The secret of the Indian pentagram 04

It was already past 3 PM when Maurice Bertram's phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He flinched momentarily, picked up the phone from the table, and answered without giving his name, "Yes?"

It was the Abercrombie Police Station from Port Louis. They wanted to pick him up for questioning around 4:30 PM.

"Okay! I'll make myself available and wait for you," Maurice replied.

Maurice Bertram was an attractive, calm man with a slight, firm belly. A man whom you'd trust to always keep his composure. "You're a natural diplomat," Véronique had often told him. But with her, his controlled emotions had completely failed. They had gotten the best of him from the moment they first met at the café by the waterfront. Those were unforgettable hours.

He rose from the rattan chair, walked to the kitchen, filled a glass with ice cubes, and poured himself a Scotch. His thoughts drifted back to the day they had met.

"Unfortunately, I've fallen hopelessly in love with you."

"Unfortunately!" protested Véronique, seductively presenting herself. He could never forget Véronique's challenging "unfortunately." That was her reaction every time they found evenings to discuss that day.

Three years ago, she had skillfully maneuvered at the café and captured his mind. They sat across from each other. Véronique kept her eyes fixed on him, discreetly observing him up close. Her gaze traveled from his brown hair, slightly combed back. She examined his blue-green eyes, moved on to his refined aristocratic nose, and to his full lips. His furrowed brow and the lines at the corners of his mouth were like a signature of his character. She estimated his height to be around 1.80 to 1.85 meters and his age in the mid to late forties.

As it turned out later, he had recently celebrated his 46th birthday. So, her guess wasn't far off. Maurice immediately noticed her interest. He had a keen sense and was very receptive to this kind of "scanning." Suddenly, their gazes met. Véronique then shifted into full conquest mode, aiming for victory from the start. She delicately picked up her white porcelain cup and brought it to her vibrant red lips. He followed her subtle move with sensual glances. Then she drank slowly, allowing the rouge of her lips to leave a bold mark. And all the while, she maintained eye contact with him.

"Do you enjoy coffee as much as I do?" she asked cheekily.

"Yes, very much, especially when the cup is so beautifully painted."

Both laughed. Maurice stood up and approached Véronique. She stood as well. She was surely around 1.70 meters tall and had a well-trained physique. Immediately, he thought of martial arts. The short, form-fitting white summer dress seemed tailor-made for her. And those wild blonde locks! They greeted each other and ordered two glasses of white wine.

Maurice sighed, "And now she's dead, murdered under such mysterious circumstances." He didn't realize how time had passed. There was a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock. A police officer had come to pick him up.

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