by Gauri Sinh
‘And all three girls had gowns on,’ Akruti continued my guesswork. ‘Flowy ones, capable of hiding a knife …’
‘We’re forgetting something crucial,’ I said to Akruti.
‘Which is?’ Akruti was losing patience and concentration, checking her watch as she spoke. The finale loomed, in a few hours, her mind was elsewhere.
‘The figure in the wings,’ I said.
‘The one Addl.CP Mhatre asked us about?’ Akruti asked, distracted. ‘Yes … who was that?’
‘Too many players … far too many. We’re missing something,’ I said, troubled, even as I scribbled all our deductions so far in the diary.
‘Y’know, last night?’ Akruti said, suddenly starting in recollection. ‘You took the diary back to your room when Roxanne came in. I was to call and tell you, but I had to talk to Avi. And I forgot about it after … I’m sorry, Parvati.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Akruti,’ I said gently. ‘Remember what Samantha said earlier? All our keys fit all the drawers. So locking it up in your room wouldn’t have helped either.’
‘Sounds like you want it to be taken,’ Akruti gazed at me speculatively, all her attention suddenly back on me.
I didn’t answer her. But she wasn’t that far from the truth. The finale would start soon. With barely any time left, I had come to a decision in the previous evening.
I wanted the person who had taken my diary to know we were onto them—how close we were now, to the truth. Akruti’s revelation yesterday about the possibility of there being a third professional from the glamour world here, had opened up an avenue, a good lead. The missing puzzle pieces were slowly coming to light.
Maybe now, knowing we were getting closer to a breakthrough, they would lose their nerve, try something out in the open. With me. Dangerous, perhaps. But what part about this contest wasn’t by now? And how else to narrow down the list of possible suspects? We were very nearly out of time, I needed to force this person’s hand.
‘So far, we know the killer is strong, very strong, almost an unnatural strength for a girl. Knows how to use a knife skilfully. Knows Doreen had information that might disqualify them, if they are a contestant. And that this person might be called Laddo …’ I said, writing all this down.
‘And do you believe this person is a serial killer too?’ Akruti asked, her eyes serious. ‘That the same person killed all three of our colleagues? What I’m asking, Parvati, is—are we in danger again, at the finale tonight?’
I met Akruti’s eyes with as much gravitas as I could muster without showing fear. I said nothing. What could I?
Finale night …
25
Akruti
Parvati was being typical Parvati—enigmatic, yet unfailingly logical—in that last meeting we had before we all disbursed to get ready for the big finale. She knew, as all of us did, that there might be more than a small element of danger present at the finale that evening. But she refused to voice her misgivings, even when I asked her point blank.
Honestly, I didn’t have the time right then, to pursue what Parvati might know based on who she actually was, from what Jehaan had told me. My mind was almost entirely on the contest. I wanted to win, wanted it from deep within. The rest of it, mysterious, murky, terrifying—that could play itself out alongside.
I took her leave soon after, I needed to concentrate on the pageant at hand. I really couldn’t do justice to that if Parvati kept urging me to brainstorm on the lengths and looks of gowns worn the night we lost poor Lajjo. The case would continue, I felt, but this night—it would only come once.
How do I describe the actual finale itself? How do I do justice to all that happened?
Let me start with the details. Some may call them inessentials, but every small detail contributes to the whole. My finale gown, for instance. I must tell you how I looked that night, it was a special gown for a special night. Gold and silver sequins enmeshed together, the silhouette figure-hugging, with an off-shoulder clingy bodice. The entire effect was almost mermaid-like.
This gown was what Avi had dreamed up for me when we had conversations centred on the crown ever since I had confided to him that I would be participating. He envisioned a gown of such radiance, that I was entranced. I strove to turn that into my reality, approaching all the masterful designers in the business. And that was what I finally ended up in, a gown with so much shimmer and shine, it drew all the lights on stage right to it … and hopefully, to me!
Hair left loose and wild, to channel the sea-princess avatar some more. And shocking red lipstick, to complete the look. In a contest that had witnessed so much diversion, so much sorrow and so much horror—I needed to pull out all stops. Wow everyone on appearance alone, before getting to the brass tacks.
Preparation took a while. Everyone was to assemble in the green room constructed near the main outdoor stage for hair and make-up, around 5 pm. Earlier, if they could manage it. I took the liberty of doing my own make-up this time. And I needed the peace, alone, to make sure I looked my best. Face done, make-up bag in hand, I arrived at the welcome chaos of the green room sometime around 5.30 p.m.
The contest was scheduled to begin at 8 p.m. on the dot. Unlike at the earlier sub-contests, there would be no delays today. It was a made-for-television production, to be broadcast live nationally. No lapses or glitches would be entertained. If anyone had an attack of nerves and somehow couldn’t be on stage—the show would go on without them. We had all been prepped, warned extensively about this. In fact we had been taught how to position ourselves so as to cover up absent spots in stage formation. This, so a watching audience wouldn’t be able to tell if anyone was missing.
The judges had been instructed to be on time, there was a lot riding on flawless execution of this particular evening. Security was at a maximum—I caught a glimpse of Addl.CP Mhatre looking stern and imposing, as he instructed a posse of men in uniform and plainclothes a little distance away from the green room.
Inside the green room, the scene was familiar—the hum of hair equipment, the chatter of the contestants, the various members of the hair and make-up team. There were a dozen or so additional experts this time, because every girl had to look her best, and one make-up and hair artist wouldn’t suffice.
‘The diva arrives,’ Roxanne announced, as I entered the room. No one really even bothered to look up. This was the moment of reckoning—I may have had the professional standing but today it was a fight to the finish. All of us had trained for this. Nothing was pre-written.
‘You’re looking lovely, Roxy,’ I said, with a sudden rush of warmth for my roommate of almost three weeks, despite the tartness in her addressing me. She was too, all aglow, sheathed in baby pink. She scowled at me, then had the grace to blush.
My eyes searched for Parvati. I combed the sea of contestants as they preened in front of mirrors, or chatted in twos and threes. Glamorous and glittering as never before, all of them. Then, as Inayat and Anuradha parted ways in front of me, in striking red and blue respectively, they revealed Parvati’s statuesque form. And I realized with a thrill how very magnificent she looked tonight.
Parvati’s regal form appeared even more regal in the Audrey Hepburn updo of hair, complete with a miniature pearl tiara tucked cunningly in front. And the Grecian shell-white gown, flowy and figure-hugging in the right measure, held up on a shoulder with a single dazzling pearl-and-crystal brooch to complete the look. Gloves to match, ones that covered her arms up to the elbows. Unbelievable!
If I weren’t so confident of my own appearance tonight, I would’ve been envious of hers. But as it went, I felt only a fierce joy, and to my surprise, an almost maternal pride for the girl in front of me. Her unlikely yet obvious transformation into this breath-taking vision had me floored. Whether or not Parvati was here to win this title, she certainly looked the part, I thought.
As I looked at her, a movement caught my eye. Beyond her, out the side entance of the green room, behind the gently wavering curtain. As
it billowed high in a wayward gust of air, I saw him. The figure I had seen twice now, at the garden two days ago, and near the elevators more recently, that man conspicuous to me by his very attempt to appear inconspicuous. In a trice, I dashed past Parvati almost knocking her over to get to the green room side entrance.
But as usual, I was too late. When I reached the side entrance, having bumped into angry contestants along the way, the corridor outside was empty. Parvati reached me a split second later.
‘What’s gotten into you?’ she asked quietly, using her hands to steady my panting frame. ‘Why are you looking like you’ve seen a ghost?’
‘He’s here,’ I hissed urgently. ‘The guy from the elevator. The guy I had seen in the garden the other day. The one you think could be a reporter, only now I’m certain he’s not. Reporters aren’t allowed here!’
‘There’s no one outside right now,’ Parvati’s calm tone deflected my chagrin at losing him yet again. ‘You need to concentrate only on yourself now.’
Parvati was right, of course. But my subconscious was still sending jangled messages. I sensed danger. Clear and very present once again, a red alert that wouldn’t dissipate. ‘There’s a phone call for you, Parvati,’ someone called out. ‘They said it’s important.’
Parvati turned and left me without saying another word. I watched her go, hoping it wasn’t any disturbing family news at this crucial juncture. We could do without more bad news.
26
Akruti
‘Akrrruti! Are you just about ready, my sweet? How do you look, sugar?!’ Avi’s familiar voice wafted over the din around me as I tried to silence my instinct for the moment and clear my head of the dark cloud that threatened to envelop it. I looked up to see him pushing past the contestants in front of me.
‘Well, aren’t we a vision?’ He nodded approvingly, after casting a critical eye on my make-up and outfit. My hair wasn’t done still, but this was Avi, he knew how to envision what would be, from what was in front of him. And he and I, we had our particular rhythm anyway, he knew how I would look once the war paint was completely on.
‘I’m glad to see you Avi,’ I told him, suddenly realising how utterly and completely true that was. I needed his moral support, my instinct was warning me to be on my guard but I had no idea against what.
‘Akruti, you need to focus on the crown now,’ Avi said, matter of fact, but his eyes were saying other things.
‘What is it? Tell me?’ I asked fiercely.
‘The Addl.CP will speak to you,’ Avi held me close, and whispered in my ear. ‘The blade that killed Lajjo? Your fingerprints were on the handle.’
‘But how?’ I whispered, drawing back as if slapped, struck dumb for a second. ‘I never touched it.’
‘Neither did you stab her on stage. There were enough witnesses who saw her collapse and you hold her. But regardless—the handle on the blade shows only your prints …’
‘Will he arrest me now?’ I asked, suddenly wary. ‘And why wait so long if they found my prints on the blade? It’s been three days …’
‘I think they were trying to find out when you could’ve possibly done it. You were in full view of everybody that entire rehearsal. You even sat in front of ramp, actually entered from there. It’s most baffling,’ Avi went on. ‘He said this to me in confidence, hoping I could shed some light on it. This morning in fact, but I’ve been in two minds whether to tell you. The contest is so important to you. Also, I believe he suspects foul play. So he’s hesitating to arrest you. Given your high profile, it wouldn’t do to have to backtrack if he’s made a mistake.’
‘I see,’ I said. ‘Glad your loyalty to me won out, Avi,’ I added, grateful that he’d chosen to tell me.
‘Always, Aku,’ Avi said. ‘But do you know how your fingerprints could have got onto the weapon’s handle?’
‘No idea,’ I told him, genuinely at a loss.
My mind was whirling, no wonder my instinct was warning me of danger. Getting arrested before the contest was no laughing matter. I hadn’t killed Lajjo, but just going through all the motions to prove it would sap me of much. I had no wish to be in that position at all, especially not now.
‘All I remember touching were the tap-dancing sticks for the opening routine,’ I told Avi. ‘The pre-contest dance for television, the one where all the contestants are introduced on stage. They cancelled it after what happened, now it’s a more sombre show given what we’ve been through. But while we were practising, everyone had a stick and a tall hat. But there were no blades, none.’
‘Are you sure, Aku?’ Avi asked.
I was. My memory was unwavering on this. I may not have noticed crucial lapses during that fatal rehearsal where Lajjo was stabbed. Or the exact conversation while I talked to Doreen, but my memory was exacting when it concerned any strenuous effort towards the crown. I hadn’t handled a blade, not ever.
‘Is the Addl.CP going to dramatically walk in and take me into custody anytime soon, Avi?’ I asked, extremely wary now. My big dream, that singular shot at the Miss India crown—It was never in more danger of utter collapse than at this moment, with Avi’s devastating news of an impending arrest.
‘Let’s hope not,’ Avi muttered darkly. ‘But Eye India will really have a lot to say there, I think …’
What Avi was conveying was that at least till the finale was done, there was time. Eye India’s influence may have bought it for me, but I was not complaining. I intended to use every bit of it.
‘Why don’t you get your hair done?’ Avi said, matter of fact as ever. ‘You’ve been given this much, you’re here still. The contest isn’t over.’
‘No it’s not,’ I said, chin up now, as I checked the time. It was almost 6.30 pm, an hour since I got here. ‘I’m going to do just that, Avi.’
Deeply disturbed and on edge, I moved towards the area in the green room where the girls were having their hair done. I was lost in thought as the hairdresser blow-dried and curled my tresses to perfection. My look channelled a wild-child mermaid, but I was feeling more like a little girl lost.
Alone with my thoughts, I was tapped on the shoulder by someone as I got up from the hair-dressing chair. I looked up, distracted from all that was on my mind. And looked into the eyes of Gokul—Doreen’s hairdresser husband.
Shock hit me like electricity, and I would’ve stumbled but for his steadying hand. I met his glistening eyes and felt my own grow teary. I took both his hands in mine.
‘I’m so sorry, Gokul,’ I told him. ‘It shouldn’t have been this way. She was so full of life.’
‘Yes,’ Gokul was finding it hard to speak through his emotion. ‘I came as fast as I could. Then the police wanted me to speak with them. They’ve been questioning me …’
My heart ached for this poor simple soul, bereft of his voluble, effervescent companion forever. He looked both lost and despairing, like he didn’t have a clue where he was and how he’d gotten here.
‘I just wanted to wish you luck,’ he said simply, through his tears. ‘Doreen knew you were my favourite, she would’ve liked that I met you to tell you that. I wasn’t supposed to be here for this assignment. But fate’s ways …’
‘Thank you, Gokul,’ I said gently. ‘Doreen told me you were rooting for me. I was glad.’
Suddenly like a light had been switched on, the rest of my conversation with Doreen came back to me in a flash. And despite the inappropriateness of the timing, I knew what I had to do.
‘Gokul,’ I watched him, intently. ‘Gokul, I need to know something …’
‘About Doreen?’ he asked listlessly. ‘I’ve told the police all I know … I have no clue who would want to do this to her. And so heartlessly, so wickedly …’
I kept silent, trying to think of a delicate way to approach this. How would Parvati do it?
Also, something was disturbing me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something I knew was very important.
I tried to focus on the task at hand. A
nd it came to me, how Parvati would do it. Also, how I must use the same approach. So I got right to it.
‘Gokul,’ I said, ‘Who is Laddo?’ I asked the question artlessly, without guile, straight out, like Parvati would. Something about my query disturbed me, not the question itself … my uneasiness had something to do with Parvati. Why this awful feeling?
Gokul opened his mouth to speak, but in that instant there was a loud crash. A crash that shook the makeshift green room to its foundation, such that the lights went out. In the shrieking that followed, absolute pandemonium, as contestants ran helter-skelter, screaming.
Lights going out was no cause to panic but this contest had us all on edge from Lajjo’s stabbing, four nights ago. We were conscious that a serial killer might be on the loose, it was uppermost on our minds that entire day since our collective discussion at lunch. And the sudden darkness in the green room brought on abject hysteria.
I found myself running alongside everybody else in the darkness, as agitated, as utterly panicked as I’d ever been. But unlike the rest, I knew where I was headed. Gokul had uttered a single name and despite the resounding crash, I had caught it. Suddenly, awfully, I was in my nightmare again, the one in which the veiled hant was clutching at me, crown in hand. Relentless with cold, dead fingers, even as I ran, even as I tried to escape. Parvati …
27
Akruti
The corridor seemed endless. Bleak darkness surrounded me as I stumbled on. The terror wouldn’t let go, everything seemed a blur. Because in the green room, even as Gokul had revealed the name we had been trying so hard to figure out all this while, it hit me—Parvati was missing.
She had been summoned to attend to an urgent call almost two hours ago. And she hadn’t returned. Caught up in my own situation—Avi’s cautionary news and then Gokul’s arrival—I had not kept track of the time lapse, realising her absence only when the feeling that something was very wrong became overpowering.