Seduced by Murder

by Saurbh Katyal

  Paras spoke in his commanding voice. “Please sit down. What will you have? Tea or coffee?”

  His voice didn’t quiver; his manner didn’t falter. Here was a man who was a true fatalist, an indefatigable master of emotions. I could see the truth in the myriad versions of his rags-to-riches story I had read about – the migrant who came to the city forty years ago, with only a suitcase and a legacy of bad debt.

  Babu opted for tea. I considered the propriety of asking for beer. Empty bottles were strewn all over the carpet from last night’s party mocking my sobriety. I regretfully remembered the glass of Scotch I had left untouched at my office.

  Paras asked me in a cautious voice, “What’s on your mind?” Beer. Aditi.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean … what do you think?”

  “What about?”

  He gave me a stare of distrust. I looked at the waves of anticipation on the faces surrounding me. I realised what this was all about.

  “I don’t know who did it! Do you actually think I do?”

  Paras looked crestfallen. “Oh! You sure you don’t have any idea at all about the identity of the murderer?”

  The old guy looked disappointed that I didn’t indict one of his family members. Something was wrong about his behaviour. They were still staring at me in anticipation. I retaliated with what I hoped was the most incredulous stare. They really thought I could discern the identity of the murderer, sitting in a car with Babu! The only person I knew who could do this was Sherlock Holmes!

  Paras said politely, “Your presence here was highly appreciated today. We would like to know what your next step would be.”

  “Well, if you appoint me as a private detective, I can formally look into the case.”

  Paras looked at his sons, rebelliously.

  “Vishal, I don’t know why you came here, or what are you trying to imply. But my son has been murdered. I want you to try and find the bastard who did this.”

  Tears surged into his eyes, but he fought them back heroically. Sunil and Vimal did not look very happy, and Aditi had an imperceptible smile of triumph on her face, that only I could decipher. Apparently, some of them did not want me to work on the case. Anyway, the king had spoken, and the commoners could go to hell.

  “I need someone to sign a standard agreement. I can send that tomorrow.”

  “Catch the murderer. We will sign the agreement tomorrow. Don’t worry about money.”

  I immediately decided to double my retainer.

  He continued, “I hope I can count on you for complete confidentiality.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I gave my card to Paras. Aditi stretched her neck to catch a glimpse of it. I offered her one too. She took it shyly.

  One of the junior inspectors entered the room, and informed Babu that the backup team had arrived. He looked at me.

  “Umm … in that case, do we go need to go to the village now?”

  “I can’t comment on that,” I told him. “I have put forward my views on the crime. Going to the village is your call, Inspector.

  I looked at Paras and realised I hadn’t offered my condolences till now.

  “I am very sorry for the loss of your son, sir. I hope we are able to bring the guilty to justice.”

  With these parting words I nodded farewell to Babu, and turned around to rush to the nearest liquor shop.

  Babu spoke in a slightly high-pitched tone. “You are not leaving? At least wait till they take the body away.”

  I scowled furiously at him. “I think we should leave the bereaved family alone.”

  Paras spoke again. “Please stay. Maybe you will find some more clues.”

  When Paras spoke, everyone listened and agreed.

  “Okay, but we shall wait in my car until they take the body away. I am sure you would like some time with your family to discuss things.”

  “It is hot outside. You can wait in one of the other rooms,” Paras offered.

  “Oh.” I looked at Pranay.

  “Oh.” He looked back at me.

  I said to Paras, “It is hot, but I insist that we sit outside. It would be nice to have a couple of beers just to keep us going.”

  “Ram will bring them outside.”

  Paras scowled at me for the first time. He was probably beginning to doubt my temperance. Not that I blamed him. It was hardly sensitive on my part to demand alcohol. But I needed strength to insulate my mind against Aditi, and against Babu’s verbal attack, while waiting for the ambulance.

  “Thanks.”

  Babu remonstrated with me for my insensitivity as soon as we were outside. “How could you ask for beer in a situation like this?”

  I ignored him and spoke to Pranay.

  “Call Aarti and tell her to lock the office and leave. Tell her to come tomorrow, and take her weekly off some other day.”

  It was two hours and three bottles of beer later that I was able to leave the farmhouse. The ride back home was much slower. I tried to concentrate on what I had learnt at the scene of the crime, evaluating various possibilities. The mind, however, takes masochistic delight in suffering. I found myself thinking more and more about what I had lost three years ago.

  I opened the door and tripped over Bruno again.

  “Fat bugger,” I growled, and he responded by rolling on his back and inviting me with his paws to tickle his exposed belly. Bruno was an obese and lazy Labrador.

  Pranay, sensing that I was in no mood to dissect the case, and probably pleased by it retired to his room. He came out five minutes later and asked formally, “Do we go over the case now?”

  “Nah, let’s do it tomorrow.”

  “Okay. You want me to do anything for you?”

  “Yeah. Shoot the dog!” I said, rubbing my painful knee.

  I tried to watch a movie, listen to music, and read a book – all futile attempts to isolate the past, but the mind insisted on wallowing in self-pity. Out of despair, I went to Pranay’s room to see what he was doing. He had stripped to his shorts, and was just about done with making a joint. Then Pranay poured some beer into Bruno’s bowl, and the beast lapped it up eagerly. Both of them knew that I got irritated when Pranay gave alcohol to the dog.

  I told him off without conviction or malice. “Listen, you brewery – dogs are not supposed to drink.”

  Pranay replied without looking up from his joint. “He’s not a dog; he’s a superdog.”

  To show his support, Bruno licked the bowl clean. Pranay was laidback, pleasure-seeking, and rebellious. I was meticulous, responsible and deliberate. He looked at me and said, “You want a whiff? You look like you could use one today.”

  For a moment I was tempted, but then decided against it. I left Pranay and Bruno to their Bacchanalian excesses, and retired to my room. I took out a bottle of Scotch. This would be one long night.

  It was dark. We were on top of the hill again. The light from the moon lit her face, and her silky hair cascaded in the strong wind. Her eyes glistened with sad emptiness when she asked, “Do you think I am a bad person? Am I responsible for Chetan’s death?”

  “No, you are not,” I lied.

  She looked into my eyes, searching my soul. “I believe you.”

  Seconds later we were kissing. It was the first time I had touched a woman, and my technique was awkward. She took the lead, drawing me to her. My fingers trembled as I lifted her T-shirt and brushed my lips against her nipples. She moaned and bit her lower lip.

  The scene changed, and I was alone on the hill. I turned and saw Chetan, his arms outstretched. Blood was trickling from his slashed wrists. He had the wide grin of a madman. I followed his gaze, and saw Sunil and Aditi standing in front of me, holding hands, smiling down at me derisively.

  I woke up drenched in sweat. I got up, went to the refrigerator, and drank a litre of water. It was nine in the morning, and Pranay was still asleep. I didn’t have the zeal to go to office. With consciousness creeping in, I felt a sense of destitutio
n. It was one of those hopeless moments when your life hangs precariously from the edge, and it can only be saved if you are able to conjure up a reason for your existence.

  I sought mental inactivity in the comfort of my bed, and tried to go back to sleep. I lay on the bed staring at the empty walls. The thing about lying in bed and staring at the wall is that you gravitate towards past memories. Again and again I felt the emotion which I loathed – self pity. Like a vulnerable puppy shivering in the rain. Like the one she had helped that damp night.

  We were on a bike, getting drenched in the rain, ecstatic with our new-found understanding of each other. Aditi had her arms wrapped around my waist, leaning forward so that her face rested on my shoulder. I was totally soaked, as I zipped the bike on the long and empty road, but her soft breath on my neck kept my spirits warm. Her nipples were taut, pressing hard against my back through the thin fabric of her blouse. I felt content and carefree. The sky was being challenged by stray streaks of lightning that reflected my own spirit that night.

  We stopped at a dhaba on the highway to have tea. A newborn puppy was shivering uncontrollably in the downpour, snuggling against a newspaper. She wanted it. When Aditi wanted something, it was a challenge that invoked your machismo. The owner of the dhaba gave me a silly smile as I traded my leather jacket for the stray puppy. We got back to college, and she was ecstatic with the dog. Then she got bored with the responsibility of feeding it thrice a day. She had dumped it in a month. I should have learnt my lesson from that.

  I groaned, and pinched myself to come back to the present. I had spent three years immuring myself against her. One glimpse of her couldn’t pull me back into the labyrinth of past memories. I got up from bed and thought of calling Kalpana. She was a thirty-year-old divorcee, who would do anything to please me. Kalpana and I had a great relationship. Our relationship had the passion of lovers, and the comfort of two people who know that it is only about sex.

  That was before she started pestering me for commitment and insisted on moving in my apartment with me. That too with her cat. It turned ugly when I broke up with her two months ago. I had decided never to call her again. Yet, I felt tempted to call her. Anything to get out of this sudden abyss.

  I imagined Kalpana naked, with her ivory smooth skin, enticing breasts, and shapely legs. Junior stirred into action, demanding her presence. Sex, the greatest panacea for loneliness, albeit temporary.

  I was dialling Kalpana”s number when the phone rang. It was Aditi.

  “Morning.”

  “Hi. How are you?” she asked politely.

  “Good. How are you?”

  “Well, still recovering. You created quite an impact yesterday. We are still coming to terms with what you discovered. “

  “Yeah, I can imagine it was unpleasant.”

  “Kind of. Dad wants you on the case as soon as possible.”

  “Dad?”

  “My father-in-law. I call him Dad. He is quite impressed with your deductive abilities.”

  “He’s a gracious man.”

  “Actually, no. He is a hard man to please. So … you have some paperwork for us?”

  “Yes. A basic agreement.”

  “Can I sign the agreement?”

  “Sure. You are the client.”

  “Great. How do we go about it?”

  “My colleague Pranay will bring the hard copy of the document for you to review, and if everything seems fine, sign it and hand it back to him.”

  I forced myself to say, “Along with the retainer cheque.”

  “Oh …”

  She sounded disappointed.

  “The retainer is negotiable,” I added quickly.

  “Silly, I am not worried about your fee. I was wondering if you could come instead of your colleague; maybe meet me outside somewhere. There are a lot of guests here today, and we would not be able to … discuss things freely.”

  I could think of a thousand reasons why I should say no. Instead I said, “Sure.”

  “Great! What time will you come?” she asked enthusiastically.

  “Let me call you back and confirm.”

  “Okay. Choose a place near my house. I can leave the house for an hour at the most.”

  “Okay. Let me call you back in ten minutes and confirm the place.”

  “Okay. Will wait for your call,” she said in a voice that seemed filled with eagerness.

  I hung up. Junior had gone flaccid, receding into its shell with shame and remorse at the sound of Aditi’s voice. I sighed. “Developing a conscience, are we?”

  The monologue wasn’t getting me anywhere. There was not going to be any relief today.

  I reached the place at eleven. I had chosen a quaint and modest coffee shop that was run by an Iranian named Ali. He served the best chocolate desserts in town. I knew the regard Aditi had for chocolate. She had sent me a text message, informing me that she was running half an hour late. Punctuality had never been her strong point. I walked across rows of tables, to the counter.

  Ali saw me and opened his arms in a mock hug. “Vishal! Long time. You forget your friend.”

  I sat at a table close to a window and was soon lost in memories of the past.

  My reverie broke as I saw a chauffeured Mercedes stop in front of the bakery. Aditi got out of the Mercedes. She was dressed in white. Hers was a graceful walk, and I tried not to stare. The young teenager sitting in the corner elbowed his companion, who whistled softly when Aditi entered the shop.

  “Hi,” she said, and leaned forward as if expecting an embrace. I stood stiffly and extended my hand.

  She shook my hand and grinned. “So it’s going to be like that, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We walked to a table in a secluded corner. “Please sit,” I said courteously.

  “How have you been?” she asked, putting her Armani sunglasses on the table.

  A waiter approached us. I looked at her and enquired, “Chocolate mousse with coffee?”

  She nodded, and smiled. “You remember!”

  There was a pregnant silence for a few seconds.

  “You created quite a stir yesterday. We all are shocked with the possibility that someone … you know … from the house ….”

  “What’s the reaction?”

  “It’s still not sunk in … the fact that the murderer could be someone Anil knew.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine the shock although I must confess that the family is taking the murder quite well. Very resilient in conquering grief.”

  She raised her left eyebrow. “And is that a bad thing?”

  “No. Just an observation.”

  “Oh? What have you observed?”

  “That his wife and his brothers were not very attached to him. And vice versa probably.”

  She smiled. “You are good. Yes. Let us say he was the black sheep of the family.”

  “Black enough for someone to butcher him?”

  She brought her hand to her lips in a subconscious gesture, and averted her eyes before replying.

  “I won’t bullshit you. Anil rubbed many people the wrong way. He was a spineless spoilt brat. But I can think of no one who would kill him.”

  “And yet someone did.”

  “You suspect someone?” she asked, anticipation evident in her voice.

  I had found Shalini’s behaviour suspicious, but Aditi didn’t have to know that.

  “Of course not! It is too early. That would be speculation.”

  She sighed. “I am here only for half an hour. Let’s not talk about the murder now.”

  “Then what should we talk about?”

  “You know … things in general. How have you been? What’s new in your life?”

  I smiled and pushed the copy of the agreement towards her. It was a three-page document, printed on my agency’s letterhead that used an obnoxious font, and sported a silly logo, chosen by Pranay.

  She made no effort to pick up the agreement, so I said, “You only have half an hour. The agreem
ent will take some time to read. Please pay special attention to clauses 4 and 5. You have to sign each page.”

  She took the agreement and signed each page with a flourish. She did not bother to read even a single word. She pushed it back to me.

  “There, we are done with that. Dad will have the cheque sent to your office tomorrow. I assume the amount is mentioned in the draft?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Good. Now that we have that out of the way, tell me about yourself. Three years. Any girl in your life?”

  “Many.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Is it? So when are you getting married?”

  “I will send you a card.”

  She smiled coldly. “Hmm … I am happy for you. Good, good. You should settle down.”

  “Yeah, I should,” I replied curtly.

  “Are you serious about anyone at present?” she persisted.

  “Nope,” I said truthfully. It would have been futile to lie, as she would have read the truth on my face instantly. I wished she would stop probing. While I courted her, she used to keep a tab on every movement of mine.

  Her eyes glistened with grief. “I hope it is not due to me.”

  I looked in those sympathetic yet conniving eyes. I knew there was nothing genuine about her guilt. She wanted to reassure herself by establishing that I hadn’t got over her. I wondered why I had agreed to meet her. The answer came back promptly. I wanted to relive the past. Meet her alone, just like the old times. Coffee and conversation.

  She read my thoughts.

  “Coffee, you, and me. Just like the old times. I can’t believe that three years have passed us by. It seems like yesterday.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. You couldn’t have grown your hair by four inches, put on weight, and bought a Mercedes in twenty-four hours.”

  She smiled thoughtfully. “Yes, that is correct. I couldn’t have done all that in a day.”

  I realised that even after three years, her smile could interfere with my breathing. She sensed my mood, and her smile was replaced by a serious, penetrating look. I was transfixed, and made no attempt to break the eye contact. There was the same intense attraction that had possessed me then. It was happening again – the flame and the moth story. And like the moth, I would always be drawn to the flame, even if it threatened to destroy me.