Murder at the Happy Home for the Aged
Page 22
* * *
Later, they would all laugh at Rosie’s Olympic high jump, as they now called it, but for days she was in agony. She had broken both her ankles and had a deep gash on her forehead. Despite the lack of sensation in her legs, the phantom pains tore her entire body into shreds.
Rosie did not mind the pain. She was happy she had saved Maria. She still did not know how she had got the strength to hurl her wheelchair down the steps. God gave you strength when you really needed it. It was she who had caught the murderer though till this day Deven claimed he had done it. She let him believe it. Men needed to believe in something grand to feel good about themselves. She knew in her heart what she had done for Maria and Maria knew it too, and that was enough for her.
Olga, totally blinded by the chilli powder, had tried to run away. ‘You cannot prove anything, you old creeps,’ she had shouted, blood dripping from her earlobe where the bullet from her own gun had grazed her. She had almost fallen into the well as she tried to escape but Deven had caught her. He had quickly snatched the gun away from her. She struggled furiously, biting and kicking him, but he had managed to tie her with a rope to the mango tree.
A crowd had quickly gathered after hearing the commotion. The news spread fast in Trionim about a mad woman being captured. ‘One more murder,’ some people shouted in glee before stopping at the gate. ‘No dead body. Look. This one is alive, kicking and screaming.’ They jostled each other for a place close to Olga and soon settled down to gape at her. Each time she screamed an abuse they replied with one of their own. Everyone was thrilled. Trionim had never seen anything like this. The branches of the mango tree trembled as Olga screamed, spit running down her chin. She kept twisting and turning, trying to free herself, but Deven had tied her firmly.
Cyrilo walked up to her and whispered something in her ears and suddenly Olga fell silent and started sobbing instead. ‘What did you tell her?’ asked Deven, surprised. He had been trying to make her shut up for a long time. The police had still not arrived, though Leela had called them half an hour ago.
‘I told her that I have recorded her lovely voice singing on my phone, saying very ugly things to me about killing her so-called husband Rana Hooda and his wife,’ said Cyrilo, patting his shirt pocket. Deven could see a small mobile phone there.
‘She sings very well. The police will love her songs,’ said Cyrilo to the crowd. Olga began to wail.
The crowd gave a sudden roar as they heard the police siren outside the gate. Now they would see some action. Inspector Chand got out of the jeep, straightened his jacket and walked in through the gate. He looked around, waving his stick in the air like a warrior going into battle. He was shocked to see Olga, the beautiful Olga, in this terrible state. Her golden hair was blood red and stood up around her head all tangled up. Her face was swollen and red, her puffy, misshapen lips twitching away like a fish about to die. She reminded him of a woman from a horror film he had seen recently. The woman had turned into a monster just like this. Inspector Chand gave a loud gasp and then heard Constable Robert echo his breathless hiccup right behind him. Inspector Chand looked around and wondered what to do.
Deven stepped forward and whispered something in the inspector’s ears as he handed him Olga’s gun. Inspector Chand, holding on to his stick for support, stared at Olga for a few moments. Then, very slowly and reluctantly, he reached for the handcuffs in his pocket and moved forward to clasp them on Olga’s hands. He thought of saying a few soothing words but she spat at him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BOBBY WAS SORRY he had missed all the excitement. ‘You were in such danger and I was not there to save you,’ he said over and over again.
‘You can save me some other time. We have the rest of our lives to save each other,’ said Maria. Bobby nodded but secretly hoped he would never have to do such a fearful thing. He was not sure he was as courageous as Rosie. They said she had flung herself on that woman holding a gun. What a brave thing to do. What if Olga had shot her? Or Maria?
Then he would have died too. He could not live in a world without Maria. He could not bear to even think of it. Bobby shut his eyes. His life was now lit up with a joyous, golden light and dark thoughts had no place in it. This terrible business at the Happy Home was finally over and now they could start their new life together. No more excitement of the evil kind. They would plant a new garden of flowering trees and fragrant shrubs. They would walk in the spice garden every dawn and newly opened buds would greet them. He would grow all kinds of fruits for Maria and she could make jams and jellies. He hoped she liked making jams and jellies. Now he could finally start the life he had waited for for so long.
Maria and Bobby were married in a quiet ceremony in a fragrant bower of bay leaves, jasmine, roses and lemongrass in a corner of the spice farm. The priest blessed them both, declaring, ‘I pray that your future life be filled with the sweet scent of a hundred roses.’
* * *
Deven, Cyrilo, Prema, Rosie, Yuri and Leela sat in the veranda at the Happy Home the morning after the wedding. The table was laid out with tea, leftover wedding cake and freshly baked cinnamon buns. A fierce argument was going on, all of them speaking simultaneously. Each one thought they were responsible for solving the murder. Half-eaten pieces of cake lay forgotten on the table, bees buzzed and sparrows picked up crumbs as their angry voices rose in the air. Only Yuri sat silently brooding, picking paint off his fingernails.
Finally, Leela jumped on the bench and banged a wooden stick loudly on the table.
‘Listen to me, please. We all had a part to play. Shut your eyes and think back to the beginning. Who found the body?’
Everyone looked at her, taken aback.
‘Tell me. Come on. Think. Who?’ she asked again, sounding uncannily like Deven.
‘That boy who cannot speak. Tony,’ said Cyrilo.
‘Who found out the name and address of the dead woman?’ asked Leela, tapping her stick on the rose bush, sending a shower of rose petals on their heads.
‘Well, you did,’ said Prema, frowning.
‘Yes, I did, and Bobby helped too. Remember he met that woman at the spice farm,’ said Leela.
‘I found the dry-cleaning bill under the cupboard in Yuri’s room,’ she added, patting herself on the back and grinning at them.
‘Listen, you cheeky girl. We all helped too. Yuri told us the dead woman’s name. Deven and Maria discovered the connection between her and Olga. They were brave enough to go to that villa to confront her,’ said Cyrilo.
‘You went there too, all alone, and you recorded her confession on your phone, Cyrilo,’ said Yuri, who had made a full recovery. ‘That was very clever of you, my friend.’
‘Well . . .’ mumbled Cyrilo, suddenly looking sheepish.
‘What do you mean? You said you taped her voice as she spoke to you about paying Ziriko to kill Rani Hooda. Once she knew you had recorded all that on your phone, she just broke down and confessed,’ said Deven.
‘I was bluffing. I had actually pressed the wrong button and erased her voice from my phone. Anyway, Olga the witch never guessed that, did she?’ Cyrilo grinned.
‘She thought she was clever but obviously not that clever,’ said Leela.
‘She almost managed to fool Inspector Chand. He was quite ready to let her go but fortunately Constable Robert kept her locked up till she confessed in writing,’ said Deven.
‘Inspector Chand is heartbroken about Maria’s marriage. I heard he has been transferred to Ponda. I hope he finds a suitable girl there. And it’s so good that Constable Robert has been promoted. He informed the Panjim police and they managed to arrest Ziriko at the airport. He was trying to catch a flight out of Goa,’ said Cyrilo.
‘His dreams of living in London with Olga are shattered forever. He will now spend a long time in jail,’ said Yuri. ‘I’m ashamed to say I was once crazy about that woman.’
‘We all make mistakes. Thankfully that woman could not harm you, Yuri. You escaped
,’ said Cyrilo.
‘Greed brought them to this sorry end. God made Olga a beautiful woman but he poured a cauldron of wickedness into her. Life is a long, difficult journey, as all of us know. Wicked deeds drag us even deeper into a well of despair,’ said Rosie. She turned to Leela. ‘Leela, my girl, you are young and innocent. I want you to remember that kindness, compassion and a generous heart: these are gifts that make it easier to travel along this long life. How does it matter how much wealth we have if we are too mean to share it? My body will slowly become useless, my mind might go but my love and affection for all of you will never fade as long as there is light and air on this earth. I will hover in the sky and send my good wishes down to you all.’
‘We will all join you and send happy thoughts to all those we love,’ said Cyrilo.
‘You can all go and hover like helicopters. I am not ready to fly to heaven yet. I’ll be here for at least ten more years,’ said Prema. ‘You go fly in the sky while I sit here and eat delicious cakes.’
‘You must have my wedding cake too. I want all of you to stick around for a long time. You can also have free beauty treatments and haircuts when I open my beauty parlour,’ added Leela.
The five aged residents of the Happy Home looked up at Leela. A ray of sunshine filtered through the trees and, looking at them, she smiled. They all began thinking of the days ahead and wondering what flavour Leela’s wedding cake would be.
THE BEGINNING
Let the conversation begin…
Follow the Penguin Twitter.com@penguinbooks
Keep up-to-date with all our stories YouTube.com/penguinbooks
Pin ‘Penguin Books’ to your Pinterest
Like ‘Penguin Books’ on Facebook.com/penguinbooks
Find out more about the author and
discover more stories like this at Penguin.co.in
PENGUIN BOOKS
UK | Canada | Ireland | Australia
New Zealand | India | South Africa
Penguin Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.
This collection published 2018
Copyright © Bulbul Sharma 2018
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Jacket images © Prabha Mallya
ISBN: 978-0-143-44226-4
This digital edition published in 2018.
e-ISBN: 978-9-353-05032-0
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.