In this way, three days passed. Poonam went from home to home, interacting with children, attending meetings at NGOs big and small, supporting causes from conservation and environment to education and upliftment. While all the tailing helped me figure out the streets of Mumbai, aside from speaking to a handful of beneficiaries of Poonam’s good works and hearing her praises, I had made no headway. I found no evidence of inappropriate or suspicious men dropping by in her husband’s absence in my round-the-clock vigil.
Back in office, I got a call from Archana. ‘Your apartment is ready as of last night. You can move in whenever you want. Come by for the keys.’
‘Great!’ I said. I had had enough of Sohana’s futon, and her social life was beginning to take its toll on me. I was ready for a real bed for a change, and some actual sleep. ‘I think I’ll do it tomorrow.’
‘I can have Vinod pick you up and help settle you and your luggage in,’ Archana offered.
‘That would be perfect! Before work is okay?’
‘I’ll send him to your current address by 8 am tomorrow. Take your time coming in, if you can afford to.’
I thought I should update Adlakha about what was going on, so I peered through his glass door. His head was back in place, glasses perched atop it. It looked like he was asleep, and I paused. But then I decided to give his door a good, hard rap.
He opened his eyes and signalled me in.
‘Tell me,’ he said, pulling his glasses down.
‘I might be in late tomorrow as Archana informed me I would be moving into my place in the morning.’
Finally, a smile. ‘Ah, you are being kennelled.’
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I continued anyway.
‘I have to say, I am not making much headway on the Puri investigation.’
‘What have you found?’
‘Only that she seems more interested in charity than in cheating.’
‘Precisely the sort of goody-two-shoes that I’d be most suspicious of.’
I didn’t want to know what kind of friends Adlakha had, but I’d be happy not to count myself amongst them.
‘Keep at it,’ he advised.
‘Without deepening the investigation, I don’t see myself getting much further.’
‘Give it a couple more days. We need to ensure we have exhausted all options that fit the client’s wishes before getting back to him with a negative report.’
‘Could I hack her e-mail?’
‘No.’
‘Bug her home?’
‘No.’
‘Infiltrate her house or office?’
‘No and no. The client authorized only basic surveillance and that is what we are going to give him, at least for now.’
I left Adlakha’s room with the beginnings of a plan.
I was sure Adlakha and Shayak would both blow a fuse if they found out I had eyes on the client instead of his wife. But if I happened to stumble on him at a party, who could blame me?
I requisitioned a car and drove home, crawling through traffic. When I finally reached Sohana’s place and got dressed, my friend was back home. ‘We are going out tonight,’ I announced.
‘Where?’
‘To a party, I think.’
‘You think?’
‘Just get ready. I’ll tell you more on the way.’
Sohana did not need much persuasion to go to a party, even a possible one. And when we pulled up close to the Puri residence, I was about 95 per cent sure that was where we would be landing up. When I gave her a pencil sketch of what I had in mind, her excitement mounted.
‘What fun – I’ve never followed anyone before.’
‘I hope, for your sake then, that he surfaces.’
I got out, casually strolling by the gate, and spotted a Jag in the driveway. ‘I think he’s inside,’ I said, once I was back in our car.
‘How do you know he’ll leave?’
‘Trust me,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on this house long enough to know his habits. It’ll be some time soon.’
I didn’t have to eat my words: party boy Puri headed out in about half an hour. First stop: El Diablo, a new Mexican restaurant.
‘I hope you’re hungry, and I hope they’ll put this on your expense account. This is one pricey place,’ warned Sohana.
‘We’ll order the cheapest thing on the menu.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘I want to see what he’s up to when he’s prowling around,’ I mumbled more to myself than to her.
We entered the restaurant and were seated quickly. Though it was a little away from where Puri was sitting with his friends – two women and an older man – I could keep an eye on them.
‘So how is the job going?’ asked Sohana. It seemed that none of my friends knew how to mind their own business. I was a private investigator; Sohana was a fairly hard-hitting city reporter; our friend in Calcutta, Shweta, was a lifestyle journalist and the one who had set me up with my food-writing gig that paid the bills when Steele Securities, my agency, had faltered.
‘A little slow to start,’ I said, ‘but it looks like things are beginning to happen. What about you?’
‘That shootout at the docks had me working all hours for a few days there, but now things are back to normal.’
‘Have the police figured out what that was about?’
‘I’m sure they have,’ she said. ‘But they aren’t giving us any information. I can’t imagine it being about anything other than the drugs, though.’ And then she paused. ‘This is a long shot, but you said your boss’s name is Shayak, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tall, good-looking guy?’
‘Yes.’
‘I think he may have been at the scene.’
‘How do you know?’ She couldn’t have seen his picture before – he was practically unphotographed, as I had learned when I was trying to figure out who he really was just a few weeks ago.
‘The day after it went down was when I saw him; I heard someone calling out to him.’
‘It could be someone else … it’s not an uncommon name.’
‘True. But he wasn’t in uniform and he was working with a forensics team. I don’t know much, but I do know that Titanium’s relationship with the police is special. Not many have that kind of access.’
‘I really don’t know,’ I said, in all honesty. I had no idea where Shayak had been over the past few weeks. Plus, my contract forbade me from disclosing anything I did know about an ongoing investigation to anyone, without express permission. So it was a good thing I was in the dark and could answer my friend honestly – except for the burning curiosity I was now filled with. And a new pang of resentment that I was working an infidelity case even though the company was in on such a major investigation.
‘He really is quite hot,’ Sohana said.
‘Who?’
‘Your boss.’
I smiled.
‘He’s not married, is he?’
‘No.’
A wicked gleam shone in her eye. ‘Hmm.’
‘Sohana, don’t go there.’
‘Already a no-go zone? That was quick. What happened?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Meaning it was anything but nothing.’
I tried to concentrate on the back of Pratap’s head, but Sohana was not to be swayed.
‘When did we start keeping secrets from each other?’
‘It’s not a secret.’
‘Then?’
‘I’m hoping that if I don’t talk about it, it might go away,’ I shrugged.
‘You are making it sound so hot that I will only imagine the worst – and the best – unless you enlighten me.’
‘There was some tension.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘One kiss. Then he offered me the job.’
‘Against company policy, is it, to cavort with the help?’
I had to laugh. ‘It’s agai
nst my policy.’
‘Why?’
‘Our job is complicated enough without asking for more trouble.’
‘And it is easier to ignore something that is there?’
‘Sohana, drop it.’
‘Okay, okay. Anyone else on the horizon?’
‘Why is it that all my gal pals are determined to see me coupled?’
‘Why are you so determined to stay single? You’ve kicked Amit’s sorry ass in the best way possible. Now isn’t it time for you to move on?’
My cheating ex-boyfriend was in school with both of us. He had come back to me for help when his wife – the woman with whom he cheated on me and left me for – was kidnapped. It didn’t take me long to figure out that the whole business was a scam, though that did nothing to lessen my disgust with myself for being in love with a pathological liar for so long. ‘I was not hung up on him.’
‘Try selling that to someone who hasn’t known you for as long as I have.’
‘Well, in future I’m determined to not be hung up, if that is of any use.’
‘Music to my ears. I’ll have a list of eligible men for you by the morning.’ Though Mohit, the friend she and Dhruv had introduced me to, was a wash, she was not one to be foiled by a minor setback. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’
Just then, Pratap saw someone he knew over by the bar, which was behind Sohana’s seat. He chatted with a young man for a few minutes. Then his eyes wandered to mine. I looked away immediately, but when my gaze strayed back, there he still stood, talking to this man but watching me, a smile at the corners of his mouth.
Sohana began to turn her head.
‘Don’t look,’ I hissed.
‘Geez, Reema. Is your mark standing there?’
‘You’ve been watching way too many crappy movies. He’s not my “mark”.’
‘Is he there or no?’
‘Yes.’
‘And, let me guess, he’s ogling you?’
I said nothing.
‘For someone who claims to hate fashion, you’ve bought a killer LBD.’
I looked down at the black dress, way out of my comfort zone with its plunging neck and sky-high hemline. ‘You think I picked this? It’s all because of that meddling Devika. Is it too much?’ I asked, mortified.
Sohana waved away my squeamishness. ‘This is Mumbai, Reema. Only stark naked would be too much.’
Pratap walked back to his table and we lingered till he and his friends finished their meal, before following them out. The car was already waiting outside the restaurant, and we got in and trailed Pratap to where he had parked a little further down the street. Then we followed him a few blocks, till he stopped at yet another upscale address, this time a nightclub of the sort the two of us would never visit, left to our own devices.
Sohana hadn’t even let me pick up her tab at the restaurant. ‘Just one drink,’ I said. ‘This one really is on me.’
The bouncer didn’t stop us. Single women were always welcome and, anyhow, the new number I had added to my cupboard was really very little, and Sohana was always dressed to stop traffic. We walked into the dimly lit club where it didn’t take me long to find Pratap. He was working the room like a pro, and just about everyone there seemed to know him.
Our eyes met again. A moment later he was walking over to us, and I cursed myself.
‘Damn,’ I said under my breath to Sohana.
‘What did you think would happen in a dress like that?’
Chalk it up to the Calcutta girl in me that I didn’t realize that even a man of Pratap Puri’s stature would have no airs about talking to a stranger. But it was too late to beat a retreat. I would have to tread carefully; whatever else happened here, this man was a client of Titanium, and no lies must be told.
‘Weren’t you ladies at El Diablo just now?’ he asked.
‘We were,’ I said.
‘Pratap,’ he said, holding out his right hand.
I took it. ‘Reema,’ I said. ‘And this is Sohana.’
‘Let me get the two of you some drinks.’
While Pratap headed off to the bar, Dhruv arrived, summoned there by Sohana’s text. He’d been stopped at the door and Sohana went out to get him.
‘What are we doing here?’ he asked, when they made it back. ‘And how did we get in? This place is impossible unless you know a member.’
Sohana grabbed him by the arm. ‘Why don’t we get lost? Reema is working, which apparently includes allowing herself to be picked up by a gorgeous gazillionaire.’
Dhruv raised an eyebrow in my direction. ‘You turned poor, lovestruck Mohit down for this sort of stunt?’
I attempted what I hoped was a fetching pout. ‘Reema Ray, crime-fighter by day, high-class escort by night. That sounds about right.’
They disappeared and, a moment later, Pratap reappeared with two glasses of wine. ‘Where did your friend go?’ he asked.
‘She met someone she knows. I think they are on the floor.’
‘I would have guessed that the two of you are new in town.’
‘You’re not far off. I’ve just got in, but Sohana’s lived here for a while. But how could you have possibly known that?’
‘That’s easy. Don’t get me wrong – I love Mumbai and everything about it,’ he said. ‘But you don’t have the dead-in-the-eye look that most women here have.’
‘What do you mean?’ I repeated.
‘Look around,’ he said, scanning the room. ‘Everyone has this glazed expression, like nothing interests them anymore or is worthy of their attention.’
‘And I am like a baby with a shiny new toy?’
He laughed. ‘Like the world still matters to you. That you might even care about the person next to you, even a stranger in an anonymous nightclub.’
It took me a while to spot it; this was nothing more than an elaboration of the ‘you’ve-got-gorgeous-eyes’ variety of pick-up line. For now, there was no harm in playing along.
‘And what about you? Do you care about the world and the people in it?’
‘Passionately.’ He raised his glass to his mouth and I noticed he wore no wedding band.
‘What do you do about it?’
Pratap flashed me a grin. ‘I could tell you, but it might take a while.’
At least about this, I knew he was not lying. I fiddled with my glass with one hand and, reaching into my handbag with the other, discreetly gave Sohana a missed call. I hoped she would interpret it for what it was: an SOS, for I knew what was coming next.
‘Why don’t you try me?’ I said.
‘I’d love to, but over dinner sometime, perhaps?’
If Pratap Puri had been the target of my investigation, he’d just have stepped into my honey trap. But unfortunately my real task was a fair bit harder to crack. ‘I’m travelling from tomorrow.’
‘When are you back?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s a work thing. Could take a while.’
‘What do you do?’
No big lies, I reminded myself.
‘It’s a new job, so quite honestly, I’m not really sure myself!’ I said with a laugh. Just then I spotted Sohana approaching me, Dhruv a discreet distance behind her.
‘There’s Sohana,’ I said. ‘Your wine is waiting for you.’
‘Thanks, but we really should be going,’ she said.
‘So soon?’ asked Pratap.
‘Meeting early in the AM,’ she said.
‘That’s a shame.’ He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me. ‘Call me,’ he said.
I smiled and gratefully followed Sohana out of there.
THREE
The next morning, I headed for my new home. I had visited the flat as soon as I had arrived in town but since I hadn’t got my bearings yet, I had not been able to appreciate the rare wonder in Mumbai of a ten-minute commute. If the weather was good, I could walk to work on a daily basis.
The complex was relatively new and modern, with a gym and pool, everything pretty
much on call. What you’d call luxury anywhere in the world, except that since it was Mumbai, the living space at my disposal was what most people would consider a walk-in closet.
But when I opened the door to the flat, I forgot all that. It had been remodelled since my last visit, and it was perfect. Or it would have been perfect, had I been the size of a Barbie doll.
What had been a one-bedroom apartment had been changed into a studio. The kitchen had become a kitchenette, the living and dining spaces merged into a bedroom, once tight enough to squeeze a bed and nothing else. Space had been created out of thin air and ingenuity.
A low, grey sectional sofa would be a snug fit for three, with a small black ottoman doubling as table and additional seat. At first, I couldn’t find the bed. Then I took a close look at the walls. Finally, I spotted it above the sofa, a tiny lever. I gave it a pull and was amazed at the ease with which a double bed descended, fitting over the sofa. All I would have to do was remove a couple of cushions. The sofa could also be moved for a guest with whom I wasn’t interested in co-sleeping. A short, thin sort of a guest. The beauty of it all made my minimalist heart sing.
The bathroom had a tiny shower stall, a tiny sink, a tiny window and, thankfully, a normal-sized toilet. It was a triumph of design, with sleek storage for toiletries hanging from the walls over the basin and in the shower area. If you had long arms, your elbows wouldn’t be happy by the looks of it, but it would be enough for me.
The kitchen was even more impressive. Tucked away in the corner was a narrow L-shaped counter with a basin at one end and a wall-mounted dish-drying rack. At a right angle was a slim table in dark brown wood, with two high stools. If I needed more prep space, which I would, the table would do nicely. There was a small fridge, and a limited amount of storage for pots, pans and provisions. Also mounted on the wall, above the counter, was a microwave oven and the most indispensable part of my kitchen arsenal: an oven. It was small but it would do, for a half batch of cupcakes or cookies, a small lasagna or grilled meat and fish. I opened the door and found a piece of paper inside. Thinking it must be the manual, I pulled it out. On it were just three words:
Dead in a Mumbai Minute Page 4