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Vish Puri is as fond of butter chicken as the next Punjabi. And when
there's plenty on offer at the Delhi Durbar hotel where he's attending
an India Premier League cricket match dinner, he's the first to tuck in.
Irfan Khan, father of Pakistani star cricketer Kamran Khan, can't resist
either. But the creamy dish proves his un doing. After a few mouthfuls,
he collapses on the floor, dead.
Clearly this isn't a case of Delhi Belly.
But who amongst the Bollywood stars, politicians, bureaucrats and
industrialists poisoned Khan is a mystery. And with the capital's police
chief proving as incompetent as ever, it falls to Most Private
Investigators to find out the truth.
Puri is soon able to link Khan to a bald bookie called Full Moon and all
the clues point to the involvement of a gambling syndicate that controls
the illegal billion dollar betting industry.
The answers seem to lie in Surat, the diamond cutting and polishing
capital of the world (where Puri's chief undercover operative Tubelight
meets his match) and across the border in Pakistan, Puri's nemesis,
the one country where he has sworn never to set foot.
Or do they? A certain determined, grey-haired lady with a unique
in sight into the murder believes that the portly detective is barking up
'a wrong tree.'
Is Mummy-ji right? Is there more to the murder than meets the eye?
And why, to make life even more complicated for Vish Puri, has
someone tried to steal the longest moustache in the world - from right
under the nose of its owner? Literally.