The Woman in the Booth

Warm yellow bulbs. Neon light from outside bleeds through rain-blurred glass. Empty tables. A distant HUM of traffic. Closing time ka mahaul.

INSPECTOR DEV (40), rolled-up sleeves, rain-speckled trench coat, enters with a police file. He scans the café, then sits opposite SANA (27), nervous waitress in a black apron, holding a notepad and tray.

Arjun Mehra. Last seen yahin.

Sir, main... mujhe yaad nahi.

Dev opens the file, slides a photo across the table.

Aaj raat yaad karna padega.

Sana glances at the photo, then away.

Woh bas customer tha.

Customer log booth mein baith ke ghante bhar kya karte hain?

Coffee peete hain.

Aur dar ke maare idhar-udhar dekhte hain?

Sana tightens her grip on the tray.

Aapko kaise pata?

Dev notices the notepad. A rough sketch peeking from the top page.

Notepad mein orders se zyada faces ban rahe hain.

Practice hai.

Arjun ka face.

Beat.

Sana says nothing.

Tum usse pehchanti ho.

Har customer ko yaad rakhna mera kaam nahi, sir.

Par is face ko yaad rakhna tha.

He taps the sketch paper. Sana instinctively covers it.

Dev produces another photo from the file. Sana’s face drains.

Yeh reaction mujhe pasand nahi aaya.

Maine kuch nahi kiya.

Maine abhi kuch poocha bhi nahi.

A tense silence.

Arjun ne kya order kiya tha?

Coffee.

Kis type ki?

Black.

Sugar?

Nahi.

Kis se phone par baat kar raha tha?

Sana freezes.

Mujhe sunai nahi diya.

Sahi jawab.

He leans in.

Galat jawab do, toh main yahin se case close kar dunga.

Woh akela nahi tha.

Kaun tha uske saath?

Koi nahi. Par woh kisi ka intezar kar raha tha.

Kis ka?

Pata nahi.

Phir sketch kyun?

Sana hesitates, then reaches into her apron pocket. She pulls out a folded sketch paper and hands it over.

Dev unfolds it.

It’s a SKETCH OF DEV. Tired eyes. Rolled sleeves. Trench coat. Exact.

Dev looks up, stunned.

Yeh... kisne banaya?

Arjun ne.

Kaise?

Usne bola, “Agar Inspector Dev aaye, toh samajh lena main sach ke kareeb tha.”

Dev’s jaw tightens.

Aur sach kya tha?

Usne mujhe ek envelope diya tha.

Kahan hai?

Mere paas nahi.

Sana.

Usne bola tha... pehle isse dekhna.

She points under the booth.

Woh bola tha, “Booth ke neeche.”

Dev kneels, pulls out a flashlight, checks beneath the booth.

Nothing. Just old gum residue. Then a tiny METAL SLIVER stuck to tape marks.

Yahan kuch chipaya gaya tha.

Mujhe laga woh bas paranoid tha.

Paranoid log usually sahi hote hain.

He stands, looking at her differently now.

Arjun kaun tha, Sana?

Sana’s eyes fill.

Mera bhai.

Beat.

Missing man report mein yeh nahi tha.

Kyuki usne bola tha police par trust mat karna.

Dev absorbs that.

Woh kisi corruption ring ke against evidence laaya tha. Usne kaha tha agar kuch hua, toh pehle aapko check karna.

Mujhe?

Usne bola tha aap ya toh last honest cop ho... ya sabse dangerous.

Dev opens the file again, flips to the last page. A hidden PHOTO falls out: an old POLICE BADGE and a familiar face.

Dev stares.

Nahi...

Kya hua?

Yeh file jis officer se judi thi... woh mera purana partner tha.

Sana is shaken.

Toh Arjun sach mein...

Haan.

He closes the file.

Woh yahin se gaya tha. Aur koi uske baad aaya.

Kya woh zinda hai?

Dev meets her eyes.

Aaj raat ka answer main tumse jhooth bol ke nahi doonga.

He takes out a small notebook page from the file.

Statement likho.

Sana nods, opens her notepad with trembling hands.

Rain intensifies outside. Neon flickers.

Sir... agar sach nikla, toh?

Toh pehli baar kisi ka sketch evidence banega.

He sets the sketch of himself on the table between them.

A beat. Then Sana starts writing.