home so late everyday. I really should quit this job Emily thought. Her flow of thoughts was brought to a half when she stopped; she thought she heard something.

Hello? Emily said and turned around. Nothing. Not a soul. She mumbled to herself and continued walking. Splash. She heard the sound now; she heard it loud and clear. It was the sound of a shoe striking a puddle of water. Her pulse quickened and her heart started to race, being a newspaper journalist covering the area she was all too familiar with the group of drug dealers who operated there, and called themselves ‘The Black Plague’. Emily heard the sound again. Splash. She was wary of the danger she was in now. She remembered her fiancé warning her not to walk home alone everyday. "Let me pick you up, it isn’t safe for you to walk home alone at night." Emily was stubborn though; she loved the evening walks from her office in the city to her house a couple of miles away. She loved the serenity of the night; the lack of noise and people helped her de-stress herself from the days bustle. She opened her purse and quickly scanned for her phone in an attempt to dial 911 when she heard it. She heard the sound of someone breathing on her neck, someone who was standing right behind her; every drop of blood in her body froze.

If it is money you need, my fiancé is rich. He can pay you off handsomely, but don’t hurt me please; all I have are a hundred dollars and this expensive gold watch right now. Please take it and let me go, Please. She managed to whimper taking off her fake Rolex watch and ruffling out the green banknotes from her purse – her bonus from her last assignment. Emily knew somebody was behind her.

She turned around and saw the brown hooded figure and caught a glimpse of the shining steel knife and she screamed, a shrill strident scream, which echoed across the whole block and died out just as the steel blade entered her stomach, piercing her gut and draining out all life from her body.

6:30 am – LAPD crime scene.

What’s going on here? asked Jim, a not so honest bystander. He had seen the dozen or so police cars with their LAPD stickers and flashing police sirens and had noticed the barricades that had been put up by the police. The road had been blocked off and Crime scene labels surrounded the area.

A woman was murdered here last night, that is what happened. said an officer, sipping his morning dose of Roasted American.

Jim knew this was going to be one hell of a story, but the details were vague and hazy, he needed more information if he wanted to see it on tomorrow’s front page and he needed it before those daily herald idiots arrived, and started picking on the story like vultures over a carcass.

Sir do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I am a reporter with the California Tribune.

Ah, Mr. Grums paper?

"Mr. Robert Grum is our proprietor, yes. So do you mind a few questions sir? Jim said, losing his patience.

Nay I don’t mind as long as you report your source to be anonymous, wouldn’t want any trouble with the chief now. He said and laughed all the while sipping his coffee.

Jim smiled and said, No worries on that officer Jim was all too aware of the police force’s recent desire to give their interviews anonymously. The new Captain had been enforcing in tight regulations.

The officer set down his coffee and rumbled, All right, lets get this over with quick.

Have you guys identified who it is? said Jim firing his first question.

Not yet, they are sending the fingerprints and blood samples to forensics as we speak though, we should have a hit soon.

I see, how long do you think that will take officer?

An hour, maybe two at most. Said the burly officer.

When was the murder reported? Jim asked.

"Say about 5 am, the magazine delivery guy was riding on his bike when he saw the body and he dialed 911 immediately. I was the first on the crime scene".

Jim gazed at the inspector intently and finally said, Do you have any clue who did the crime?

"Well we just got this investigation started but looking at the way the body is decimated, id say it’s those plague thugs.

I see, I see what do you think is their motive for murdering this woman. Said Jim continuing his salvo of questions.

I daresay lad, it’s too early to speak of motive now, but anyways I need to get going.

Jim got what he wanted. The deal was done. He grinned and said, No worries officer, I appreciate it, go catch that Son-of-a-Gun for me

Bloody reporters, always asking questions. Mumbled LAPD Officer Nathan Olson under his breath. He sat back in his car and turned on the engine driving away hastily. A dark brown stain wet the pavement where his coffee had been.

Chapter 2

9:15 am – Joel’s apartment.

Joel woke up. His tuft of dark brown hair all ruffled over his head dirtily. He looked over and saw the time- 9:15 am according to his alarm clock. Oh shit. Joel got in his silver range rover; the car had been a birthday gift from his father. Although, his father had wanted to give him something much more lavish Joel had refuted all his gifts and insisted on a simple car, something modest and not screaming of affluence. Since he was a child Joel had always hated his fathers money, he still remembered the jeers the kids in the park would give him. He thought the jeers would go away as he got older but they didn’t, the kids at the park became the kids in his college dorm. Wherever he went society shunned him for being more privileged than they would ever be. Not publicly though, for on his face they were all filled with levity, girls would try and get close to him just to use his money but he knew what they really thought of him. They thought he was a snobbish, arrogant piece of shit just like his brother. Funny how people grouped him and his brother Vincent together based on Vincent’s vices. Being the son of one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country had been less of a boon for him and more of a curse. The darkest hour of that curse had been when his mother was killed in a hit and run case. He still remembered the day the news had come, he and Jason had been playing cards and their father told them to go to their room. The next day when he woke up his mother was no more; just like that she was gone. Joel drove past his fathers building, a huge modern skyscraper glistened with shining multiplex glass, a giant among giants it was by far the tallest building in all of Los Angeles. And to think that all that could have been mine huh. Oh well I don’t regret it. Vincent will lead it now. he thought and chuckled. Vincent, his younger brother had turned out to be an utter disappointment, at the prime age of 21 he wasted his youth drinking, blowing away their fathers money and getting in trouble. Vincent always got himself in trouble, and expected to get a ‘get away from jail free card’ every single time. Too bad real life isn’t monopoly Vincent, well except if you have money.

10:17 am.

Claire Dunn entered the building premises right on time. She couldn’t help but be punctual it was an incontrovertible habit. It was her first day at the paper today. The first of many great ones she hoped.

She gazed at the exorbitantly large and lavish reception hall of Grum Enterprises: the tallest, most magnificent and novel building in the city, and the big toy of billionaire Robert Grum. Her office was on the 54th floor, a district division office of the California Tribune, one of the foremost newspapers on the West Coast.

Claire had always wanted to be a journalist since the pristine age of 10, which came as a surprise to her parents who were both desk crunching white-collar workers. The day before she had debated on great length what she should wear for her first day at work. It shouldn’t be too flashy or showy; hmm I suppose I might as well stick to something that helps me to mingle in with the crowd but not too casual either. In the end she decided on a red-checkered shirt, Prussian blue jeans and a pair of white sneakers, her long black hair tucked into a ponytail.

Claire got in an elevator and pressed the button for the 54th floor. She looked around and saw that she wasn’t alone, a young man was in