by Unknown
“And so she left the house she had entered as a bride mere months ago. There was only one thing to do. One person she yearned to see more than any other. She went to Ajay, free at last to surrender to the passion between them. And there she met with an even greater shock. He dismissed her love, and denied feeling anything for her, insisting that everything he had ever said or done had merely been an act put up for the sake of the movie.”
Here Mr. Kapoor paused, and Payal leaned in closer on her own accord. “That poor girl. Then what happened?”
“Jasmine was devastated.” Mr. Kapoor spoke in a low, stirring voice. “She understood the dreams she had been chasing were far from the reality of show business. Finally, after she had cried and wept and cursed the indifferent world, her grief was replaced by a much darker emotion. Anger. She hated society for judging her. She hated heself for allowing their judgement to bother her. And she hated Ajay for the callous way he had played with her feelings and then cast her aside.
“Slowly, she changed. She decided to embrace the image that society insisted on foisting on her. She did an item song, bolder and more risque than anything done before. And it became a huge hit.”
“Her persona began to take hold of the public's imagination. The image of being too modern and loose that she had tried to avoid now became her calling card. She began to cultivate the image of a woman steeped in the lurid pleasures of the world. A siren!”
“But it cost her, this new found fame. Her friends from her early years of struggle deserted her, belonging as they did to a lower strata of the movie business.”
“That is brilliant.” Sumit declared, bursting in again. “It gives a moral lesson to the audience. They get entertained but there is something to learn, too.” Mr. Kapoor quietened him with an impatient wave of his hand before resuming his story.
“Slowly, the girl changed on the inside as well. As she climbed the ladder of success, her innocence was lost. She did many things that the old Jasmine would have recoiled in horror from. And she told herself it was the only way to acheieve her dreams. She learned to ignore the small voice inside her telling her to turn back from the abyss she was walking towards. She even learned to ignore the biting loneliness she felt sometimes in her huge but empty apartment. But the one thing she could not ignore was the memory of the man she still loved, even though he did not love her back.”
“Time marched on. One hit song led to another. The blak veil that had descended on her after the divorce was lifted. There were parties and fashion shows, rumoured link ups and break ups. Rising popularity led to a movie deal, and the film became a hit. The award season arrived, and Jasmine was nominated for best debut. The award was hers for the taking, and she knew it. And so she found herself walking the red carpet at the award show, clothed by the finest designers in the land, with photographers begging her to pose for them. She entered the award hall and was led to her chair, which was two seats from her former husband, the producer. They had buried the hatchet a long time ago. He smiled at Jasmine and wished her luck for the award, and with a jolt of sadness she realised he was the closest thing she had left to a friend.”
“The ceremony started. One by one the awards were handed out. The best debut performance category was announced, and with a shock, Jasmine saw Ajay walk out onto the stage to announce the winner. The nominations were read out. A moment of bated breath, and then Ajay said her name. And the crowd was cheering. And the people siting next to her were congratulating her. Her ex husband kissed with all the happiness and passion they had once shared, and told her he was proud of her.”
“But the one man whose smile she secretly craved had nothing for her. Ajay stood on the stage, holding her award and looking at her as though she was a stranger. She reached the stage. And then he presented her with the award. She looked back at the adoring crowd. She saw everything she had ever desired, finally within her grasp.”
“And then her face appeared on the big screen, and her heart sank. The hardened, heavily made up face that stared back at her was not her own. It was not the Jasmine she remembered. The Jasmine who used to watch romantic films and dreamt of being a part of them. And then she realised, in achieving what she thought she had wanted more than anything else, she had lost everything that mattered.”
“And then she turned back to look at Ajay. She searched his face for some small glimpse of the love she had once hoped to see. But she saw something else. Scorn. Comtempt for what she had become. He turned withouth a word and silently left the stage.”
“It was too much for her. She had lost her love, her self respect, and ultimately her own identity. And what she had gained in return was the hypocritical praise of people who disparaged her behind her back, and the silent contempt of the man she loved. She couldn't bear it any more. Her heart, weakened by the years of strain, finally gave up the struggle, and lay broken inside her. A gasp of pain, more a cry than a scream, and she collapsed on the floor. By the time people reached her, it was too late. On the stage she had once dreamt of standing on, surrounded by people whom she had once worshipped, her hand still clutching the prize she had fought so hard for, Jasmine breathed her last. And in death she finally knew peace.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. No one at the table moved. Then Mr. Kapoor straightened up, breathing slowly. “The End.” He declared.
Sumit jumped to his feet, clapping enthusiastically. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! You'll get the national award for sure. I can absulutely gurantee you this'll be the highest grossing movie of the year, KK!”
Mr. Kapoor smiled complacently as Sumit contnued with his gushing praise. He resumed his seat and turned to Aditya and Virat with a questioning look. “Any feedback? What do the great detectives think of my story?”
“It's very... dramatic.” Virat said.
“But what do you think of the characters?” Mr. Kapoor persisted. “I would like an outsider's opinion. A tragedy only works if the protaganist's journey manages to touch your heart. So did you feel anything?”
“I thought it was beautiful.” Payal spoke up. “I'd pay to see that story on the big screen. Maybe with Kangana Ranaut in the lead.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Kapoor smiled widely. He looked at Virat.
“It seemed a bit unrealistic.” Virat commented. “But I guess that's not a problem in a melodrama.”
Sumit stared at him in indignant horror, but Mr. Kapoor did not seem offended. “Every kind of feedback is welcome.” He said, nodding his head more vigorously still. He turned expectantly to Aditya.
Aditya shrugged. “It's a moving tale, certainly.”
“Moving, you think?” Mr. Kapoor said, nodding thoughtfully. “Good. Good. So that's your impression of the story?” Suddenly his wide smile returned. “Thank you for your input. And thank you for a wonderful evening. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much with a group of strangers. And now I must get to the airport.” He rose, and immdiately Sumit jumped up to fetch his overcoat.
“Mr. Kapoor, what about the movie about my clients?” Payal asked quickly, also rising to her feet.
“Eh? Oh, yes, yes. You can talk to my manager about it over the phone this week. Sumit will give you the number. I'm sure we'll come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement. And now I really must rush.”
“Could we talk for a moment in private?” Aditya spoke up suddenly. Mr. Kapoor glanced back at him in surprise. He seemed to hesitate.
“We need to hurry, KK.” Sumit said sharply, holding his overcoat up for him.
“Of course, but I'm sure we can spare a minute for our guest.” He left Sumit holding the coat and moved to the table at the end of the room. Aditya followed. Mr. Kapoor turned to him expectantly.
“I wanted to thank you for inviting us here for dinner.” Aditya began.
“Don't mention it. I really did enjoy meeting you all. It's unfortunate that we couldn't negotiate the specifics of your contract in detail tonight.”
“Yes, but then
you never really intended to make the movie, did you?” Aditya smiled.
“What do you mean?” Mr. Kapoor's eyes widened in surprise.
“I'm talking about the movie deal you used as an excuse to get Virat and me here tonight.” Aditya said. “Your manager claimed this meeting was set up specifically to discuss the movie rights to our cases. But that business was wrapped up in the first five minutes of the evening.”
Mr. Kapoor said nothing, but continued to study Aditya with raised eyebrows. Aditya kept on talking.
“What have we talked about instead? An idea for a movie you want to make. That's what you've talked about the most passionately this night. You say you want our opinion, but that doesn't make any sense. You want to get an expert opinion on a story, you talk to a writer. You want the opinion of a pair of detectives, and what could be the reason?” Aditya leaned forward. “To test a crime, of course, and see whether it would work.”
Mr. Kapoor said nothing, but continued to stare at him as Aditya spoke again. “And by the way, no, it wouldn't work. The girl in your story doesn't die from a broken heart. She dies from anaphylactic shock from an allergic reaction. My guess is her ex husband had eaten something she was allergic to right before kissing her when she went on stage. It took a few moments for her body to react to the allergy, and then she died.” He leaned in closer, watching Mr Kapoor intently. “Also, the girl's name, I think, is Natasha, not Jasmine.”
The smile had finally dropped from Mr. Kapoor's face. He was watching Aditya curiously. “What a strange mind you have, Mr. Matthews. You think the story I told you was about a murder that I have committed? I can assure you my ex wife Natasha is very much alive.”
“I'm sure she is.” Aditya smiled. “That's why I'm telling this to you, and not Virat.You haven't actually committed the crime yet, have you?”
For one long moment Mr. Kapoor gazed at Aditya, a mixture of wariness and suspicion in his eyes. But finally his excitement seemed to get the better of him.
“No, no, I haven't.” He said, leaning forward eagerly. “I can, but I haven't yet. What gave me away?”
“The name 'Kiss of Death' was a pretty big tell from the start.” Aditya remarked drily. Mr. Kapoor's face fell.
“Yes, yes, I suppose the title does give away the ending a bit.” He mused. “Critics have always said that subtlety isn't my strong point.” He bent forward confidentially. “Not a lot of people know this, but Natasha is deathly allergic to dairy products. And I thought, well, what if I happened to be drinking milk or eating cheese right before giving her a kiss? It would be a splendid oppurtunity, you see, a week from now at the mastang awards where she's nominated for best song performance. She's certain to win. I could do it then, and when the police would find out about Natasha dying from an allergic reaction they'd think it was an accident. But I don't know anything about crime or criminal investigations. So first I had to make sure the plan was foolproof, and the murder absolutely couldn't be traced back to me. When I found out I was coming to Delhi, I had the idea of meeting you two and testing the story out. I thought if I could fool you, I could fool the rest of the police force.”
“But you didn't fool us.” Aditya grinned. “And now I know your plan. If something were to happen to your wife at the award ceremony, I'd be duty bound to share my knowledge with the police.”
“Hmm...” Mr. Kapoor nodded, deep in thought. “Perhaps choosing you to test the story on wasn't such a good idea.”
“I assure you there are several other ways the police can trace the murder back to you from the postmortem.” Aditya remarked. “And really, Mr. Kapoor, a life of crime is not one I would recommend for you. I don't think you'll fancy it too much. I know you enjoyed plotting the trap, and some parts of the enterprise might appeal to your romantic nature, but it's really a terribly messy and stressful business.” The excitement in Mr. Kapoor's eyes seemed to lessen as he paused to consider the words.
“I think you're right.” He said at last, nodding thoughtfully and stroking his beard, looking as though they were having a discussion about trying a new dish. “I did like how clever the idea seemed, and I really think my ex wife deserves to die. She really is terrible. But it won't be any fun if I get found out, and have to go to jail. I think I'll forget about Natasha and just get on with my next movie.”
“A wise choice.” Aditya nodded. “I think we'll take your leave now, if you feel you've had enough of our opinion for the night.”
Mr. Kapoor leaned forward and seized Adityá's hand warmly. “This really has been a wonderfully entertaining evening, Mr. Matthews. It was so much fun testing my wits against yours, even if you did found me out. I'm only sorry I can't actually make that film about you.”
“That's okay, I understand.”
“It's just not a marketeable concept, you see. The Indian public doesn't want to see a film about a couple of detectives who go into all those poor, dirty places looking for perverts and delinquents. There's no masala there.” A sudden thought seemed to strike Mr. Kapoor, and he brightened. “But if I could change the storyline a bit! Virat's character could be a gorgeous police trainee who meets a psychologist called Aditya, and the two fall in love while on the run from a dreaded gangster, with a fat reporter sidekick who's always looking for something to eat or fall off of. Turn it into an action romantic comedy musical!” Mr. Kapoor seemed to have already forgotten all about his murder plans as he gazed happily at Aditya.
Aditya blinked, feeling bemused. “That cartainly sounds... masaaledaar.”
“I'll have one of my writers get to work on it, then.” Mr. Kapoor said enthusiastically as they moved back towards the others. “I'm sure we'll be ready with something satisfactory soon. And now I really must rush. Take care, Miss Ghosh. You too, Detective Joshi. Come along, Sumit.” A rustle of fabric as he slipped on his overcoat, a gracious nod towards Payal and Virat, a series of quick strides towards the door, with Sumit hurrying to bring up the rear, and The Great Showman was gone.
* * *
In the taxi ride back from the hotel, Aditya related his conversation with Mr. Kapoor to Virat and Payal. The bored taxidriver listening to bhojpuri songs in the front did not seem interested in eavesdropping on the whispered conversation going on in the back about the famous director.
“The Kiss of Death.” Virat groaned. “It was so obvious! Can't believe I missed it.”
“You weren't expecting it.” Aditya said. “But I'd been wondering right from the start why a guy who'd exclusively made candyfloss love stories until now would suddenly be interested in our cases. And then when he completely ignored the main point of our meeting and kept harping on that other story, I started to get an idea of the real reason why we'd been called.”
“The question now is, does he realise you were lying about the police being able to track him from the postmortem report?” Virat asked.
“I'm hoping he believed me.” Aditya said. “It was actually a pretty foolproof murder plan. He might even have gotten away with it if he hadn't felt the urge to test it out on us first. But now that he knows we know, I think his wife will be safe.”
Virat turned to Payal. “You're keeping awfully quiet about the whole thing.”
Payal shrugged, staring forward at the taxidriver's head. “I'm glad you were able to save his wife from that creep.”
“So what's bothering you?” Aditya asked.
Payal finally turned to them. “He'd been lying to me the whole time.” She wailed. “He was never going to make the film about your cases. And I was going to get thirteen percent of the royalties!”
Chapter 10: A Formal Introduction
Virat awoke with a start as his mobile went off. He reached for his phone and switched off the alarm. Just as he was about to put it back he saw his inbox flashing. There was a message from Aditya. He opened the file and stared at the message, his eyes still working through a bleary haze of sleep. He raised himself off his bed and made his way though the kitchen into the other room that doubled
at night as a second bedroom.