by RV Raman
Athreya’s face.
‘He might have, but that would only be a part of the answer. It throws no light on the other major question.’
‘Which is?’
‘What was Phillip doing in your wheelchair in the chapel in the middle of a murky night?’
‘It doesn’t, I agree,’ said Bhaskar, nodding. ‘Coming back to the mongrel’s proposition, what do you think?’
‘Don’t you already know who commissioned him, Mr. Fernandez?’
Bhaskar let out a tired sigh. ‘Perhaps I do, Mr Athreya…perhaps I do. The heart is more willing to accept one part of what the brain says. But there is another part that I wish wasn’t true.’
‘Murthy?’ Athreya asked. Bhaskar nodded pitiably.
‘Imagine what that would do to Michelle, Mr Athreya. She will be broken.’
‘It may also be for the best,’ Athreya said softly. ‘I think the scales are falling from her eyes.’
‘She lied about the time of death to protect him,’ Bhaskar retorted. ‘That was a mere thirty-six hours ago.’
‘Much has happened since, and the events have left Michelle emotionally wrung out. There is a possibility that she may follow your advice.’
Bhaskar stared hard at him, but didn’t ask how Athreya knew about his advice to Michelle.
‘So,’ he said, returning to the original question, ‘should I accept the offer?’
‘How do you know he will keep his word? Once you examine the line-up and say that you don’t recognize anyone, there is no going back.’
‘True. What do you suggest I do?’
‘Postpone the decision. Let matters play out.’
‘One more question…you spoke about Phillip being in Austria. What name did he go by there?’
‘Philipose. At least, that’s how he signed his paintings. If he had another name too, I don’t know it yet.’
‘Jacob,’ Bhaskar said in an undertone. ‘Does the name Jacob Lopez ring a bell?’
‘No. But I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘I returned from Austria in 1996. Phillip seems to have been there much later. Do you know when?’
‘Between 2008 and 2012, I believe.’
‘Jacob Lopez was released from prison in late 2007. Like Phillip, he too was of Indian origin.’
When Athreya returned to the drawing room, he found Jilsy waiting for him. Ganesh, Varadan, Manu and Father Tobias were talking together in one corner, while Dora, Michelle and Richie were whispering to each other in another. Abbas was nowhere to be seen, and Sebastian had gone to talk to Bhaskar in the library.
‘Can I talk to you, Mr. Athreya?’ Jilsy asked in a small, frightened voice.
‘Of course, Jilsy.’ Athreya smiled. ‘Where would you like to talk?’
‘Somewhere private. Where nobody can hear or disturb us.’
‘We can go to my room or to yours, whichever you prefer. We may be interrupted in the study. Or else, we can walk outside.’
‘Outside?’ Jilsy gasped.
She took one look at the dark, gloomy night and shook her head. The fog was as thick as it had been on the night of the murder. Memories of that night were all too fresh in her memory.
‘Can we go to your room, if you don’t mind?’ she asked.
‘I’ll tell Ganesh and come.’
A minute later, they were in Athreya’s room, sitting in chairs facing each other.
‘What should we do, Mr. Athreya?’ she asked as soon as they were seated. ‘You told us not to speak about the mongrel, but Ganesh blurted it out. He is afraid too. More for me than for himself.’
‘Nothing,’ Athreya replied. ‘Do nothing. Don’t talk about it, but don’t avoid the subject either, at least in an obvious manner. If someone asks, Ganesh can say that he doesn’t remember when he had heard Phillip mention the mongrel’s name. He can probably say that he might have heard him speak over the phone to someone. That way, you will avoid the question of who Phillip was speaking to when he mentioned the mongrel.’
‘You think that will work?’ Jilsy asked doubtfully.
‘That’s the best you can do now. If you try avoiding the subject, people may think that you know more than you are letting on. That could be dangerous.’
‘I guess you’re right.’
‘And Ganesh should not say that you too overheard
Phillip.’
‘Yes.’ Jilsy nodded animatedly. ‘We understand that. Ganesh won’t make a mistake again. Thank you, Mr Athreya.’
‘If you have another fifteen minutes, I want to speak to you on another matter—alone and totally in private.’
Jilsy stared at him with large, round eyes and nodded slowly.
‘Now, for your sake, and that of your husband, I want you to not get up and run away in the middle of the conversation. It’s going to be a difficult one…perhaps harder than any conversation you’ve recently had. Understand?’
Jilsy nodded mutely, anxiety etched on her face.
‘Please understand that I am trying to help you. I know that you did not kill Phillip.’
Jilsy’s eyes became saucers. She stared at Athreya dumbstruck.
‘Jilsy,’ he said slowly, ‘I know that you went into the chapel on the night of the murder.’
A stifled cry escaped her and she recoiled, shrinking into the chair, trying to disappear into it. She stared at Athreya as if hypnotized, unable to tear her eyes away from his. He stared back at her. A full minute passed.
‘You went there a little after 1 a.m., didn’t you?’ Athreya asked softly.
That broke the spell. With a soft whimper, Jilsy buried her face in her hands and began sobbing silently. Her shoulders shook and her hair fell forward over her hands and face, hiding them.
‘Let me tell you a story, Jilsy,’ Athreya said in an avuncular manner. ‘You don’t need to look up at me. Just listen to what I say. It’s a story about a young, vivacious city girl; a girl who loved being with people, enjoyed being in the midst of things. She had a large circle of friends in Pune, and spent much of her time with them. She loved parties, travelling, shopping… everything that a lively young girl of her kind liked.
‘After she got married, she continued to enjoy herself. As an army wife, there was endless socializing to do, if she desired it. And she did. Life was a lovely, merry party.
‘But when she moved and settled in a place that was the back of beyond, life changed abruptly. There were no friends to speak of, no girls of her age or disposition. There was nowhere to go. No shops, no movies, no concerts, no gatherings, no malls…in short, no city. She got bored out of her skull, living day in and day out in this monotonous place.’
Jilsy had stopped sobbing, and was listening with her face still buried in her hands and her long tresses covering both.
‘Then, one day, out of sheer boredom, she grew venturesome. She broke the rules of marriage. She did something imprudent, risky. Something she would never have done had it not been for the boredom. She repented it immediately and was mortified. “Never again”, she told herself.
‘But boredom is a powerful thing. It is relentless. It slowly, but surely, crushes you. There came a time when she was tempted again. She succumbed, and broke the rules of marriage once more.
‘Again, she felt embarrassed, but this time it didn’t last for as long. She succumbed to temptation for a third time. It was becoming easier. Thrice she had broken the rules, and thrice, she had not been caught.
‘Alas, she took refuge from the unrelenting boredom in her little escapades, convincing herself that they were only temporary. She could stop it any time she wished, she told herself, and things would go back to how they were. But she was wrong.’
Jilsy lifted her face an inch or two from her hands, but did not look up. Her eyes looked downwards even as her ears took in every word Athreya said.
‘What she hadn’t realized was that people talk loosely. The ones she thought were her confidants were anything
but. Soon, the valley knew about her escapades, and rumours of her dalliances spread to the nearby town too.’
Athreya fell silent. He rose and went to the window. He remained there, looking out, with his back to Jilsy. A minute passed. Jilsy stayed bent forward. Another minute passed. Slowly, she lifted her face. Athreya stayed where he was, with his back to her, not wanting to embarrass her by looking at her.
She must be feeling wretched, humiliated beyond measure. Her secret had been blown open by a stranger—a man. The only saving grace, if any, was Athreya’s age.
‘If you are thinking that this is none of my business, you are partially right,’ he said softly. ‘Had it not been for this murder, I wouldn’t have intruded. But, as fate would have it, your activities are closely tied with those of the murderer. I hope you will understand. I hope you will forgive me. Your secret is safer with me than with those who betrayed your confidence.’
Athreya fell silent for another minute. Jilsy was sitting up now, wiping her face.
‘It was Richie, wasn’t it?’ Athreya asked eventually. ‘I need to know because I must eliminate possibilities. Only then can I catch the murderer.’
‘Yes,’ said a low, broken voice from behind him.
‘Behind the altar?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes…how did you know?’
‘The mats behind the altar had shifted under the weight of bodies. And your blue nightgown caught and ripped on one of the benches, leaving a scrap of cloth behind.’
‘Oh, God. What have I done.’
‘Another question, Jilsy…did you enter through the chapel door or the window?’
‘Window.’
‘What time was the rendezvous?’
‘1:10…1:15.’
‘And when did you leave the chapel?’
‘About 1:45.’
‘Through the window?’
‘Yes…I didn’t want to risk using the door…it’s visible from the mansion.’
‘You were there from 1:15 to 1:45 a.m.…didn’t you see Phillip’s body in the corner?’
‘No! You must believe me…I didn’t.’
‘I believe you, Jilsy. That’s why you threw up, I know. You were disgusted at the thought of the body lying there all the time when you-’
‘Please, don’t go into that! I beg you!’
‘I won’t, but the next question is important. During that half hour, did anyone come in?’
‘No. Thankfully…no.’
‘And when you left…did you hear or see anything?’
‘No.’
‘And Richie left immediately afterwards?’
‘I guess so.’
‘The candles on the altar…did you see how they were placed?’
‘No. No. It was too dark.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry that I had to put you through this. Now, take your time and compose yourself. I won’t turn from the window until you leave the room. I have embarrassed you enough. I’m sorry.’
The room fell silent for another two minutes. Athreya kept his word and stared steadfastly out of the window. Then to his surprise, Jilsy spoke.
‘Mr. Athreya?’ she said softly.
‘Yes, Jilsy?’
‘Turn around…please.’
Athreya blinked in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I am.’ Jilsy’s voice was steady. ‘I want to see your face.’
Athreya slowly turned to see Jilsy standing in the middle of the room, looking at him through pensive eyes. Her face had been rubbed clean of make-up. She looked lonely, vulnerable.
‘You have been far more decent than you needed to be,’ she said. ‘You didn’t call me out for what I am.’
‘You are nothing but an unfortunate young lady who has erred.’
‘Thank you…you are too kind. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to ask about one of the things you said. Does the whole valley really know?’
Her eyes were full of shame. Athreya nodded silently.
‘Bhaskar? Manu?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Others, too. Dora is aghast and ashamed at Richie. She agonizes over what he does and sheds tears.’
‘My husband…’ she began wretchedly, but couldn’t finish. Her words hung in the air.
‘He doesn’t, as far as I know. He is one of the few who doesn’t. Also because he trusts you. He will not think ill of you.’
Her voice shook. ‘He deserves better.’
Jilsy gnawed at her lower lip for a long moment, thinking furiously. Athreya waited. At length, she looked up.
‘If I promise to never do this again, Mr. Athreya—never—will you help us leave this valley?’
‘In what way?’
‘With what has just happened. I am going to tell my husband that it is dangerous for us to remain here. There is no telling what the mongrel could do to us after being released from jail. After all, we were the ones who tipped you off about him.
‘I’m going to tell Ganesh that we must leave this place as soon as we can. This will become a closed chapter; I will never return to this place. We can settle happily somewhere else. I promise that I will never ever be so stupid again. Will you help me, sir? Will you back me up when I tell Ganesh that we need to leave this place forever?’
‘I will.’
‘Thank you, sir. I couldn’t have asked for more.’
* * *
It was going to be an uneasy night. Athreya could sense the disquiet among the guests when he returned to the drawing room. There had been thirteen at dinner on Friday, and Phillip had been killed. Now, a dozen remained, and the night was disconcertingly similar to Friday. Grey coils of mist, heavy and damp, swirled in the valley, reducing visibility to a few feet. Low clouds hung overhead, shrouding the world in inky darkness. It was only the light spilling from the French windows and the feeble glow of a few solar lamps along the walkways that challenged the night’s reign.
Talk was desultory and faces wary. Yet, people seemed reluctant to break up the gathering. They were drawing comfort from being together in a group, putting off the loneliness of the bedroom for as long as they could.
Ganesh took refuge in his rum and Coke as Jilsy sat beside him, preoccupied and silent. Perhaps she was contemplating her personal watershed, unable as she was to share it with her husband. Bhaskar brooded in a corner, exchanging sporadic words with Varadan and Father Tobias. Sebastian and Manu were talking in low tones, with Richie listening nervously. Dora and Michelle seemed comfortable with each other’s silence. Abbas had returned to his room in the annex.
Athreya’s vivid imagination, which often helped him see beyond the obvious, was hyperactive tonight, showing him glimpses of the phantoms that seemed to be waltzing in others’ minds. Several pairs of eyes turned to him frequently, perhaps taking comfort in his presence. All doors, he knew, would be locked tonight, and the sun would be welcomed in the morning with rare fervour.
As the grandfather clock chimed at the stroke of midnight, the gathering stirred uncomfortably. It was getting late. They had to return to their rooms sooner than later. Athreya took the lead despite not feeling sleepy in the least. This festering morbidity, he knew, should not be allowed to get out of hand.
‘Time to retire,’ he said brightly, smiling with a lightness he did not feel. ‘Need to get my forty winks if I have to get up in time for my morning jog.’
‘Good night, Mr. Athreya,’ Bhaskar said, taking the cue. ‘I’ll retire, too. It’s past midnight.’
‘Me, too.’ Manu broke away from Sebastian and smiled at Athreya. ‘Goodnight, sir.’ He nodded to his father and continued, ‘Sebastian and I will lock up.’
That ended the evening. The four people staying at the annex went out together, and Sebastian locked the French windows after them. Richie, Dora and Michelle drained their glasses and went upstairs as Manu checked the front door. A minute later, Athreya was in his room.
But sleep refused to come
. His overactive mind refused to settle down, drawing tenuous links between disparate facts as it strove to stitch them into a patchwork tapestry of sound logic. His practical half, however, reiterated that all the evidence had not yet come in. It would be premature to draw conclusions.
An hour passed as he tossed and turned in bed. Then another. A long while later, he got out of bed and looked at his watch. It was 2:35 a.m. He decided to go to the window and breathe in the damp night air. The mist had thinned somewhat, but it was still murky outside.
As he stood at the window, it occurred to him that this was the room Phillip had been staying in when the mongrel broke in. The bars on the window had not existed then. All the mongrel had to do was to scale the six- or seven-foot wall below the window, and he would have been inside the room. Easy.
Even as the thought occurred to him, he heard a sharp click. Someone had unlatched a door in haste, shooting the bolt back without regard to the sound it produced. The next moment, he heard slippered feet running down the art gallery outside his door. Then came two clicks that he recognized. The person had opened the back door.
Athreya pressed his face against the bars of his window and craned his neck, wondering if he could see the person as he or she emerged from the walkway at the rear of the mansion. But it was pitch-dark. The night intended to keep its secrets.
Sounds, however, carried well in the still night air. The patter of feet he had heard in the art gallery now came from the walkway. They hurried away—heading towards the chapel.
As soon as Athreya realized where they were headed, the hair on his arms stood on end. His senses sharpened and he involuntarily slowed down his breathing so it did not interfere with his hearing. He continued to look leftward through the window towards the chapel.
Less than a minute later, a hazy patch of illumination flared. The lights in the chapel were on, and spilling out into the misty night through the chapel door. Judging by the lack of other sounds and the quickness with which the light had come on, Athreya figured that the chapel door had been opened. The door, which he had locked that evening, was already open.
Fifteen seconds later, although it seemed like five long minutes, an inarticulate cry came from the chapel. It was Sebastian’s voice, and he was furious. He was shouting as loudly as he could, trying to awaken people in the mansion and alert them to some drastic happening.