“It is about hope and love in present-day India. I delve into the relationships of a single woman who struggles between marrying the man her family has chosen for her and the man she loves,” Meena said, excited to share her information with someone.
“So, it’s a romance novel? That should be interesting,” Marlee replied. “I can’t wait to read it.”
Meena nodded vigorously, a wide smile across her face as she closed out her program and put the USB drive in a multi-colored satchel she kept hidden in her desk. “Maybe someday I will publish it, but for now, it is just a hobby. A hobby no one else knows of.”
Back at her room that afternoon, Marlee jotted down her findings, observations, and feelings in the notebook. She hadn’t gathered any new information about Raj or his death that day, but she had a new insight on women and their roles in India. She felt sorrow for Meena and other Indian women who had dreams but had to hide them.
Most of all, Marlee had found her purpose for the next few months. Teaching was always a priority for her, so she knew she’d do her very best at that. Marlee didn’t know what to think about her research. She didn’t have a plan for India, and what she’d set up in Ireland really did not translate. Plus, Marlee had already made a trip to an Indian jail and most likely would not be approved to do any type of research on the Indian criminal justice system now. For now, her focus would be on bettering the lives of as many Indian women as she could until May.
When Marlee woke up from her three-hour nap, she wondered when Raj would be stopping by with afternoon tea. Then she remembered he was dead. Given that Raj had tricked her and lied to her, it was still surprising to Marlee when she felt a tinge of grief over his death. He had his faults, but he had also been one of the few people she had connected with upon her arrival in the country. Maybe some of the hospitality was an act on his part. Maybe all of it was an act. Still, she couldn’t help but feel sad whenever she thought of Raj being beaten and then either succumbing to the injuries from the assaults or dying from ingesting poison.
She rolled over on the bed, enjoying the comfort but not the twin-size width. Her bed back home was a queen size, which worked perfectly for her and her cat, Pippa. What would Pippa do if she were here with me? Marlee thought with a pang of homesickness. She’d be resting in the middle of the bed, and I’d be in the chair or on the floor trying to sleep. Marlee smiled as she thought of Pippa and her search for comfort even when that left Marlee with less than a third of the large bed.
Barry’s phone call was unexpected but appreciated. “I’m feeling a lot better, and I need to get out of this room. Do you want to go for a short walk?”
Marlee met Barry outside the hotel. His cheekbones were more prominent than usual, given he’d consumed very few calories in the past days. His rapid weight loss made his eyes protrude and his khaki shorts sag.
“Wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight. I wish I could lose that much without being sick,” Marlee said.
“Trust me, you’d rather be fat than go through what I have.” He waived his hand, dismissing any questions she might have about his symptoms.
“You’re saying I’m fat?” Marlee snapped, knowing full well she was overweight. She also thought that Barry should know better than to make any reference whatsoever to her weight unless it was to encourage her to eat more.
“Of course not,” Barry said. “I just meant that if someone had the option of being fat or being sick, they would definitely pick fat. That was no comment about your weight problem at all.”
Marlee glared at him. “Some days I really don’t like you very much.”
They walked in silence until Marlee felt compelled to bring Barry up to speed on what had happened since he fell ill. “Raj’s parents know what a liar and scam artist he was, but they don’t think he was having an affair with Eleanor. When I told them about the rumor that Raj was the father of Eleanor’s baby, they became really excited. Mommy-ji talked of having a grandchild to love. I think both parents were hoping for a do-over with Raj, thinking this baby might be that chance.”
“That’s not what I would expect from them. They’re very traditional, and I would have guessed they would deny that Raj was the father no matter what,” Barry slowed his pace, out of energy from the prolonged days of bed rest. He perched against a tree near the sidewalk as he caught his breath.
“Their ways seem traditional or even backward to us, but by Indian standards, I think Raj’s parents are fairly progressive. They said they would be happy to have Raj’s offspring in the family even though they didn’t approve of the affair. The idea of a baby is their way to hold onto Raj while hoping for someone of better moral character.”
“My cousin and his girlfriend had a baby and never married. Of course, my aunt was beside herself over the whole thing until the baby was born. She’s a staunch Catholic and always looked down her nose at illegitimate births until it happened in her family. Then it was okay. She kept insisting that my cousin and his girlfriend should get married, and I think she’s what ultimately drove them apart. But now my aunt loves that grandchild with all of her heart.”
Marlee smirked. “People can be very judgmental about almost anything, but when it happens to them or occurs in their family, then the rules seem to change. It’s too bad we don’t let people live their lives without interference. When it’s your relative that’s gay or has a baby out of wedlock, then all of a sudden, it’s fine. Before it happens in your family, it’s a moral indiscretion that should be looked down upon.” She became so disgusted by the ever-shifting moral compass by the members of the major religions in the United States.
“The same thing happened on my Lutheran side of the family. We have two new babies in the family without marriages, and no one says a word. But if it was anyone else, oh boy, the judgments and accusations would be flying!” Barry said, noting the hypocrisy.
“Why can’t we accept something unless it impacts us directly?” Marlee asked. She had friends who were gay, from various races and ethnic backgrounds, and a multitude of religions. Believing that any of them deserved fewer rights than anyone else was not only unimaginable, but infuriating. Nonetheless, she could recall a time when she was fearful and untrusting of people different than herself. Not everyone had the benefit of getting out of their small town and pursuing an education, both of which she chalked up to gaining a greater perspective on people different from herself.
“If I had the answer to that, I could make a million dollars,” Barry said, pushing away from the tree, renewed with enough energy to continue their walk. “What else did you find out on your sleuthing mission?”
Even though Marlee didn’t really consider Barry her boyfriend, she chose to leave out the part of her evening in which Dax had proposed and urged her to remain in India after her teaching assignment ended. Regardless of Barry’s interpretation of their relationship, he wasn’t going to like Dax or his proposal.
“Meena’s writing a book at work, but you can’t tell anyone. I mean it, no one can know about it, or she could get into big trouble. She goes in to work early and writes with the plan of self-publishing her book. I’m envious and would love to write my own book someday,” Marlee said.
“What’s the book about?” Barry asked, mildly interested in Meena’s hobby.
Paraphrasing Meena, Marlee said, “It’s a book about hope and love in modern-day India.”
Barry looked at her as if she’d spoken gibberish. “What the hell does that mean?”
“She’s writing a romance book but doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why? What’s wrong with that?” Barry asked.
“I’m not sure why Meena’s so sensitive about it. Maybe she’s afraid it isn’t any good. Or she could possibly get into trouble for using her work computer.” Marlee began to question Meena’s insistence on discretion. None of the reasons she could think of justified Meena’s need for this level of secrecy.
They ended their walk at Barry’s hotel and agreed to talk more
that night. The stomach bug had robbed him of his energy, and he wanted to go back to the room and lie down.
Pacing around her room, Marlee was at loose ends. She had everything ready for the class she’d be teaching next week. Barry was recuperating and unable to help her with the investigation into Raj’s death. Dax was probably available, but since his marriage proposal she was keeping her distance from him so as not to give him false hope. If she called Riya, she would bring Dax along since they were related. None of the faculty in her department would be of any use and, in fact, Eleanor’s husband may very well have been behind Raj’s assault. Not that she even knew a quarter of the faculty in her new department, which was depressing in and of itself. The only one Marlee could think to ask along for further investigation was the department secretary.
Meena answered the phone in the Sociology Department, and the two made plans for not just investigating, but also supper in an hour. Later, Meena stood inside the door to Marlee’s apartment, unsure if she should sit. She looked around the room, taking it all in while Marlee rattled off some of the more important details of Raj’s death. The two were becoming fast friends, and Marlee felt that she could trust Meena since they had so much in common.
Over supper, the two talked in low tones about Raj, not referring to him by name. Meena had suggested a small restaurant several blocks away from the university. Marlee hoped there would be fewer spies there than at the hotel restaurant where she’d dined several times. It bothered her to know so many people at the hotel and restaurant were related to or somehow affiliated with the other people involved in the investigation.
“What is your strongest theory on why he died?” Meena asked, her head spinning from all the conflicting information Marlee had collected from various sources.
“I have three main theories. The first is that one or both brothers caused his death. They beat him up twice, and either that caused his death, or his eldest brother poisoned him while he was at home recovering. My second theory is that Eleanor’s husband had someone assault him because he found out about the affair, and that’s what brought about his death. The third theory is that someone unknown to me killed him by beating him severely. This could have been someone at the university who was jealous or enraged with him. It also might be a spouse or a partner of someone he was having an affair with. Or it could be someone I don’t know with an unknown motive.”
“That does not narrow the investigation much,” Meena said as she sipped her tea.
“No, it doesn’t. Ajay had a few motives to kill. He was jealous of Raj and didn’t like him very much. He also held Raj accountable for nearly bankrupting the family. Plus, he tried to poison Raj on two previous occasions. I’m not sure if he acted alone or if their other brother helped. Both brothers chased me back to my apartment and pounded on my door after Raj and I had been out celebrating New Year’s Eve. They demanded to know where Raj was, saying it was an emergency.” Marlee recalled how insistent Raj’s brothers had been as they banged their fists against her door.
“Now if Crispin Kingsley killed Raj, I think the motive is simple. He found out about their affair and wanted Raj out of the picture. If he knew about Eleanor’s pregnancy and suspected Raj was the father, he probably wanted revenge. Crispin is chubby, old, and out of shape, so I doubt he physically assaulted Raj. He would have paid someone to do it or offered to give one of his students a better grade if they were flunking his class.” Marlee considered other ways Crispin would entice or threaten a desperate student into doing his dirty work.
The secretary nodded along, listening to Marlee’s scenarios but not offering any ideas of her own. “So, what do you think, Meena?” Marlee prodded.
“I have been trying to think of a way to tell you about another reason Raj was killed. We do not like to speak negatively of the dead, especially family, but it is important that you know this. Raj was blackmailing Professor Patel from the Sociology Department. I do not know the nature of the information Raj was holding over Professor Patel’s head, but I overheard them arguing once when they did not know I was still in the building. Raj said if Professor Patel did not pay him, he would go to the administration and the police and tell them everything he knew about Professor Patel’s actions.”
The worst kind of poverty is to have many debts.
Indian proverb
Chapter 23
“Wow! This changes everything. That’s definitely a motive for murder. Professor Patel either couldn’t afford to keep paying Raj, or he just doesn’t want the worry of losing his career and his freedom hanging over his head for the rest of his life.” Marlee’s eyes lit up with the addition of another motive.
“Whatever Raj knew about Professor Patel had to be of a criminal nature since Raj threatened to tell the police. So, it would not involve plagiarism of another professor’s written work or something similar involving only academic ethical violations. Whatever it was had Professor Patel scared. I could hear it in his voice as he argued with Raj,” Meena reported.
“Any idea how much money Raj demanded to keep quiet?”
“No. I had the impression that Professor Patel had paid Raj before but now he demanded more money.”
“This is at least the second time I’ve heard of Raj involved in financial scams. First, the missing money from his family’s account that was to go toward paying bills. He claimed that he was inept at accounting, but even his parents think he stole at least part of it. And now I find out Raj was blackmailing Professor Patel. What was Raj doing with the money he illegally obtained?” Marlee found Raj to be professionally dressed, but not above other graduate students who were working for and representing the university. He didn’t have a flashy wardrobe, an expensive watch, or a car.
“I never saw Raj with large amounts of money or acting as if he had been on a shopping spree,” Meena said. “If he was obtaining money illegally, I do not know what he did with it.”
“Did you notice any change in his behavior? Maybe Raj developed a drug habit or a drinking problem? Gambling is a serious addiction that requires tons of money, so maybe that’s why he was running scams against his family and his professor,” Marlee said.
“Raj has acted the same since I first met him. I cannot think of an example in which his mood or actions differed at all in the past few years.”
“He seemed desperate to move to the United States, even asking me to help him gain citizenship by entering into a false marriage. When I refused to go along with the sham marriage, he blew up at me and made disparaging remarks about Americans. Now I’m not sure if Raj wanted to go to the United States specifically, or if he just needed to get out of India.” Their conversation seemed so long ago. Marlee was even having trouble remembering how Raj’s voice sounded.
The two discussed various scenarios in which the conclusion could’ve resulted in Raj’s demise. “Let’s go back to our building and check out the faculty lounge where I discovered Raj. I doubt there are any clues lying around that the police didn’t find, but just seeing the room again might spark some ideas about what happened to Raj,” Marlee said, taking out her money and paying for both their meals.
The walk back to campus helped settle Marlee’s stomach and clear her mind. By the time they reached the Lotus Building, she had a clearer idea of why she wanted to see the faculty lounge again. She fished around in her purse and produced her keys, allowing them to get into the building after working hours. They walked up the staircase as one of the fluorescent lights flickered and vibrated like a disco ball.
The calmness she felt moments before was now gone. Marlee’s heart was beating, and she was breathing hard, not just because she was walking up the staircase. She remembered Raj lying on the floor behind the couch, bloodied and beaten. He faintly moaned, moving in and out of consciousness.
“Do you remember hearing the extent of Raj’s injuries?” Marlee asked Meena, realizing she never had a full medical account of his second beating. She knew from observing Raj after his first assault
that he was bruised, had a split lip and a bloody nose, and one eye was blackened. He had been holding his side, as if to protect his ribs. Marlee recalled that he also walked with a limp that he did not have before the beating.
“Broken ribs, cuts on his face requiring stitches, a dislocated collar bone, and many bruises and cuts. Maybe there was more, but that is all I remember.”
“Why would Raj’s parents have had him cremated immediately if they suspected he was poisoned by his brother? Wouldn’t they want an autopsy to determine if there was foul play?” Marlee wondered out loud.
“But that would bring disgrace upon the family. Indian families deal with things like this within the family. We do not involve the police when the parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, and uncles can enact their own collective brand of punishment. The guilty party is punished, and the family name is not disparaged by scandal or imprisonment,” Meena explained. “It is tradition to cremate the body as soon as possible after death.”
“Even when one family member murders another?” Marlee was in disbelief. She could understand protecting a relative, but only up to an extent.
“Yes, even when a life is taken. I have heard rumors of it happening, but I have not witnessed it. It has not happened in my family,” Meena quickly added.
“When a family covers up a murder and handles it themselves, is everyone in the family in on the decision of what to do?”
“No, not everyone knows. Only the people most directly involved know and decide the punishment for the family member,” After letting her own comments sink in for a moment, Meena added, “I guess it could have happened in my family, and I was not made aware of it.”
“Nobody ever knows everything that happens in their family. We keep a lot of secrets in the United States too. I suppose it’s the same everywhere. We all want to protect our family members and our family image.”
Blood Feud Page 18