But I knew this feeling couldn’t last.
34
Omar
I said, ‘If we join the dots then as likely as not, Rachel was investigating Sasha’s death as well.’
We were at breakfast. Sara had prepared it herself, in her signature health-conscious style. The scrambled eggs, perfectly fluffy, with mushroom, green peppers and flavoured with herbs, were made from only the whites. The accompanying bacon, lean and smoky, was specially prepared for her by a shop in Margao. Toasted oatmeal bread, low-fat butter and freshly squeezed orange juice completed the menu.
‘A serial killer,’ stated Neel dramatically.
I wasn’t so sure. ‘I think it’s premature to say that. Other than the fact that both cases were high-profile and got a lot of media attention, they don’t have anything in common. Anna and Sasha came from very different backgrounds. If each knew her killer, as the facts seem to suggest, then it’s unlikely to be the same man. Besides, they were killed under very different circumstances.’
‘Anna and Sasha did have something in common.’ Neel paused. ‘Both slept around with a lot of men. And women too, in Anna’s case.’
‘So what? I don’t think that necessarily means anything.’
Neel grinned at Sara. ‘See how defensive he sounds?’
She laughed and leaned towards him. ‘He has to stand up for his own tribe, after all.’
Something seemed to have changed between the two of them. It was subtle but I knew them too well and too long not to notice. They exchanged knowing glances, and I saw Neel whisper in her ear twice, something I had never seen him do before. Sara was physical with all her friends but I thought she seemed especially intimate with him all of a sudden.
I put it down to my imagination, until I could find a better reason. My antennae continued to remain on alert, though.
‘This is a serious discussion, guys,’ I said sternly. ‘And by the way, I didn’t have sex with Sasha.’
‘You didn’t?’ Neel looked up in mock prayer. ‘There is some justice in this world, O Lord!’
Sara said, ‘I agree with Omar. We don’t know if these two murders are related at all.’
‘Then why was Rachel interested in both of them?’
None of us had an answer.
Later that day, I decided to do some digging of my own into Sasha’s death.
I powered up Sara’s MacBook and typed in “Sasha actress” in the Google bar. It threw up several million search results, as pretty much any keywords do nowadays. However, I discovered that I had been directed to a porn actress called Sasha Grey, who is apparently quite a celebrity in the trade and has a comprehensive Wikipedia page devoted to her. I had never heard of her but I bet Neel would have known her filmography quite well. Out of curiosity, I opened up one of the links and discovered that her debut film had the hilarious title of Homo Erectus and that she had won several awards in the adult video equivalent of the Oscars.
After that enlightening diversion, I refined my search and managed to find the right Sasha. I had to sift through all the junk links to reach the press articles I was looking for, of which there were a large number. Sasha’s violent death gave her the media attention she had craved throughout her career but never received. Seeing her countless images on the Internet, I felt sad for this simple girl who became a victim of her own beauty.
There was not much I didn’t know already. Many of the articles delved into her past and profiled her journey from humble roots in Surat to the big, bad world of Hindi films. One referred to her as a rising star of Bollywood, which I suppose was intended to be polite homage to the departed Sasha but it was far from the truth. The facts of her murder and the subsequent failure of the police to crack the case were well-documented and fairly consistent across the reports.
Her various link-ups with actors, producers and male models were extensively covered. I knew the list was not only inaccurate but incomplete. However, there was one new piece of information which I hadn’t been aware of.
I read on at least three different sites that at the time of her death, Sasha had been dating a “mystery foreigner”. She had been seen a couple of times with a tall, dark-haired Caucasian man who appeared to be her boyfriend. This has increasingly become a trend in the industry so I wasn’t surprised. However, what was intriguing was that no one seemed to know who this man was, and he never surfaced again after Sasha was gone.
Sasha’s foreign connection was interesting. Could it be the missing link with Anna Grishin, who was Russian? It was still far-fetched but here at least was a tenuous thread to work with. I remembered Grigor having told his girlfriend that he had recognised the man who had come to dump Anna’s body on the beach. It was unlikely that a man like Grigor mingled with too many Indians.
Could the man who had killed Anna and Sasha been a foreigner?
An incredible train of thought went through my mind.
35
Neel
I usually read the morning newspaper in great detail. Many people I know have switched to catching the news online. Not me. I have a ritual of reading the headlines and going straight to the sports page. Then I carefully work backwards through the different sections. Glancing through advertisements, obituaries and classifieds along the way.
Still, I almost missed the little item tucked away in a corner of the local news page. It was sandwiched between a big notice of the Income Tax department and a series of photographs of a disputed mining site.
It was titled, Foreign Tourists Dead.
Two foreigners, both women, were found dead last night in separate incidents. Zoe Sharon, 38, died of a massive drug overdose in Panjim. She had been dead for at least two days and the door of her flat was broken open by police after neighbours complained of a foul smell. Jennifer Barlow, 54, was knocked down by a speeding car near Anjuna and died on the spot. Witnesses said the vehicle was a black SUV and it sped away after running over the woman. The police have registered cases of accidental death and are investigating if there was any foul play involved.
I showed the article to Omar and Sara.
‘My God! It must be the same Zoe,’ Sara exclaimed.
I replied, ‘And do you remember the name of Grigor’s girlfriend, the one Writwik told you about?’
Omar thought for a moment and answered, ‘Jennifer!’
‘Exactly. I’m willing to bet that this is the same woman.’ Both of them were quiet. They knew I was right.
I continued. ‘Whoever we’re up against is getting really desperate now. They’ve killed three people in the past one week.’
Sara said, ‘Do you think it has anything to do with us? We seem to be leaving a trail of bodies in our wake, starting with Grigor.’
Omar shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. If that was the case, we would have been the first targets. These people are completely ruthless so they wouldn’t have hesitated to dispose of us. But something is panicking them, that’s obvious.’
‘Well, you were almost killed at the Marriott, weren’t you?’
A shifty look came into Omar’s eyes. He said quietly, ‘I didn’t tell you guys this before but that wasn’t what it seemed like.’
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean? Don’t tell me the whole thing was faked!’
‘No no, it was real. Didn’t you see the bruises and bandages on me? What I’m trying to say is that I think I know the men who assaulted me.’
Sara said impatiently, ‘Who were they?’
‘People I owe a lot of money to.’
Omar told us about his failed business venture. And how he couldn’t repay the loan he had taken from a small-time underworld don. We listened with surprise and dismay.
‘Omar, you poor man!’ I assumed no pun was intended. ‘Why didn’t you tell us earlier? I’m sure we could have helped.’
He raised his hand. ‘No Sa
ra, I don’t want to borrow money from my friends to pay this man back. I have to find another solution.’
I had always been jealous of Omar’s success and prosperity. It turned out to be just a façade. I felt sorry for him.
‘Don’t look so morose, guys. I’ll figure something out.’
I couldn’t detect any note of confidence in his voice.
Sara put her arm around him and said, ‘We’re always there for you, Omar.’ I nodded in agreement.
‘Thanks, I know that. But right now, we have a much bigger problem on our hands.’
I remembered something. ‘What about that car which tried to run you off the road on your way back from Zoe’s place?’
Omar replied, ‘I’ll never forget the face of the man inside that black Xylo. He looked like the Devil himself.’
‘A Xylo is an SUV, right? And a black SUV ran over Grigor’s girlfriend. What are the odds that it’s the same one?’
Sara shrugged. ‘Well, I do have the number of the Xylo.’
‘We should give it to D’Mello to check out. Maybe it’s time to pay him another visit.’
Sara made a face. ‘I don’t want to see that man ever again.’
‘You know, I thought about that incident later,’ said Omar. ‘I’m convinced it was just a warning. They could easily have killed us but they didn’t.’
We didn’t heed the warning anyway. I was beginning to think that we were connected to this whole business in ways none of us understood yet. I felt like a pawn in a game. Being played out by unknown parties.
‘The key is Rachel,’ I said firmly. ‘She found out something about Anna’s killer which spooked him so much that he not only took her life but those of three others too. Remember that the case had gone cold. It was off the radar of the press. Therefore, the heat on the police was off as well.
‘The killer breathes easy, thinking he’s got away with the crime. Suddenly, he gets cornered and starts to kill more people to protect himself. Except that the new murders bring the limelight back on Anna Grishin. I’m sure D’Mello is very pleased with this fresh chance to crack the case.’
Sara said, ‘And let’s not forget Sasha, whose death is an even older and colder case. If it was indeed the same man, then he’s not just worried about being caught for killing Anna. His past crimes, which he had thought were safely buried, are now back to haunt him too.’
I wondered again if there were others like Anna and Sasha.
Omar asked, ‘So why are we still alive?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘The man is obviously intelligent, resourceful and very determined. Qualities that most psychopaths possess. He definitely knows about us but for some reason, has decided that we don’t need to die. Yet.’
‘The question that continues to baffle me is why would Rachel, of all people, be on the trail of such a man? What would’ve drawn her to the case?’
I was silent for a moment. Then I said softly, ‘Isn’t it obvious by now? Because she knew him.’
36
Omar
When we didn’t find Roy in his tent, no one was unduly perturbed. We assumed he had gone for a walk in the forest or an early morning dip in the freezing river, for he liked to do crazy things like that. In a stark departure from the brilliant weather we had been having since the start of the trip, the sky was dark and cloudy. Our guide told us that rain was on the way.
One hour went by and then two—we began to get worried. I set out downstream along the bank of the river to look for Roy. He couldn’t have gone upstream because the beach tapered off in that direction, culminating in a stretch of rocks impossible to navigate on foot. The others, except Rachel who couldn’t move around on her injured ankle, fanned out on the adjoining hillside, shouting his name.
We searched until noon but there was no sign of him. I realised something was seriously wrong.
Then the storm arrived. We sat huddled together as the rain lashed furiously outside. The wind howled ominously, warning that the Gods were angry. I was sure our tents would be blown away at any time but the little canvas structures held firm.
The rain eased as suddenly as it had descended. A light drizzle continued and the sky remained overcast. We pulled up the hoods of our waterproof jackets and held a council-of-war on the slushy mire of our campsite, shivering in the chill. The wind had abated but there was no escaping its cold, clammy embrace.
Roy clearly hadn’t abandoned us wilfully since all his belongings were in his tent, placed as they were the previous night. We ran through all the possibilities. Could a wild animal have killed him in his tent and then dragged him away to some remote lair? We had been told that there were leopards and black bears in the surrounding jungles but it was very unlikely that one of them would have ventured into our camp, for they were inherently scared of humans. Besides, there were no signs of disturbance inside the tent or any marks on the ground outside. Nor had any of us heard anything.
Neel suggested that Roy might have woken up in the middle of the night and ventured out in the dark. Still intoxicated, he might have accidentally or deliberately gone into the river and then drowned in the turbulent waters. All of us were horrorstruck at this hypothesis. It seemed inconceivable that someone of Roy’s immense physical vitality could have met with such an end.
Our guide, being one of those highly superstitious hill folk, was convinced that Roy had been taken by evil spirits, of which there were many in the surrounding mountains, he said. It was a simple explanation but obviously not one our rational minds were prepared to accept. However, it did seem like he had vanished into thin air. I had been sharing Roy’s tent and I am a light sleeper. I wondered how he could have unzipped first his sleeping bag and then the tent-flap, squirmed his large frame around in the tiny space and finally crawled out on the crunchy gravel without disturbing me at all.
Sara remained firmly of the opinion that Roy had gone for an early-morning walk and was either lost or incapacitated in some way, waiting for help. We all wanted to believe that, of course. Our guide had managed to assemble a number of people from nearby villages to form a bigger search party, and we went looking for Roy again.
We were soon soaked to the skin and covered with mud but we plodded on, trying to cover maximum ground in a grid pattern. The villagers were incredibly helpful and not one of them left until we collectively decided to call off the search at sunset. There was no sign of Roy. We were tired and miserable but there was no point in staying on at camp any longer. Packing up quickly, we drove straight to the district police headquarters and filed a missing person report.
The first angle the police explored was whether one of us had murdered Roy, a theory we hadn’t considered at all. It sounded ludicrous but the police seemed to think it quite feasible. I had the privilege of being the prime suspect since I had shared his tent. We were detained and interrogated for two awful days before they were satisfied that we were innocent. Roy was declared missing and presumed dead in an accident.
In the meantime, the news had reached school, sending everyone into a tizzy. Two teachers and the bursar were sent to find out what had really happened and also to bring us back. Their presence and intervention certainly helped us to get out of the police’s clutches. There was hell to pay for later but we were at least free to go.
Roy’s body was never found and it was almost certain that he had drowned in the river. Neel had been right. It hadn’t been wild animals or ghosts or bandits who had taken Roy away from us, just our own foolish act which turned out to have disastrous consequences. Of all the ill-effects of alcohol, I had never thought it could be responsible for taking someone’s life in this bizarre manner.
Our group was never the same again. There was no doubt that the five of us were responsible for Roy’s death, even if indirectly. Twelve years have gone by, and not a day has passed when I haven’t been wracked by guilt.
&nb
sp; 37
Sara
I decided to go for a run on the beach that evening.
For me, it’s not a fitness routine but more of a hobby because I truly enjoy it. I don’t jog, I run. The feeling of the air rushing past my body, pressing my clothes against my skin and blowing my hair back, is exhilarating. It doesn’t matter whether it’s hot or cold or wet. All I need is an open space, a park or field, beach or promenade. I can’t run on asphalt.
The strip of white sand in front of my villa stretches for a reasonable distance, meeting the sea in a gentle arc. It’s not rocky and not crowded, for there are no hotels nearby. I generally made it a point to run daily whenever I’m in Goa but this was my first time on this trip. I couldn’t really blame myself for that.
I prefer running barefoot, something I discovered when I had forgotten to pack my sports shoes on a trip to London a few years ago. On an impulse, I went to Hyde Park in a tracksuit and high heels, took off the shoes and started to run! It was amazing to feel the cool grass beneath my feet. I found that I was naturally landing on the ball of my foot rather than the heel, which seemed to give me an extra spring in each stride.
As a matter of fact, there’s a strong school of thought which says that running without shoes is better for the health of one’s feet. The human foot has plenty of inbuilt shock absorbers. Its muscles are well-adapted to minimise the impact of landing and turn that energy into forward motion more efficiently. Research has shown that running with shoes increases the chances of chronic injuries of the lower leg.
Of course, I would never dream of running barefoot on a beach in Goa! Even the cleanest of them is covered with all sorts of litter and flotsam. It would be very easy to slash my foot on a broken beer bottle or impale it on a rusted nail.
The sun was setting when I started my run. I completed a length of the beach and savoured the feeling of my heart beating rapidly, sending the adrenaline rushing around inside me. After a brief pause to get my breath back, I turned around and began to run again.
Second Lives Page 11