Murder at the Happy Home for the Aged

by Bulbul Sharma

  Yuri was still sitting in the veranda, humming under his breath as he carved a piece of wood with a penknife. The inspector noted that his face was bruised with angry blue and black marks, as if he had fallen down and injured himself badly. A red bundle lay next to him on the table.

  It was exactly like the one the Russian girl had described.

  * * *

  A few hours ago, as the inspector and his constable were having their third cup of tea, a red BMW drove up to the station, waking every stray dog in the street. A crowd of curious children had gathered as a tall, slim girl got out of it. Constable Robert almost fell down from his bench and Inspector Chand too had to restrain his mouth from falling open. He put a hand up to smooth his hair and pulled his stomach in as he got up from his chair. The girl was stunningly beautiful, a James Bond beauty who had appeared out of the blue in Trionim. And she had come to see him! The old police station suddenly became a magical place full of promise.

  ‘You are the policeman in charge here?’ she asked with a lisp.

  ‘Yes. Yes. I am Inspector Chand of the Goa Police.’ He was tempted to say ‘Inspector General’ but he couldn’t bring himself to lie so blatantly.

  ‘Oh! Inspector Commissioner,’ said the girl breathlessly, her blue eyes sparkling like gems. Inspector Chand almost fainted with joy. ‘I want to report that my jewels are missing from my house. Last night I look and I cannot find my diamond and ruby necklace. I cannot find my gold earrings and bracelets. They were all wrapped in a red handkerchief. In a bundle . . . is that what you say in English?’ she asked, smiling at him through half-closed eyes. She had such a pretty smile but her teeth were stained and yellow. Inspector Chand wondered if she smoked marijuana.

  ‘I am very sorry to hear such a terrible thing has happened to you. I apologize for this. We want all our tourists to be safe and secure in Goa. I will look into this matter at once. Losing jewels is a very bad thing,’ he said, reaching for his stick and tapping it on the table to show he meant to act at once.

  ‘You want my address and phone number?’ asked the girl, looking bored.

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ Inspector Chand opened his notebook.

  ‘I am Olga Hooda. My address is 45 Greenside Villa, Vaddy. Trionim.’

  ‘You live here?’ asked Inspector Chand, surprised that the girl had an Indian last name. Who was this Hooda? She was obviously married to him. He stopped writing and stared at the girl. Where had he heard that name before?

  Olga smiled, showing her crooked yellow teeth. She looked like a weasel about to sink its sharp teeth into its prey and Inspector Chand did not smile back at her.

  ‘You could search the Happy Home. I saw a man going in there with a red bundle. I was too scared to follow him. But you can. You are a big, strong policeman,’ said the girl and got up to leave. As her car drove away with a roar that thrilled all the little boys watching, Inspector Chand knew he had to go to the Happy Home at once.

  * * *

  Inspector Chand rose from his chair and walked out into the veranda. Yuri was still humming away. He looked quite drunk as he waved his hands about as if conducting an invisible orchestra. Inspector Chand picked up the cloth bundle lying next to him near two empty wine glasses. Yuri did not notice him and continued to sing.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ asked Inspector Chand, tapping the red bundle with his fingers. Yuri turned his head and looked up at him, surprised.

  ‘Oh. Hello, Inspector. I did not see you. When did you come?’ he asked, trying to focus his eyes.

  ‘Whose is this? Is it yours?’ asked Inspector Chand.

  Maria had come down after quickly washing her face and spraying some perfume to disguise the smell of alcohol. She went and stood next to Yuri. Rosie watched them from her wheelchair and behind her Leela hid in the shadows. Everyone was silent.

  ‘Where did you get this bundle? Please open it,’ said Inspector Chand, picking it up and putting it on the table.

  Yuri stood up, looking confused, and then when Maria asked him to open the red bundle, he sat down again. With trembling fingers, he tore open the string. As they watched, holding their collective breath, a small shiny object fell out. Inspector Chand picked it up. It was a diamond ring. Yuri quickly pulled up the cloth and a pile of more jewellery tumbled out. A string of pearls, a few gold bracelets and a diamond and ruby necklace winked at them.

  Yuri gave a cry of surprise and jumped up.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ asked Inspector Chand.

  ‘I have never seen these things before. I don’t know where they came from. What is all this?’ he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘This jewellery was reported missing by one Olga this morning. It is fortunate I came by to ask Miss Maria something. You should not be so greedy, Mr Yuri. Stealing at your age is not good.’

  ‘Listen. I gave that bundle to Yuri. That girl Olga came to the cafe today and gave it to me. She said it contained some stones for the sauna Yuri is building in the outhouse,’ said Maria, looking worried. She hoped she had not got Yuri into trouble.

  ‘You did not check the bundle?’ asked Inspector Chand.

  Maria shook her head.

  ‘This is not a good thing to do. You should always check when some unknown person hands you a parcel. You know we have a drug problem here. You must be careful, Maria. Why did you not call me?’ asked Inspector Chand, gazing at her like a lovesick puppy. Maria, you are so innocent. You need my protection, his eyes seemed to be saying.

  Maria did not reply and stood looking at Yuri. He was leaning against the wall, his face pale and anxious. His hands were trembling.

  Inspector Chand turned reluctantly to him. ‘So you have no idea who this girl is? Then why did she send you this jewellery and pretend it was stolen?’ he asked.

  ‘I know her but I don’t know why she sent me this stuff. I really don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe she’s trying to frame him. Where does she live? You said her name was Olga Hooda . . . strange . . . the same last name as the dead woman,’ said Rosie.

  ‘How do you know that?’ said Inspector Chand.

  ‘Leela told me. The dead woman’s name was Rani Hooda. She also lived in one of those new villas,’ said Rosie.

  ‘Yes. I knew she did. I saw her photograph in the house. I told you all this before but you did not believe me,’ said Yuri, holding his head in his hands.

  ‘Are you blaming the police now? That does not sound good. You knew the victim and you also knew this girl and you did not tell us. Obstructing the course of justice is a serious offence, Mr Yuri. It is the duty of all citizens to help the police. You must never lie or conceal the truth from us,’ said Inspector Chand and turned to Maria to see if she was impressed with his speech.

  Maria had put her hand on Yuri’s shoulder and was whispering something to him. Inspector Chand gave a quick cough of disapproval.

  Yuri turned to look at him, his face white as a sheet. ‘I told you I had seen the dead woman but I could not get the photograph to prove it. I am sorry. I have been a fool.’ Yuri raised his head to look at Maria.

  ‘Who is this Olga woman? Why is she trying to frame you? Do you know her well?’ asked Inspector Chand loudly. This Russian fellow was irritating him now. Why was Maria protecting him? He could have easily killed that woman and hung her up in the garden. These Russians were all crazy. All he had to do was establish a motive for this murder and arrest Yuri, who was now resting his head on Maria’s shoulders. Inspector Chand glared at him and said, ‘You have to come to the police station with me. Please bring your papers and passport along.’

  ‘No. No,’ mumbled Yuri, rolling his eyes till they could see the whites trembling. Then he fainted, hitting his head as he fell to the ground.

  ‘Oh no! Leela, bring water, quick. Poor fellow. He has fainted,’ shouted Maria, quickly sitting down next to Yuri and putting his head in her lap. Rosie moved her wheelchair closer to the veranda steps and tried to lift Yuri’s arm. Leela ran to the table and picked
up a bottle of water. She began sprinkling it on Yuri’s face as he lay on the ground. Inspector Chand stood by the steps, looking sheepishly at them. He felt a wave of guilt sweep over him as they all turned to stare at him accusingly, including Yuri, who had now fluttered open one blue eye like a fish about to die. The diamond and ruby necklace and the gold bracelets, piled up on the bench, reflected the fading sunlight like bits of broken glass.

  * * *

  The Chapora river flowed quietly, red-hot and blazing in the fierce afternoon sun, and the gulls, squabbling amicably, sought shelter underneath the anchored boats. A lone Brahminy kite hunted in the sky, its rust-coloured wings glowing like embers as it glided in the air. As the river meandered lazily towards the sea, it changed colour and began to swirl around. Then it calmed down, found its path and merged into the sea, creating high circles of waves, happy at last to meet the water. The village was asleep and the shutters of the blue and pink houses firmly closed so that not a single ray of light could steal in. Even the stray dogs lay comatose in the shade of the cashew trees.

  The little van hiccupped, breaking the afternoon silence, and came to a noisy halt in front of the fish market. No one was about except for Alfie and Tony, who were sitting under a tin sheet shelling prawns. A strong smell of drying fish hit Deven’s nose and he grimaced and quickly brought out his handkerchief to cover it.

  ‘We’ll never find anyone here. We are wasting our time. I must have my afternoon nap otherwise my blood pressure will go up. Must be high already in this heat,’ muttered Prema from the car, her face half hidden by a large straw hat with daisies on the brim.

  ‘Then you should have stayed at home with Rosie and had your nap. Why did you come with us?’ said Deven curtly.

  ‘Why could we not have come in the evening after tea?’ asked Prema with a scowl. She did not like this new Deven any more. He was behaving like a dictator, ordering them about. There was a difference between being masterful and strong and being a mean, rude bully.

  ‘Listen to the madam. We are trying to catch a ruthless murderer. But you think we should have our nap and then our tea, go for our evening walk on the beach and then go and look for him. Is he waiting for us like a docile lamb under the coconut tree?’ Deven hissed, his nostrils flaring.

  ‘Stop it, you two. Look, I can see Alfie,’ pointed out Cyrilo.

  They all looked towards the shed as Alfie raised his head and waved. ‘Here come the Happy Home oldies. Let us try and sell them some prawns,’ he said softly to Tony who grinned and shook his head.

  ‘Why not? I won’t charge them extra, son, like I do the shopkeeper,’ said Alfie, wiping his hands on his shirt and getting up to greet Deven.

  ‘Good afternoon. We wanted to ask you something.’ Deven tried to speak through his handkerchief-covered mouth.

  ‘You look like a dacoit, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so. A very smart dacoit.’ Alfie laughed. ‘I have some very fresh prawns here. Just came on that boat.’ He pointed to a boat bobbing far away on the river.

  ‘That is the ferry boat so don’t try to fool me. Anyway, I don’t want prawns. Tell me. Do you know any tall Russian girl who lives in one of the new villas?’ he asked.

  ‘So many Russian girls going all over the place on their scooters. How do I know which one you want? Anyway, at your age you should be careful.’ He winked.

  Cyrilo could see that Deven’s temper was rising and he quickly stepped in. ‘Hey, man. Your name is Alfie, is it not? I think I know your brother. He was in the same school as me in Siolim.’ He smiled.

  ‘No one in my family ever went to school, sir, but we are doing fine,’ said Alfie. Tony smiled as he continued to shell the prawns, his small hands quickly discarding the pink shells in one quick move.

  ‘I wish I could shell prawns so fast, son,’ said Cyrilo in Konkani and Tony looked up at him with a shy grin.

  ‘I will teach you,’ said Alfie in Konkani. ‘But not this puffed-up rooster with you. Looks like he has a boil on his backside, man.’

  Cyrilo burst out laughing and then quickly stopped.

  ‘What is he saying? I think this man knows nothing. He’s just wasting our time.’ Deven turned to go.

  Prema rolled down the window of the van and waved her hand. Alfie looked at her and said, ‘Who is she? The queen of Mapusa? You hang out with some weird people, man. Where did you find these oldies? I can get you a nice, plump lady friend if you like,’ he said with a wink.

  ‘No, thanks. At my age I am very happy to be alone with my friends since we are all oldies now,’ said Cyrilo.

  ‘Listen, fellow, we will pay you. Not asking for free information. You tell us the girl’s address and we will give you a hundred rupees,’ Prema shouted from the car.

  Alfie turned to her and saluted. ‘Smart lady. The girl’s name is Olga and her address is 45 Greenside Villa, Vaddy. She lives very close to the Happy Home so you can invite her for tea if you like. She is damn good-looking, like a Russian doll.’

  ‘We don’t want to invite her for tea, so stop being cheeky. We just want to find out why she’s trying to get our friend into trouble with the police.’ Cyrilo took out a hundred-rupee note and handed it to Alfie who quickly tucked it into his vest.

  ‘Which friend? The Russian chap with long hair?’ asked Alfie, narrowing his eyes. ‘The painter?’

  ‘No need for you to know,’ said Deven, walking away.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask him for her address? You could have saved yourself a hundred. He thinks the golden-haired witch is his sweetheart, the poor old fellow; as do many other men in Goa. You should see the queue of men panting for her when she jogs on the beach every morning,’ said Alfie, slapping his thigh and roaring with laughter. Tony put his head down and sat very still, the prawns slipping from his hands as if they were still alive and trying to escape. He looked up at Cyrilo and put his finger on his lips as if he wanted to share a secret, but when Alfie turned his head, he looked down again to hide his face.

  They came back to the Happy Home after stopping for ice cream at the new gelato place since Prema was feeling very hot. They packed a large tub to take for Leela, Maria and Rosie. As soon as they walked into the house, Deven quickly called an emergency meeting. Prema shook her head at him and went into her room for a nap. Yuri was still fast asleep in his room. Rosie and Maria were nowhere to be seen. They could hear Leela washing dishes in the kitchen.

  ‘I don’t know what Yuri is up to. He is not telling us the truth. Why did the Russian girl send the jewellery to him and then report it stolen to the police? The inspector will lock him up now since he is very keen to show he’s doing some work to the IG, who is coming next week to Trionim,’ said Deven to Cyrilo, the only member of his team present. Their investigations were going so slowly. Deven wished he had not started all this. Maybe the inspector was right: they were too old to handle this. He was the only one who seemed keen on solving the case. The others were treating it as entertainment, something to break the monotony of their dull lives.

  ‘We will get to the truth. You don’t worry. I can see us catching the murderer very soon. You have the brains to outwit him or her and we are all standing right behind you. We are a team,’ said Cyrilo.

  Deven gave him a quick glance. Cyrilo was right. They would somehow manage. They might be old and not very quick on their feet but they would catch the culprit. The optimistic look in Cyrilo’s eyes made him feel much better. It made such a difference when a friendly voice supported you.

  ‘Yes. You are a great help, Cyrilo, but I am not sure about the others. Still, I think we might just get there. I think I will go for a short nap too. I never sleep in the afternoon but today I am feeling a bit tired. Too much sugar is not good for me.’ Deven got up and left for his room.

  Soon the Happy Home fell into a quiet slumber. The afternoon sun travelled languidly over the house, painting the dusty glass windows with its light, creating shadows in hidden corners. The trees in the garden watched the rays of the sun to
uch their branches and then glide away. The breeze was very still, as if waiting for the sun to set before deciding which way to blow. Far away in the village, children played in shaded gardens, keeping their voices very quiet so that they would not wake up parents sleeping in darkened rooms. Sometimes a child would forget and shout with laughter but then the others would quickly pounce to silence him or her. A few urchin boys, including Tony, ran around the deserted beach gathering shells. They did not mind the hot sand burning their bare feet; when it got too much they would run with their treasure trove of shells to dip their feet in the water.

  Many centuries ago, a prisoner with chains on his bleeding feet had walked on the same beach scavenging for food. He had tried to escape to one of the ships anchored far way on the high seas but no boatman would take him to it since they were afraid of the prison guards. The Goa Inquisition, which aimed to punish heresy and persecute everyone who was not a Catholic, had eyes everywhere, and even helping anyone accused of the above ‘crime’ was punishable by death. More than 800 people were burnt at the stake between 1600 and 1775, according to historical records of that time, and many others jailed for years on the slightest suspicion. The sea had washed away those terrible times with its warm, soothing waters and very few people now were even aware of the cruelty that had once swept through the golden land of Goa.

  * * *

  Rosie put a fine layer of rose-scented powder on her cheeks, dabbed perfume on her wrists and then wrapped a silk scarf carefully around herself so that the wrinkles on her neck would not show. It was much cooler now when she went out into the garden, moving her wheelchair slowly with her hands. The sun had disappeared but the sky was still glowing with a pink and gold light which made all the plants in the garden appear different shades of green. Leela would soon bring her a cup of tea and maybe a snack. Prema had been asking for samosas and Maria had promised she would get some from the sweet shop in the market. It was the only shop that sold north Indian snacks. Prema thought about food all the time and was putting on quite a bit of weight, though she got angry if anyone mentioned it. She sometimes forgot that she had had breakfast and kept demanding tea and toast. ‘Short-term memory loss. It happens at her age. You forget recent things but clearly remember everything that happened a long time ago,’ Deven told the others. Rosie was afraid she too might lose her memory one day. Though it might not be a bad thing. I could forget all the bad times and live only in the past when I was young, beautiful and as agile as a deer.