Sea of Innocence

by Desai, Kishwar

  His reply was extremely guarded. He sent me Liza’s photograph, as well as the videos, and told me that he would try to come down in the next few days. He also said I shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. He only wanted information, and not my blood on his hands.

  His dramatic words did little to deter me. If someone was trying so hard to scare me, it might mean they had something to hide, and Liza was still alive. There was something they were trying to cover up. I simply had to find her now.

  By the evening I had more or less recovered from the effects of whatever had been given to me. Putting on an innocuous plain white dress, I went down to the flea market, as Veeramma had suggested. But this time I hired a cab so that I would be certain to reach my destination and not be sabotaged once again.

  I felt very unsure, though, what I should do next. The two people I had thought I could trust, Marian and Veeramma, had both turned out to be unreliable. Whoever had tried to destabilize me had quite clearly succeeded.

  At any other time, the sight, sound and smell of the Arpora bazaar would have delighted me. The sheer variety of craft, food and design on display was intriguing – and the entire landscape had been decked with a variety of lamps and tents. The music provided a steady beat to the ebb and flow of the crowd. But all I felt was a sense of betrayal.

  I allowed a cold anger to brew within me. I wanted to nail whoever had wrecked Liza’s life and made a fool of me. I was furious with Marian, and everyone else who at first seemed helpful but turned out to be uncaring and duplicitous.

  Veeramma had suggested that something about Marian would be revealed to me here at the market. It was risky to follow her advice – it might be another set-up, after all – but in this fairly crowded place I thought I might safely pick up some clues.

  But as the sunlight faded and the gas lamps were lit I still hadn’t found any reason to be here. Christmas lights came on, and a few groups wandered about singing carols. Children ran about excitedly as parents bought gifts, but I was still aloof, uncertain and unhappy. It was far too crowded anyway to look for anyone here. I was irritated at my own gullibility.

  Finally, as I stood at a slight distance from the bazaar, wondering whether I should weave my way through the narrow pathways of the market again, I saw the man who I believed had almost caused my death.

  It was Curtis D’Silva talking to an Indian girl, barely 500 feet from where I stood. I quickly moved behind a clump of palms, and took out my phone to photograph them together. Even though it was dark and I would only get an indistinct image, I thought it might be helpful later.

  It was difficult to say for sure, but the girl could have been Goan, as she stood there in a short black skirt and a red tank top.

  They were having a fairly animated discussion, but I didn’t dare go any closer. Luckily, after a while, with a kiss on her cheek, he walked away. Yesterday’s experience had convinced me that behind the friendly mask lurked a very dangerous man. And to remain alive, I had to stay out of his way.

  I kept to the shadows till he was out of sight, and then casually walked up to where the girl was now sitting at a bar inside the bazaar, smoking a cigarette, lost in thought.

  I sat down at the chair next to her. Turning to her as casually as I could, using an icebreaker that has existed ever since the discovery of nicotine, I said, ‘Excuse me, could I borrow a light from you?’

  I looked straight at her. She was a very pretty girl with straight black hair and a pouting, red-painted mouth. I remembered her now, clearly. She had been talking to the two men at the bar at Bambino’s, the night I had first met Marian. Interesting.

  ‘Sure,’ she said in a husky voice, and handed me her lighter.

  ‘It’s a nice evening, isn’t it? At least we can still hear each other over the music.’ I lit my cigarette.

  ‘Do you live here?’ she asked curiously, taking the lighter back from me and putting it in her handbag. ‘I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.’

  I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible. If she had seen me with Marian that night, I didn’t want her to remember it.

  ‘I’m just visiting. A friend told me to come down here because it’s such a fantastic market . . . And what about you?’

  ‘I’ve been in Goa for about two years,’ she said, and then fell quiet, smiling at me, and then looking back at the sea.

  ‘For work?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Actually I’m from Chandigarh. But I was offered a job and here I am.’

  So she had left behind a fairly conventional lifestyle. And most likely moved from wearing salwar kameezes to miniskirts. It was a long way for a good Punjabi girl to travel, as I well knew.

  ‘That’s where I come from, too. So you’re Punjabi?’

  She gave me a smile but then nodded without saying anything. I couldn’t help feeling that she didn’t want me to know too much about her. I decided to change tack slightly.

  ‘What sort of work do you do?’

  She seemed to hesitate again.

  ‘It’s a pretty crazy job . . . I’m a manager on the Tempest. It’s a floating casino.’

  I felt as though a penny had finally dropped into the slot machine.

  ‘That’s interesting work,’ I said encouragingly hoping she would tell me more.

  ‘Not really,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m really quite fed up. I wish I could leave it but, you know, sometimes it’s tough to walk out of things. Complicated.’

  ‘Are you working tonight?’

  ‘I’ll be going there later. My shift doesn’t start till nine.’

  It was close to eight already.

  ‘And you stay there till . . .?’

  Almost three in the morning. Get home only at five or so. I work when the rest of the world sleeps!’

  There was a sadness in her voice. I wondered if she could become a conduit to my getting to know something more about Curtis. Could the casino have a connection with Liza as well?

  ‘Do you have any foreigners working there?’ I asked casually.

  ‘Just a few temporary workers. Sometimes they come to make some extra money, but they aren’t regular like we are. They might do a performance of some kind. Or sing.’

  That meant there was definitely a possibility of a link to Liza. If for some reason she had gone onto the ship, could it explain her disappearance? It was a long shot, but my excitement rose. There was some hope of cracking this case, after all.

  ‘I would love to come and roll a few dice. Will you be there tomorrow?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette and picking up her handbag. ‘It’s been nice talking to you. It’s the first normal conversation I’ve had with anyone for a long time. Otherwise my life is all about hustling, and pushing and persuading and money and . . .’ She stopped and shrugged. ‘All the usual shit.’

  ‘And can’t you just leave all this and go back home?’ I asked.

  She laughed, with nothing happy in the laughter.

  ‘If only you knew what my life is like. I don’t think I can ever go back again to Chandigarh. Even if I try to, these guys won’t let me go. I’m . . . I have a very tough contract, and I think my boss likes me a little too much.’

  She grinned. I was taken aback by her frankness. But then she probably led a life as though in a goldfish bowl, chosen more for her good looks than her qualifications. And if her boss liked her, he would have made it obvious to everyone. In her placement, her promotions, her salary. The younger the better. And she looked barely eighteen years old.

  Some of the similarities between her and Liza gave me pause.

  A boss who liked young girls? I remembered the job offer, according to Marian, that was made to Liza by a man who was much older than her.

  Why couldn’t this girl just leave? Hadn’t anyone told her these relationships can be very very dangerous?

  ‘But if you take a flight home . . .’

  ‘They’ll still come after me. I’ve tried to leave a few times, but it simply isn
’t possible.’

  She looked at me and said, ‘I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You remind me of my mother, I think.’ She stopped and then blushed, thinking she might have offended me, adding quickly, ‘I mean you could be her younger sister.’

  There was something very vulnerable about her and I wondered if she realized how trapped she sounded.

  ‘Listen, I’m going to definitely come to the casino tomorrow. I hope you’ll be there,’ I told her. We exchanged phone numbers, in case I needed to contact her.

  She reached out to shake my hand. I could see she would be a good salesperson, as she flashed me a big, meaningless smile.

  ‘Sure. Ask for Vicky, and I’ll show you the ropes. It’ll be very crowded, though, since it’s Sunday.’

  After an airy wave, she began to walk away. Overcome with foreboding, after the events of the day, I was tempted to stop her and say I would come with her today. But remembered that I couldn’t leave without trying to find out more about Marian.

  I got up and slowly started walking back into the flea market. Oddly enough, I felt much better after my meeting with Vicky. It had given me a glimpse into a world of which I knew little. But it could be one which connected all three: Curtis, Vicky and possibly Liza.

  Of course, if I went to the floating casino I would have to take care to stay out of Curtis’s way, which shouldn’t be too tough. I knew he was a DJ on the ship, and I had already looked up the Tempest on the Internet. Gambling was organized on the first deck, while the music, dancing and dinner was on the second.

  If I remained on the first deck chances were I could meet Vicky and go up only when I was sure Curtis wasn’t performing. I would also have to find a way of looking around the ship. I also wondered about Vicky’s mysterious boss. I remembered a few media reports alleging that the casino was owned by a powerful politician who was also a minister. Interesting. Could it be him?

  I sighed and savoured a rare moment when a chance meeting seemed to actually lead me somewhere!

  Meanwhile, the crowds at the flea market seemed to be increasing by the minute. Feeling a little claustrophobic – possibly a residual effect of yesterday’s drugs – I was about to leave when I saw familiar long blonde hair, and a painfully thin figure, walking away from me towards some stalls at the other end of the bazaar.

  Marian!

  She had her back towards me, so I decided to follow her at a distance, curious to know where she was going. Unfortunately, as I reached closer, I got caught in a group engrossed in the music being played by a live band, flinging their limbs and heads rather energetically about. They tried to drag me into joining them, and ultimately completely blocked the narrow path between the stalls. This carnival atmosphere that occasionally erupted around the Goan beaches was usually welcome. But not today.

  Helplessly I saw Marian walking further away. She stopped to chat with a few people, and looked at some jewellery, before disappearing from view behind a building. If she was feeling guilty about what had happened to me, or in a rush to escape somewhere, she showed no signs of it.

  I kept pushing forward through the group of dancers, who finally parted reluctantly to let me through. By the time I reached the stalls where she had been a moment earlier, Marian was nowhere in sight.

  Disappointed, I stood uncertainly looking around. I tried to call her mobile, but there was no response.

  I sent her a message asking bluntly, ‘Where are you? Wanted to meet.’ There was no need for any niceties as I felt she had deliberately and knowingly put my life at risk and was continuing to harm her sister’s interests.

  It was strange that she had neither called me today nor found out whether I had managed to reach Fernando’s. She showed no concern if I was dead or alive. All of that was indicative of the fact that she knew what had happened yesterday. Yet Amarjit seemed to trust her and had sent me another message telling me how grateful he was that I was helping her, and that he hoped that soon my patient investigation would reveal the truth about Marian and her sister.

  It now seemed that it might reveal a very unexpected truth.

  Having lost track of Marian, I looked around and found that next to me was a woman selling deliciously fragrant homemade bread. Another had a stall of delicately embroidered Kashmiri shawls. At a distance I also spotted a makeshift tent advertising astrology, with stars and other motifs embossed on it. And just a little closer to me was an Australian man selling exquisite (and very highly priced) silver jewellery.

  But there was no sign of Marian.

  Pretending to look through the jewellery, I asked the Australian if he had met someone called Marian.

  He looked at me blankly.

  ‘She was here a moment ago; the girl with a scarf around her head,’ I explained.

  ‘Oh, that lady! Yes, she was interested in the jewellery. But then,’ he shrugged, ‘this is my first time here, so I don’t know anyone. I have no idea where she went. She said she had an appointment, and she would be back later.’

  I remembered Marian’s interest in astrology and wondered if she had gone inside the tent for a consultation. I walked towards it, only to find three determined-looking women and a man waiting in a queue outside. But there was no sign of her.

  Idly, I bought some tiny silver earrings for Durga and Sharda, while still looking out for Marian, and keeping an eye on the tent’s entrance, which was covered with colourful sarongs and dupattas. I wondered if I should stop being so discreet and just peer inside. But I hesitated. I didn’t want raised eyebrows from the waiting women, who would immediately think I was just another ill-mannered Indian hoping to jump the queue. After the terrible scenes I had created yesterday, the less attention I attracted the better.

  So while I waited I bought a shawl for my mother, and mentally formulated a reason for an emergency session with the astrologer. ‘Husband lost!’ I could say or ‘Mother sick’. But before I could try my guerrilla tactics and leap inside the tent, I received a message on my phone from Marian. She said she was sorry to have missed me, but she’d been looking for Liza since yesterday. Even now she was following a lead and she would meet me at my hotel at around 10 p.m.

  So obviously I had made a mistake. Or had I?

  Instinctively after the way she had behaved in the past, I felt I couldn’t trust her. Perhaps, I thought, I should stay here just in case it had been her I had seen, after all. She hadn’t mentioned her location in the message.

  There was still half an hour left before 10 o’clock and it would take me just fifteen minutes to get back to the hotel in a cab. I could wait a while longer and see if she emerged from the tent or if she walked by once more.

  I sent her a holding reply that I would dine in my room and she should join me. I had bought some fresh bread and cheese, and if we were feeling up to it I would even open a bottle of red wine. She should call me once she reached the reception.

  I also called the hotel to tell them to ask Marian to wait in case she turned up before me, and to call me the moment she arrived.

  The past two days had taught me that there was something strange about Liza’s sister, and I should be equally cryptic about my own whereabouts.

  So, pretending to look through a few more shawls, I waited.

  My instinct was to prove correct.

  And in a short while, I would get a shock that would leave me reeling. I had thought I was close to discovering who Marian was, but obviously everyone here wore a great many masks, and it was my wretched task to peel them off.

  Was this the reason why Veeramma wanted me to track down Marian? Or was there still more for me to find out?

  Chapter 8

  I don’t expect people to be scrupulously honest, but it’s always distressing to have been completely deceived. I already had my worries about Marian’s real identity. Now it seemed I couldn’t trust her at all, as my vigil outside the astrology tent had revealed.

  As I followed Marian through the market and into the ‘jungle’ –
the thick vegetation of shrubs and trees that bordered the neighbouring beaches – I felt devastated at my own naivety. How could I have continued to believe her, even when she had, over and over again, shown herself to be completely uninterested in finding her sister? And then yesterday it seemed she had wanted to lead me into danger and leave me there.

  It was odd that I had missed all the clues, blindly believing whatever I had been told. Was it because Amarjit had, in a sense, introduced us, by sending her to me? I cursed myself for foolishly listening to Amarjit (yet again). But what if he had been misled too?

  As I walked behind Marian – or should I call her ‘Astrologer Anne’? – I kept a safe distance between us. Fortunately this part of the beach hardly had any light, so it was easy not to be seen. In any case, Marian was too absorbed in her thoughts to even notice I was behind her, and she seemed familiar with the winding path. A few people walked behind me; in the dark it was difficult to make out who they were, but from the little I overheard them say it seemed that there was a celebration ahead.

  So much for Marian’s claim she was looking for Liza, or even that she was worried about her!

  Just to get a full sense of Marian’s unreliability, I couldn’t help sending another SMS to her, even as I tracked her, guided only by the occasional lanterns that hung from branches of trees, and a few enterprising tea vendors who had set up shop beneath the gaslights.

  ‘Am waiting, where r u?’ my message said.

  She halted briefly to message back, not realizing that I was just behind her. ‘Am still stuck. Meet tmrw.’

  I marvelled at the dexterity with which she could fool me, wondering why she felt the need to maintain such an elaborate facade.

  I was still at a safe distance from the astrologer’s tent when I had seen the last client finally leave. And then, to my surprise, Marian emerged, and I realized that the scarf she was wearing around her head, and her assorted beads and necklaces symbolized her status as a fortune teller. The long dangling earrings were just perfect, as were the harem pants.