Seduced by Murder

by Saurbh Katyal

  “Anil closed the deal with Asrani without informing any of us. News was leaked in the market that we had disposed of one of our assets. Lenders started calling me on Friday night. I was amused at the rumours, and reassured the lenders. It didn’t occur to me that Anil could have forged Sunil’s signature and pulled this off. One of the lenders, not a very nice gentleman, saw the deed in Asrani’s office. He was sure we were trying to dupe him, and sent the goons on Saturday evening.”

  “And when did you know that Anil had forged the signature?”

  “As soon as the goons left. They had a copy of the deed from Asrani’s office. It was signed by Anil and Sunil. Both were required to sign the deed. The property was sold at half the market price. I had refused double the price only the week before.”

  “So how did you know it was Anil who had forged it?”

  “Well, he had tried to pull off a stunt like that in the past.”

  “Did he confess?”

  “Confess? No confession. It was my birthday. We were under a lot of pressure. After the fight, I told Sunil to let it go…during the weekend. But of course it was Anil. I know my sons.”

  “Did you confirm that with Asrani?”

  “No. As I said, the deal is done, and I don’t want to drag this any further. But twenty-five crores are missing. And it’s important that we find them before the cops.”

  “Were you there when the fight started?”

  “No. Only Shalini, Mayank, and the servants were at home when the fight broke out. I was returning from office with Vimal, and Aditi and Reena had gone to the club to play tennis. When I reached home, Sunil was banging on the bathroom door, and had a knife in his hand. I calmed both of them down. I told them to enjoy the weekend, and that we would sort it out on Monday.”

  “Hmm…”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You look as though you just realised something.”

  “Nothing. I swear.”

  I finished my coffee.

  “I will go and visit Mr Arsani in his office today. You may have to bail me out if he doesn’t co-operate.” I got up. “Before I leave, I wanted to talk to Shalini’s father. I hope that is okay?”

  “Mayank? Why?”

  “Haven’t interacted with him at all. I thought I would just say hello. Is there a problem?”

  “Okay. We’d better tell Ram to inform Shalini, so that she can prepare him. She is very protective about her father.”

  He called Ram and instructed him to tell Shalini that I would be speaking to her father. Mayank’s room was on the second floor. The door was shut, so I knocked. Shalini opened the door, did not return my greeting, and turned away. It was a small room, sparingly furnished: a bed, a cupboard, a dressing table, and a television.

  Mayank was asleep on his bed. Shalini went to him and shook him gently. Mayank opened his eyes and sat up. He folded his hands and greeted Shalini. There was no trace of recognition on his face when he saw me. She switched on the television. That grabbed his attention. She offered him some tablets and a glass of water.

  Mayank looked disgusted. “I have already taken them.”

  “That was yesterday,” she said.

  He reluctantly allowed her to put the tablets in his mouth. He took the glass of water from her and, as soon as Shalini had turned away, spat the tablets into his hand and threw them under the bed. Shalini spooked him by reprimanding him without even turning around.

  “I saw that! You will not get any chocolate if you behave like this.”

  She looked at him angrily as she gave him a new set of tablets. This time he swallowed the tablets and clucked his tongue mockingly. Shalini smiled and rewarded him with a piece of chocolate. He gulped the chocolate and extended his hand again. She playfully patted his hand away. “I just gave it to you.”

  “That was yesterday.” She gave him another piece of chocolate, which he gobbled with pleasure.

  I approached him and said, “Hello, sir. We met at the farmhouse. Do you remember me?”

  He stood up, folded his hands and asked, “How is your father?”

  “He is fine. Sends you his regards.” He pointed to the dolphin on my T-shirt.

  “I used to be a faster swimmer than you. Remember the time when I caught the fish in the pond with my bare hands?”

  “Yes, long time. We all were very proud of you that day.”

  “Did you have your medicine? Did she give you the medicine?” he asked, pointing at Shalini. Shalini was sitting on a chair, watching me like a hawk.

  I shook my head. “Yes. She made me have it, but I spat it out when she was not looking.”

  That thrilled the old man. He smiled and rubbed his hands together in glee. He leaned forward and whispered, “Did she give you sweets?”

  I shook my head again. “No, she didn’t.”

  He looked at me in disbelief. Then he remarked thoughtfully, “She has some now. Hidden. If you ask her, we could share them.”

  He extended his hand towards her, as though asking for something. She didn’t respond. He retreated, looking hurt. He yawned at me, got back into bed, and closed his eyes.

  “Do you remember Anil?” I asked him.

  He remained motionless and, within seconds, had started snoring. I looked at Shalini and shrugged.

  She said, “His medicines induce sleep. You can talk to him later.”

  If she knew that the tablets induced sleep, she could have given them to him after I had talked to him. Unless, she didn’t want me to speak to him. I bade her farewell and walked out of the room.

  I left the house, got into the car armed with a copy of the agreement Anil had forged, and proceeded to Asrani’s office.

  It was ten o’clock when I walked out of the house. Asrani’s office was at the other side of town. I was reading the copy of the agreement, while cruising on an empty road at no more than thirty, when I heard a loud thud on the bonnet. Abhijit was running alongside the car, pounding his fists on the bonnet quite violently. I braked and locked the windows from inside. He was already at the passenger side. He quickly took out a gun, and broke the window with its butt. He opened the door and got in before I could react.

  He thrust the gun against my ribs. “Motherfucker! Where’s the CD?”

  His eyes were bloodshot and he was gritting his teeth, looking as if it required great effort for him to not pull the trigger.

  I said in my most cooperative voice, “Easy! It is in my office.”

  The CD was in the dashboard, but I didn’t think he would be sharp enough to look. I was right. He pushed the gun further into my intestines and said menacingly, “Call someone to your office, tell them to pick up the CD and meet us in Coult Park. Now!”

  “Okay.”

  I dialled Aarti’s number. The battery had almost run out. I disconnected before I could get through. I spoke on the phone, pretending that Aarti was on the line, and asked her to get the CD from my desk and meet me in Coult Park in half an hour.

  I pretended to disconnect.

  “You want to take the pistol out of my guts? It is distracting me from driving.”

  He placed the gun under my chin, right at my food pipe.

  “You pesky bastard! You think you are smart, eh? I am gonna fuckin’ kill you. Kill you!”

  “Relax, man. I just took it for some harmless fun. No big deal. You can have it back.”

  I looked in the rearview mirror. Where was all the traffic when you wanted it?

  “Listen good, you motherfucker. I want the CD. And there had better not be any copies made. I am gonna fuck so you bad that you are gonna curse the day you were born.”

  His spittle flew all over my face.

  I knew he planned to use the gun. He could have walked into my office and taken the CD, instead of planning the rendezvous in a secluded park. A car appeared from the opposite direction and he lowered the gun, jamming it into my groin.

  “No funny stuff, man.” I groaned in pain, and evaluated the possi
bility of making a grab for the gun. I gave up the idea. Junior would never forgive me if something happened to him.

  “Enjoyed what you saw, motherfucker?”

  It seemed like a trick question, since either acknowledgment or denial could give him an excuse to pull the trigger. I maintained my silence.

  He continued, “I hope you did. Guess where I am going to shoot you.”

  I saw some veins pulsating on his forehead, and I made a few guesses about where he planned to shoot me.

  I took a detour on a thirty-foot wide road. He barked, “Why are you getting off the main road?”

  “It’s a shortcut.”

  He didn’t argue, but reiterated his intentions by jamming the gun further into my groin. It hurt a lot. I slowed the car considerably and looked around me.

  “Go fast!” he shouted.

  “Can’t! Relax, man. You have the gun on a sensitive spot. What if a speed breaker jolts us and the trigger goes off? “

  He leaned back, and repositioned the gun over my abdomen. I nodded and accelerated the car.

  With any danger to Junior thwarted, I decided to give a fight to the son of a bastard. There was always the chance of the gun going off in my ribs, but I was too pissed to care. You are born to die anyway. A curve came up too fast on the left, and I drove off the road. The car tumbled on to a green patch that ended in a five-foot wide drain. I saw terror in Abhijit’s eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed.

  I slammed the brakes, let go of the steering wheel, and went for the gun pointing towards the roof of the car. The car skidded to a halt a foot away from the open drain, distracting Abhijit. I twisted his wrist to knock the gun down. I bent to pick it up, but he held my collar and banged my head against the steering wheel.

  I realised that even without the gun, he was just as dangerous as before. I dived again, trying to find the gun. He used his knee to kick my face. I tasted blood … my blood. I groped the floor with my left hand, and threw a right-hand punch upon his face. Twice. He didn’t flinch. That petrified me. This was not the look of a man who had taken my best punch.

  He held my neck in a vice-like grip, choking me. I tried to push him off. My vision was blurring. I was already out of breath. All that stuff you see in the movies about Rajnikanth beating up twenty people, and then breaking into a song and dance, is strictly for the squirrels. Any man, who has been in a fight, knows that two minutes of wrestling exhausts you beyond belief.

  I poked his right eye, and his grip loosened. I pushed him towards the edge of passenger seat, opened the door, and jumped out, my hands on his throat. We rolled on the grass till we hit the granite next to the drain. I saw him get on to his feet in less than a second. My neck and shoulders erupted in pain as I tried to get up.

  He was approaching me with an expression that read crazy. He kicked my abdomen. I started seeing two of him. I knew that the next kick would be fatal. He drew his foot back and aimed it at my face. I caught his ankle and pulled him down. I lifted myself up using his body as a support, and punched him in the face thrice. He groaned, covering his nose with his hands.

  I had a million broken bones, but my legs were still working. I began to stagger towards the car, but heard a sound behind me. I turned, and watched in disbelief as Abhijit sprinted past me to the vehicle. I promised myself that I would quit drinking and go on a protein-shake diet if I made it through this ordeal. I dived at his feet just as he was entering the car. I missed him by a few inches and fell down, staring at the open sky.

  Abhijit pushed the door open and stuck his head out. The white sky was replaced by his bloody face. He had the gun in his hand. Everything unfolded in slow motion. He pointed the gun at my face. A few drops of his blood fell into my eye, blinding me. I felt the passenger door, and swung it shut with all my strength. I heard a scream as it slammed against him. The door swung back and, once again, I banged it hard. I continued the operation till he stopped screaming. Finally, I got up and picked up the gun he had dropped.

  He was groaning miserably.

  “Here, let me have a look,” I said, helping him up.

  As soon as he stood up, I rammed the butt of the gun against his knee. He screamed like a madman. His pupils dilated, and he slumped against me. I dragged him to the edge of the ditch and looked down. There was water and slime that ran at least six feet deep. I dumped him there with his gun.

  Fifteen minutes and half a flask of whisky later, I walked into a department store. The lady at the counter opened her mouth wider than a crocodile’s yawn when she saw me. I smiled and told her I had been in an accident. I went to the restroom and took stock of the damage. My stomach had developed blue welts that burnt each time I breathed. A deep gash on my chin was bleeding profusely.

  I cleaned myself as well as I could, bought some new clothes, and changed. I dumped the old clothes in a bin and walked out. I continued with my original itinerary, and proceeded to the office of Asrani Infrastructure. I looked at the address of the buyer on the agreement. The signatory was Akshay Asrani, MD, Asrani Infrastructure. On the seller’ side, Anil and Sunil had signed. The witness was a Mr Thapa.

  Twenty minutes later I was parked in front of a thirty-storey swanky building. I walked in and took the elevator to the second floor. I entered the lobby of Asrani Infrasructure. The receptionist was on a phone call. She saw me walking towards her, hung up, and stood up flashing an inviting smile. She was the voluptuous kind, wearing a tight white top that must have fitted her perfectly when she was in the third grade. I felt claustrophobic just looking at her breasts.

  “Good morning,” she said, widening her already exaggerated smile. Whatever they paid her was too little. She was the kind of receptionist that made men aspire to become her boss.

  “Morning. I am here to meet Mr Asrani.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  Her condescending eyes looked me over. She asked with cold politeness, “What is this regarding?”

  “Official.”

  “Oh my! Your face! Your chin is bleeding.”

  “Excuse me.” I took out a handkerchief and clamped it under my chin.

  I saw a copy of Crime Busters on her desk.

  “Have you read the article on the Anil Kapoor case?”

  She looked confused. “Yes, I have. Why?”

  “I am the detective working on it. I am here to meet Mr Asrani, regarding a transaction between him and Anil a few weeks ago. A building sale.”

  She looked down at the paper and her eyes gauged me anew. “Detective?”

  “Yes.”

  The interest was replaced with respect. Maybe she was the kind of girl I could lay after a few drinks, just by telling her that I was a detective. I made a note to get her number later.

  “Please wait.”

  She dialled a number and whispered something softly. There was a pause, and she whispered again.

  “Mr Asrani would like to speak to you,” she said handing over the receiver.

  I took the phone and heard the muffled voices of two men. One of them was very angry.

  “Hello?” I spoke into the receiver.

  “Yes, this is Akshay. You are—?”

  “I am Vishal, a private detective hired by Mr Paras Kapoor to investigate his son’s murder. I wanted to meet you regarding the last transaction between Anil and you – a building sale. Anil was the signatory.”

  “What about it?”

  “I think Anil Kapoor forged the other signature to expedite the deal. Wanted to see if I could get some leads about that.”

  His voice was muffled again, as if he had kept his hand over the mouthpiece, and was conferring with someone else.

  “What the fuck have you got me into, Thapa? The private dick says that Anil Kapoor bloody forged the signature! What do you know about it?”

  Thapa said something I couldn’t hear. Akshay said gruffly, “Bullshit. Get it over with.” He came back on the phone.

 
“Our CEO, Mr Thapa, will meet you. He takes care of our real-estate investments. Ask the receptionist to seat you in Conference Room number one. Thapa will join you shortly. Please make it your first and last visit.”

  I gave the receiver back to the receptionist. “Your boss says you should lead me to Conference Room number one.”

  “Please follow me, sir.”

  “Call me Vishal.”

  “Okay, Vishal.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rita. How did you cut your chin, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I don’t mind anything cute girls ask me. I got into a scuffle with a man with a gun.”

  She laughed nervously, and then saw I was serious.

  “Is that common?”

  “All the time,” I lied.

  “Wow. That is exciting and dangerous. I have never met a detective in real life. Is it just like in the movies? Action and adventure?”

  To me they sounded like synonyms for dysentery, and trying to make ends meet.

  I nodded. “You said it.”

  She dumped me in the conference room and left. A five foot four baby face walked in. He was wearing a white suit and white shoes. He gave me a phony smile, and walked towards me with his arms open wide, as if we were old friends.

  He patted my shoulder and said, “Hi, I am Manoj Thapa.”

  I shook his hand. It was soft, pudgy, and sweaty.

  “I am Vishal Bajaj.”

  “What will you have? Tea or coffee?” he asked in a too-eager-to-please voice.

  “Coffee. Black. Thanks.”

  He called for the coffee.

  “So, how is the investigation going on? I read in a daily today that a family member may be involved. Shocking!”

  I shrugged, “Still investigating.”

  He made an apologetic face. “I must apologise on behalf of my MD. He must have seemed rude.”

  This guy was too sweet. His smile read bullshit, and he had his palms open in a friendly gesture.

  “Oh, that’s okay. Given this short notice, I thought he was exceedingly warm on the phone.”

  His smile drooped a bit, and he eyed me with caution now. “How can I help you?”