Christabel laughed a nervous laugh. She didn’t look in Arthur’s direction. She was angry with him, and he would pay for this later. But at least he had spoken to his prime suspect. Nilesh Patel knew that Jackpot had inherited eight properties that he believed were rightfully his. He had motivation – and opportunity, if he discounted Sneha’s alibi.
Chupplejeep shifted in his seat. Nilesh would have known that killing Jackpot wouldn’t guarantee that the properties would revert to him. But perhaps he thought that Jackpot’s wife or daughter would be easily convinced to sell if they inherited the properties, and he was probably right. They didn’t want to preserve the lake like Jackpot did. Perhaps the property developer planned on contesting Jackpot’s will. Although so far, Jackpot’s will stood uncontested. He watched Nilesh grin as he put another bhaji in his mouth.
Was Nilesh Patel the mystery man that Roshni had been speaking to that day by the lake? If he was, there could be an added twist. Had the two plotted together? Roshni as good as admitted she would be selling her inheritance.
‘Hello,’ Bhumika said.
A final kick from Christabel under the table.
Chupplejeep looked at Bhumika and smiled.
The bottle of Sula arrived, and they drank it with merriment. Their discussions turned to cricket and holiday destinations. They couldn’t agree if Jadhav was a better batsman than Dhawan or if Kerala was a better holiday location than Sri Lanka.
At one point during their conversation, Chupplejeep looked up to find Nilesh looking directly at him, a scheming look on his face. He held a tandoori prawn in his right hand smiling at Chupplejeep before biting the head off the crustacean and then spitting it out. Property developers were cunning. They had ruined Goa with their illegal high-density, high-rise developments by way of giving every official some baksheesh. They got what they wanted through hefty bribes, and when they couldn’t get it, they took it.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
What an irritating man that detective was, thought Vadish. He sniffed the glass of water set on the table in front of him and cautiously took a sip. He swilled it around his mouth and swallowed. He didn’t think there was anything untoward in it, but you could never be too sure when you were meeting with a killer. A killer that was ready to frame him for murder.
‘Tche,’ he said, thinking of the situation he had found himself in. It was time to move on. He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes,’ the killer had said and had then left through the front door, leaving Vadish alone in the house. Where this murderous person was going he didn’t know, but he’d heard someone calling for them outside the property. Vadish looked around the simple sitting room, the shelves filled with books and ornaments. He walked over to the shelves and ran the tips of his fingers over the spines of the books. So many authors he hadn’t heard of. The titles intrigued him. He pulled out a thick volume of A Guide to Family Law and flicked through it. Furious notes had been made in the margins. Vadish quickly replaced it and turned his attention to the old desk by the window. The desk was stacked with papers and scribbled notes. Beneath the mess was a dog-eared copy of The Tide. He picked it up and saw the author’s photo looking back at him. He wondered how many people in Toem Place had read Arjun Chopra’s offering. He had come across copies like this everywhere. It didn’t sound like a book that Vadish would read. Something about estranged brothers, financial troubles and a love affair with a Parsi woman. Vadish didn’t have any brothers, and he wasn’t fond of Parsi women either. Not that he read much.
Vadish had been here before under different circumstances. A shiver ran down his spine. He wondered if cameras had been installed in the property to keep an eye on things. It wouldn’t surprise him.
He walked over to the window, but naturally the curtains were drawn, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, especially if the murderer was talking with someone outside. He couldn’t hear any voices. Perhaps they had gone for a walk. He turned his attention towards Chupplejeep again. Yes, he was irritating. He had irritated Kumar too, enough to make him question what he was doing. Kumar had even suggested arresting Vadish for show. For show! Like hell he was going to let that happen. Just who did this Chupplejeep think he was not taking a bribe? Where did he think he was? London? Even there, Vadish was sure bribes were commonplace – they were just better at not getting caught.
Chupplejeep may have been irritating, but he was glad that he had met the holier-than-thou detective. He had wanted to know what exactly he knew, and even though their meeting was brief, he soon realised that the detective didn’t know much at all. He knew about the break-in, but that was about it. It seemed that Chupplejeep only had fragments of information, hearsay from people that he was trying to piece together. Perhaps he was a bumbling detective after all.
He had told the killer all this earlier. He found in this line of business it was essential to keep any murdering types onside, but instead of a thank you, all he got was a curt nod followed by the statement, ‘I’m watching you.’ What the killer meant by that, Vadish had no idea, and he didn’t want to hang around long enough to find out either. Perhaps it was time to move away from Goa. He had always fancied the coolness of Lucknow, especially at this time of year. Maybe he would go there.
But before Vadish went anywhere, he wanted his money for this final deed he had done. Vadish was annoyed that the killer had covered Jackpot’s neck with a bandana, thereby copying his uncle’s style, but he had had to let it go. A gesture of goodwill he had reiterated to the killer earlier, although he knew that was not the case. After all, the killer had successfully blackmailed him into doing this one last thing, and he hadn’t even committed the crime. He wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. No, he would get his revenge for that. He just had to time it right.
Vadish heard footsteps. He didn’t like meeting in such an obvious place. He could easily be spotted, and that wouldn’t have been good for him or his client, but this client was different. A bold character. Perhaps the murderer was trying to play a game with the detective. Perhaps the murderer was trying to play a game with him. He sat back down and put his hands on the table, clasped together as if in prayer.
The door opened and the killer walked in. ‘Sorry, couldn’t be avoided.’
Vadish waved the comment away with his hand. ‘No problem,’ he said, his eyes momentarily flicking towards a scar, barely visible now. ‘I have what you asked for, although I don’t know why you wanted the original.’ Vadish reached into his pocket and handed over a package.
No explanation was offered, although Vadish had his suspicions. What he had just handed over needed to be destroyed before that detective got hold of it. Vadish was certain that it held the motive behind Jackpot’s murder.
‘What happens now?’ Vadish asked.
The killer walked over to an overhead kitchen cabinet, pulled out an envelope and placed it on the table. ‘Take this, for your troubles.’
Vadish didn’t need to open the envelope to see that it contained three times as much as he had expected. It was settled then. He smiled. His silence had been bought, for now.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Chupplejeep walked along the old wooden jetty and sat down. It had been a long day. The sun was setting, the orange yolk of the sun reflecting off the still water. In a couple of days his two-week holiday would be over, and there was so much still to think about, so much still to resolve.
He wanted justice for Jackpot. He was close, but resolving the case before it was time to leave felt impossible. He didn’t have the resources or the authority. Relying on favours called in from Kulkarni and Pankaj and his own detecting skills wasn’t enough. Perhaps the little grey cells, as Poirot would say, had failed him this time.
Then there was the issue of his parents, his biological parents. The ones who had abandoned him, letting him believe they were dead. He had looked at their address so many times it was now etched in his mind, and still he hadn’t decided if he was going to meet them.
&n
bsp; And then of course there was the most important decision to make – Christabel. He had been waiting for her to decide on the fate of their relationship, but what did he want? She was his soulmate, but did he want to be with someone whose dreams of marriage he could never fulfil? If they stayed together, she would live with resentment for what he was not willing to give.
He looked across the water. Jackpot’s old wooden boat was still tethered to the end of the jetty. Neither Roshni nor Talika would be moving it anytime soon.
‘Detective,’ a voice called out to him.
Chupplejeep turned. Talika was walking towards him. ‘Mind if I join you for a moment or two?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, patting the decking next to her and motioning for her to sit down. She took off her shoes, and as she lowered herself, she swung her feet over the edge. ‘It’s peaceful out here at this time of day when the tourists have gone back to their hotels and villas. Jackpot used to clean down his boat as the sun set, and I often used to come here, sit in this very spot and talk to him as he worked. He loved that boat,’ she said, looking towards the wooden vessel. ‘He loved this life.’
Her words were considered and slow, and there was an uneasiness about her as she fell into silence. Chupplejeep didn’t say anything. She was still a suspect. She had means, motive and opportunity, and the air of indifference she showed after her husband’s death had unnerved him.
‘My daughter’s getting married tomorrow,’ she said eventually. ‘I told her it was important that she invited everyone from Toem Place. That much she listened to.’
‘So I have you to thank for my invite. I was surprised at the date of the ceremony. It hasn’t been much time since…’ Chupplejeep started.
‘No, Detective, I too was surprised. Shocked by the speed at which she wanted to marry, and her choice of partner, well –’
‘You don’t approve of the author?’
Talika furrowed her brow. ‘I have a confession to make, Detective. I was going to eventually tell you, but given the circumstances, I thought it best to come clean now. There’s no Jackpot to tell, and I certainly cannot tell Roshni.’ She took a breath. ‘I have done something terrible.’
Chupplejeep waited.
‘I…’ she started, but then hesitated, and Chupplejeep noticed something shift in her eyes. She looked distracted, turning towards the still lake and then back to him, chewing her bottom lip as she considered what she was going to say. ‘T-the burglary I mentioned,’ she stuttered. ‘There was one, but…’ She trailed off.
‘But nothing was taken?’ Chupplejeep offered.
‘You knew?’
‘That quartz necklace was Jackpot’s. Sneha confirmed it, and several villagers saw your husband wearing it. The necklace was found with his body; Kumar just failed to see it. So I took it. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I’ll return it to you.’
‘It would be nice having something of his. Something he cherished.’
‘He cherished you,’ Chupplejeep offered.
‘There was a time when we only had eyes for one another. He inherited this villa from his father. His father was the boatwalla on this lake before him. He loved his job, and he loved life until that letter turned up.’
‘Letter?’ Chupplejeep asked. The letter she was referring to was either the solicitor’s letter Roshni had referred to or, from what Pankaj had said, she could have been referring to a personal letter from Ms Ajuha, his biological mother, explaining why she had abandoned her son, explaining his inheritance. What else had the letter said?
‘He didn’t know that I knew about the letter. But for all his preaching of being a simple man, that letter changed him. The day he received it, he wasn’t himself. Walked around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.’
‘So you saw the contents of the letter.’
Talika turned back to look at the water. ‘I did.’
‘What did it say?’ Chupplejeep asked. This proved she knew about the inheritance before her husband was killed. It was her motive for murder.
‘The letter came from his mother, his birth mother. We never stopped to consider his birth mother and father. I once asked him if he was interested in looking for his biological parents, but he said he didn’t need to. That he had two loving parents. “Why go searching for people who didn’t want me around?” he had said. It made sense, but I would have been curious to know who had left me like that, why they left me like that. It’s your history, na?’
Chupplejeep winced, quickly burying his own emotions. ‘You were saying about the letter,’ he prompted her.
‘It told him that the properties were his.’
‘Did it mention anyone else?’
‘Like who?’
Chupplejeep waved away her question, and she didn’t question him further. Would a mother not have told her son something of her life, of his half-brother Nilesh Patel, of his other family? Jackpot had missed out on so much. He said as much to Talika as he reflected on his own personal circumstance, but she continued shaking her head, her eyes firmly averted from his. She wasn’t telling him something. But he could see there was no point pursuing it. Whatever she was keeping to herself, she was doing so for a reason.
‘Do you really think my husband was killed?’
Chupplejeep sighed. ‘Sadly, I think he was.’
Talika seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then she spoke. ‘The letter has been taken. It was taped to the underside of the desk in the sitting room. Only I knew it was there. Even Roshni didn’t know, but today I went to read it and it was gone. Someone’s taken it and I don’t know why.’
‘Your house was broken into again?’
‘I can’t see any evidence of a break-in, but the house has been quite open with Roshni coming and going.’
‘Would the letter be of use to anyone?’
Talika hesitated. ‘N-no. It’s of no use to anyone.’ She looked at him, but her eyes were glazed over.
‘Is that it?’ he asked. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want to tell me?’
She stood up, touching the faint mark on her neck – the scratch made by the rose bush, she had said. Her cheeks coloured. ‘You’re mistaken, Detective. That was all I had to say.’ She picked up her shoes and slipped them on her feet. ‘I must be going now; there are preparations to make for the wedding. And there is something that I have to do. You’ll be there tomorrow?’
Chupplejeep looked up at her. ‘I will,’ he said.
‘Make sure that you are,’ she said.
As she turned to walk away, Chupplejeep heard her mumble, ‘It’s the only way.’ But before he could ask her what she meant, she was already halfway down the jetty, walking towards her villa.
~
Chupplejeep strolled back along the jetty, deciding to walk the long way round the lake to his villa. Roshni and Talika had both seen a letter to Jackpot. Roshni said she had been told of a letter by her father’s solicitor, and he was sure she may well have seen it, but from speaking to her, it was obvious she didn’t know why her father had been left the properties. She probably wasn’t that bothered; Selfish children never were.
Talika had seen the note to Jackpot from his biological mother, Ms Ajuha. He was certain that letter revealed something that would expose his killer, which was why it had now been taken from her home. Was Talika lying again to cover up something, or was she finally telling the truth? Either way, she knew what that letter contained, something she didn’t want to tell him about.
Chupplejeep passed the yoga retreat and walked along the path littered with lantana bushes and flowers. As he passed the bamboo scaffold of the new development, he noticed a small butterfly perched on a leaf of one of the shrubs. Was this the southern birdwing butterfly Pankaj had been talking about? It was as he said: black and white with yellow wings. It was quite something. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found the camera function, squatting to take a picture. His knees creaked under the weight of his body, and he stifl
ed a small moan. He took the photo and then, while he mustered up the energy to lift his body, he looked up. From this angle, he had a clear view of the lake and the houses dotted around. As he shifted his weight from his haunches to his lower legs, he noticed a jamblo bote, the old heron, although he doubted it was the same one. A smile crept onto his lips as he remembered his youth spent at the lake. It was then that he saw a man, a man in biker gear, leaving one of the lakeside houses. He squinted. It was Vadish, and the house he had just come out of told him everything he needed to know.
Chupplejeep waited until Vadish was out of sight, then he stood up fully, stretched out his calves and made a phone call.
Christabel answered as he made his way towards his car. There was someone he had to visit. ‘Christu,’ he said into his mobile phone. ‘I need to ask you something.’
‘We’re having Soropatel for dinner.’
‘Not that,’ he said.
‘What then?’ she asked. ‘The food will get burned if I don’t hurry.’
‘I’ll be quick,’ Chupplejeep said. ‘It’s about your friend.’
‘Which friend?’
‘Bhumika.’
‘Bhum?’
‘She said something the other night.’
‘Oh, not this again.’
‘Just one question,’ Chupplejeep pleaded. He could sense his girlfriend making a face. She wouldn’t be happy with him, but it was important.
‘Go on then,’ she said after a pause. ‘Ask your question.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Chupplejeep walked with Christabel into the yoga retreat. Despite the time of day, it was hot and sticky. Dark clouds were gathering above, and Chupplejeep could smell a storm approaching. The guests wouldn’t be happy, but they needed something like this to break the heat.
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