I had paid a premium price for this exotic-sounding seed. It was imported, the nursery owner had boasted—an ideal ornamental plant. He had also warned me that it could be poisonous if eaten. I had laughed at the notion and assured him that I was not in the habit of eating any flowers growing in my garden.
‘Yes, the nursery person told me it was a poisonous plant, but the flower looked beautiful and I had no plans to eat it, so it seemed harmless. What has it got to do with datura?’ I asked, confused.
‘It is datura.’
‘This blackcurrant thing?’ I asked, my heart racing with fear.
‘Are you telling me you did not know?’
‘Of course I didn’t know! The blackcurrent flowers are purple and nothing like this white specimen, you have here. How would anyone guess they were the same?’
‘Even if I believe that, which I don’t, tell me why you bought the seeds knowing that the plant was poisonous.’
‘The flowers were pretty.’
‘That’s not how I would describe the scene. I’d say you were plotting the murder for a while.’
For once, I had to agree with him. With the freaking plant at the heart of matters, my actions did give the impression that I had hatched the murder plot months ago.
‘If I wanted to kill Piyush, do you think I would have had that thing growing in my backyard?’
‘But it was supposed to have been removed, right, Nalini?’
The triumphant ring in his voice was hard to miss. He knew everything. Darn him. Suddenly, I had real fears about having actually killed Piyush. He was waiting for an answer so I replied, ‘No, I told the gardener to remove those plants last week.’
‘You told him, but he could not do it because he fell ill and returned to work only the day before yesterday. On that same day, he uprooted all the shrubs, but he hadn’t found time to dispose of them before our arrival. So we could gather samples that proved to be crucial evidence in this case. You must be so wishing that—what is it in your language—“the freaking gardener” had done his job.’
I wanted to slap the smirk off his face. In a voice that sounded most unlike mine, I almost begged, ‘I did not kill him.’
For the first time, I wished that I had arranged for a lawyer. I had been too distracted to act prudently. My sense of dread increased with every passing second, and I sadly wondered what else was in store for me today.
‘See, the reason I got those plants was because they looked pretty. But within a few weeks, I developed allergies. It took me a long time to figure out that they could be the cause. That is when I asked the gardener to remove them. You must believe me. I did not murder Piyush.’
‘You are not in a position to tell me what I must and must not do.’
‘Please believe me.’
‘It is very difficult to ignore compelling evidence.’
‘Look, I was allergic, okay. I even went to the doctor and got medicines for allergies.’
‘You have been visiting a gynaecologist for the past six months.’
‘Yes, she’s the one.’
‘You went to a gynaec for allergies?’
‘She’s a friend. She knows my history. It was only a mild allergy so I went to her.’
‘You consult a gynaecologist for a prolonged duration of six months for “mild allergies”? Would you believe yourself if you were in my shoes?’
I would not, I thought miserably. The allergic reaction was one complaint I had, a minor one, and my doctor had prescribed medicines for the condition along with those for my actual health issues. If the rashes were the only problem, I would have consulted a dermatologist.
‘I didn’t think so,’ he continued. ‘So, I am assuming you did not go to her for your allergies. It makes me wonder why you went there. Care to share?’
I did not bother to reply.
He threw another paper in front of me: a medical report. I read it carefully; at least, I tried. By the time I reached the third line, I could not breathe. The earth slipped away from under my feet, and the room spun in all directions. I leaned back in my chair and blinked hard several times to stop my tears from spilling down my cheeks.
Seeing me fall apart, he leaned forward and asked softly, ‘This report is true, isn’t it?’ The triumph in his voice completely broke down all my ability to protest.
‘Yes, it’s true,’ I replied, more to hear it for myself than to answer him. I had been in denial ever since I laid eyes on the wretched report a few hours ago. I couldn’t deny it to this man or to anyone else. Oh God, how was I to get through this new complication.
‘You have not only been going to a gynaecologist these past few months, you have also succeeded in getting yourself pregnant. This report that you have confirmed to be true says that you are seven weeks pregnant.’
I stayed quiet. I had no desire to discuss my visits to the doctor with him. It was none of his business anyway. He did not have menstrual cramps. I did—and mighty painful ones for the past many months. She had been trying to help me with the pain. How helpful she was I could only guess, because my cycles had become irregular once I started the medication. Last time my period had been ten days late so this month when it did not happen on time, I thought nothing of it.
I wished I had not visited the doctor yesterday. Then I would not have had my tests, and this creep would not be privy to the newest and most personal truth in my life. I was still not sure how I came to be pregnant even after being careful.
Motherhood had never appealed to me.
I didn’t know if Piyush would have wanted a child with me.
I did not know what to do with this thing growing within me that was tearing me apart physically and emotionally, while its father continued to be the cause of all my problems otherwise. I was unprepared for public scrutiny on this topic, but it seemed I was not to have even the smallest consideration on the matter.
His voice broke into my thoughts. ‘Did you and Piyush Gokhle plan this child?’
‘No.’
‘Only you planned it,’ he answered, smiling knowingly.
I didn’t correct him. What was the point? Nothing I said would prove that I had not plotted behind Piyush’s back to get myself pregnant.
He wouldn’t understand that the contraception technique that the doctor had prescribed for me was suspected as being responsible for the cramps—a rare reaction, but a severe one. So while I was recovering, I was not taking any birth control medication. I did not care to discuss my private health issues with him. It would be futile. I had no proof that Piyush knew of my situation.
‘Your life is dismal, Nalini. You snared your boss, but he married somebody else. You did not let that come in the way of your ambition. You continued to have an affair with him. Then, when you realised that he would never offer you anything more than sex, you planned your next move.
‘First, you got yourself pregnant. Once the news was confirmed, you killed him. You had no use for him anymore. With this child, you can now sue for his money. If he were alive, he would probably have been unwilling to make you rich after seeing how you cheated him. Nicely done, Nalini Bose. I congratulate you on the planning.’
I bit my tongue and endured his tirade, not daring to utter a word. I was completely at sea.
‘I am amazed to see how well you planned this whole thing. You chose a method that was easy. You grew the poison in your backyard. The poor man never knew that every time he admired your garden he was actually praising a weapon designed to kill him. And look at how beautifully you executed it.’ He shook his head in feigned awe and continued.
‘Look at the bunch of high achievers you took with you to the resort. A murderer, a rapist, a man called “1991”, a shady fake auditor, a no-good sleazebag who sucks up to anyone with money, a queer who thinks he is a woman, a man who hates people, another who is actually a child—brilliant, I say. You have recruited the world’s best misfits. Not only that, you conspired to ensure that only they ended up on this trip with you an
d Piyush. Your plan was foolproof.
‘Any one of these people would have been a better suspect than you. Not only that, while investigating we would find out about your relationship with Piyush Gokhle, and you would win sympathy, money, and legitimacy for your unborn child. You thought of everything. When I read the files of the characters you call employees, I had to wonder if Piyush’s murder was a plot hatched some time ago. It is difficult to recruit all the scum from society and get an award for it too—“HR Manager of the Year”.’ He laughed at his own joke.
‘Really, Nalini Bose, you are the “HR Manager of the Year”. If something had not gone as per plan, I am sure any of these lunatics would have served as handy accomplices to finish the job—very convenient and, like I said, brilliant.
‘Unfortunately for you, you made one big mistake. Those beautiful plants that you bought all those months ago to execute your evil plot—you failed to check if the gardener had removed them from your premises. In fact, you should have done that part yourself. Never rely on others, Nalini. Even small lapses can send a man or, in your case, a woman to jail. So next time you plot a murder—to kill me perhaps—make sure you tie up the loose ends.’ Then he laughed again.
I finally found my tongue. ‘I need a lawyer. I will answer questions only after talking to him.’
Chapter 15
I had the number of one of IndeGen’s lawyers. I dialled it. He told me that I needed a criminal lawyer and promised to find me one soon. All I could do after that was wait for him to revert with a suitable suggestion. Alternatively, I could search online and contact random lawyers, but I shuddered at the thought of choosing someone from an online address.
Nobody had said I could leave, so I stayed. My stomach growled. I needed food. I also needed to pee. I hoped the building had clean loos. The office was spotless so there was every possibility that the toilets would be the same.
Then a horrifying thought struck me. Yesterday I had taken a sip of what I suspected was ordinary tap water, given to me by a well-meaning poor woman. If Creep Choudhary had his way, I would be living in a jail in the foreseeable future. What water would they serve? Where would I pee? Bathe? My head reeled.
I had never craved fresh air as much as I did sitting there agonising over what could happen to me in the immediate future. I was alone in the room, and when I peeped outside, the corridor was empty except for a guard. He told me to get back inside. Once I stepped out to ask him where the toilet was and, yet again, he told me to get back in. That was his standard reply to all my questions. In the end, I gave up.
More than an hour later, after I had sent out five fervent reminders, my lawyer associate called to inform that he had arranged legal representation for me. I was relieved. Good or bad, at least I had counsel. After my associate ended the call, my new lawyer phoned.
He listened to me for barely half a minute before asking me where I was and what I was doing there. I requested him to come and rescue me. He promised he would, but said that he had other pressing work so would be in a rush. I was grateful that he had at least agreed to come. Something was better than nothing.
He arrived two hours, fourteen minutes, and forty-three seconds later. In the meantime, I had counted up to 10,000 ten times, paced the room forty times, drunk zero glasses of water, counted fifty-five growls from my stomach... I had done every insane thing possible to keep my sanity in check. By the time he arrived, I was dead beat.
The first thing I told him when he entered the room was that I needed to pee. I asked him if the building had a clean loo I could use. He must have thought I was mad. He had told me he had little time to spare that day and was coming only to get things rolling, and here I was asking him about clean restrooms and talking about wanting to pee urgently.
He very solemnly asked me if I could not hold it in for a few minutes. I had been doing just that for the past two hours or more. I did not see how I could do so much longer. So he went to find the ladies toilet, and I waited. After some time, a woman constable escorted me to the ladies room.
When I returned, my lawyer told me that he would collect the case details from the investigating officer and then speak to me again. Then he left. He was in a hurry to get to court for a hearing. His haste left me wondering if I had made a mistake choosing him. He had not even asked me for my side of the story.
However, thanks to whatever he had done while I was heeding nature’s call, they allowed me to leave, which I did
◆◆◆
At work later that day, I screened résumés for Piyush’s successor. There were many suitable choices, and I had reached out to a few in the past, but I was yet to find someone better than Piyush, which was the goal. I also spoke to trusted HR contacts I had put on the trail of likely CEO candidates.
I had set this exercise in motion even before Piyush had agreed to step down. At that time, I had told each of them to keep IndeGen’s name out of their conversations with potential candidates. Now there was no need to be secretive about the search.
By evening, I had zero profiles shortlisted.
As I prepared to leave, Creep Choudhary strode in. Pandurang was with him and so were others—a larger team than his regular entourage. Dread swept through me. I knew what this meant even before he told me.
He read out my rights and informed me that I was under arrest for the murder of Piyush Gokhle.
The trip to the police station took less time than I would have wished. We were there before I could decide what my next step should be. I received a splendid reception upon arrival. The media was present in full force.
They were like ambulance chasers, I realised. Their life involved sniffing out the most disturbing happenings, whatever they might be, killing personal feelings and poking through the mess, and then sensationalising the whole incident for TRPs. I pitied them. Doing this day in and day out for survival was unglamorous and non-gratifying. I was better off than them!
What the heck was I thinking, pitying the same vultures that were pecking at my raw flesh without regard for my privacy? I was definitely going nuts.
Inside, my lawyer was already present. I was impressed. He had arrived before I did. He explained the legalities. Most of what he said was gibberish except for the information that I had to spend the night in jail as the courts were closed. They would be. Creep Choudhary would not make the mistake of arresting me while they were open. What if I escaped on bail without spending even one night in jail? My lawyer promised to apply for bail in the morning and took my signatures on the paperwork.
The police updated their records and then led me into a cell, one that was already occupied by four women with sinister faces. Did I also look like them? This was only a temporary arrangement, I learnt. I would be presented in court the next day, and then, if bail was denied, I would be taken to a proper jail, whatever that was.
I did not care particularly for proper prisons just then because a more pressing concern took precedence. Where was the washroom? I wished I had taken permission for a bathroom break before leaving the office. Even the thought of peeing made me want to pee. Forcing myself to think about other things, I found the least smelly section of the cell and sat down on the floor. I couldn’t remember the last time I had sat like that.
How many more unwanted firsts was this detention going to offer me?
Time passed, I suppose. My roommates glared at me as though I was a cactus in their beautiful rose garden. They avoided speaking to me, but some revolting private jokes were definitely exchanged.
I wondered about the water arrangement, but I knew it would be ordinary tap water, which I could not possibly drink. Someone brought dinner: half-cooked rice, watery gravy, and a scoop of soggy, unrecognisable veggies, all of which lay scattered on a dented steel plate—gross. I declined my food. Without comment, my plate was given to the next person on their list. No one except my grumbling stomach made a fuss, making me wish I had eaten the shit.
When darkness fell outside, they switched on the ligh
ts. I could hear some peaceful snores from adjacent cells.
I complimented myself. I had survived the first few hours in prison. If I could sleep through the night, then there was only the morning to deal with. That cheerful thought brought fresh hope.
I had received some coarse bedding when I arrived. It was moth-eaten and dirty. Added to that, there were mosquitoes. Better than nothing, I told myself, and made my bed on the same spot where I had been sitting for the past several hours.
I must have been lying on that excuse for a blanket for a few minutes, enduring the moths and mosquitoes, when it happened.
The area was bathed in semi-darkness, the only source of light being a flickering zero-watt twentieth-century light bulb that seemed undecided whether it wanted to live or die.
My roommates came to lie on either side of me, and I became stiff with tension. They spread their mats beside mine on both sides and stretched out. I tried to remain calm, but it was hard. For the past several hours, these evil-looking women had been eyeing me in the most frightening manner. Now being sandwiched between them made me realise how powerless and outnumbered I was.
After they lay down, they appeared to fall asleep. I chided myself for overreacting. The stress eased out of my body, and my heartbeats became normal once again.
I was close to dozing off when a hand fell on me. I tried to ignore the incident. Maybe my roommate was moving about in her sleep. People did that, I told myself; I tried to push back my fear and nervousness. The hand lay there for a while and I relaxed once again. I kept my eyes shut tight.
Then the hand moved.
Slowly but conspicuously, it moved up my body and rested near my left breast. I broke out in a cold sweat.
I was sleeping on my right side, and the hand was moving from behind me. I did not know what to do. Was my neighbour asleep or... I dreaded to imagine the alternative. In my petrified state, I was still thinking and gathering the courage to decide what to do when the hand moved again. This time it reached my breast and squeezed hard. I was stunned.
The Murder Suspect Page 12