Bakul Luxury Cottage in Aranya Hotel was a mess. Its furniture had been toppled over, curtains slashed, all the cupboards opened, and cushions strewn about everywhere. And there were puddles of water all over the floor. To Inspector Meena Maan, it certainly looked ransacked, except for the mysterious puddles. “This must be the work of Partha Puli,” insisted Amita Annam, the businesswoman who was renting the cottage that week. “He can’t stand that I’m doing better than him. This is his cheap way of getting back at his rival.”

“We don’t know that yet,” said Inspector Maan as she carefully lifted the mattress to inspect the bed.

“But it’s obvious!” said Amita. “He’s at this hotel the same time as me for no other reason!”

Just then, one of the hotel staff arrived at the scene. “Inspector, I have information on the whereabouts of Mr. Partha Puli and his associates at the time of this crime,” he said. “Let’s hear it,” said Inspector Maan.

“What? Partha Puli hasn’t been here all day? That’s impossible!” said Amita in shock. Inspector Maan, meanwhile, had crouched before one of the many puddles on the floor.

A moment later, she smiled.

How did Inspector Maan figure it out?