Thiruvalla, 1985
Press cars were already present before the second body had even cooled.
Rajan, beyond the yellow tape, watched reporters crowd the gate, vulture-like, as cameras blinked and microphones pushed forward. Suddenly, a young constable was already chattering—nervously eager to help.
We discovered a red string on the victim's wrist. It could be used in a ritual. We are not ruling out anything.
That was all it would take.
Evening, *Malayala Manorama* had the following headline:
**"Ritual Killer Stalks Kerala—Police Suspect Temple Connection"**
The story spread like fire through dry cane.
Tea shops buzzed. Priests were questioned.
Women no longer use red threads.
Rajan felt that he was losing the grip of the case.
---
**The Briefing Room**
The DCP walked back and forth in front of the whiteboard, red circles around victim faces.
"We have a pattern. Red threads. All tied the same way. Temple knots."
Rajan leaned forward. "Sir, the first victim was carrying it during prayer. The second had it in her handbag. The third—
"Three forms a pattern."
> "Three's a coincidence."
The room fell silent.
Rajan reviewed the photos. The threads varied. One was cotton. One was silk. One was frayed, as if it had been ripped from a sari.
He's not doing rituals," Rajan said. "He's doing dominance.".
---
**The Journalist**
Her name was Meera Thomas. Channel 6. Sharp eyes. Sharper tongue.
She cornered Rajan outside the morgue.
> Is it true that the killer bathes in the victims' homes?"
Rajan remained quiet.
> "Drinks tea? Leaves the kettle warm?
Still silence.
And the red thread—is it symbolic? Religious?
Rajan turned. "It's irrelevant.
"But it was discovered on all three victims."
> "And so were fingernails. Can we label him the Manicure Killer?"
She smiled. "You're angry.".
> "I'm tired."
> Of what?
> "Of fiction."
---
**The Public
By the end of the week, they identified the name of the killer.
"The Thread Ripper."
Rajan disliked it.
He despised the manner in which individuals murmured it in fear.
He did not like how children sketched it in their notebooks.
He did not approve of the way the murderer was becoming legendary.
Because myths don't bleed.
Myths leave no traces.
Myths do not have tea in the deceased's residences. But this man did. ---