Rosie rubbed cream on her hands as she sat waiting for her tea. She heard the door open with a loud creak and saw Bobby walk in with a big basket of guavas. He gave her a shy smile and then tripped over the rug, spilling all the fruits.
‘How lovely to see you, Bobby, after so long. Maria is still at the Tip Top Cafe,’ said Rosie, pleased to have company. Bobby said he was happy to sit and wait for Maria and he pulled up a chair. Bobby always smelt so clean and fresh, as if he had just bathed in lemongrass and cinnamon, unlike Francis, who reeked of expensive aftershave lotion that always made Rosie sneeze. Bobby had brought little packets of fresh herbs for them from his spice garden and he now took them out one by one and placed them on the table. He cleared his throat a few times and said, ‘The weather has turned a bit cooler now that the rains have finished.’
Rosie patted his hand and said, ‘You have heard about the terrible death that happened here?’
‘Yes, auntie. That’s why I have come. I thought Maria might need some help. I wanted to come earlier but we were planting new herb cuttings and I couldn’t leave. I hope Maria and all of you are all right,’ said Bobby, his gentle brown eyes full of concern. Hearing this, Rosie was even more convinced that Maria should marry him and make him live here at the Happy Home. He could then treat all their aches and pains with herbs since he knew so much about herbal medicine. His grandfather had been a famous herbalist, and even the wealthy Portuguese were said to have frequented his spice farm in Ponda. They believed he had a herbal pill to cure both impotence and frigidity. ‘Two in one joy’, it was called. Not that either of her husbands had ever needed it. Both men had died before they reached the incontinence and impotence stage. Just as well. A long life came with so many humiliating things, and not just endless aches and pains. Her joints hurt, her eyes watered and her mouth always felt dry. Her legs, though lifeless, still had phantom darts of pain. ‘Yet, I don’t want to die,’ said Rosie, and Bobby, startled by her voice, stared at her.
‘Why should you die? You are looking very well, if I may say so, Rosie Auntie. Not constipated, are you? I will bring some aloe vera juice for you next time,’ he said with a smile.
‘Why don’t you ask Maria to marry you? Do it soon. There are so many men waiting in the queue and you might lose out. Don’t be shy, Bobby, my son. Just pop the question.’ Just then they heard the front door open with its usual complaining whine and Maria walked in.
Bobby quickly got up, his face flushed with embarrassment for no reason.
‘Hello. How are you, Maria?’ he mumbled, handing her a guava and knocking over a vase at the same time.
Maria looked at him and smiled. Bobby, her old faithful Bobby, who had been sweet on her since they were kids in school. He used to give her some fruit almost every day and the other girls would laugh at him as he stood at the school gate waiting for her. Bobby was tall and good-looking in an old-fashioned kind of way. His eyes were bright green, twinkling shyly behind his glasses, and his skin was very fair; he blushed easily. He always wore crumpled grey shirts that looked faded even when they were brand new. Bobby knew the names of more than a thousand plants in Goa and had often told her he would help her replant the garden at Happy Home. ‘Grow your own organic vegetables and you can sell them at the Tip Top Cafe.’
Maria had still not done anything about that. She had been so busy planning her future life with Francis, and then her mind became occupied with this terrible murder. She looked at Bobby and smiled absent-mindedly as she bit into the guava. It was pink, fragrant and sweet but Maria could hardly taste its delicious flavour. In her mind, the image of Francis buying vegetables with Tina rose like a jagged knife and she shivered with anger.
‘So sweet. This is the sweetest guava I have ever tasted. Here, Bobby, you take a bite and see,’ she said, trying to calm herself down.
Bobby’s heart began to thump so loudly that he was afraid he would faint. He quickly sat down next to Rosie and held on to the handle of her wheelchair for support. He gazed at Maria with adoring eyes and she smiled at him, wishing he didn’t love her so much. It made her feel guilty that she could not reciprocate.
Bobby sighed and took the guava from Maria. How lovely she looked, her hair cascading down her shoulders in unruly waves, her beautiful mouth glistening with guava juice. Her eyes looked sad, though, and Bobby wondered what had happened. He knew it must be something to do with that rascal Francis, but he did not want to talk to her about it; it was safer to pretend that dark, slimy villain did not exist.
‘The Portuguese brought guavas to Goa along with chickoos. They brought chillies and eggplants for us too,’ he said.
Why am I telling her about the history of vegetables and fruits when I should be telling her how much I love her and want to marry her? Why can’t I say those words? Why should a girl like her be interested in guavas? I’m sure Francis would never talk to her like this. He must be taking her to dinners in expensive restaurants in Panjim and whispering sweet nothings into those pearl-like ears while I stand here like a moron lecturing her on the history of the guava fruit. As these anxious thoughts raced through Bobby’s head, he continued to blabber nervously about the guava, how it had come to Goa, how other fruits and plants were brought to Goa by the Portuguese hundreds of years ago, and so on.
Maria nodded and smiled at him, her fingers twisting her hair restlessly. Now he’ll start telling me about the rare lily discovered in the last century in his spice garden, how many coconut trees are in Goa, how many cashew nuts were produced this year. Bobby is such a kind and sweet man but why can’t he talk about anything except plants? Francis . . . Francis talks to me about all the amazing things he sees on his travels, the celebrities he meets, the fancy restaurants he dines in. But Francis is a liar and is just making a fool of me. I never want to see him again.
Bobby’s voice was making her fall asleep. Maria quickly took another bite of the guava to keep herself awake. She wondered if she should offer Bobby a beer and have one herself too. Then she remembered that Bobby did not drink anything except fruit juice and sighed.
Why is he going on and on about guavas? Why can’t he talk to her about his love for her? Look deep into her eyes and say ‘Maria, you are the woman of my dreams. How I long to hold you in my arms and kiss your sweet lips. Marry me, Maria, and make me a happy man.’ Stupid man. Rosie glared at Bobby, willing him to read her mind.
Bobby suddenly stopped talking and stared at Maria. ‘Oh, I forgot. What a terrible thing to happen to you. Have they found out who the dead woman was?’ he asked, glancing about him nervously as if he expected her body to suddenly appear in the veranda.
‘Yes. Her name was Rani Hooda. She lived in one of those new villas on the other side of Trionim. You know, those huge fancy ones with swimming pools and fountains,’ said Maria.
‘I went to one of those villas last week, to do some landscaping,’ said Bobby.
‘This unfortunate lady apparently came to the Happy Home a few days before she was murdered, looking for a house to buy. None of us met her though,’ said Maria.
‘She was a very rich woman and wore a diamond ring on each of her fingers. Leela told us,’ said Rosie.
‘Oh. I remember her. She had come to the spice garden also. She wanted some medicinal plants for her garden. In fact, she wanted me to set up her garden for her, and when I told her I had no time she became quite aggressive and rude. “You are all so lazy. Don’t want to do any honest work. I’m offering to pay anything you want and yet you refuse. In Delhi people would jump at such a chance. You don’t know who I am”, and so on. I was horrified.’ Bobby looked so worried and anxious that Maria couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Bobby was so timid. The woman must have really scared him.
‘Did she tell you why she was there? Why was she roaming around alone in Trionim? Where was her husband?’ asked Rosie, turning to Maria. ‘Maria, this is a good chance to find out more. Bobby seems to be the only one who talked to her. Bobby can tell us something about
the dead woman that could lead us to her murderer. Bobby, you stay here now.’
Rosie called out to Leela. ‘Tell Mr Deven to come here, please. We must hold a meeting at once with Mr Bobby.’ Bobby looked at her in surprise, tapping his fingers nervously on the chair.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER A QUICK cup of tea without any snacks, they gathered around the dining table. Deven, looking very serious as usual, sat at the head of the table, holding a pen in his hand like a magic wand. Prema was slouching at the table with an ice pack on her head, and had already announced several times that she had a splitting headache. Cyrilo was dapper in his blue denim jacket, placid as always, and Rosie, her usual immaculate self, sat very still in her wheelchair. Yuri was missing.
After he recovered from his fainting fit the previous day, Cyrilo had helped him to his room and Maria had told the inspector to leave. Inspector Chand had reluctantly got into his jeep, muttering something about coming back to make an arrest later, but one sharp look from Maria and he drove quietly away, forgetting his constable, who was in the kitchen drinking tea with Leela.
Yuri was still in a state of shock and rambling on as if delirious. Cyrilo had given him some pills which he said were a hangover cure and Prema offered to make some of her foul-tasting herbal brew. Yuri had refused at once, sitting up in bed and saying he felt much better. But he had not come down for lunch today.
Cyrilo pulled up an extra chair for Bobby, who sat down, head bowed low as if he was a new boy at school. Deven cleared his throat and everyone looked at him. ‘We welcome a new member to our committee, Mr Robert Menezes,’ he said, giving Bobby a quick glance, and everyone clapped.
‘Who is this Robert now?’ asked Prema in an irritated voice.
‘It is Bobby’s real name, you silly,’ whispered Rosie.
‘Okay, Miss Know-it-all,’ hissed Prema. Her hearing aid gave a sharp whine as she turned her head.
‘Ladies, if you have finished your chit-chat, allow me to proceed,’ said Deven coldly and rose from the dining table.
Leela giggled and hid behind the kitchen door. Deven pulled out the blackboard and began writing on it. Everyone watched quietly as the chalk, damp with moisture, made squeaking sounds. They couldn’t really make out what Deven had written but no one dared to ask.
‘So you see, Bobby. This is all that we have been able to find out. Three days have passed but we have not gathered much information, sadly.’ He gave Cyrilo a quick look. Cyrilo smiled back and shrugged.
‘Err. I cannot really make out what you have written,’ muttered Bobby and quickly added, ‘I have not brought my spectacles with me, uncle.’
Deven stared at him and everyone waited quietly for him to explode with rage but he only said, ‘Not to worry. Let me tell you all the facts. We know the woman was murdered. How do we know? We know because . . .’ he said, turning to the blackboard.
‘Because we all saw her strung up on the mango tree,’ said Prema.
‘I did not ask you a question. I was merely stating a fact, Prema,’ said Deven coldly.
‘Sorry,’ said Prema and stuck her tongue out when Deven turned to the blackboard again.
‘We know her name was Rani Hooda. How do we know?’ This time no one spoke though Leela was dying to say ‘I found out her name’ but she did not dare speak. She knew Deven hated being interrupted.
‘We know because two people confirmed it. The police inspector and Leela,’ said Deven, underlining a word on the blackboard.
‘Now we also know that she was in Trionim because she was looking for a house to buy. What we don’t know for sure is where she lived. She was seen in Trionim often but where did she actually live?’ he continued as Prema yawned loudly, snapping her fingers in front of her gaping mouth.
‘If you are not interested, Prema, please go to your room and take another nap. We can continue without your presence,’ said Deven.
‘No. No. Just feeling sleepy. My blood pressure is low today. Do you have any herbs for controlling high blood pressure, Bobby? Mine keeps going up and then down again,’ she said.
‘I . . . am not sure. You can take fenugreek in hot water,’ mumbled Bobby and then stopped, looking up at Deven.
‘If you stop eating so much, it may help,’ said Deven.
‘I eat too much? What about you? Stuffing your face with ghee-smeared chapattis every morning? Drinking all those glasses of milk like a baby. Telling me I eat too much. What nonsense you talk.’ Her voice rose hysterically.
‘You eat like a bird, Prema. Deven just meant you should eat less salt,’ said Cyrilo.
‘Yes, less salt, less sugar, less oil. Might as well be dead. At least I have a brain unlike all of you. I might forget things but I can remember all the rude things you said to me five years ago and I don’t forgive easily.’ Prema slapped the wet ice pack back on her forehead.
‘I think I can find out which villa this lady lived in,’ said Bobby, and everyone fell silent and stared at him. He tugged at his shirtsleeves and gazed into the garden as if waiting for someone to prompt him.
‘How will you do that, Bobby?’ asked Maria gently. She always forgot what a kind and helpful person Bobby was. Even in school he was always the one who would wait for her at the school gate and carry her school bag.
‘She gave me her address when she came to the spice farm. I am sure I still have it in my office. I will check today and call you, Maria.’ Bobby suddenly looked very pleased with himself. He smiled at everyone, a smile so infectious and full of affection that they all smiled back at him, even Prema giving a rare, crooked grin.
Maria suddenly got up and said, ‘Listen, let’s all go to the spice farm right now. I have to get some cinnamon and we could all do with an outing. Leela, you come too.’ Leela jumped up and gave a broad grin, clapping her hands. She loved going to Bobby’s spice farm. It had a pool with goldfish and huge water lilies. Frogs perched on the massive leaves and stuck their tongues out to catch insects. There were magical trees with perfumed flowers, and shrubs with leaves that left a strong scent of spices on your fingers when you crushed them. Bobby always gave her fresh coconut water to drink and she would scoop out the sweet, creamy tender coconut with a spoon made from the coconut shell.
‘What about poor Yuri?’ asked Rosie.
‘Let him sleep; he’ll wake up feeling much better. I’ll leave some chicken broth for him. He loves it. He says his mother used to make it for him in Russia,’ said Maria. ‘Come on, Leela, hurry, let’s put some water bottles in the car.’ She picked up her bag.
Rosie turned her wheelchair around and moved quickly towards her room. She must take a big hat, her rose water bottle and an extra pair of socks in case her feet got wet like last time. The wheelchair had got stuck on the wooden bridge and she had to be carried over the stream, water dripping all over her legs. Everyone had stared but Rosie did not mind. She had got used to people looking agape at her, calling her names. She hoped the toilets were cleaner this time—on their previous visit they had had to wade through a pile of manure and dog poo. The problem was when she had to go she really had to go. Waiting for a clean toilet was no longer an option at her age.
‘Prema, are you coming with us or do you want to rest? You’d better rest since you have such a bad headache,’ said Deven, his eyes glinting with malice.
‘Oh. Leave her alone. Of course, she’ll come with us. The fresh air will do you good, Prema. Go to the bathroom, please, otherwise you’ll make me stop the car on the highway like last time,’ said Cyrilo. ‘I’d better go too, you know, my bladder does not listen to me. Deven, I’ll drive the van so that Rosie’s wheelchair can fit. Prema and you come with me. Maria, you go with Bobby in his car. Leela, you want to go with them or us?’ he shouted through the kitchen door.
‘I will go with Miss Maria. We should take the big baskets to bring some vegetables back. Miss Maria, please wait for me.’ Leela ran to the kitchen.
‘Please take a flask of soup up to Yuri’s room and lea
ve it by his bedside table. I’m waiting,’ said Maria, picking up the baskets.
Bobby’s face fell. He had been looking forward to a long drive alone with Maria. He was hoping they would get stuck in traffic and he could tell her how he felt about her. But with little Leela sitting in the back seat it would not be possible.
Maria noticed the look on Bobby’s crestfallen face and wanted to laugh. He really did have a big crush on her. She must treat him with more kindness. Who knew, she might just end up marrying him. Francis was so unreliable and unfaithful; Inspector Chand so boring and vain. Bobby was not rich but was kind and gentle. ‘Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,’ she suddenly said to herself, remembering a silly song they used to chant in school while playing with pebbles. Would a thief come into her life now or would it be a murderer? But she should forget about marrying anyone and concentrate on building her little cafe into a big restaurant, big but cosy and friendly where all old people would get a heavy discount.
‘Come, Bobby, let’s go wait in your car while Leela gets the other baskets from the kitchen. Should we take some leftover cake with us and have a picnic near the water lily pond?’ she asked, putting her hand on Bobby’s arm.
Bobby stared at her, his green eyes brimming with joy. He could not believe his luck. A few precious minutes alone with my beloved Maria. What more can I ask for? I must not ruin it by talking about fruits and vegetables. I will tell her how much I love her, how much I long to make her my wife and live with her in a cottage by the water lily pond on the spice farm. I will plant a flower garden for her with roses, lilies, gardenia . . . no no, no talking about plants now. Bobby looked at Maria shyly as they went out into the garden.
Murder at the Happy Home for the Aged Page 13