Sunday Suspense Link

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.

Arjun stood, pulling on his coat. “That’s the question. And tonight is the third Sunday of the month. If the pattern holds, someone, somewhere, is already waiting for their visitor.” Sunday Suspense

“A delayed mechanism? Ice holding a blade? A spring-loaded device?” Inside, Dev Mitra had been found slumped over

“She,” Arjun murmured.

The amber glow of the study lamp did little to chase away the Sunday chill. For Superintendent Arjun Sen, the third Sunday of every month was a ritual. The leather armchair, a half-empty glass of single malt, and the case file no one else could solve. And tonight is the third Sunday of the month