It made sense now. No wonder the old man had been so sure about Shalini being the murderer.
“Why didn’t anyone mention this before?”
“Well, he was the only one to know besides me. I had forbidden him to tell you or the police.”
“Why?”
“Well, Dad confronted Shalini this morning, as soon as he came back from the hospital. He forced me to say what I had seen, in front of her.”
“What was Shalini’s reaction?”
“She freaked out; panicked. She denied everything. She said she had not thrown anything out. I reminded her that she had thrown out some tablet sachets. She broke down and started crying. It was too much for me. I told Dad not to bother her again.”
“Not bother her again? Even though you were sure she was the one who planted the locket?”
“Yes, even though I was sure she was the one who planted the locket.”
“Why don’t you want her arrested?”
“I would never hurt the poor girl! I told Dad that it was up to him, and the police, if they wanted to punish the girl. As far as I was concerned, the bastard deserved to die.”
“Why?”
“The poor girl is a victim. Look, I can demand things. I come from a rich family. Aditi is shrewd and beautiful. She was able to compensate for her middle-class background with her personality. But poor Shalini has been a misfit from the start. She was forced to marry Anil. He was a fiend. I felt sorry for her, but never found the courage to stand up for her when Anil was alive. What right do I have to send her to jail, if she took justice in her own hands?”
“I am confused. If you didn’t want her arrested, why did you call me today?”
There was a pause.
“Dad made me call you. I told him very clearly that I would not testify against Shalini if she denied throwing the locket out of the window.”
“Then what happened to make you change your mind?”
“Two things. One, I read the SMS that her ex-boyfriend had sent her. Two, Dad mentioned that you have a recording in which she tried to bribe you to get off the case. If either you or the police are able to prove her guilty, I will testify. That was the deal between Dad and me. But her grave won’t be dug based only on my testimony.”
I said warily, “All this because you have a conscience?”
“Whatever. You will not understand.”
She looked at me in disdain.
Her companion butted in. “I assume all your questions are answered?”
All this time he had been sitting quietly, listening to our conversation. It struck me that his expression hadn’t registered any surprise or shock during our exchange. Reena had mentioned that she had only told Paras about Shalini, to protect her. Yet, she was perfectly at ease telling me everything in front of her companion, who had maintained a poker face throughout the interview. There was a possibility that he was already aware of Reena’s version of events.
Reena placed a hand on her forehead, as if comforting a migraine. “Listen, what you saw inside…no one has to know….”
I smiled at her companion. “Hi, I am Vishal. You are—?”
He looked confused for a few seconds, and then said good-naturedly, “Hi. I am Abhijit Banerjee.”
Reena glared at me. “Are you listening to me?” Then she softened and pleaded. “Look Vishal, I knew Abhijit before my marriage to Vimal. If Vimal finds out about us, he will be shattered. I love him. This is just plain fun. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do. This is purely sexual.”
“I beg you never to mention this to anyone.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t. I have one more question, and then I will leave you lovebirds alone.”
“What’s that?”
“When you entered the room and saw Shailini throwing the locket out of the window, what was Mr Tripathi doing?”
“Uh…he was sitting on the bed, with the usual blank expression on his face, oblivious to everything around him.”
“Thanks.”
I got up and walked away.
We were hiding in the parking lot, in the shadows of a car bigger than my house. Pranay smacked his shoulder, missed a mosquito, and asked, “Can’t we wait in the car?”
“We could have, if you had been able to find out something worthwhile from the staff.”
“They are uptight, man! At least I found out Abhijit’s address. What did you expect to find out anyway? She told you they were only having fun.”
“I have a hunch. Let’s see.”
We had to wait for another twenty minutes before Abhijit came out. He started walking towards the parking, looking carefully in all directions. He took out his mobile phone and made a call. Reena came out and followed him to the parking lot. He walked past us and went to his car. Reena casually walked towards her own car. She sat in her car and reversed it till she had reached Abhijit. Abhijit had opened the boot of his car. It was dark by now, but the headlights illuminated quite a bit of the parking area.
I couldn’t risk changing my position, so I strained my eyes to see what was happening. Abhijit took out a dark bag from his boot, opened the rear door of Reena’s car, and threw the bag in. Reena drove away. Abhijit got into his car and drove away too.
I got into the car. “We will have a night out.”
Pranay groaned. “What for?”
“To keep an eye on Abhijit Banerjee.”
“Oh … has Vimal employed you to tail his wife and her lover?”
“Nope. I don’t think he is aware of this.”
Pranay looked confused. “Why are we wasting time on Abhijit? He’s just her fuck buddy.”
“Night out it is. Didn’t you find anything strange in the manner he threw that bag into her car?”
“No.”
“What do you think there was in the bag?”
“I don’t know. Tennis shoes?”
“You will see. We shall break into his flat when we get a chance. You got his apartment number?”
He sighed. “Can we go home and change into shorts?”
“Sure. And pick up burgers and booze.”
Bells were ringing in my head. I was pulled out from a disturbed sleep. My phone was ringing. I looked at the time and groaned. It was five in the morning. I had been asleep for less than two hours. Pranay was snoring in the front seat. I whacked him on the head. He was supposed to be keeping watch.
I mumbled a dehydrated hello.
It was a woman’s voice.
“Good morning. This is Anjali. We met yesterday. “
“Morning. Do you know what time it is?”
“It is five in the morning. Were you sleeping?” she asked amiably.
I tried to think of a sarcastic answer, but all my grey cells were asleep.
I sighed and said, “Yes, I was sleeping.”
“Oh, I just wanted to talk about the article”
“What?”
“You know, the article I was writing.”
“What about it?”
“I wanted you to read and review it. It is being published today. Front page!”
“Your article? Now?”
“Yes, if it is not too much of a bother. I have been a nervous wreck since last night. Couldn’t sleep. I thought I should discuss it with you.”
“Lady, the only articles I want to review now are a, an, and the. A good sleep is an extremely important ingredient for the sanity of a man.”
“Ha ha. I see you are up. Please! I know you are interested in the case. I want to see your expression when you read it.”
I stifled a yawn.
“It is being published today?”
“Yes, in our mid-morning edition. It should hit the news-stands soon.”
“Do you want to read it to me on the phone?”
“No. I was hoping we could meet at the Orchid. They have a twenty-four-hour coffee shop that serves the most amazing English breakfast. My treat.”
I could use a hot cup of coffee. “Sure.”
> I woke Pranay up, and told him to keep vigil until I returned. Abhijit had stayed indoors the entire night and received no visitors. It had been dark in the parking lot of the club, but the bag Abhijit had tossed into Reena’s car, looked very similar to the one I had found in Leo’s apartment. If someone was trying to hide thirty crores in cash, they would’ve probably bought a new set of bags, from the same shop, at the same time, and probably the same kind. It was a long shot, but worth twenty-five lakhs if I hit the target.
Half an hour later I was entering the lobby of the Orchid. The doorman gave me a cold stare, and opened the door. I caught my reflection in the mirror – a crumpled T-shirt, shorts, floaters, dishevelled hair, messy stubble, and bloodshot eyes from too much booze and too little sleep. The immaculately dressed lady at the reception stared at me nervously, as though she expected me to take out an AK-47 any moment, and start shooting in the lobby.
I walked on the shiny marble floor, across sophisticated rooms with natural lighting, dark wood, and white sofas that invited me to take a nap. Anjali was waiting in the cafe, looking quite pretty in some shade of pink.
“Thanks for coming. You are a kind man.”
“I know.”
She took my hand and led me to a table in the corner.
A waiter showed up, and she ordered promptly on my behalf. “Two English breakfasts.” She smiled at me and added, “You will love it.”
“What would be your choice of beverage, ma’am? Coffee, tea, or juice?”
“We will have tea. Earl Grey,” she commanded.
I signalled to the waiter to cancel the order. “Careful,” I said to her with a smile. “I think you are very close to being dominating, as your dad says.”
I looked at the waiter. “Make that one English breakfast for the lady, and one tea. I will have only coffee. Black.”
She said disapprovingly, “You don’t have breakfast, huh? Do you know it is the most important meal of the day?”
“Oh, I do have breakfast. I just like to keep a two-hour gap between dinner and breakfast. Now are we going to discuss my dietary habits, or are we going to discuss your article?”
She immediately cheered up, and took out two neatly folded printouts from her handbag. She pushed the sheets towards me.
“Give me your frank opinion.”
I glanced through the sheets. Screaming out at me was the headline, Anil Kapoor Murder: The Real Story!
And below that, looking smug, the byline, By Anjali Singh. A picture of her smiling stood right beside the byline. She waited for me to finish reading the article, and nibbled at a fingernail. She had managed to get the data right. The article started with describing the suspicious circumstances in which the corpse was found. It mentioned a police officer, who wished to remain anonymous, but acknowledged that the main suspect was a member of the Kapoor family. The article then covered the financial problems plaguing the Kapoors, and the possibility of the government reclaiming the land originally allotted for their flagship mall, due to delays in starting the construction. Towards the end, the article subtly mentioned that in all such crimes inheritance was a major motivation. The article ended by promising a sensational breakthrough in the subsequent article.
I looked at her and nodded in approval. “It is cheap, sensational, fictitious, and devoid of any character – very well suited for your target segment. It will sell very well.”
She looked crestfallen and asked me earnestly, “What about the writing style? Is it good?”
I laughed out loud, appreciating her sense of humour and self-deprecation. The article was written in Hemingway’s style, with the vocabulary of a teenage rock ’n’ roll artist.
Her expression looked pained, and I realised that it had not been a rhetorical question. I made a futile attempt to disguise my laugh as an unexpected cough. It was too late. She looked devastated.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Sadness loomed up in her eyes.
“No, no, please don’t take my feedback seriously. I have always been a careless reader.”
She blushed. “Oh, is that true? Yes, you were in fact reading it too quickly. You couldn’t possibly have paid attention to the finer nuances.”
“Yes, I was always too fast. My English teacher used to call me a premature ejaculator when it came to reading comprehension.”
She threw her head back and laughed freely, once again her cheerful self.
I asked nonchalantly, “So, what is this sensational article that will follow?”
She leaned forward. “Remember I told you about … uh … how do I put it…about some sexual issue concerning someone from the Kapoor family?”
I nodded.
“My informant has given me some mind-blowing dope! It will shock the public.”
It struck me then that she was overreacting to Anil’s homosexuality. The public would probably be amused, rather than be shocked about this facet of the deceased’s life —unless I was wrong in my assumption, and it had never been about Anil at all.
“So who is this source of yours?” I enquired.
She brought a finger to her lip. “Oh no, Mister! That is strictly private stuff. Reporter-source confidentiality. I can’t tell you his name.”
I noted that she had addressed the source using the masculine-gender pronoun.
“And I came here at five in the morning for you,” I said in a complaining voice.
The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I could have been a victim of my own presumptions. If Leo was the informant, he was not likely to speak about Anil’s sexual life, as it would embroil him in the entire scandal too.
She misread my silence and pleaded, “Oh ho, don’t be moody now.”
She leaned forward.
“All right. A small titbit, and then you are not supposed to ask me anything. My source is going to give me some visual evidence tonight. A CD. At a party. Once I get the proof tonight, oh boy, what a story!” Her eyes were gleaming and she continued, “The story I am covering tonight is going to make to the front page on Sunday. I will reveal my source’s identity to you on Saturday. Okay? Please!”
The waiter laid out an elaborate English breakfast before her, and poured out some coffee for me.
“How well do you know Leo?”
She swallowed a partially masticated toast in one gulp. Shock was evident on her face. She laughed nervously, and tried to camouflage her surprise by reaching for the teapot. She upset the teapot, which upset the cup in front of me. The cup of coffee tumbled and fell off the table. Molten lava permeated my shorts, scathing the sleepy and unsuspecting Junior.
“Hell!” I screamed involuntarily, jumping up and trying to get the hot liquid off my shorts.
“Oh my God!” she screamed even louder, and rushed towards me.
She picked up some tissues, and started wiping the coffee off my crotch. With the initial shock wearing off, I became aware of her attempts to cool Junior by blowing air, and gently caressing him with the tissues. Junior immediately identified her as an ally and declared peace.
The waiter was staring at us in amusement. I lifted her chin, smiled, and gestured with my hands signalling that everything was fine. She suddenly realised her position and turned red.
“Dog,” she whispered as she sat on her chair. In her own way, she was adorable.
I started laughing.
“Listen, you have made me give you classified information about my boss, woke me up at five in the morning, and almost castrated me. I think I am entitled to know if my guess is correct.”
She looked at me guiltily.
“I promised him that I would preserve the client-informant confidentiality. How did you know it was Leo?”
“Not important. How do you know him?”
“I can get into serious trouble if you tell anyone. Leo keeps reminding me that he is a dangerous man. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. See, I am still alive. I want to know everything that he has
told you till now.”
She sighed. “He called the office two days ago. The call was transferred to me. He demanded to talk to the person in charge of the Kapoor story. I took the call, posing as my boss.”
“This was on Monday evening, after six?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because I was in his apartment with the police till around six on Monday. He must have called you after we left his flat.”
“Oh! Does that tell you anything?”
“Yes. He had resisted divulging any information when we confronted him. Yet, when we left, he chose to call the press. He must have realised something in that short time.”
“What?”
“I think I can guess. How much were you supposed to pay Leo?”
“He demanded five lakhs for the information.”
“Five lakhs? That’s it?”
“Hello! Five lakhs! It’s more money than I can dream of!”
“Not for Leo, it’s not. Anyway, what did you do?”
“I told him to go to hell. I get one of these calls every week. I told him not to waste my time, and was going to disconnect, when he mentioned that he had evidence that the murderer was from the family. That stumped me! Anil Kapoor being murdered on the farmhouse was a hell of a story. If the murderer happened to be an insider, it would have rocked the nation. I requested him for a meeting. He disconnected saying that he would call back. I tried tracing the number, but he had called from a public booth.”
“Then?”
“I decided to give it a day before telling my boss. The bastard would have done the story himself, to score brownie points with the promoters. The next day I was going to inform my boss about the lead, when Leo called again.”
“That was yesterday?”
“Yes. I asked him for some proof to support what he claimed. He said that that the police had found some clues, and he directed me to Inspector Babu to confirm this.”
“Okay. Then?”
“I met Leo yesterday morning, before I met you. I took all my savings, borrowed from my roommate, and was able to come up with fifty thousand. I offered the money to Leo when we met. He was furious.”
“Hmm …”
Seduced by Murder Page 14