And then suddenly she was dead!
I had racked my brains then to figure out what Rachel could have meant. Had she seen everything that night and only decided to tell me after all these years? I decided that was highly unlikely. Had he decided to confess to her? Again impossible. Was there some other witness who had come forward? I couldn’t rule that out but our campsite had been in the middle of nowhere. Even if someone, maybe from a nearby hamlet, had wanted to take a stroll on that bitterly cold night, there were no roads or footpaths within visible distance of our tents.
The only reasonable explanation I could think of was that Rachel had found an old record of Roy’s body floating in the river or washing up somewhere downstream, either from police files or another source. What I would have loved to know is whether she had been specifically trying to find out what happened to Roy or come across it by chance.
It didn’t strike me even once that she may have meant Roy was alive.
The sight of his unconscious body floating away in those turbulent waters had been enough for me to be convinced he was dead, as conclusively as by getting a bullet in the head! It’s nothing short of a miracle that Roy had managed to get out of the river alive, and I was really curious to know how he had accomplished that.
In hindsight, I should have connected what Rachel told me about Roy to the other thing she had said, about having discovered something “shocking” which had put her life in danger. I was so flustered about Roy that I ignored the rest of the conversation.
I remembered those words again when Rachel died, of course. They became the very basis of my rejection of the suicide verdict.
I was prepared to fight the battle on my own until it occurred to me to rope in Neel and Omar, who would be as distressed to learn that Rachel had been murdered. I knew Neel was on a self-imposed break and Omar anyway did his own thing so it wouldn’t have been difficult for either of them to land up in Goa at short notice. It was another matter that none of us had expected or prepared for the dark adventure that was to follow!
I have to admit that another reason for summoning the two guys was to find out if Rachel had told them anything about Roy. I was quickly reassured that she hadn’t.
I tried to retrace Rachel’s journey in my mind.
It was a safe bet to assume that her starting point was the conversation with Mrs Iyer. She must have discovered Roy’s link to Jo’s murder, though I doubt she used the same tactics as Neel. Shocked, she would have decided to investigate further. As a journalist, she knew how to dig deep to research a story. I am sure she would have called in every favour she had earned and every contact she had made during her career.
We were able to deduce that there were multiple murders only from the clues Rachel had left behind but I’ve no idea how she had found out in the first place. I suppose it was as much a question of suspicion as of the evidence to back it up. Even now, we didn’t know how many victims there were, and most were probably killed too long back for Rachel to have found any serious proof that Roy was the killer. My guess is that she came very close to finding that proof with Anna Grishin but was killed before she could expose him.
I thought about Roy, and the time I was madly in love with him. It was more than an obsession. Every fibre of my being wanted to be with him, to make love to him, to possess him. It was strange that I, used to so much male attention, could ever feel that way about someone, especially when it wasn’t reciprocated. That’s what I was led to believe, at least. I really was crazy.
It should have come as no surprise to me to learn that Roy was a psychopath, or the extent of his crimes. I had first-hand experience of his deranged mind.
Neel was right. We needed to find him. Quickly.
I’ve read somewhere (or was it in a movie?) that revenge is a dish best served cold. I’m ready for my revenge. Once again.
I don’t know why but one part of my mind has always stopped me from revealing to anyone that Roy had raped me on our school campus.
56
I always liked Rachel. I truly did. It was really unfortunate that she went sniffing around where she shouldn’t have.
She told me everything before she died. Voluntarily. I guess she was so outraged that she ignored the perils of doing so. Or maybe she didn’t care. And I think a part of her believed that our past association gave her some kind of immunity from me. It was funny because she didn’t initially figure out that I knew about her investigation, and pretended to make normal conversation, like two friends meeting after a long time. She even made me a cup of coffee.
I was shocked at how much Rachel had discovered. Not only did she know about many of my victims, starting with Jo, but she had found out details I was sure were forever buried. She may not have realised it but her body of evidence, even if circumstantial or based on questionable sources, was enough to finish me off. Thankfully she waited too long for something she felt would stand up in court. She had just got it when I caught up with her.
For example, I couldn’t imagine how she connected me with Sasha’s death. It was one I had planned very well.
I had been casually introduced to Sasha at a party, and the beast had approved immediately. She was a little rustic but absolutely gorgeous. After that first meeting, I got a DVD of one her films and watched it. It was B-grade fare but I felt hot stabs of desire every time Sasha came on the screen. There was this one song, incongruously melodious, to which she gyrated so sensuously that I ended up masturbating for the first time in years. I felt quite foolish after that but I knew I had to do something about this woman.
Never had I seen anyone with such a brilliant, flawless complexion. Even at that party, she had no make-up on except lipstick and mascara. She didn’t need to. I visualised her perfect, alabaster body fully naked and my knife slowly cutting through that creamy skin, ruining it forever.
It was the first time I was targeting any kind of celebrity and I knew I would have to be very careful. Sasha wasn’t some superstar but she was reasonably well-known and often featured in the gossip magazines.
She had given me her number, with more than a hint of invitation. I knew plenty of women like her, always ready to barter sex for career favours. Even though I wasn’t from the industry, I guess she thought I could help her indirectly. She was right, of course, but she didn’t know what she was letting herself in for.
I met her twice secretly. She readily understood the reasons I gave her. It wasn’t the first time she had faced such paranoia from men she dated. I chose an empty apartment the first time, and a top-end hotel after that. Both times, I ensured that she came and went without anyone having seen her. Or knowing it was her, at any rate.
Sasha was puzzled that I didn’t have sex with her on either occasion.
She was used to men jumping her without much ado during these trysts. It wasn’t easy for me, I can tell you. Being alone with her sent me into a real tizzy. I controlled myself with difficulty and told her that I wanted to get to know her before moving on to anything else. I was at my charming best and she fell for it. Over glasses of wine, which I figured she only pretended to enjoy, she told me her life story. My mind was busy imagining what I would like to do to her but I kept nodding at appropriate intervals. I had read up everything about her anyway.
She said she loved cooking but hardly ever had the time for it. It was the perfect opening for me. I asked if she would invite me over to her place for dinner one day. She immediately agreed and we fixed up a date.
I was certain that Sasha’s sudden death would draw a massive amount of publicity.
The media would devour a story which involved a beautiful woman falling victim to a violent crime of passion. The fact that it happened at her own home, where the killer had come at her invitation, would make it look like the handiwork of a former lover. In Sasha’s case, that would mean a good number of suspects. I planned to add a few more elements to the crime scene
to ensure that nothing was left to chance.
To cut a long story short, it was one of my most memorable “events” ever. Sasha turned out to be stronger than I had thought and she fought me like a tigress, even managing to get me to drop my knife. In the end, I had to use her own pillow to smother her, and cut her up only after she was dead. It was the first time I had done that but it felt almost as good.
It was amusing to find out later just how much trouble I had created for several men in the city, many of them quite well-known, by murdering Sasha. The police investigated relentlessly, as they always do when the press follows their actions closely. They questioned everyone known to have had links with the slain starlet and many who didn’t, but they came no closer to solving the case. My name didn’t come up at all.
To return to Rachel, it was clear that she had done an outstanding job of probing into my alter ego, so to speak. She told me she had been at it for six months. I admired her skill and persistence. It was almost as if she had access to inside information but that was impossible.
Or was it?
I didn’t enjoy killing her. In fact, I hate having to kill more people just to prevent detection. It doesn’t give me any pleasure and unnecessarily increases the risk. But sometimes it’s inevitable. With Rachel, I wanted to make it look like a suicide. I couldn’t bring myself to create another “event” out of her.
Her last words to me were, ‘I hope you go to Hell.’ This, even though I tried to make it as painless as possible, by drugging her before slipping the noose around her neck. But she still struggled and squirmed until well after her brain had shut down.
Things didn’t quite turn out the way I had expected. The Anna Grishin bogey continues to haunt me through Rachel.
Unlike with Sasha, I hadn’t anticipated the kind of sustained press coverage it would end up receiving. And Rachel told me that she had enough proof to incriminate me in that particular case, even if I escaped the others.
The good thing was that she was carrying out her research on her own. I took away and destroyed her laptop, which I assumed contained all her notes and material. Thank God for the double-edged sword that is modern technology. I didn’t know how many people she had spoken to but I hoped that no one would be able to piece together the story anymore.
I had specifically asked Rachel if she had mentioned anything to the others, especially Sara, but she told me she hadn’t.
The police have reopened her death as a murder case. I got to Grigor and his woman in time but it was a close thing. There’s no doubt that those three are not letting up on trying to find out why Rachel died. I have as little desire to kill them as I did Rachel. It would have complicated things. I sent them multiple warnings in Goa but they chose to ignore them all. Those two idiots who disobeyed my instructions and tried to abduct Sara should have ended up scaring them even more than I had intended but that didn’t happen, obviously.
My patience has finally run out.
57
Omar
My phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
‘Hello, Omar?’ I recognised the voice immediately.
‘The first time was random. The second time was coincidence,’ I teased. ‘What’s it this time?’
She gave her characteristic, husky laugh. ‘I didn’t call you by mistake, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘How are you?’
‘Bored. In your city.’
‘It’s your city too. You grew up here.’
‘Are you free this evening?’
I wasn’t but I didn’t want to let go the opportunity of meeting D. ‘There’s a party I’m invited to. It’s the annual bash of a media house.’ I paused. ‘Why don’t you come along with me? It’ll be fun.’
Her tone changed. ‘No, I don’t want to do that. You carry on then.’
I said quickly, ‘I can cancel, no problem. Where do you want to meet?’
‘Nowhere public. Why don’t you invite me to your place?’
I thought about my modest, two-bedroom apartment in Bandra. ‘You’re welcome to come over but I’m warning you that it’s the size of a matchbox compared to the houses you’re used to.’
‘I don’t take up much space,’ she said drily. ‘What’s the address?’
Two hours later, the bell rang. I opened the door and saw D standing there. She gave me a brief hug and walked inside. The smell of her freshly washed hair lingered in my senses.
She was wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a printed skirt ending just above the knee. A simple necklace of brightly coloured stones and a pair of red sandals completed the ensemble. She looked elegant and beautiful.
D sat on one of the leather recliners. Looking around the minimally furnished drawing room, she said, ‘A typical bachelor pad. I love it.’
I prepared a gin and tonic for her, and pulled out a beer for myself. ‘I hope you like Thai food. I’ve ordered in.’
She nodded. ‘That day in Goa, I was really rude. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve forgotten about that.’ I raised my glass. ‘Here’s to us.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Us?’
‘We can be friends, right?’
‘I don’t think so, Omar. My life’s too complicated right now.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
She gave me a strange look but didn’t reply.
The bell rang again and I went to the door. It was the food. I brought out the dumplings and chicken satay, and we began to eat.
‘This is pretty good,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘It’s hard to find authentic Thai food in India.’
Neither of us spoke for the next few minutes. I watched D out of the corner of my eye. She ignored the cocktail forks I had set out, preferring to use her hands. She ate slowly, taking small bites, and there was a look of almost sensuous pleasure on her face.
I said, ‘D, I realised I don’t even know which city you live in.’
‘I’ve been a nomad for so many months now that sometimes I don’t know it myself.’
‘And your husband?’
A shadow passed over her face. ‘I told you last time, let’s not talk about him.’ She knocked back the remainder of her gin.
I went to get her another drink. When I handed it to her, she said, ‘Sit close to me.’ I perched myself on an arm of the recliner.
She rested her head against my shoulder. ‘I’ve told you so much about myself but I hardly know anything about you.’
‘Well, I started to tell you the other day but you didn’t let me finish.’
‘I know, I’m sorry again.’ She gave me a rueful smile. ‘Tell me now.’
I told her things only my closest friends knew. That I was abandoned as a baby and left outside a mosque. That I am phobic about dogs. That I was nearly killed in a train accident and now walk around with almost as much steel inside my legs as Iron Man. That I am ambidextrous and can write equally well with both hands.
I don’t know why but even with this brief acquaintance, I felt a stronger bond with D than I had with any other woman for as long as I could remember. In fact, my feelings for her reminded me of my closeness to…Rachel.
When I finished, D put her arm around me. She looked up at me and said, ‘Kiss me.’
I bent down and let my lips brush hers. Our tongues met. She closed her eyes. We kissed urgently for a few moments, almost hurting each other. Then I pulled away and knelt in front of her. I put my hands on her bare knees and let them move up slowly under the skirt. Her skin was soft but firm. I could feel the heat radiating from her body. She gave a small cry as I reached the brief triangle of satin fabric.
I carried her to my room. My bed has a special spring mattress, the kind you only get in fancy hotels. I figured we would be more comfortable on it. We made love unhurriedly, building up the rhythm graduall
y until neither of us could wait any more. It was very different from that first time in the Marriott.
‘You’re something else, D,’ I told her. She didn’t reply. I looked over and saw that her eyes were moist. ‘What happened?’
‘You…must be thinking I’m a real slut.’
‘Of course not.’ But I remembered with a pang of guilt that I did initially think she might be some kind of a high-end whore.
‘Don’t lie to me, Omar.’
‘It’s only human to let your libido rule your head once in a while. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all.’
‘I know that men look down on women who jump into bed too quickly with them. It’s like an easy conquest.’
I thought about that for a moment. ‘Generally speaking, you’re right, D. But I feel differently about you, I really do.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you think I’m a little too old to fall for that line?’
I replied, ‘Okay, you tell me. What do you feel about me?’
‘I…don’t know. I mean, I’m obviously attracted to you. But that night at the Marriott, I…really lost my head. I’ve never done something like that ever before. It was completely crazy.’
I said lightly, ‘What’s life without a little adventure?’
‘That’s the thing,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘This is not me at all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re the first man I’ve had sex with in two years.’
I didn’t say anything to that. It surprised me, for sure, and a part of me thought she might be lying. I wanted to ask the obvious question but refrained. I didn’t think she would want to talk about it.
D brought it up herself. ‘My husband doesn’t enjoy normal intercourse.’
‘You mean he’s gay?’
‘No, but he gets his kicks in a very different way.’ She paused. ‘He doesn’t know I know, or he would have killed me by now.’
Second Lives Page 18