by RV Raman
‘Stick to the truth. Don’t lie on anyone’s behalf. Anyone’s. If you did not kill Phillip, you have nothing to fear.’
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Dora.
‘Uncle wants us in the library now,’ she said. ‘The family and you, Mr Athreya.’
Michelle and Athreya were the last to enter the library. Bhaskar and Varadan sat together against a wall, and facing them was a semicircle of five chairs. Manu, Dora and Richie had taken three, leaving two for Michelle and Athreya. Sebastian sat a just behind the semicircle.
Athreya pulled the last chair a little away from the rest and sat down. He had a sense of what Bhaskar might have in mind, and wanted to have a clear view of all the faces in the room.
‘You already know the contents of the first will,’ Bhaskar began. ‘I called you all here to tell you about my second will. This is the one that takes effect if I die of unnatural causes. There will be a few changes of course, due to Phillip’s death. The paintings, which were to go to him, now stay with the mansion.
‘I’ve asked Mr. Athreya here for obvious reasons. If I do die of unnatural causes, Mr. Athreya will be commissioned to get to the bottom of the death. It is therefore best that he sits in on this short meeting.
‘The reason I have chosen to disclose the contents of my second will now is this. There has been a development last evening that shows that someone has indeed been trying to kill me. The intruder who broke in three months ago and tried to kill me is back in the valley.’
Gasps escaped from Dora and Michelle.
‘Where?’ Dora demanded.
‘Later, Dora. It’s not relevant right now. The police are working on it. But coming back to the will, why am I disclosing the contents of the second will now? Because it is obvious that my ploy of keeping the second will a secret is not working. Why else would the intruder have returned to complete his aborted job?’
‘But Uncle–’ Dora began.
‘Later, girl!’ Bhaskar snapped. ‘Later. Let me first get to the provisions of the second will.’
Athreya looked around. Michelle and Dora seemed stunned. Richie was listening intently. Manu seemed calm. It was clear that he already knew what was going to be said. Bhaskar would have shared the contents of the will with his son before sharing it with the others. Varadan might have been a wooden statue.
‘If I die of unnatural causes,’ Bhaskar went on, ‘all bequests, except those earmarked for Manu, go into a trust for five years. That means that none of you will be able to access your bequests for five years. The trust will be managed jointly by Manu and Varadan.
‘At the end of the five years, each bequest will go to the concerned beneficiary only if there is positive and indisputable proof that the beneficiary did not play a part in my death. Both Manu and Varadan must be convinced of this beyond any doubt. The mere absence of incriminating evidence is not sufficient.
‘Alternatively, if the person behind my death is identified and apprehended, and both Manu and Varadan are convinced that the right person has been apprehended, the bequests, other than those earmarked for the perpetrator, will be released.
‘In the interim, your allowances will continue unchanged, as will a salary to Sebastian, even if Manu chooses not to have him at the mansion. Your bequests, you already know. They are the same as in the first will.’
‘Is mine still an annuity for twenty years?’ Richie asked.
‘Yes, Richie. That will ensure that you will have a steady income for twenty years. After that, when you are older and wiser, the corpus—which is a sizable amount—will come to you.’
‘Can’t you reconsider this, Uncle? After all, I could do so much with the corpus. I could make it grow faster than what an annuity investment would yield.’
‘You could, Richie. But, on the other hand, you could deplete it too. My pledge would remain unfulfilled if that were to happen, and my soul wouldn’t rest in peace.’
‘But, Uncle, you are treating Dora differently.’
‘That is because she is different’ Bhaskar’s tone sharpened. ‘Now isn’t the time for this discussion, Richie.’
Silence descended on the group. A full minute passed without sound.
‘Well?’ Bhaskar asked. ‘Any comments?’
When nobody responded, Bhaskar turned to Dora.
‘Speak, girl. Say what’s on your mind.’
‘I don’t know how to say this, Uncle, but it seems like…like the three of us are being treated as potential murderers. That’s not a nice feeling.’
‘Not just you three, Dora. All beneficiaries except Manu. That includes Sebastian, Father Tobias, Murugan, Bhuvana, Bahadur, Gopal, and a bunch of others in Coonoor and Ooty.’
‘Still…we are your blood relatives.’ There were tears in her eyes. She looked deeply hurt.
‘I know it’s unfair on the rest of you. But the fact remains that someone is trying to get rid of me.’
‘And how do you expect this little speech of yours to change that?’ Dora shot back.
‘I’m hoping that whoever sent the intruder will now see in black and white that he or she will not benefit from killing me.’
‘Exactly!’ Dora fumed, her eyes afire with fury. ‘The person trying to kill you is going to hear what you have said to the three of us. Then that person is either among us three, or someone who is close to one of us. Is that what you think of me, Uncle?’
‘Dora–’ Bhaskar tried to reason with her, but she cut him off and rose angrily to her feet.
‘Isn’t the shadow of suspicion hanging over our heads enough?’ she demanded, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘Should you pile it on too, Uncle? I am at a total loss. I don’t know what I have done to deserve this.’ She turned and stormed out of the library.
* * *
Athreya entered the chapel and locked the door behind him. The police had finished with the building and, after removing the body and doing a full forensic examination of the crime scene, had returned the keys to him. If Athreya was to find a new clue, it had to be something the police had overlooked. Whatever Muthu’s faults may be, he was as tenacious as a bulldog and very thorough.
Athreya stood still, a foot inside the chapel door, narrowed his eyes to slits and tried to mentally travel back in time to when the murder had taken place. He was, of course, familiar with the physical details of the chapel. What he wanted now was to get an intuitive feel of the place, and to put himself in Phillip’s shoes.
Why had Phillip come to the chapel?
That, Athreya knew, was the key to the riddle. If he could answer the question, he would take a giant stride forward in the investigation. There was something special about the chapel that had brought Phillip and his killer to it at around 12:30 a.m. that night. What was it?
Phillip would have entered through the chapel door—which Richie had oiled sometime during the day—and would have stood where Athreya was now standing.
The lights would have been off, but Phillip would have stood here and silently surveyed the dark chapel. Had he been expecting to find something or someone? Or had he just wanted to ensure that it was empty and he was alone?
Was the wheelchair with Phillip at that time? From the way blood had spilled all over the front of his shirt, down to his waist, Athreya was inclined to believe that Phillip had been sitting in the wheelchair when someone came from behind and slit his throat.
But where had the wheelchair and Phillip been when the killer had struck? Surely, such a deep ear-to-ear gash would have severed both the jugular vein and the carotid artery, and made blood gush out. Some of it must have spurted out on to the floor.
Where? There hadn’t been the slightest trace of blood anywhere in the estate outside the chapel—not on the grass, the walkways or in and around the mansion. It then stood to reason that Phillip’s throat had been slit in the chapel.
Even inside, there was very little blood on the floor or the mats. The mat at th
e corner where the wheelchair had been found had only two spots of blood on it. Nowhere near the amount that should have been there.
Had Phillip been killed somewhere else in the chapel and then wheeled to the corner? Likely. Very likely. Then, wherever he had been killed, the mats must have soaked in a fair amount of blood. But they had found no bloodied mats. That’s because the killer must have removed them. But bloodied mats would have left telltale signs on the floor underneath them!
Athreya spun to his right and strode along the space behind the pews until he came to the end where two mats were missing. He switched on his torch and crouched, studying the floor.
Five minutes of examination yielded no result. There was not the slightest trace of blood or discolouration. Athreya straightened up slowly. This meant that the two mats from here had been taken to replace the bloodied mats somewhere else in the chapel.
He could get two policemen and have them lift every mat in the chapel and examine the floor. Alternatively, he could guess where Phillip had been killed. A possible answer leapt at him. The one spot that was different from every other in the chapel was the altar.
He strode down the aisle and stopped in front of the altar, studying the mats on the floor. Two mats here showed less signs of wear than the ones beside them and the ones on the aisle. He bent down, picked up the corner of one mat and pulled it up. Immediately, he saw it.
On the floor was an irregular patch of discoloration the size of a football.
He picked up the other mat and moved it aside. Under it was another patch, a smaller one. A closer examination revealed that it was blood—blood that had soaked through the mats and stained the floor. He replaced the mats and stood with his hands on his hips.
So, Phillip’s throat had been slit in front of the altar. Visions of medieval blood rituals and human sacrifices rose to his mind. Suddenly, he recalled the words of Sarala, the wing commander’s wife, whom he had met on the toy train on his way to Coonoor. She had talked about devil worship and human sacrifice at Greybrooke Manor.
Whether that was true or not, what was certain was that something evil and malevolent had happened at the altar after midnight. Candles had been moved around, unlit. Someone wearing gloves had done something on the altar. The mats behind the altar had shifted under the weight of bodies. And then, someone without gloves, possibly the one who had slit Phillip’s throat, had wiped down the wheelchair.
What a gruesome night. An involuntary shiver ran down Athreya’s spine.
He was sure now that more than two people had been at the chapel that night. Not just Phillip and his killer, but other people too. But not one of those present that night had admitted to it. Before he could investigate further, a series of loud knocks sounded at the chapel door. It was Inspector Muthu and two policemen.
‘They told me you were here, sir,’ he said, his attitude towards Athreya having undergone a sea change. ‘Did you find anything new? Our forensics team went through the chapel with a fine-tooth comb.
‘I’m sure they did,’ Athreya said. ‘What did they say about the blood spots under the mats?’
‘Blood spots?’ Muthu scowled more out of habit than from any disrespect to Athreya.
‘The ones in front of the altar. Under the mats.’
‘Show me.’
Two minutes later, Muthu was berating a forensic man over the phone. Athreya slowly walked out of the chapel, his face set in grim lines. He had to call out the bluffs now. Just as he had said to Varadan, he had to strip away the extraneous. Only then would he be able to look at the core.
* * *
He found Dora at Sunset Deck, sitting alone and contemplating the ripples in the stream below. He went and sat beside her.
‘Do you think I was unjustified in what I did, Mr. Athreya?’ she asked.
‘Not really,’ Athreya replied, picking his words carefully. ‘Being under a cloud of suspicion is never a pleasant thing. It gnaws away at you, makes you tense and makes you irritable. People in situations like yours have said worse things than you did today.’
‘I couldn’t stand what Uncle implied. It was too hurtful.’
‘That, I cannot argue with. The implications were clear. You had the courage to call it out. The others didn’t.’
‘Do you think they have something to hide?’ Athreya let out a long sigh.
‘There were thirteen at dinner that night,’ he said.
‘One died. That leaves a dozen of us. Most of the dozen have something to hide. They have either lied or are withholding information.’
‘Mr. Athreya,’ Dora said slowly. ‘You do realize the implications of what you are saying, don’t you?’
Athreya turned to face her.
‘I do, Dora,’ he said equally slowly. ‘And I hope you do too.’
Dora remained silent. When she didn’t speak for a full minute, Athreya went on gently.
‘The time for hiding things is past. You do everyone more harm by hiding things. But, most of all, you harm yourself.’
Dora remained silent, neither acknowledging Athreya’s allegation nor denying it.
‘It is about what you heard and saw after you retired that night, isn’t it?’ Athreya continued, staring at the stream along with Dora. ‘You had heard the sound of two doors opening. One was Michelle’s. But you know about the other one too. That’s what you are hiding. Did you also see him go down the stairs?’
‘Yes…’ Dora whispered through a choked throat. ‘Yes.’
‘It must have been between 12:50 a.m. and 1 a.m. Am I right?’
Dora nodded again, and slowly turned her face to Athreya.
‘What would you have done in my place, Mr. Athreya?’ she croaked. ‘He is my brother.’
‘You can’t shield Richie forever, Dora. I have one more question to ask you. You remember Thursday evening, the first dinner I had here? Richie came in late?’
She nodded.
‘There was a sudden silence when he came in, and tears came to your eyes. I think I know the reason for it. Will you confirm it for me?’
Chapter 16
Father Tobias had been true to his word. After completing the morning service at his church, he had come down to Greybrooke Manor. When Athreya and Dora returned to the mansion, they saw him in the drawing room, talking to Bhaskar and Sebastian. They were discussing details of the memorial service that was to be held that evening. Sebastian was making a list of people to call.
‘Would you like to call Mrs. Carvallo?’ Athreya asked. ‘Phillip’s housekeeper.’
‘Of course,’ Sebastian nodded and made a note. ‘I believe she works at the resort. She was fond of him and kept a tidy house, despite Phillip’s idiosyncrasies.’
‘Idiosyncrasies?’
‘The painter in him really messed up the house, you know,’ Sebastian said with a slight smile. ‘You must see the room he used as his painting studio. There are so many spills and blotches of paint on the rug that you can’t make out its original colour. Phillip would leave paints, canvases, brushes and all sorts of things all over the place. If Mrs. Carvallo didn’t come one day, you could make it out from the state of his house.’
‘A bit of a dreamy man, Phillip,’ Father Tobias agreed, no less absent-minded himself. ‘Forgetful and erratic in his habits. But he was kind and generous. Always willing to help out his fellow men. The few times he did come to the church, he would always drop something into the collection box.’
‘Have the police traced his sister?’ Athreya asked.
‘Jilsy said he had a sister in Pune.’
‘I believe so,’ the priest nodded. ‘They found her phone number on his mobile phone, the inspector told me. He had come to ask me if I knew her, and if I could break the sad news to her. Unfortunately, I don’t know her. It’s always such a shock to receive such news. Especially over the phone.’
‘They got her address from her letters they found in his house,’ Sebastian added. ‘Muthu
was thoughtful enough to have a local policeman deliver the news to her husband. I believe they are coming here tomorrow.’
‘Ah. That’s good.’ Father Tobias bobbed his head in a relieved manner. ‘There is the matter of his interment. They will have to decide where to bury him.’
The cleric glanced at Bhaskar, but Bhaskar ignored him and remained steadfastly silent. Was Father Tobias expecting Bhaskar to offer the family cemetery to a friend?
‘That’s, of course, for the family to decide,’ the priest went on after a brief pause. ‘I hope they have the money.’
‘I believe the police found a fair bit of cash in Phillip’s house,’ Sebastian clarified. ‘Phillip only dealt in cash. I don’t know if he had a bank account. I’ve never known him to go to a bank in Coonoor, but he used to pay his rent promptly. Always in cash.’
Athreya wondered what Phillip’s source of income had been. Was it only the money he had saved in Austria, or did he have a local source too? He must have invested his savings somewhere. He made a mental note to ask Inspector Muthu about it. On a day-to-day level, how had Phillip replenished his cash supply if he was not in the habit of going to a bank?
The discussion went on to the details of the memorial service that was to be held in the chapel that evening. Dora became involved in the discussion, and Athreya, finding that he couldn’t contribute, decided to keep out of the way of those who were organizing it.
He had not completed his examination of the chapel, but there was no chance of continuing it today. He would have to do it tomorrow morning, when the rest of the household was asleep. He had confronted Michelle and Dora regarding their deceit. There was one more person to confront at the earliest, but now was not the time for it. Let the memorial service be the sole activity for the day, he decided.
The planning for the service continued into lunch, with Father Tobias, Dora and Manu taking the lead. Sebastian was the one organizing it, and his lunch plate was surrounded by pieces of paper with lists on them.
Athreya retired to his room and checked with his contact in Delhi to see if he had learnt anything new about Phillip. Apart from having developed a greater confidence that Phillip was indeed the Philipose who had disappeared from Austria seven years ago, he had nothing. The high-resolution photographs Athreya had sent him had only confirmed his suspicions.