He looked around. Sneha had transformed the retreat into a wedding venue. The entrance lobby was covered in garlands of orange marigolds with a silver bell and pink tassel at the end of each one. At the entrance stood a six-foot-tall topiary of an Indian elephant, trunk facing upwards to bring good luck, complete with an ornate caparison in gold and red. Chupplejeep hadn’t noticed it before. It must have been brought in especially for the wedding. Of course it had; the elephant was a symbol of luck and prosperity, something Roshni had both of now.
They walked through the entrance reception into the gardens, Christabel gasping and commenting on the wedding décor. She had been beside herself when she had seen the red-and-gold wedding invite. ‘A wedding,’ she exclaimed, shaking her hips and giving him a hug. Chupplejeep hoped she wasn’t thinking of their planned reception at Sinquerim Jardin. He didn’t say anything. What could he say?
‘How come we received an invite? What did you do?’ she asked him with a sideways glance.
‘I didn’t do anything. It’s customary here. Usually all the locals are invited to weddings. I remember attending a wedding with Nana when one of the other lakeside residents married. It was a long time ago. I was a teenager, and I didn’t want to go, but I remember Nana saying we had to even though she didn’t know the couple particularly well. It would have been rude not to attend.’
Christabel had looked him up and down and sighed. ‘You’re going to ruin this, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘One good thing you manage to do, getting us invited to a beautiful lakeside wedding, and you’re going to ruin it. Forget the case, just forget it.’
Chupplejeep opened his mouth, ready to speak, but she stopped him. ‘I don’t want to hear anything from you. You’re not going to spoil this wedding,’ she said, staring at him until he nodded.
The betel tree that he had found Sneha sitting under just a couple of days go was now adorned with lights and strings of pink and white flowers. Somewhere in the distance the tabla was being played, the sound of the classical Indian drum filling the air. The ceremonial fire had been lit, and a small marquee had been erected over two thrones where the couple would marry. The pavilion was draped in pink satins and beautiful red roses. And even with his limited knowledge of flowers, Chupplejeep knew roses with petals like velvet would have been quite an expense. Surrounding the marquee there were large round tables to seat the guests. Each place setting was marked with an individual orange marigold. To Chupplejeep’s right was the buffet. The sweet smell of freshly made jalebis made his mouth water.
‘I’ll be over there,’ Christabel said, pointing to the man standing over a pan of hot oil with a ladle of sugar syrup. She shot him a parting look, reminding him of his promise to her that he would not ruin this wedding. Chupplejeep watched her go; she looked beautiful in a pink skirt and blouse. She had bought the outfit shortly after seeing the invite. He thought about their future together and wondered how he was going to tell her of his decision.
He looked away from where his girlfriend was standing and looked around, not at the décor this time but at the guests. Everyone was here, eating canapés and sweet treats that were being freshly being made at little stalls dotted around the buffet area. Dilip and his wife were examining the table decorations. He wondered if he should tell Dilip that he knew he wasn’t alone at home the night Jackpot was murdered like he had said. He thought he knew his friend, but he didn’t. Dilip could wait.
His eyes shifted to the owner of the retreat. Sneha was talking to the chef, her hands flailing as she explained something. Nilesh Patel stood awkwardly in the corner, close to the table offering paan, watching her. Some of the residents of the retreat were milling about as well. Of course they would be; it wasn’t as if Sneha could have banished them to their rooms for the day. He spotted Sofia, dressed in a simple cotton sari, staring at the fire, her hands deep in her pockets.
Chupplejeep was wondering whether Sofia had brought her flick knife with her to the wedding when someone tapped him on the back. He turned and saw Bhumika, dressed in cream and gold; she looked like she belonged in the wedding party, but she wasn’t. He smiled, and she reciprocated.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said.
‘You do?’
‘That my husband has something to do with this terrible mess.’
‘And by terrible mess you mean Jackpot’s death. His brother’s death.’ Chupplejeep noticed the beat of the tabla had picked up. The groom would be making an entrance soon.
‘Half-brother, Mr Chupplejeep, half-brother. If you listen to the gossipmongers here, they’ll have nothing good to say about my husband. But he’s a very charitable man.’
‘He is?’
‘In his own way,’ Bhumika said, gazing in the direction of the building behind them. ‘They’ll say my husband is this way and that way, classing him along with the other developers that have pillaged this good state. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is no saint, but…’ She hesitated. ‘But what I’m trying to say is that he had nothing to do with Jackpot’s death.’
‘And you know this because…’ Chupplejeep looked into the distance. Arjun Chopra was approaching the marquee, a pink studded turban on his head. His bride would enter soon after.
‘My husband is many things, but a murderer he is not. I know it. He’s a good man. People just want to bring him down, and I’ve had enough of them.’
‘If your husband can’t complete this hotel, how will your family be affected?’ Chupplejeep asked.
Bhumika frowned.
‘No more holidays, fewer visits to the mithaiwalla. I hear your husband has gambled everything on this new venture of his. He was certain that that land would be left to him by his mother. He didn’t expect Jackpot to get in his way.’
‘He’s a good man,’ Bhumika said again. ‘He has his faults, but he is not like that. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘Would you?’ Chupplejeep asked.
Bhumika’s eyes widened.
‘You said yourself that you were not with Nilesh the night Jackpot died. You said you were here at the retreat. Alone in your room?’ Chupplejeep looked up. The groom was seated in one of the chairs that had been adorned with white flowers. The bride, Roshni, was being ushered towards the marquee. She was wearing a red-and-gold sari littered with rhinestones, with a gold embroidered edge. A gold sindoor along her parting-line completed her look. Talika was trailing behind her daughter in a thick gold sari. Her back was straight, her eyes darting around like a lizard’s, so different to her demeanour yesterday as they sat together on the jetty over the lake. She took a step to one side, stopping in the shadows as Roshni continued her walk, her hand being held by a man – a male relative, no doubt.
‘Just what are you implying?’ Bhumika asked, looking flustered as she began to scratch an invisible mark on her choli, blouse. There was a flash of lightning that no one but Chupplejeep seemed to notice.
‘That day we met for dinner, you said Nilesh was home alone the night Jackpot died, and he agreed. Are you now saying he has an alibi? Was your husband lying to me?’
Bhumika pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her brow. ‘What I’m trying to say is that my husband thinks I don’t know, but I do. I know where he was that night, the night Jackpot died.’
Chupplejeep looked up towards where Nilesh was standing just as Sneha whispered something to him as she walked past. He turned back to Bhumika, but she was so busy defending her husband she didn’t notice.
‘So do I,’ he said. He didn’t have time to listen to her defend that man. He looked towards the groom; the jugs of milk and water were being prepared. The ceremony was about to start. He looked at Christabel. He didn’t want to stop the wedding, but he had no choice. It wasn’t just that the murderer was amidst them and had to be caught. He was certain that if he didn’t act soon, another murder would be committed, and he couldn’t have that.
Chupplejeep started to walk towards the ceremonial fire. A clap of thunder made the guests l
ook towards the skies. Roshni entered the marquee, her face covered by a sheer veil. He looked for Christabel again. He saw a glimpse of her at the bar, receiving what looked like a cool mango drink with a fancy umbrella poking out from the top. At that moment, she turned and looked at him. He looked at her solemnly, and her smile began to fade. She began walking towards him. She was going to remind him of his promise, but as she started towards him, she was stopped by a lady dressed in ornate blue and silver. At least Christabel was a safe distance away. It was now or never.
He stepped forward in front of the bride and groom, whose hands were outstretched towards one other. They both turned to look at him. The guests were beginning to crowd around the fire to watch the ceremony. Now all eyes were on him. He scanned the group, checking that his suspects had not disappeared.
Chupplejeep cleared his throat. ‘The day I arrived at Toem Place,’ he said, ‘the body of Ranjit Bhobe, who we all knew as Jackpot, the much loved boatwalla, was found dead. Dead in his boat – the boat he had loved and cherished for the last forty years; the boat that he took tourists in for trips around this beautiful place, pointing out birds and local flora and fauna. But what Jackpot didn’t know was that, like the old jamblo bote heron that hunts on our lake at night, someone was out hunting Jackpot.’
A noise came from the crowd. Chupplejeep looked around and saw Bhumika covering her open mouth with her hand. ‘Jackpot died from a heart attack,’ Bhumika said. She looked nervously at her husband, who was standing, legs apart, arms folded in front of his chest, staring at the detective.
‘He didn’t. The killer would like us to think that, but no, I don’t believe that’s the case. Yes, Jackpot had problems with his heart, but they didn’t kill him. Jackpot was murdered.’
People in the gathering gasped. Nilesh Patel looked away.
‘Jackpot, as you probably all know by now, had come into an inheritance. He owned eight of the lakeside bungalows. They sit on land that is required to complete the grand hotel planned by the lake.’
Chupplejeep heard a few disgruntled cries.
‘What the hell, man,’ someone shouted. ‘This is a wedding. Who do you think you are, interrupting the festivities like this?’
‘Yaar,’ another shouted. ‘Loser,’ the same man said, lowering his voice.
Chupplejeep raised his. ‘Jackpot didn’t want the lake to change, even if it meant more trade for his business. He respected the lake. He wanted to keep it as it was, maintain its integrity.’
‘So you’re saying he was killed for the bungalows because he wouldn’t sell? The developer was so enraged with him he killed him?’ Dilip said.
Chupplejeep stared at his friend, this man he no longer knew quite as well as he thought he did. Dilip looked away.
‘You’re not the investigating officer here. You’ve no right to interrupt this wedding ceremony with this bull. D’you think this is a game, Detective?’ Nilesh asked.
Chupplejeep twisted one end of his moustache and walked towards the pink satin drapes that hung behind the bride and groom. ‘Not one bit. I’m here to reveal who killed Jackpot and save another life.’
He swiftly put his hand through the gap in the fabric, and there was a scream. He pulled an arm through. In its fist was a knife with a blade sharp enough to slice through flesh. As Chupplejeep held the wrist tight, the grip on the knife came loose, but he caught the knife before it fell.
It was a woman’s arm Chupplejeep was holding. He pulled the woman out of the shadows. Roshni shrieked.
‘Mother,’ she screamed. ‘You want to ruin everything. You want me dead?’
Talika spat at the detective’s feet, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘She’s not spiteful, Roshni,’ he said. ‘Foolish, but not spiteful. Despite what you think about your mother, she doesn’t want to hurt you. I doubt she ever wanted to hurt you, but she has done a terrible thing, something she was too afraid to talk about. She wanted to speak to someone, to relieve her of this burden she was carrying, but she found that she couldn’t. You see, her secret was too big for her to share.’ He turned to Talika. ‘I assume you felt you had no choice, that this was the only way out,’ he said, echoing the words she had muttered yesterday.
She managed a nod.
The detective turned back to Roshni. ‘Yesterday, instead of telling me this thing she had done, your mother confessed that nothing had been taken when your house was broken into. I had my suspicions already, and she confirmed it. But what she went on to tell me next was interesting, very interesting indeed. She told me that a letter had been taken from the house, without any hint of a break-in, and it got me thinking.
‘You see, this letter was what the burglar wanted the first time around when your house was broken into. They wanted to know what was in it.’
‘What letter?’ someone said from the crowd.
‘The letter that Jackpot had received from his biological mother. It explained why she gave him up and about his forthcoming inheritance. Undoubtedly, she also explained about the rest of his family. A family he knew nothing about. Jackpot, being Jackpot, wanted to leave the past in the past. He had been abandoned, and in return he inherited these properties – perhaps his mother’s way of making it up to him, in some paltry way,’ Chupplejeep paused, reflecting on his own situation. He could take Jackpot’s point of view and leave the past in the past or he could reach out to his biological mother and find out the real reason why she had abandoned him. Looking at Nilesh, he wondered if he might have a brother too. Just the thought of this sent a shiver down his spine. He looked away from the property developer and back at the bride and groom. ‘His mother had disowned him, and so when Jackpot received the letter, he felt the need to disown her in return by not telling anyone about her or his fortune. My guess is that he didn’t want to know what his mother had to say, but he had kept the letter safe, and of course he had an inheritance he had no idea what to do with. Talika said the letter changed him. Not because he was now a rich man, but because he didn’t know what to do with his wealth.’
‘Mama knew about the letter,’ Roshni said. ‘She knew about the inheritance that Daddy didn’t want her to know about. She killed him for it, assuming that the land would go directly to her.’
‘Is that what you think?’ Chupplejeep said.
Roshni nodded. ‘I don’t want it to be true, but it must be. She has secrets, she was fighting with Daddy all the time and she knew what he didn’t want her to know. She went behind his back.’
‘It must be her,’ someone shouted from the crowd. Chupplejeep refrained from rolling his eyes. Talika released her arm from his grip and folded her arms across her chest defiantly, but her breathing was short and shallow. Chupplejeep motioned for one of the waiters to bring her a chair, which they did immediately. He helped her into the seat. She looked up at him.
‘Jackpot knew about your secret, Talika.’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘What?’ said Roshni.
‘Oh, this terrible thing she had done.’ Chupplejeep turned back to Talika, who was still looking at him, daring him to speak.
‘Your secret, Talika, was the reason why your husband was visiting Sneha. He wanted advice. He wanted to know what to do next. Secrets breed secrets, and yours was the reason why he kept his inheritance a secret from you.’
Tears started falling from Talika’s eyes again, her black kajal smudged and smeared on her cheeks.
‘Well, what is this secret?’ Roshni asked.
Chupplejeep looked up. ‘Please stop that man from walking out of here,’ he said, looking at the well-built waiter standing at the back of the crowd. Nilesh and Bhumika stopped walking and turned back to Chupplejeep. ‘You’ve no right keeping us here, you two-cent-bit village cop,’ Nilesh said. ‘I’ll call the real police now. I know people. I’ll make sure you never work again in your life. Nothing, that is what you and your life will become, nothing.’ Nilesh reached into his pocket for his mobile
phone. Bhumika started pulling her husband towards the exit.
‘Call whom you want,’ Chupplejeep said as the burly waiter blocked the developer and his wife from leaving. ‘But I think your good friend Kumar has just clocked off for the last time,’ he said, looking at his watch. ‘I don’t think anyone will get here quickly, and you might want to wait and see what I have to say before you make any hasty decisions.’
Bhumika shot Christabel a look. But her friend stood proud, her head held high, her arms crossed over her chest. Bhumika put her hand on her husband’s arm and whispered something to him. He turned to look at her and then pressed his phone to his ear, but there was obviously no answer, because he soon gave up and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
‘Ah,’ Chupplejeep said, turning to Roshni. ‘Your mother’s secret.’ Roshni looked at her groom. Chupplejeep followed her gaze. Then he looked at Talika. She looked away.
‘My mother’s determined to stop this wedding and is using you to do her dirty work. She comes here with a knife, to my wedding… She’s nothing but a liar,’ Roshni said. She looked at her groom again, who feigned indifference.
‘You call her a liar, and yet it was you who claimed that you only arrived in Goa after hearing about your father’s death, when actually you were already in Goa the day before,’ Chupplejeep said.
The audience started muttering again, gasps and squeals of delight. This was better than a soap opera.
Roshni squinted. ‘I never –’ she started.
‘I asked an officer of mine to check with the bus company. The one you said you travelled to Goa with. You didn’t lie about that. It was a good idea to put your photograph on your wedding invite, very modern, and it helped me no end. I took a photo on my phone and sent it to my colleague to take to the bus company. And what luck; he just so happened to be there when the bus conductor on your journey was there. He had no problem confirming the date on which you travelled. “Never forget a pretty face,” he told my officer. He knew the date too, because it was his mother’s birthday and he wanted to buy her a brooch like the one you were wearing that day. He even asked you where you purchased the item from.’
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