I had read about the mall that Kapoor Developers were building in the central business district. Land acquisition had been a tedious process, and the media had had a field day writing about the malpractices the Kapoors had resorted to, to get their hands on the property. The property itself was at a prime location, at the junction of two main shopping streets. I had passed the site many times, and it was hard to miss the barricade with Kapoor Developers emblazoned on it.
I turned to Vimal. “I am confused. Is five crores a big amount for someone like Anil?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“An important one. Is there any truth in what Leo is saying?”
Vimal replied reluctantly, “Yes. We are coming out with a flagship mall project in the city. When the market tanked, our bank loan was cancelled, just like with every other developer in the city. The land is on lease from the government, and we have to complete the project within a certain period, for acquisition. We had borrowed money from the market at a high interest. So yes, liquidity was tight. From that perspective, at this time, five crores would be a big amount for Anil … and us too.”
“What’s all this about Anil getting a weekly allowance? What does that mean?”
“That is not concerned with the case, and I request you not to go there.”
Leo sprang to my defence. “It is true! He was never involved in their work. He was even disallowed the measly financial support when the old man found out about the locket he gifted me – paid for with the company’s finances.”
Vimal moved threateningly towards Leo, but Babu intervened.
Vimal restrained himself, but said disgustedly, “You must have stolen it all. Anil would not have that kind of money. He was always short of cash.”
I faced Leo. “Anil called you last Saturday. That was the night he was murdered. What did he tell you?”
“What I just told you – to book tickets for a week later, and wait till we got the subsequent payment.”
“You look like a curious guy to me. I am sure you would have insisted on knowing what was happening.”
He took another drag, and averted his eyes. “I don’t know. I swear.”
I decided he was lying. Whenever a person ends a sentence with ’I swear’, rest assured he or she is lying.
“Liar Liar, pants on fire,” I pulled the cigarette from his lips, and extinguished it on his thigh, burning a small hole through his trousers. He yelped more with shock than with pain.
He raised his hands in a placatory gesture and said, “I really don’t know! Maybe he sold another one of his father’s leased buildings. He had attempted forgery once.”
“Forgery?” I asked
“Ask him.” Leo looked at Vimal again.
I looked at Vimal too and he answered, “Anil had some bad habits. He had forged Dad’s signature twice to sell some space in one of our buildings to an investor. He was caught both times.”
“Aha,” I nodded, understanding.
Babu frowned. “You are onto something. Tell me what it is.”
“Nothing. I swear.”
I asked Leo, “So Saturday was the last time you spoke to Anil?”
He grinned slyly, now that a few things were dawning on him. “You yourself said that I am not the murderer. The flat is in Anil’s name. I am sure that the Kapoors would want to keep the cash. I will get nothing. You guys don’t have anything on me! I shan’t say another word till I speak to a lawyer.”
Babu walked up to me and whispered, “My men checked on Reddy. He is a bartender in the pub, just like Leo said. He has confirmed that Leo returned the locket to Anil during an argument last week. So Leo’s alibi is confirmed. It is all very confusing.”
I realised that the poor man hadn’t deduced the implications of this discovery, so I enlightened him. “If Leo is telling the truth, then the locket was in Anil’s custody, and the only people who would have access to his closet or room would be immediate family members. This, coupled with the fact that an eyesight as fine as yours failed to notice the pendant outside the gate yesterday, points only at one thing.”
He thought for a moment, and awareness dawned on him.
“To tell you the truth, I already had my doubts! I found it hard to believe that I had missed an essential piece of evidence like the pendant at the scene of the crime yesterday.”
I looked at Vimal. “See. I told you, Vimal. The inspector always supported my theory. He was just playing along.”
“Yes, yes, I was just playing along.”
I searched the flat for a couple of minutes, but found nothing consequential save some pieces of an airplane ticket. Air France. I looked at Leo.
“These are the ones I was telling you about. For this week.”
Ten minutes later, a couple of sub-inspectors came in to apprehend Leo.
“What do you intend to do with him?” I asked Babu.
“Well, I can definitely take him in for attempting violence on a police inspector. But I have intruded into his house, with some civilians. If he really knows someone influential, it could mean unnecessary trouble for me.
“The flat is registered in Anil’s name; the money can easily be attributed to the Kapoors’ affluence. If Anil forged a signature again, the family will stick together, and the money will be accounted for. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I think I will take Leo in for questioning, just to shake the rascal up, and teach him some humility. But I will have to release him in two or three hours.”
It was almost six when I left Leo’s house. Leo was not even taken to the police station. Reddy, the bartender, had affirmed Leo’s version, and arranged five more people who had witnessed the fight between Anil and Leo that night. All of them remembered Leo throwing an ornament at Anil’s face and marching out in anger. While we were on our way back, Vimal phoned Sunil, and told him about what had happened at Leo’s apartment, exaggerating my heroism and undermining his contribution in capturing Leo.
“How is your father?” I asked Vimal after he disconnected.
“He is fine. He needed two minor stitches, but they want him to be admitted tonight for an entire check-up. You need some help for your eye too.”
Vimal drove the car through the imposing gates of his bungalow, guarded by two gunmen, who looked only too trigger happy to me. Vimal had offered to drive my car so that I could rest my eye. At least that was what he said. I had a nagging doubt that he was nervous about me driving with all the vodka in my bloodstream.
“I see you keep gunmen for security.”
“Yeah. The business of real estate is such.”
Vimal got off near the house and thanked me. A driver was waiting for him to take him straight to the hospital.
“Your eye looks nasty. Would you like to accompany me to the hospital? Get it checked. I am going to meet Dad there anyway.”
“Nah. I will be fine. But thanks for asking.”
He brought his phone close to my eye, the light from the display screen illuminating the damage. His concerned expression told me it was bad.
“Well, get some treatment. It looks terrible.”
“I will,” I paused. “Incidentally, I need a favour. I would like to intrude upon your house tomorrow and talk to some of you. Is that okay?”
“Umm…sure. I will inform Dad.”
I drove out of the gate. The cheeky guard made me roll the window down, and checked the vehicle again.
The sun was setting, leaving behind a residue of a dull pink and orange. It looked tired and serious, reflecting my own state of mind. I thought about Aditi in the café, and felt my own heart sinking with the sun. A man had almost taken my eye out of the socket, my knees had whitewashed an entire apartment block, my intestines were flattened; and yet, the only pain I felt was within … when I remembered Aditi. I was hopeless.
I opened the door of the apartment, and was greeted with the sweet smell of weed in the air. Pranay was lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling. Bruno was lying with his
head on Pranay’s lap, and also staring at the ceiling. The lights were switched off, and trance music played softly. I switched on the lights, and Pranay cringed in pain.
“Nasty man. I was just getting transported.”
Bruno looked at my eye and started barking in terror – part charging, part retreating. “Shut up, stupid dog. It’s your master.”
“You need a doctor, man,” Pranay commented noticing my eye.
“I need a drink.” I was exasperated.
I went to the mirror and looked at the wound. It was ghastly. The plum had bloated to double the size. The only good thing was that the major impact of Leo’s blow had missed the eye, and landed upon the upper cheek, so the wound was more cosmetic.
“What are you drinking?” I asked Pranay.
“Standard. Rum.”
I took the bottle lying on the table and poured myself a generous amount of rum and coke. I refilled his glass and raised a toast.
“Cheers. To swollen eyes.”
“So how did you get that eye?”
“Long story.”
“I can spare some time from my busy schedule.”
I filled him in on the details, starting from the car chase with Paras, and ending at the commando-confrontation with Leo.
“So, you think Shalini is the murderer?”
“Don’t know. But I do know that she is trying to throw me off the case for some reason.”
We drank in silence and soon Pranay closed his eyes and smiled. Transported, perhaps.
I sat there drinking alone, until I had wiped off more than six inches from the bottle. The music was soothing, and I poured myself another drink. A lazy warmth pervaded me. I remembered Aditi’s smile at the café. It must be a masochistic need in people to think about their biggest losses after getting drunk. The glass fell down and broke into a million pieces. I took a swig from the bottle. The darkness was whirling in concentric circles, and I felt the familiar pull into the vortex of promised love. My sentinels were defeated, and I gave in to the past.
“I want to become a monk,” she said.
Just minutes ago we had been kissing passionately. If anyone else had displayed this transition in mood, I would have laughed my guts out. But not with Aditi. Such impulsive introspection was natural to her. I was used to her transformation from a seductress to a pensive woman, to a chaste monk, in a single moment. It fascinated me.
“When did you decide that?” I asked.
“I have always been exploring the idea. I tried chanting mantras, and visited shrines. It brought me peace.”
Her eyes had a distant, dreamy look. Yet they were attentive, examining the surroundings with purpose.
“I don’t think you are cut out to be a monk.”
She looked up and locked her eyes with mine. I had that familiar, eerie feeling that she could read my mind and tell exactly what I was thinking.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
I grinned. “Monks are supposed to be celibate. Your passion could be a hindrance.”
She smiled back. “Well, I could be celibate if you were nowhere near. It’s only with you that my animal instincts are aroused.”
“Then maybe I should stay away from you. I hate to be an obstacle in your spiritual quest.”
She smiled, and ran a finger down my cheek. “No, that will make me sad.”
In the west the orange and red glow of the sunset was beginning to fade away. We were sitting on the edge of a hill, and I could see eternity in the depths of the valley below. I sensed her sadness, and knew she was feeling guilty about Chetan.
She asked me almost on cue, “Do you believe in God?”
I pointed to the red and velvet ribbons emerging from the sinking sphere. “I believe in nature. It never betrayed a heart that loved her.”
She looked in the direction my finger was pointing at. “That’s a beautiful thought. But nature is neutral. Do you fear that there is a God who keeps a tab on our good and bad deeds? And that we will have to atone for our sins?”
“I don’t know. But if there is some sort of celestial justice, I wouldn’t mind. It’s fair.”
“Yes. I hope so too. It is only fair. But do you fear that?”
I put my arm across her shoulder and reassured her. “Listen, what happened was not your fault. He was weak … and let me assure you, you don’t have anything to fear. It was his infatuation that drove him to suicide, not your encouragement.”
Even as I said that, I diverted my gaze lest she see the doubt in my eyes. “There are other tangible fears that should be occupying your mind – like what nerve racking dinner the mess will serve tonight.”
She smiled. “Hmm … I think I have one of those … tangible fears.”
“What’s that?”
“Public singing.”
“Public singing?”
“Yes. When I was nine years old, I was asked to sing at a birthday party. I started singing, and all the other children started laughing. I’ve never sung in public after that.”
“Sing for me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I want to hear you. And I could never laugh at you.”
“That is because you are biased. But I will sing anyway. I always wanted to sing to someone.”
“Great.”
“There is this song by Bette Midler. It reflects my thoughts. Have you heard of it?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, here goes …”
She looked down shyly and started singing. I couldn’t understand much of the song, and her voice was out of tune and untrained. But sitting on that hill, being an audience with the trees, it was the sweetest voice I had heard.
It’s the hope of hopes, it’s the love of loves,
This is the song of every man.
And God is watching us, God is watching us,
God is watching us from a distance.
She ended the song and looked at me intently, trying to gauge my reaction. I was entranced and replied after a few seconds, “That was quite good. You have an innocent voice.”
“You have to say that.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Yes, you have to. That’s what lovers do. Hide each other’s flaws.”
I woke up with elephants stampeding in my head. It was ten in the morning, and I vowed for the umpteenth time not to have rum. It was strictly for the dogs. I went to the refrigerator and made my customary hangover destruction drink – the ephemeral battle of refreshing the senses only to intoxicate them.
I looked at my eye in the mirror, and was pleased to see that the depressing purple had transitioned into a rebellious red. I was debating whether to sleep my headache off or keep my appointment with the Kapoors, when the phone rang. It was Vimal.
“Hi.”
“Good morning. Did I wake you up?” he asked in surprise.
“No, I was up hours ago.” I lied for the heck of it.
“Oh … I have been trying to reach you. You were not taking the call.”
I saw the missed calls on my mobile screen.
“Yeah, I was meditating.”
“Oh … okay. I told Dad you wanted to talk to some family members. He has requested that you meet him before you speak to anyone else. There is a prayer meeting for Anil starting at one today. Some relatives and guests are expected. We are a little busy, so we wanted you to come a little early.”
I looked at the time. It was already ten-fifteen. There was throbbing pain at my temples, and my back demanded a soft mattress. I tried to keep the relief off my voice.
“Not a problem, I can come tomorrow.”
“Okay … hold on. Let me ask Dad.”
There was an exchange in the background.
“Dad says it would be nice if you could come today, before the ceremony starts, and talk to Shalini. He would also like to speak to you himself.”
“Uh … thanks, Vimal, but I didn’t say I wanted to speak to Shalini.”
I must have been on speakerp
hone, for Paras responded, “I assumed that you would want to talk to Shalini. Was I wrong?”
His tone was confident and mocking. Obviously, he suspected her too. Maybe he had some evidence and wanted me to confront her.
“No, I did want to speak to her. I will be at your place in an hour.”
I took a shower and dressed quickly. Bruno followed me around, growling at my eye. I put on sunglasses to relieve him. I woke Pranay up, and told him to meet me at office for lunch. An hour later, I was at the Kapoor residence. The gate was opened by one of the trigger-happy guards. He opened the boot and searched the car. I took off my sunglasses, hoping that he would recognise me from last evening.
“Sign this,” he said gruffly, thrusting a register at my face.
“I was here last evening with Vimal.”
“Many people were here last evening. Sign it.”
I filled in the details and handed the register back to him.
“You can pass.”
Maybe it was my car that pissed him off. He probably wasn’t used to searching cars that were anything less than flashy SUVs. I blew him a kiss, and drove in.
A spacious tent covered half of the lawn that was witness to a flurry of activity, with cleaners and waiters running around. I parked the car and walked to the main door. I rang the bell, and was surprised to find Ram at the door.
“I thought you were the caretaker of the farmhouse. What are you doing here?”
“I come to the city whenever there is a big function, to supervise things.”
“Good for you. I am here to see Mr Paras Kapoor.”
“Yes, he is expecting you. Please follow me.”
He led me through a claustrophobic hall, meshed with grandeur and pomposity. He stopped in front of a door and knocked. Paras was sitting on a rocking chair, turbaned in a white bandage. It was a plush set-up with neat and tidy woodwork. Long rows of books in oak shelves ran along the perimeter of the room. A home library. Nice. Ram was exiting when I called him back.
Seduced by Murder Page 7