Sea of Innocence

by Desai, Kishwar

  ‘Oh, Jesus!’ he exclaimed, horrified, looking at the video clip. ‘Is this . . . is this the girl you’re looking for? Liza? That’s Vinay Gupta with her, isn’t it? The bastard. Poor girl. I mean, she’s only around fifteen or sixteen, isn’t she? What’s she doing at this party?’

  ‘She seems to have done a lot of things perhaps she shouldn’t have done. Or, excuse me, shouldn’t be doing. It’s difficult to say why she’s there at all. But she seems fine, which surprises me, because in the last video sent to me, as I told you, two men were literally attacking her, so I’m still trying to figure out the sequence of events.’ I got up and then stumbled, remembering that I was still wrapped in the bed-sheet.

  Unbothered about how I looked, I distractedly picked up my clothes, which were scattered all over the room.

  ‘Unless this video was actually shot before the one in which she was attacked,’ he said. ‘The person sending them to you might not be sticking to any sequence. These might simply be the most important parts of the story. Whoever sent this might have found out about your visit to the casino last night and thought you would want to know the link between Vinay Gupta and Liza, since you had asked about it.’ Spoken like a clever scriptwriter.

  ‘Which means that whoever it is either knows I went to the casino, or saw me there. Could someone be following me?’ I thought about my suspicions about the two men. But why would they send me this video? I had thought they would be more keen on preventing any information from reaching me.

  ‘Anyone at the hotel? Did you talk to anyone about your wanting to go to the casino last night? Ask for directions, perhaps?’

  I could see that even Dennis was getting involved in this now, and with a familiar twinge of sorrow I realized that we had almost forgotten our romantic night. It already felt like it was in the very distant past.

  I considered his words. ‘You might be right. I asked the manager when I was booking the cab. Maggie – the receptionist at the hotel – thinks I am weird anyway, and was definitely listening. But they would only be interested in me if they have something to do with Liza. And why would they be involved as well? That would mean that almost every person that I have met so far on the beach has been involved in Liza’s disappearance. That’s practically impossible, isn’t it?’

  Dennis shrugged. ‘Not everyone, but I think a lot of people know what happened. After all, the girl has been missing for a year. Her sister and father are still around. I didn’t hear about it because it’s all been hushed up, but people who live here, as you said, know each other very well. These frequent messages and the videos make me think that someone wants you to carry on the investigation. They are sending you clues, keeping track of you, but obviously can’t come out in the open because of the problem you’ve stated over and over again – that everyone here is very closely linked with each other. And if, as you suspect, Liza has been murdered, then they have to keep quiet, otherwise someone like Vinay Gupta will make sure they are food for fish very soon.

  ‘So someone, perhaps even that inquisitive Maggie from the hotel, is passing on information about you to someone else, that’s all. You are working on your own and no one seems to be supporting you in this, or giving you any information apart from those videos. But data about you might be going through to others, from different sources.’

  That made sense. So far, I had tried to be discreet in my interest in Liza, but as I had already found out, time and again, it was entirely possible that many knew what I was doing. Those two men turning up again when I was meeting Marian could not have been a coincidence, surely. Besides, lately I was no longer behaving like a relaxed tourist. Had that attracted attention as well?

  ‘Do you think it’s really impossible to trace this number?’ I tried to remain positive, looking down at that wretched ‘number withheld’ message.

  ‘We need someone who knows something about mobile phones, who can tell us what kind of phone this video would have been shot on,’ Dennis pointed out. ‘But getting hold of a private number would be very tough, and you’d need help from the police. They could get in touch with phone companies and so on. But in your case, even though Amarjit could do it easily, you said he doesn’t want you involved any more. Besides, can you really trust him?’

  And that’s when I thought of Vishnu. I remembered the pile of phones lying in his shop, some for sale, others obviously left for repairs. And the computers lying half dissected, with keyboards and the motherboards all over the place. Although he wouldn’t be able to crack the phone number behind this anonymous message, he might be able to tell us what sort of phone had been used to make the video – and he might even know people on the beach who carried phones of the same brand or specifications. It was a long shot – but we had to try everything.

  The last time we had met I had made him quite nervous, as I was an obvious outsider. But perhaps he would be less worried if he saw Dennis with me. After all, Dennis was a Goan, a local person, and if he spoke to him directly, Vishnu might be a little more forthcoming.

  We decided that we would have a quick breakfast and then ask Vishnu to come over to Dennis’s hotel. Dennis would speak to him initially, explaining that he needed him to fix his computer. He would first talk to him downstairs, and then bring him up to the room, where I would be waiting. Together we would try to convince him that he should share all he knew about Liza, especially if he had any suspicions or knowledge about who had assaulted her.

  Perhaps there was a sliver of a chance that he would tell us that she was still alive. So far, he was the only one who seemed to have cared for her; he had even gone to jail on her behalf. Twice.

  Troubled by this latest video implicating Vinay Gupta, I considered getting in touch with Marian, to update her. But her connection with the police, and the deal she had made already, stopped me. Besides, thus far I had not shared any information about the videos with her. She might get upset if she heard about them, and do something reckless.

  Or, as was more likely, she might not do anything at all. Right now she was far too concerned about her own security to be of any use. Now that she had received her passport back, I had a hunch she would want to leave the country before she was stalled once again. Indeed, whoever wanted to wrap up this case probably wanted to get her to leave as fast as possible.

  Dennis agreed that it would be best if I completed my investigation before we spoke either to Amarjit or to Marian.

  But my fear was that they might not even want to know anything further. The case, according to them, was closed. Or if it wasn’t, then it soon would be, whether or not anyone discovered the truth about Liza’s disappearance.

  Over breakfast I loaded the video onto Dennis’s computer to check if there were any other familiar faces in it. The grainy quality of the video was actually worse than in the others I had been sent, and I wondered why. This seemed much more of a surreptitious recording than the others.

  While going through the video frame by frame I realized that one of the figures in the background resembled Vicky. She was standing next to a man who had his back to the camera. His hair was tied in a ponytail, and when he turned around I was sure it was Curtis. He and Vicky stared towards the very animated and possibly drunk Vinay Gupta, who now had Liza on his lap and was kissing her.

  Their expressions were not clear, but Dennis and I tried to work out what was happening. Vicky wouldn’t have been very happy with the turn of events. Perhaps she was jealous that her boss had seemingly switched allegiance?

  What would she have done next? She was just a few years older than Liza, but was she ambitious enough, and upset enough, to get Liza kidnapped and raped? And even killed?

  Was that why she had looked so scared yesterday? Because she feared exposure?

  Or was someone else responsible?

  Just as I was staring at the last few frames, I noticed that another two men stood in the corner. They looked familiar. I enlarged the still image, clicking on it over and over again, thinking about the men w
ho had attacked Liza – could this be them?

  But in fact I was now sure they were Tweedledum and Tweedledee. The same two men whom Marian feared had been following her around. And had surfaced twice at my hotel too. In this video, they were as usual trying to look unobtrusive, surveying the place as though they were noting everything. It was odd that they were the only ones not having a drink. But even at the shack party when I had seen them, they had been lounging at the bar, toying with a couple of glasses. I hadn’t actually seen them take a sip of anything. Each time, they had seemed slightly more formally dressed than others, in trousers and shirts.

  The only possible explanations were that they were part of the minister’s security, or put there by someone to keep an eye on him. In either case, looking at his behaviour, pawing a young girl openly at a party, they would be concerned.

  And that’s why they would also be very interested in what had eventually happened to Liza when she disappeared – and, no doubt, in my efforts to find her.

  It would also explain their interest in Marian.

  When Vishnu arrived, Dennis went downstairs to meet him, and after about ten minutes, while I paced restlessly in the room, I heard Dennis knock on the door.

  Despite all the effort Dennis put in, Vishnu almost left when he saw me. Perhaps he had spotted me with Marian and was worried because, despite Marian’s denial, it was her complaint – according to the police files, at least – that had got him locked up.

  The slightest mistake by him might see him behind bars once more. I could sense his fear.

  ‘Please, Vishnu. Do sit down. We are both on the same side.’ Dennis put a friendly arm around him.

  ‘I’m only interested in finding out more about Liza, and nothing else. Believe me. I’m not from the police. I don’t want to report anything about you to anyone,’ I added.

  I tried to calm him down as much as possible, but he backed away from us and looked accusingly at Dennis.

  ‘You told me repair laptop. I go now.’

  He started walking purposefully towards the door.

  Dennis spoke to him again, very gently, in Konkani – which I understood a little – and told him not to feel so worried. There was nothing to fear. We were on his side. We only wanted to find out if he knew anything about Liza. We cared about her. We were not connected with the police. The anxiety did not leave his face, but at least he was, reluctantly, persuaded to sit down.

  In the morning light his wounds looked even more fresh. I remembered Auntie Elizabeth mentioning that every time there was a problem, the police nabbed him for an interrogation. Perhaps they had been around recently as well. Did that mean that there was news of Liza? Or did it mean that he knew something about her that the police were nervous about? I thought I had better clarify that with him before we went any further.

  I decided not to mention the anonymous messages just yet.

  ‘We just need to discuss Liza with you. We are very worried about her,’ Dennis reiterated gently.

  ‘Please tell us about when and how you first met her,’ I added, with a grateful glance at Dennis.

  ‘On beach,’ Vishnu said truculently, sitting down on the edge of the chair next to the bed. We sat across from him, while he gazed at our faces with nervous blinks, his eyes still searching the room for hidden traps.

  ‘You found her pretty?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You fell in love with her?’

  He literally jerked his head back.

  ‘No love,’ he said quietly looking down at the ground. ‘But give protection. They no like.’

  ‘Who’s they?’

  ‘The same who come for me.’ There was a desperate note in his voice, and he looked around as though he expected someone to jump out from behind the sofa or the curtains. He was trembling like a nervous horse faced with extreme danger. It was heartbreaking to think of how ‘they’ might have tortured him. It was true that in many ways vulnerable, poor and thus marginalized young men in this country were as much at the mercy of the police as women were.

  Dennis patted him on his hand.

  I looked straight into his eyes. ‘You know I am here to help Liza and no one else. In fact, everyone wants me to leave, but I have stayed on only because I feel I must try to find her. They tried to hurt me too. Gave me drugs. I almost died, on those rocks, you know. If I had slipped and fallen no one would have ever known that it was murder. I am sure you heard about it. Everyone knows everything on the beach. But I survived, and I haven’t given up, though I still haven’t been able to find her. I know we have to rescue her, somehow. I’m praying she is still alive.’

  I hoped my words were getting through to him.

  He appeared to be listening, at last, and I saw him nod his head, though a shadow crossed his face. Perhaps the fact that I was clearly as vulnerable as him made the situation a little less frightening. He wasn’t alone in this.

  ‘You were with her all the time when she was here, hanging around Fernando’s. Did you see what happened to her that night?’

  He vigorously shook his head.

  ‘Vishnu,’ I said gently, ‘you don’t even know which night I’m talking about! Let me rephrase that. I am talking about the night she disappeared. I believe something did happen and you probably saw it, which is why you are denying it.’

  Dennis spoke to him again, convincing him to answer my questions. I was impressed. For a man who had just been thrown into the deep end of a case in which he had no obligation to be involved, he was very persistent.

  Finally, with great reluctance, Vishnu turned to him and said, ‘Don’t tell police or they beat me. But Liza always at Fernando’s. She get free drugs there, free drinks, food. They want her to carry drugs for them, because she young, needs money, has foreign passport.’

  He stopped and looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Perhaps he didn’t quite know if he should tell us everything – not knowing that Auntie Elizabeth had already told me quite a lot.

  Making up his mind, he took a deep breath and said, ‘Then . . . then Gupta come to Fernando’s, two, three times and he like her very much too. I tell her go home, she no listen. I shout at her. That when she complain to Marian and Marian tell police. They lock me up.’

  There was something terribly gut-wrenching about his innocence. His was a story I was familiar with, but the constant victimization of helpless men and women like him was depressing. What was also frustrating was that Marian denied ever having registered his name with the police. And yet someone had deliberately made him believe she had trapped him. Perhaps because it would give them a good reason to make him a suspect when Liza disappeared for good, as it gave him a motive to take revenge. It was a classic sting.

  I looked at the welts and scars covering his face, and probably most of his body as well. That one arm which hung almost uselessly by his side. Tears came to my eyes, and I didn’t try to hide them. I let them fall.

  He looked at me with something close to childlike surprise. Perhaps he didn’t think his pain could ever be understood.

  I found it difficult to speak but Dennis stepped in, carefully framing the next question. We had to be very sensitive with our words, as whatever we asked chipped away at his fragile dignity.

  ‘Was there any incident, any time, that made you worried about Liza’s safety?’

  For a while he said nothing. I feared he might retreat into his shell again, but then he took a deep breath and said, ‘You won’t mention to anyone? One day I see two men. And she.’

  I knew how dangerous this admission could be. I remembered Liza falling on the sand while she begged to be left alone. Later, her golden hair falling over her face, as she was forced to lie down and spread her legs. Her screams echoed in my mind, so that even if I plugged my ears I still heard them, louder and louder.

  ‘Do you know which men?’

  ‘No. Too far.’

  He closed his eyes as though it were a painful memory.

  ‘What w
ere they doing?’

  ‘Too far, no see.’

  His eyes were still shut. He was a tall, well-built man, but he seemed so guileless that I understood very well now why his aunt felt he was incapable of any kind of sexual assault; and yet I had been warned about his anger by the manager at Fernando’s. He refused to speak, but his silence was eloquent.

  I tried another tack. ‘Why do you think Liza went to Fernando’s the night she was raped?’

  He didn’t realize that it was a trick question, and didn’t deny she had been raped.

  ‘Because she got too used to drug. She only sixteen, but they give her too much. She keep going back because they keep cocaine for special customers. They want to hook her.’

  I remembered Veeramma’s quip about the fishermen, and the young girl who was running on the beach.

  ‘And the drugs were all for free?’

  ‘That’s right. They no charge her for anything.’

  ‘And was Curtis D’Silva part of this as well?’

  Vishnu remained quiet. For him to implicate Curtis was far too dangerous. Anyone mentioning that Liza might have been groomed by Curtis as a drug mule risked the most severe punishment.

  Most people are jailed and tortured so that they reveal the truth about criminals. Vishnu was jailed and tortured to silence him forever. He could now only give very slight and oblique references to what he knew.

  I looked at Dennis helplessly, who gave me an encouraging nod, as if to say that I was doing quite well. So I ploughed on. But this time instead of the rape, I decided to focus on the drug trade.

  ‘Does Curtis have a stake in Fernando’s or the drug business – or both?’

  Vishnu kept silent, but it felt like an affirmation. I was making progress, and many of my suspicions were not unfounded.

  But Vishnu was an unreliable ally, as it was likely that, in public, he would deny everything he had told us, not only because of the risk of repercussions from the police, but because he, too, was dependent on Curtis and his father. They all had to live together in the same village. And everyone knew the consequences of talking too much and too frankly, even about a girl who had vanished and whom no one really wished to bring back.