Sea of Innocence

by Desai, Kishwar

  As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw that just to the side of the reception was a yellow cement staircase which probably led up to the rooms. Marian had said they had stayed just one flight up and I wondered if I should take a chance and quickly make a dash upstairs. But what if someone objected?

  Just as I put a foot on the first step a voice boomed out behind me.

  ‘Looking for someone, madam?’

  I jumped around and found myself staring at a smooth hairless face, attached to a large, muscular body. The man had shaved his head and so the impression was rather like encountering a brown balloon bearing diamond studs. He was chewing gum, and wore fashionably torn jeans and a red Lacoste t-shirt.

  ‘I was actually looking for a young girl called Liza,’ I said innocently. ‘I met her on the beach some time ago and she gave me this address.’

  His eyes narrowed slightly but his expression barely changed as he swung around the reception desk and opened his bookings register.

  ‘Liza? Any idea what was her full name?’ He spoke as we all did here, in lilting Goanese English. I found it very catching.

  ‘Liza Kay – slightly plump girl, very pretty, with blonde curly hair.’

  He shook his head, shutting the register.

  ‘You sure she said here?’

  ‘That’s right, first floor. She shared it with her sister.’

  ‘First floor we have only single rooms, madam. She must have told you someplace else.’

  I decided to insist. Surely Marian couldn’t have brought me to the wrong place? She would know where they had stayed!

  ‘No, I’m sure it was here. Please can you check again?’

  He ran his finger through the register once more and then shut it firmly.

  ‘Nothing. Sometimes, madam, these girls are so spaced out they don’t know who they are, let alone where they’re staying.’

  I wondered how I could persuade him to let me go upstairs. There could be a very good – though unpleasant – reason why he had decided to forget Liza. Besides, why would I trust him either? After all, any man could have been one of her rapists that night at the beach.

  On the other hand, I wondered if it would be alright to show him Liza’s photograph.

  Just as I was deciding what to do, another man, in his early twenties, came down the steps, and the breath stopped in my throat.

  I remembered the video of Liza on the bed in an unidentifiable room with only a black and gold headboard behind her. Three men lay next to her. One of them had raised himself on an elbow and stared at her while she gazed blankly up at the camera lens.

  This man coming down the steps bore a strong resemblance to the one who had been lying next to her on that bed, who had also grabbed her breast so brutally while they were dancing before. His curly black hair tied behind his head, and that thick-lipped mouth with a gap-toothed smile, made him more recognizable than the others (at one stage the camera had come quite close to Liza and to him). Perhaps it was the ponytail or the slight swagger. I couldn’t tell for sure – and I could not have identified him conclusively in a police line-up – but I knew in my gut that it was him. And it could have been him who had raped her on the beach as well. I wished I could have taken out my phone and made a comparison with his image, or even taken his photograph; however, that would have been not only dangerous, but foolhardy. After all, as far as I knew, no one had been accused of her rape so far, even though Liza had been attacked at least twice.

  Since neither of the videos carried a date, I couldn’t tell which had been shot first.

  Was this man the reason Marian had brought me here? I was puzzled, but determined to find out more.

  ‘Hi,’ I said brightly thrusting out my hand to him as he swung by, and trying as unobtrusively as possible to block his way.

  Taken aback, he looked down at my hand and then shook it, grinning. While I inwardly cringed at his touch, he seemed delighted that his charm made even middle-aged women swoop down on him in the corridors of shady hotels.

  ‘I – I’m Simran Singh. I was looking for a friend. A girl called Liza Kay.’

  ‘Liza? Blonde girl with curly hair? Oh, wow. I’d forgotten about her. She hasn’t been back for ages. Been at least a year now.’

  A year? But I met her a few days back,’ I said quickly, though I couldn’t be sure if it was the right thing to say. Perhaps he was mixing her up with someone else?

  Now it was his expression which changed – to one of surprise and wariness, as he looked at me. But then he smiled again and said breezily, ‘Really? That’s very nice for you, because she hasn’t been in touch with me for a long time. You’re the lucky one!’

  Exchanging a high five with the man behind the reception desk, he said, ‘If you see her, give her my love. It’s nice to hear about old friends.’ He paused and looked back at me, adding, ‘What exactly do you want to meet her for?’

  I felt my face flush a little. This encounter was so unexpected that I hadn’t really thought it through. It was best to keep the reason as trivial as possible.

  ‘I . . . oh, nothing important. I thought we could have dinner together sometime.’

  His lips stretched in what I thought was a sardonic smile.

  ‘That’s very kind of you. But you see, she doesn’t stay here any more, so I would suggest you don’t waste your time here.’ He looked from me towards the receptionist. ‘But a friend of Liza’s is a friend of mine. Melvyn, since this lady has come all this way, why don’t you look after her a little. Something cold to drink? A glass of wine, some fresh juice? I wish I could join you but I have some urgent work. All I can say is she really broke my heart by going away. Do ask her, if you see her, why she left so suddenly. Never even said goodbye.’

  With a friendly wave, he began heading for the door.

  Feeling a little sick again, I tried to keep the quiver from my voice, saying, ‘I’ll certainly ask her, but I don’t know your name?’

  ‘Curtis D’Silva,’ he threw over his shoulder. Obviously he was related to the MLA on the sign outside. I should have guessed.

  Curtis. I had heard the name before. I thought it was Marian who had mentioned him. He was Liza’s friend who was at Fernando’s the night she disappeared. It was extremely odd that she hadn’t warned me he might be here.

  He certainly wasn’t trying to hide who he was or the fact he knew Liza. And yet he had knowingly been filmed, in a very disturbing manner, with her. Was she still around somewhere in this guest house? It would be a perfect place to hide her.

  Perhaps he was trying to throw me off the track by saying that he hadn’t seen her for a year. His words were confusing. I realized that the fault was mine. I had simply assumed that Liza had come to Goa recently, and for the first time. She might have come here more than once or she might have been here longer than I thought. I also recollected that Marian had been evasive about the time line. I felt a sense of danger, wondering if I had been set up.

  ‘Is he related to the MLA, D’Silva who built the grotto outside?’ I asked Melvyn.

  ‘That’s his dad. Made it last year. In thanksgiving.’

  ‘What for? Anything to do with the son?’

  Melvyn shrugged, saying nothing. Nor did he deny it.

  ‘Was he in trouble over Liza?’

  ‘No idea, madam. I said I didn’t know her. Only the boss said he did. Now what juice do I give you?’

  I wondered at his reticence; I wasn’t going to let him go just yet . . .

  ‘So his dad is the local politician?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said the man, giving me a curious look, probably wondering why I was asking so many questions.

  ‘And what does Curtis do?’ I persisted, hoping he wouldn’t get too suspicious, yet unwilling to give up a good opportunity to find out more about this Curtis D’Silva, who had known Liza so well that she had broken his heart. Had he raped her in revenge?

  ‘Does he run this place?’

  ‘He owns it. But he’s a DJ
at one of the casino ships. Just for fun. You should go there.’ The receptionist looked at me and winked. ‘You’ll enjoy. You know my meaning.’

  ‘Which casino?’ I asked, still trying to look casual, even though I realized I was sweating from the tension.

  ‘It’s called the Tempest. Quite fancy – lots of people go there for the gambling and for Curtis’s music. He sings as well. Now, madam, let me get you something to drink, like Curtis said. Just wait here. Glass of juice, wine or beer?’

  He dragged a chair near the desk for me to sit down while I waited.

  Asking for a glass of red wine, I settled down, still upset that I had not been able to have a more detailed conversation with Curtis or learn anything really meaningful about him and Liza. I would have to find a way of meeting him again, somehow. So I was grateful for this chance to prolong the conversation with Melvyn, and hoped Marian wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer.

  As soon as he left through a side door, I dragged the reception register closer to me and flipped through it. As far as I could make out, he was telling the truth; there was no mention of either Liza or Marian Kay in the last six months or so.

  I quickly pushed it away and shut it when I heard Melvyn’s footsteps approaching.

  He handed me a glass of wine, saying, ‘You really look messed up. Next time you should stay here.’

  I ignored his slightly rude remark about my appearance, which I knew was a little dishevelled, as I was feeling increasingly unwell.

  ‘So how does one get onto the casino ship?’ I asked, sipping the wine slowly.

  ‘It’s very simple. Go to Panjim to get the boat, and pay the entry fee. Thanks to Curtis I’ve been a few times; best fun is after nine.’ He handed me a brochure which showed a ship festooned with lights on which glamorous people gambled, looking happier than I had ever seen punters look before.

  Goa had recently allowed off-shore casinos, which were moored on the Mandovi River. It was a controversial move, as gambling was illegal in many parts of the country. So while initially the clientele had been mostly foreigners, now it had become de rigueur for Indians too. It was a fashionable step up for the newly rich middle class to be seen there.

  Having elicited the details about the ship, which would help in my next meeting with Curtis, I decided to leave before Melvyn got the wrong idea. I wouldn’t blame him if he did – after all, I seemed to be desperately interested in all the men I had met at Cozee Home! I had stopped one on his way out and had chatted up the other quite relentlessly.

  Though I hate gambling,’ I said, ‘I must visit this casino.’

  Melvyn nodded enthusiastically.

  I thanked him and then headed out for the grotto where I had left Marian. To my surprise, Melvyn followed me to the door and stood there looking at me curiously, as I walked towards the grotto.

  Marian, however, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was my fault; I should have expected it, after yesterday. She was turning out to be quite unreliable.

  For a moment I worried whether Curtis’s exit from the hotel had anything to do with her departure. Surely she wasn’t worried about him, because I remember she said he had been very helpful, and had even brought her home safely. She had clearly indicated he had a cast-iron alibi. Presumably she hadn’t seen the video and so, unlike me, had little to be suspicious about. So why, when she had brought me here, would she have fled? Or had she left with him?

  I walked around the grotto impatiently, trying to ignore Melvyn, who was still standing at the entrance of the hotel, and now talking to someone on his mobile phone. I knew he was still watching me.

  Where the hell was Marian?

  In a burst of anger I wondered if I was wasting my time with her: she had said she would take me to all the places she associated with Liza, and yet every day, after a fairly cursory conversation, she decided to vanish. Didn’t she realize that I had stayed behind in Goa only to help her find her sister? Perhaps Veeramma’s warning was correct and I should abandon this case, after all.

  My headache, which had somewhat receded for a while, now returned; for a minute I felt the whole landscape shift in front of me. With irritation I realized that I was getting some kind of heatstroke. Involuntarily, I felt a sudden chill as well.

  My discomfort grew and so I sat down on a bench near the grotto, taking deep breaths to steady my sudden trembling. As soon as my hands stopped shaking, which had never happened to me before, I composed an angry text message to Amarjit on my phone, saying that Marian’s involvement was actually slowing down the investigation.

  Just as I sent it off with a sigh of relief, I heard a familiar ping.

  A message had arrived from Marian, and my temper cooled as quickly as it had shot up.

  ‘Sorry to rush away,’ she wrote. ‘Was told L was spotted again, this time near Fernando’s. Am going there, taking the shortcut through the rocks. If you turn to your left at the end of the beach, cross over to Anjuna, you will reach Fernando’s. 15 mins max! See you soon, but be careful.’

  Interesting. And there was no mention of Curtis.

  So had she left before she had a chance to see him? I wasn’t sure, but I decided to go to Fernando’s anyway, as she had suggested. I could feel Melvyn still looking at me, as I walked down to the beach, but when I turned around to check, as I reached the bottom of the hill, he wasn’t there. In any case the palm trees in between prevented a clear view of Cozee Home.

  The sun was high up in the sky and I was beginning to feel more and more giddy. Perhaps it was the beer I had drunk that morning. Or something wrong with the scrambled eggs? I shouldn’t have had the wine, I realized, when I was already unwell.

  I paused to breathe deeply and fight the nausea. After sweating from the uncomfortable heat, I was now shivering violently from the inexplicable cold. A severe pain spread through my neck and shoulders. Because I occasionally do get spasms from spondylosis, I assumed that this was a return of the old problem, and tried to shift the weight of my rather large and heavy handbag from my shoulder onto my arm.

  The sickness worsened and confusion descended. I found myself meandering down to the rocks which separated the small beach from Anjuna, to reach Fernando’s. Puzzled, I tried to recall the route Marian had suggested and wondered if this could be it, because the dark rocks stretched unevenly in front of me, clumps of jagged, dark laterite looming out of the sea. But feeling a little dazed by the shimmering sea and the sharp sunshine, I told myself that they would become easier to negotiate the closer I got to them. They were still partly hidden by the hill dividing the two beaches.

  Approaching the rocks, I tried to concentrate on where to put my feet on the slippery, wet surface, but my brain felt like cotton wool. What was going on? Could I have come the wrong way?

  At every step the rocks in front of me expanded and contracted, the spaces between them becoming impossibly far and wide. I felt compelled to carry on, since going back looked even more dangerous, as I feared sliding into the sea which was grabbing me with hungry fingers. From the way the waves were crashing on the rocks, it was obvious the current around here was really strong. By now my head was spinning so much that I had to sit down and almost crawl from one rock to the other, occasionally getting scraped from the sharp surfaces. Part of me kept saying I was being stupid and I should turn back, but it was a small ineffectual voice. Because I felt that I had to reach Fernando’s urgently. Marian was there and possibly Liza as well.

  Fortunately I was wearing my jeans and so the scratches did not cut too deep, and my skin was peculiarly anaesthetized anyway. The waves of sickness were rising so fast that for a while I simply couldn’t get up. After some time, which could have been three minutes or thirty, I couldn’t tell, I thought I would shout for help, but my voice was hopelessly stuck in my throat. This must be a nightmare, I thought. Perhaps I’ll wake up soon enough.

  Some vendors selling all kinds of goods appeared and disappeared, growing eerily large then receding, sliding down from the hills
ide onto the rocks; but none of them came near me or even offered to assist. Totally disoriented, I once more got to my feet, unsteadily stumbling along, unable to decide at what point I should abandon the rocks and go onto the much less dangerous-looking hill track and catch a cab from the top, as I had done in the past. The angry sea snaking beneath my unsteady feet looked very rough indeed. Yet as I faltered I found myself unable to control my mind or my body. What I clearly remember is that, by now, I had absolutely no sense of the immense danger I was in.

  I was concentrating so hard on reaching the beach at the other end that I didn’t think how strange I must have looked, as I slid and slithered precariously, increasingly sure I would never be able to reach Fernando’s, but less and less concerned about it. I couldn’t even remember why I wanted to go there and it all seemed so pointless anyway. I thought I saw Melvyn’s face float into view, but I didn’t want him to know that I was feeling so sick. He too drifted by, while I sat down and waited for the world to straighten itself out again.

  I finally decided to give up all attempts and was on the verge of allowing myself the comfort of falling into the sea, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  Turning around, I saw Veeramma, and shut my eyes again thinking she must be a mirage. But she didn’t disappear when I opened my eyes. Sinking in and out of a black hole, I clung to what I thought was her hand on my shoulder.

  ‘I have to go to Fernando’s,’ I told her, my tongue feeling like molten rubber, while the rocks around exploded into orange. The whole area took on a volcanic hue.

  I was not sure if she understood me; she simply stood there becoming larger and smaller, in turns. It all was very funny, but I found it impossible to laugh. I hung on to her, thinking that she might fly away if I didn’t anchor her. Though neither my mind nor my body was functioning properly, some primal survival instinct told me that unless I asked her for help, I would slide into the water.