Meera Sanyal had inherited Chai & Spice from her grandmother just a few months ago after the old woman had left it to her in her will. Her parents had been dead set against her uprooting her life in bustling Mumbai, where she worked as a corporate slave, and relocating to the quieter hill station of Darjeeling.

“You’ve only ever seen the place during your holidays,” her mother had argued, “It’s another thing to live there the whole year round.”

“Sweetheart, you know we will always support you,” her father had said, “But you are throwing away your whole career. I don’t think you will get to start over again.”

“But it’s Didu’s legacy,” Meera said, simply, “She always told me I’d inherit the tea cafe. I’ve been looking forward to this day forever. My life will finally begin.”

Meera had seen her parents exchange worried looks. As if she had become influenced by the stories she had grown up hearing and daydreaming about. Legally, there wasn’t much her parents could do. Her grandmother had left it to her in the will - a warm little tea café tucked into a sloping cobbled lane just off Mall Road.

Inside, it smelled like cinnamon, cardamom, and secrets. Wooden beams, hand-painted kettles, and mismatched but cozy furniture gave it a lived-in charm. Locals used to drop by for masala chai, samosas, puzzles and a side of gossip. Meera had spent countless summer vacations solving puzzles with her grandmother. She always said that is what made Chai & Spice unique. 

“People don’t just come here for a quick meal, Meera,” Didu had told her, “Sometimes they want to get away from their thoughts. And a puzzle helps them do just that.”

After Didu’s demise, the place had been shut for a while. The back patio overlooked the valley, making it the perfect place for those who liked collecting gossip. 

Meera had tied up her straight, cherry red hair in a bun, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. Her brown eyes shone with happiness as she anticipated yet another day at Chai & Spice. Meera wiped down the tables before turning the sign to read ‘OPEN’ and was immediately greeted by a crowd of people. 

“You need to start opening earlier,” Professor Das grumbled, “I need my tea to function at the bookshop. How am I supposed to keep sharp?”

“He’s right, you know,” Mrs. Chatterjee added, “Many of us came to rely on Chai & Spice to start our mornings.”

“Well, I’ll do my very best to open earlier,” Meera said, smiling at them, “I just got carried away trying to find a blend you would all like.”

“If I may offer a suggestion,” Lalita Dey, the librarian, said, drily, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“This place just feels like it’s stuck in time,” Meera said softly, “I mean, I loved my grandmother, and I know how important she was to all of you. But I want Chai & Spice to reflect that it’s under my wing now.”

“Honey,” Mrs. Chatterjee said, in an exaggerated accent, “Your grandmother left you with a recipe for a hit on your hands. Why are you trying to change things? You still have your regulars. The season is just around the corner. Business will pick up.”

Along with the cafe, Meera had inherited her grandmother’s regular customers. They had assumed that Chai & Spice would shut down for good when the news about Meera’s grandmother’s death had spread through the community. Meera and her parents had come down immediately when Inspector Vikram Rao had made the call.

She had only seen him at the funeral - Inspector Vikram Rao that is - and that too from a distance. He had shown up, paid his respects, and disappeared. She had been very intrigued by him. She was dying to know why someone like him was stationed at Darjeeling. 

“Meera, are you going to take our order?” Professor Das asked impatiently, “You know I need to open my book shop at ten.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, happily, pulling out her notepad, “Tell me what you’d like for breakfast. Also, a new set of puzzles have come in. Would you like to try one?”

It was a month later now, and the tight-knit community had accepted Meera as their own. Meera had settled down well into her new role as the owner and tea maker of Chai & Spice. The door to the cafe opened, making the bell sound, and making Meera peek out from behind the counter. 

“I come bearing gifts,” Priya Banerjee announced, waltzing through the door with her handful of colourful bags. “New shipment came in at Threads & Trinkets. I thought you ladies might like the first pick?” 

Mrs. Chatterjee and Lalita Dey immediately turned to rummage through the bags. Professor Das rolled his eyes and sipped his tea, waiting for his usual chicken and mayo sandwich. Priya approached the counter behind which Meera stood, watching the chaos unfold in her tea cafe. 

“Good morning,” she said, happily, “Happy one-month anniversary!”

“Huh?” Meera asked, distracted.

“It’s been a month since you’ve been here and taken over your grandmother’s cafe. You’re doing a fabulous job, Meera. And to celebrate…” she said, smiling happily, holding out a vintage kettle in front of her, “this is a little token from me.”

“Oh Priya, this is so…”

But what it was Priya never did find out because raised voices coming from outside made them all stop what they were doing. 

“I AM TELLING YOU FOR THE LAST TIME, NO!” 

“WELL, THAT IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER.”

They recognized the second voice immediately. It was the tourist, Nigel Baxter. Since it wasn’t peak season, it was easy to spot the tourists. He had turned into a regular at Chai & Spice, too. Meera hurried outside to see if he needed help, with Priya following close on her heels. But once outside, an entirely different scene greeted them. 

Nigel was the one threatening one of the local vendors. Meera recognized one of the people she passed regularly at the Spice Bazaar. He cleared his throat when he saw the two ladies. 

“I AM WARNING YOU…” Nigel growled, probing the man with his index finger.

“We have company, Sir,” the vendor said, sullenly. 

Nigel whipped around at once. His face was contorted with rage. But it cleared up the minute he saw Meera and Priya. He said in a much friendlier tone, “‘Morning, ladies. ‘Fraid my friend here and I are just having a little bit of a disagreement.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Meera said, sweetly, “Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea with us? My grandmother always said, you can always find a solution with tea.”

Before Nigel could take Meera up on that offer, a police car came into view. It parked a little way off, and Meera’s heart did a backflip when she noticed that Inspector Vikram Rao emerged from the car. He locked the door and walked towards them. He looked handsome in his police uniform. 

“Close your mouth,” Priya whispered in her friend’s ear, “Everyone can see you drooling.”

Meera elbowed her hard, making her snicker. Inspector Vikram Rao stopped a little way from them and asked, “Is everything alright? We received a call about a possible fight breaking out here.”

“My friend and I just had a disagreement, officer,” Nigel said, forcing a smile. 

Beneath the calm, Meera could see Nigel was on edge. He had been the handsome, flirty American tourist for most of his trip. Right now, he didn’t seem like himself at all. Vikram looked over at the vendor, who nodded to confirm the story.

“What about you ladies?” he asked.

“We heard the commotion and came outside,” Meera said helpfully, “And I offered chai. Because my grandmother believed in settling disputes over a cup of tea.”

“And now that you’re here,” Priya said, seizing the opportunity, “Why don’t you come in for a quick cup of tea. Can’t imagine the chai is good at the Hillview Police Station.”

“Don’t let Ramu Kaka hear you saying that,” Vikram smiled, “But I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea. Paperwork is mind-numbingly boring at times.”

“At times?” Priya scoffed, “Paperwork is boring. I got bored halfway through reading the legal documents for my trinket store.”

“Are you two gentlemen okay?” Vikram asked one more time. 

The vendor nodded and went on his merry way. Nigel nodded too, and came into the cafe with the rest of them. Meera hurried to pour everyone cups of chai. She didn’t notice Nigel staring darkly into his cup that contained his favourite Darjeeling blend, as he sat in the corner. She was too busy watching Professor Das greet Vikram and draw him into conversation about some old relic from the past. Mrs. Chatterjee and Lalita Dey were fighting over a warm sunset coloured shawl. 

Priya rested her chin on Meera’s shoulder and followed her gaze. She whispered in her ear, “Are you going to keep pining for him from afar or do something about it?”

“Didu always said Fate has a hand in bringing people together?” Meera sighed, “Maybe it’s just not in the cards for me to be anything more than an acquaintance for Inspector Vikram Rao.”

But she was wrong about that. She would become something more than an acquaintance for the handsome inspector - she would become his murder suspect!