Satish Rajput - crusading bureaucrat, media darling, scourge of the corrupt - is found dead in his locked bedroom. A glass of whisky. A torn sachet of a drug brewed from snake venom. A midnight text confessing he couldn't live without her. Suicide. Case closed. Except Inspector Khan can't square a wiped-clean door, a dose too small to kill - and only three fingerprints on the phone that typed it. Three women orbited Rajput - a wife, a mistress, an assistant - each hiding something, each ruined by his death. Who wanted him gone?Every woman in his life was poison. Only one was lethal.
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