Suddenly, she stopped. She turned her face to the window and stood very still. Maria knew she had seen them.
* * *
Cyrilo lifted his head and put his hands out to touch the clouds. Then he looked down. His body was lying on the floor, surrounded by tiny clumps of grass. Then he was floating in the sea, the waves tickling his toes. A girl with golden hair was calling out to him and when he went near her he saw she was spitting blood. Then he was in a room again. A dark room lit only by lamps. People were singing and dancing all around him and he too wanted to join but found he couldn’t move a muscle. Cyrilo began to laugh and then he could not stop. He heard his loud laughter echoing all over the sky, sinking in the sea and then coming up to engulf him in discordant notes. He tried to shut his eyes but the light was still blinding him. He did not want to hear his laughter any more. It sounded ugly and harsh. His heart was aching with a strange sadness now, and he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. He could not shut his eyes.
Cyrilo touched the cold marble under his hands and looked around. He remembered that someone had struck him and he felt the lump on his head. It wasn’t hurting at all and he actually felt very alert. ‘Nothing like a blow on your head to clear your brains.’ He slowly pulled himself up and entered the hall, taking care to be as stealthy as possible. He could hear a lot of screaming from the living room. He had to take the chance. He climbed out of the window and gingerly lowered himself into the garden, then walked as quickly as possible towards the van. The vehicle grunted and rattled as he drove out on to the road. His eyes could not focus too clearly but he was sure the old van knew the road and would get him to the Happy Home safely.
* * *
‘Look who’s here.’ Olga pulled the curtains apart. She began to laugh.
Deven and Maria stood awkwardly. Maria felt her hands tremble as a wave of fear swept over her.
‘I did not know we had guests. I am sorry but we cannot offer you any tea or cakes now. My servants have gone and this idiot here is going into convulsions since he has not had his dope,’ said Olga. She put her hands out and roughly pulled Maria out.
‘We came to look for Cyrilo and we . . .’ muttered Deven.
‘And you hid in my house to spy on me. You old creeps from the Happy Home are getting on my nerves. But I’m so happy you have come. Now I can get rid of all three of you at the same time. It’s a pity Yuri and Rosie are not here to join you.’ She gave Maria a push. Deven wanted to reach out and save her but he could not. He felt tears roll down his cheeks. He knew he did not have the strength to deal with this woman and he felt overwhelmed.
Maria went mad with rage when she heard Olga talking about the sweet old folks that way. She forgot all her fears and, rushing forward with an angry shout, hurled herself at Olga with all her strength. Olga tripped and fell on the floor and Maria turned and ran towards the door, dragging Deven with her. They were about to open the door but then saw that Ziriko had crawled forward on his knees to block their way. His face was drenched in sweat and he was twitching madly. Maria saw that he had a broken piece of glass in his trembling hands.
‘Good boy. Don’t let them out. Guard them and I will get you your shot,’ shouted Olga and ran upstairs.
Maria and Deven stood close to each other. Ziriko was watching them like a guard dog, following their every move. He looked a mess but his eyes were alert, with the expression of a dangerous wild animal about to attack its prey. Maria felt dizzy with fear. There was no way they were going to get out of this house. She heard Deven breathing heavily next to her and knew he was just as frightened.
Maria heard Olga’s high heels clicking on the stairs and turned her head. Deven whispered something to her but she couldn’t understand. ‘Just don’t say anything. Okay?’ he said a bit louder. She nodded. What was there to say now? They were all doing to die. This crazy drug addict was going to stab them any minute. Poor Cyrilo must be lying unconscious somewhere in the house. Maria wished she had called Bobby before coming here. Now she would never see him again. She would never be his bride. She had got all of them into this mess.
Maria felt the tears roll down her cheek and Deven looked at her and pressed her hand gently. ‘We will get away. Just stay calm.’
Olga came and stood before them. She twisted a strand of golden hair around her finger and smiled.
‘You poor things. Now I’m going to be very sweet and I’m going to allow you two to choose how you want to die. I can get my mad dog Ziriko to neatly slice your throats but he is drooling for his fix so he might make a mess. Or I can shoot you with my pretty little revolver. Look,’ she said, taking out a small gun from a velvet bag.
Ziriko got up from the floor unsteadily, gave a loud groan and began waving the broken glass in the air.
‘Ziriko, wait. Don’t be in such a hurry. I got the shots for you. I want to ask these two clever people some questions first just for fun,’ said Olga.
‘You know. I cannot help admiring you, Miss Olga. You are really a very clever woman. You had us fooled. You fooled the inspector too,’ said Deven.
‘I know. Men think I am just a pretty doll. They don’t know I have a sharp mind too. How did you guess that Rana had not killed his wife?’ Olga asked.
‘We were suspicious at first since he was the only person to benefit from her death. They had no children. Then he came to the Happy Home that night and we realized he had no idea how his wife had died. He thought she had drowned in the well. Either the police had told him nothing or he did not understand what was going on. He really thought his wife had gone missing from Mumbai and the woman found in the Happy Home was some other person. After all, even the inspector did not know who she was till just two days ago, though Yuri kept trying to tell him,’ said Deven in a firm voice, suddenly sounding like his old self.
‘Rana was a fool. Like our darling Ziriko, he too liked his cocaine. He kept having hallucinations. When did he come to the Happy Home?’ asked Olga, narrowing her eyes.
‘The night before he died. He came and talked to us. Poor man. He was so unhappy. He told us you had doped him and arranged this marriage. He told us how you were forcing him to make a will in your favour. He told us how much he hated you,’ said Deven softly.
‘Listen, you old fool. I never forced him. He was chasing me for months. He made the will to please me, the idiot. Now he is dead and everything is mine. You two . . . oh, I forgot, there is another old creep in the house . . . you three can all stay here and starve to death. I will not kill you, just shoot you in the leg so you cannot escape, and then I will lock the house and leave. This is what happens when you start poking your nose into other people’s business, you stupid woman,’ she said and lifted the gun, pointing it at Maria’s legs.
Maria shut her eyes. She felt sweat running down her spine. Her legs had gone numb, as if the bullet had already pierced her flesh.
‘Wait,’ said Deven.
Olga turned to him. ‘What? You want to be shot first? How gallant. Maybe I will shoot you right in your tender heart and send you to heaven right away. Your time has come, in any case. By the way, you should call me Mrs Olga Hooda. I am the rich Mrs Hooda now. All this is mine now.’
‘You are not really married to him. You do realize that, don’t you?’ said Maria.
‘What do you mean, you stupid bitch?’ said Olga.
‘This kind of wedding with marigold garlands and some chanting is not really a proper marriage,’ said Deven.
‘It is. I have seen many Indian people get married like this. The priest told me it was all proper.’ Olga looked furious.
‘You need 101 witnesses and a proper ceremony. You also need to register your marriage at a government office. Now, alas, it is too late. Your so-called husband is dead. You killed him too soon, Miss Olga,’ said Deven.
‘If you are planning to go to the UK to grab his house, forget about it. They will never accept this sham marriage there,’ said Maria, remembering what Yuri had told her about Olga’s sc
hemes.
Ziriko started crawling towards Olga.
She gave him a sharp kick. ‘Don’t come near me. I must wash my hands. I must wash my hands right now. You are all liars. I am married. I am Mrs Olga Hooda.’
‘I want to tell you something else,’ said Deven.
‘I have heard enough of your rubbish. I am leaving now and you can bleed to death. I have wasted too much time,’ said Olga, pointing the gun at Deven.
‘Then you will never know the number of Rana’s Swiss bank account. How sad. All that money lost,’ said Deven, very softly.
‘What . . . what are you saying? Rana did not have an account in any Swiss bank. He would have told me,’ she said, looking around as if she expected to see Rana standing behind her. Her eyes flicked uncertainly over Deven and Maria. Ziriko was still guarding the door.
‘He showed us the account number on his watch. He told us we should give it to his wife’s sister,’ said Deven.
‘What! How dare he. Where is the watch? Show me. If you are trying to play a trick on me you will get a bullet in your brain. Understand?’ shouted Olga hysterically, waving the gun in Deven’s face.
‘The watch is at the Happy Home. It is a gold Rolex. The number is engraved on the back in Hindi so that no one else can get it. You saw it too, didn’t you, Maria?’ said Deven.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FOR A FEW moments no one spoke. Maria quickly nodded a few times. She did not dare speak in case she said something wrong and ruined Deven’s game.
Olga stared at them, her large blue eyes brimming with suspicion, anger and greed. Finally, greed won and she lowered the gun. Maria said a silent prayer. She tried to move her legs but they seemed to have gone to sleep. She bent forward to rub her ankle with her foot.
‘Don’t move or I will shoot. Listen, you two. We will go to the Happy Home and you will get that watch for me. You will not try to escape. I will keep this girl as guarantee in case you try to do something silly on the way. I must wash my hands first,’ she said, grabbing Maria’s hand and pushing her towards the door.
Ziriko began to shout and wave his hands frantically. Olga took out a small plastic packet of white powder from her pocket and threw it on the floor. Ziriko pounced on it and began to tear it with his teeth, saliva dripping from his mouth.
‘We cannot leave Cyrilo behind,’ whispered Maria.
‘I saw him in the garden a little while ago. I heard the van too,’ replied Deven in a low voice as Olga turned to open the door. She seemed to have forgotten about Cyrilo and was now rubbing her hands with soap over and over again.
Deven drove the BMW very slowly. Olga had pushed Maria into the back seat, with the gun held close to her neck. Deven had never driven such a powerful car before and Olga kept shouting at him to go faster.
‘Drive faster. I don’t care if you ruin the car. I am going to dump it at the airport when I leave. I am so rich now. That fool Rana was so scared to divorce his wife. So scared to lose her money. Now he is with her too. All I did was give him a little extra-strong magic pill. I don’t care if I’m not married to him. I am still rich. I have all the diamonds. I have all the cash he hid behind the bathroom mirrors in the Goa villa.’ It was as if she was talking to herself now.
‘Yes. Now you will have the money in the Swiss bank too. You should thank us,’ said Maria under her breath.
‘Shut up. Don’t you dare move,’ shouted Olga. ‘I am quite happy to put a tiny bullet into your neck. You interfering bitch.’
The red BMW passed green fields, busy roads and crowded markets. Maria saw people shopping and drinking tea in roadside cafes. Many drove past them on scooters and in cars. None of them could guess that her life was in the hands of this crazy woman. She knew any minute Olga might change her mind and shoot her. It was only her greed for Rana’s Swiss bank account number that was keeping Maria alive. Deven had saved her life with this clever trick but for how long?
* * *
The sky was a peculiar shade of crimson red with grey streaks and the wind was whistling through the trees. Rosie was sitting by the window combing her hair and watching birds pick up grains from the lawn. They were fighting bitterly and occasionally huddling close together to share the spoils. The mango tree was in the shadows. Rosie heard a blaring horn and then saw a red car drive in through the gates, almost crashing into the pillars. It came right up to the door in a flurry of dust. She was surprised to see Deven in the driver’s seat of the expensive-looking car. A Russian girl was sitting in the back with Maria. They were sitting very close together for some reason. Maria looked very upset and did not raise her head. It was an odd scene. Deven parked under the tree near the steps and then waved to her and smiled, showing all his teeth. Rosie knew at once that something was terribly wrong. Deven never smiled in this way like a clown. She wondered if he was trying to send her a message. He lifted his hand and twisted his fingers into the shape of a gun for a few seconds. Then he put his hand down quickly and got out of the car.
Rosie’s heart began to race. She sat frozen for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then turned her wheelchair around as fast as she could and went into the veranda. She could smell another fragrance along with the faint scent of roses from the garden, something sharp, hot and biting. She saw a flash of red on the veranda table, as if a carpet of crimson had been laid out. Leela had powdered all their home-grown chillies on the mortar and pestle and put the powder out to dry in the sun.
Rosie suddenly had an idea. Will it work? she thought, her hands trembling nervously as she moved her wheelchair towards the table. She held her breath and reached for it. The table was not quite within her reach, so she lifted her stick and pushed it. The table was very heavy and hardly moved an inch but Rosie kept pushing with all her fragile strength till it was closer. She leaned forward, forcing herself to bend down as much as she could and picked up a handful of red powder.
The strong aroma of chillies flew up to sting her eyes painfully and she quickly shut them. The skin on her fingers began to burn as if she had dipped them in boiling water. Rosie took four handfuls and spread them on her scarf. Then she moved her wheelchair back. She went near the door and waited. She was not sure what she was waiting for but she knew that something terrible was happening outside and she must somehow protect the Happy Home. She began to pray silently. Suddenly, a loud ringing echoed all over the house, startling her and making her hands fly to her face. The chilli powder bit into her skin like acid.
Why was Deven ringing the doorbell? He knew it was always open.
Then the door opened and Deven rushed in. Rosie could tell from his face that he was really frightened. ‘Deven, what . . .’ she began but he lifted his hand and told her to remain silent.
He bent his head very close to her and whispered, ‘Tell Leela to call the police. Maria is in danger. That woman has a gun. Go quickly. I have been stalling her by telling her I could not find the key to the front door,’ he said and walked quickly towards his room.
Rosie gave a loud gasp but swung into action immediately. She knew there was no time to waste. She called out to Leela, who was washing clothes outside the kitchen. ‘Leela, run and get that phone of yours. Call the police inspector. Tell him it’s urgent. Maria is in danger.’
‘What happened to Miss Maria?’ asked Leela, her soapy hands suspended in mid-air, her eyes filled with horror.
‘Just run. Quick,’ said Rosie, turning her wheelchair around. Deven was still standing on the stairs.
‘Maria is being held hostage by that Russian girl. She has a gun. I am trying to fool her. Don’t know if I will succeed, Rosie,’ said Deven.
‘You will. You are very clever and brave. You will manage somehow,’ she said, though she was still not sure what was going on.
‘I am going to fetch that watch Rana left behind. I will try to bluff my way out of this. Might not work but I have to try. It is our only chance.’
Rosie opened the door slightly and saw that Maria was sitting i
n the car, huddled close to Olga. Rosie pretended to smile and wave to her but Maria did not show any sign of having seen her. Her face was a frozen mask of sheer terror. Deven opened the door and came out of the house, not looking at Rosie. He walked towards the red car very slowly, his back bent. He looked as if he had aged ten years in the last few minutes. He held out his hand with the gold watch. Olga reached out through the car window and snatched it from him but the watch dropped to the ground. Olga banged on the car door and yelled profanities at Deven as he bent to pick up the watch. Rosie suddenly caught a flash of metal and saw the gun in Olga’s hand. Her heart began to knock against her ribs and she felt a flood of terror wash over her.
Rosie had never managed to move her wheelchair down the three steps that led to the driveway by herself. Someone always carried her down. She had never gone out on her own beyond the front door. Her arms did not have the strength to move the wheelchair down the steps. But now she put her two frail hands firmly on the wheels and gripped them as tightly as she could. She took a deep breath, ignoring the loud thumping of her heart, and hurled herself forward with all her feeble strength. For a moment, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the green leaves as she landed near the car with a loud crash. Before she hit the ground she threw a handful of chilli powder in the air. It made a rainbow of red, orange and crimson as it flew in an arc over the car. Her head hit the ground.
Someone screamed and there was a crash as the wheelchair collapsed. The horn of the BMW began to blare and the gun went off at the same time with a deafening blast. Smoke filled the air and the crows began to screech hysterically as if they had been shot, though the bullet was wedged in the roof of the car. Deven, pulling his cap down to protect his eyes, dragged Maria out of the car as she blindly waved her hands, trying to wipe the chilli powder from her eyes. Olga sat trapped in the back seat of the car. She began hitting her head on the window, screaming in Russian. Her golden hair looked as if it was on fire and streaks of chilli powder ran down her pale face, turning her into a strange red creature, a creature that belonged to the devil’s own clan.
Murder at the Happy Home for the Aged Page 21