A Will to Kill

by RV Raman

  ‘Did he have any…enemies? That’s perhaps a strong word, but you know what I mean. Was there anyone who might have wished him ill?’

  ‘I can’t imagine. He kept to himself and had very few friends. He said nothing controversial, and he was not the kind of man to pick fights. Abbas, you want to add anything?’

  ‘He used to come to the resort and play carom with the guests and the staff. He occasionally would drop by for a drink with me or with my father. He had a standing invitation to join us for any meal, any day. The resort kitchen cooks for so many people, one more makes no difference. And Phillip didn’t eat much.’

  ‘Let me add to what Varadan had earlier said about Phillip the painter,’ Bhaskar said. ‘A painter with zero creativity, Phillip had called himself. That is even truer than I have suggested. Remember the large painting of the mountain scene on the wall near the front door? The one that was painted by Phillip?’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’ Athreya nodded. ‘The one showing the hills at the far side of the vale.’

  ‘I had let you assume that Phillip had sat on a hill and painted the scene before his eyes. That is not true. That painting is a scaled-up version of a photograph that was taken with a high-resolution camera. Phillip drew a grid on the photo and reproduced it on canvas, square by square, making each square four-times larger as he painted it. If you remove the painting from its frame, you will see the markings of the grid at the edges of the canvas. So that was Phillip the painter, for you. He could reproduce paintings and photos perfectly. Yet, he could compose nothing.’

  Ganesh and the others soon chimed in, and the picture of a reserved, taciturn man emerged—a man who was a threat to nobody and was at peace with his neighbours. None of them could think of anyone who may have wanted to harm him. They could think of no motive, not even the feeblest.

  ‘What stumps me,’ Manu said, ‘is what he was doing in Dad’s wheelchair.’

  ‘When we answer that question,’ Athreya replied softly, ‘we would be close to solving the crime.’

  ‘A related question is whether he was killed when he was in the wheelchair, or he was put there after he was killed?’

  ‘Another good question, Manu. One for which we don’t have an answer yet.’

  ‘And why was he in the chapel?’ Dora asked. ‘Was he killed there, or was he wheeled there after he was killed? Was he put in the chapel merely to delay discovery?’

  ‘That certainly is a possibility, Dora.’

  ‘If that is the case, where was he killed? Was he killed where you found him or somewhere else? Is that why the murderer borrowed the wheelchair? It would be far easier to transport a dead body on a wheelchair than to carry it,’ Dora said.

  ‘That brings us to the question of who the murderer could be,’ Manu said. ‘He—I am assuming it was a man—knew where the wheelchair was. He knew how to unplug it in the dark without making noise or switching on the light. It couldn’t have been an outsider. It must be someone familiar with this house and the way things are done here.’

  Abrupt silence descended on the room. They had been harshly recalled from their fond memories of Phillip to the cold reality of a murderer being in their midst.

  ‘Remember last evening’s bizarre conversation?’ Michelle asked in a hushed voice. ‘The one about women preferring poison, and men preferring blades and other violent means. Do you agree with Manu, Mr. Athreya? Do you think the killer is a man?’

  ‘You are a doctor, Michelle,’ Athreya said slowly. ‘You have seen both the wound and the weapon. What do you think? Was it an act that was beyond a woman?’

  Michelle looked down at her large hands and sinewy arms. Slowly, she shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I think I could have managed it … if I took him unawares. It would be easier if he was sitting.’

  ‘Keen on digging your own grave, girl?’ Bhaskar growled.

  ‘I don’t think she is, Mr. Fernandez,’ Varadan said slowly. ‘It’s quite apparent that she and Dora have the strength to do it.’ He glanced at Jilsy, who was nervously crushing her little kerchief in her hand. ‘Jilsy may be a little different, though.’

  ‘Coming back to the question of motive,’ Dora went on, ‘isn’t there a fundamental question here? Did the murderer kill Phillip knowing that it was Phillip? Or did he kill him by mistake? Did he think he was killing someone else?’

  ‘Meaning me?’ Bhaskar rumbled.

  ‘Isn’t that a possibility, Uncle? After all, he was in your wheelchair and wearing a shirt similar to the one you were wearing last evening. The two of you don’t look very different from behind. Remember, it was a foggy, foggy night. Besides, heaven knows there are enough people with a motive, your two wills notwithstanding.’

  ‘What’s with the girls of this family today?’ Bhaskar snapped fiercely. ‘Why do you two insist on putting your necks into nooses? Most women would have tried to make the case that it was an outsider who killed Phillip.’

  ‘We are not putting our necks into nooses, Uncle,’ Dora said. ‘Mr. Athreya is a very sensible man. He would not be swayed by such talk. In fact, it may work the other way. If we made a specious case for an outsider being the murderer, he would smell a rat.’

  ‘I give up.’ Bhaskar groaned and rubbed his beard vigorously with both palms. ‘And they used to call me venturesome! I never shot myself in the foot. You girls are something else. May heaven protect you from yourselves.’

  * * *

  It was only when Athreya returned to his room did he realize that he had not bathed or changed. He had gone out for an early morning stroll in his track pants, and had remained in them through the day. Other than to collect his lock picks and jacket, and then to return them, he had not been to his room. As he entered it now, he noticed his laundry lying on his bed. What had been collected the previous morning had been returned, neatly folded and ironed. As he stared at it, a thought flashed through his mind. Simultaneously, a knock sounded on his door. It was Gopal.

  ‘I’ve come to pick up your laundry, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Do you do laundry every day, Gopal?’

  ‘Yes, sir. When we have guests.’

  ‘Do all the guests give you laundry, like I did yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, sir. There are more guests today. We are collecting everyone’s laundry. They are just returning to their rooms.’

  ‘I assume you wash the clothes right away. When do you iron them?’

  ‘As and when they dry, sir. The thicker clothes are mostly done late at night or early morning.’

  ‘And you always return them the next morning?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Gopal. Give me a minute. I’ll also give you the clothes I am wearing.’

  After Gopal had gone, Athreya had a slow and preoccupied shower, his mind on the discussion he had just had with Gopal. Then, he slowly brushed back his uncommonly fine hair. It was beginning to grey—except for the silvery tuft in the front, the rest of his head was still largely black. His fine-haired beard, too, was mostly black, except at the chin where a small patch of silver matched the tuft on his head.

  Tall and lean, he was sometimes compared by his friends to a weeping willow, especially when he let his hair grow. At other times, his beard, which made his already long face look even longer, was compared with that of a Bearded Collie.

  Five minutes later, he was on the phone, talking to his friend Rajan, the retired IPS officer in Coonoor. He briefed him on what had happened, and sought his help in finding out as much as possible about Phillip, Abbas, Ganesh and the people at Greybrooke Manor. He asked him to speak to the retired postmaster and his wife, and to anyone else who might be able to throw light on the backgrounds of these people. He also asked him to tap the police network in Ooty and Coonoor if he could.

  He then went to the art gallery and photographed all of Phillip’s paintings. He returned to his room, called a Delhi number and spoke on the phone for ten min
utes. After hanging up, he sent the photographs of the paintings via WhatsApp to the person in Delhi.

  Then he went upstairs to Phillip’s room and examined it thoroughly without leaving fingerprints or smudging any that were already there. With a pencil or the tip of his shoe, he opened the cupboards. But he didn’t find anything out of place. A few clothes hung in the cupboard and Phillip’s bag lay open in one corner of the room. The bathroom had nothing other than his toiletries.

  After a fruitless fifteen minutes, he opened the door and found Dora waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Can I speak to you?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Certainly. Where would you like to talk?’ Athreya asked. ‘The study?’

  ‘Let’s take a walk outside, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’

  They went down the stairs and out of the front door together, then walked along the walkway towards the rock garden.

  ‘I remembered one or two things from last night. I don’t know if they are relevant. I don’t even know if they really happened or I imagined them. I thought I should tell you about them. I can’t swear by them, but I kind of think I didn’t imagine them. Is that okay?’

  ‘It’s perfectly fine. Tell me.’

  ‘As I said earlier, I returned to the mansion at 12:27 a.m. Of that, I am absolutely certain, and it doesn’t change. Besides, Mr. Varadan also corroborated it.

  ‘When I shut the front door and turned to go towards the stairs, I thought I heard a small noise from the art gallery. I stopped and peered in the direction of the sound, but I couldn’t see anything amiss in the faint light of the night bulb. I didn’t see anyone in the gallery. I didn’t think much of it as it could have been anyone: Murugan, Uncle, Sebastian or any of the staff.

  ‘I am not sure of the next thing I’m going to say. I thought—and I am not certain—that I saw a thin crack of light at the end of the gallery, as if the back door was slightly open. If it was open half an inch, light from the staff quarters would have spilled in, and that’s how it would have looked.

  ‘Dismissing it from my mind, I went up the stairs. Now, you need to understand how the rooms upstairs are laid out. The four rooms that are occupied are in a line. I am using the first one, which is the corner room above the drawing room. The next room is occupied by Richie and the third by Phillip. Michelle is using the last one. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes. Go on,’ said Athreya.

  ‘The stairs come out between the second and the third rooms: Richie’s and Phillip’s. When I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed two things. First, there was no light under Phillip’s door. I didn’t think that was relevant until I realized that Phillip was talking to Varadan till about 12:25 a.m.

  ‘If Phillip had gone up to his room immediately after that, he would have just entered his room when I reached the first floor, and the light would have been burning. Most of us would have our lights on for at least a few minutes after entering our room. And as Phillip had just entered his room, his light should have been on. But it wasn’t. Again, I am not sure if it is relevant or not, but I thought I should tell you.’

  ‘You did the right thing, Dora,’ Athreya said slowly, his mind churning. ‘I can’t be sure yet, but it could turn out to be very relevant. You said that you noticed two things. What was the second thing?’

  ‘I noticed Richie’s light was on. The line of light was clearly visible under his door, and I also heard him humming a tune.’

  Athreya stopped and looked Dora full in the face.

  ‘Now, Dora. Look me in the eye. You wouldn’t be protecting your brother, would you? We all know how much you love your brother, and I have seen you come to his defence at least once before. He continues to disappoint you, but you fight for him. This is not one such case, is it?’

  Dora flushed deeply and bit her lip. Tears sprang to her eyes and she looked hurt. After a few moments’ struggle, she whispered through a choked throat.

  ‘That was not fair, Mr. Athreya.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Athreya conceded. ‘But I’m sure you see why I have to ask that.’

  Dora nodded mutely and dropped her eyes.

  ‘I am speaking the truth, Mr. Athreya,’ she said slowly. ‘I am not making this up. I don’t know how to convince you, but I’ll swear to it if you want me to.’

  ‘No.’ Athreya resumed walking. ‘No need to swear. All this about Richie’s light being switched on only serves to establish that he was in his room at 12:30 a.m. The murder didn’t take place for two hours after that.’

  ‘Yes, I realize that. There is more, but I am on unsure ground here. After entering my room, I locked the door, changed into my shorts and t-shirt, and went to bed. It must have been around 12:45 a.m. or so.

  ‘I was just I beginning to drift off when I heard a door open and close. I am not in a position to say which door, but I did hear a door open and close on the first floor. Then, after ten minutes or so, I heard the sound of a door again. Opening and closing.

  ‘The two sounds could well have been Michelle and Phillip returning to their rooms. I think Michelle said that she had returned just short of 1 a.m. So the first sound could definitely be her.’

  ‘Possibly. Anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s it. I hope it’s useful, but it looks like I’ve only made things murkier.’

  ‘That’s how it always is. Things get murkier before they get clearer. It’s important to get the right facts. I’m glad you told me this. Ah! Here is Manu. Let’s see if he noticed anything. He entered the mansion around fifteen minutes after you.’

  He hailed Manu who was hurrying down the walkway from the annex.

  ‘I’ve wanted to tell you something, but I didn’t get the chance,’ Manu said as he joined Athreya. ‘The dagger we recovered from the stream…it seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I think I have it now, but I am not a hundred percent sure. You see, I only saw it once, and fleetingly.’

  ‘That’s all right. Where?’

  ‘It looks like the dagger the intruder brought with him.’

  ‘The intruder who broke into the mansion and tried to kill your father?’ Athreya asked.

  ‘Yes. He dropped his dagger when Dad shot him. Murugan picked it up and showed it to us. It had a narrow blade and a leather-bound hilt very similar to the one we found in the stream today. So similar that I think it is the same dagger.’

  ‘What happened to the dagger after Murugan picked it up?’

  ‘That’s the annoying part…I don’t know. I think the attention was on the intruder and not the weapon. I don’t remember seeing it again.’

  ‘Someone would know, I guess?’

  ‘I’ll ask Murugan, if you wish.’

  ‘No. Don’t mention this to anyone, yet. I’ll speak to your father alone and take it further. Meanwhile, I have a question for you about last night. Did you notice anyone or anything in the art gallery when you returned to the mansion through the front door after your stroll?’

  ‘No.’ Manu shook his head firmly. ‘As you know, I have to go through the gallery to reach my room. Also, I walked almost up to my father’s door to see if his room’s light was on. I saw nothing in the gallery.’

  ‘Would you have seen if someone was there?’

  ‘I think so…unless he or she heard me coming and hid behind the totem pole or the suit of armour.’

  ‘Ah, of course! Another question: Was the wheelchair in its place when you returned?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t say, Mr Athreya. The totem pole and the suit of armour are placed just in front of it. They stand between Dad’s door and the wheelchair’s charging point. I wouldn’t have noticed it, one way or the other.’

  ‘I see…all right, the final question: Was the back door shut?’

  ‘Yes,’ Manu said with certainty. ‘I remember glancing at it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run. Sebastian called to say that the po
lice are coming shortly. He is bringing an inspector and a police doctor. I need to take a car to our side of the landslide and wait there. He’ll bring the police around the on his motorcycle.’

  As Manu hurried away, Athreya spoke to Dora in an undertone.

  ‘I want you to help me with the investigation,’ he said.

  ‘There are things that you can do without attracting attention that I can’t. Will you help me?’

  ‘But I am a suspect, Mr. Athreya.’

  ‘That may be so, but I know that you did not slit Phillip’s throat.’

  ‘At the risk of putting my neck in the noose as Uncle said, let me ask this: How can you be so sure? I thought we established that Michelle and I have the strength to do the job.’

  ‘You do have the strength…but you are left-handed.’

  ‘So?’ Dora stopped and swung around to face him.

  ‘Phillip’s throat was slit from behind. It was a very deep wound—too deep to have been inflicted from the front. Frontal slashes tend to be shallower as the victim reflexively rocks back when the blade bites. Especially where the slash ends, the wound are almost always shallow; they start deep and end shallow. But in this case, it is the opposite; the wound gets deeper as it progresses to the side of the neck.

  ‘In this case, we can make out the direction of the knife because the weapon was a crude dagger, which wasn’t as sharp as more professional weapons. Torn skin bordering the wound shows the direction the blade was pulled.

  ‘The wound starts very low on the left side of his neck and ends high on his right. As I said, it gets deeper as it progresses. That suggests that the killer pulled the dagger towards himself as he cut. The nature and the direction of the slash could mean only one thing: the killer cut Phillip’s throat with his right hand.’

  Athreya reached out to lift Dora’s right hand.

  ‘Not only are you left-handed, but your right hand is still raw from the injury. Cutting with a dagger exerts a lot of pressure on the palm. Had you used your right hand, your wound surely would have bled.’