by Vish Dhamija
If Honey Singh's mien did not reveal signs of dishonesty in the one answer Rita was confident he was fudging, she lost all credence in all the previous ones too. Honey was denying the simple fact of having spotted someone tailing him. Why? Did he plan to settle it himself? Rita's follow up thought was if it was even worth Handlebar tailing Honey Singh after she had just told the target that he was being followed. If Honey Singh genuinely didn't spot a tail before, he would now.
What if the secret client's other option was to dispatch a gunslinger?
'Are you absolutely sure?'
'Yes. I haven't spotted anyone.'
'Make no mistake Mr Singh, if you're on board the train to Bhopal, sooner or later you will get to Bhopal. There is little point in blaming the train later.' The sarcasm in Rita's voice could corrode steel. She could see Vikram look agape at her.
'I'm not sure what you mean?'
'If you don't tell us the truth now, we cannot help you is what I'm saying,'
'I am telling you the truth.'
Rita kept a calm façade but she was annoyed with Honey's repeated lies. 'Let me repeat: you've got a little window here to tell me the truth. I don't know what you know about me but I don't believe in giving anyone a second chance to tell me the truth.'
'Are you threatening me, DCP Ferreira?'
'If I were you I'd take it as a warning. At this moment neither of us knows who's out there; all I can tell you is that someone's following you around. For what purpose, I have no idea, but I will find out. So, if you know or suspect anyone, now is the time to tell me.'
Honey went quiet like he was contemplating the pros and cons of something in his mind.
'Why me?'
'Why you what?'
'Why is someone following me?'
'Let me ask you a question from an old fable — have you ever seen people fishing Mr Singh?'
'Yes, just once with some friends. Why?'
'Did you or any of your friends manage to catch a fish?'
'Yes.' Honey looked perplexed.
'With so many other fish in the sea, did the fish you guys had at the end of the line ask, “why me”?'
Honey did not respond, just passed a crooked smile.
'You have our sympathies but don't ask me self-pitying questions please. We will, of course, find out why you've been targeted, but in the meantime let's assume someone must have a strong motive.'
'You may be right. Is this guy, who's supposedly following me, in some dilapidated car? I think I've spotted the vehicle in a few times, but I did not realise someone was actually following me like in the movies. Now that you asked I think I've seen him in more than once place... but why?'
Out comes the truth.
'Like I said, I don't know for now but we'll find out soon.' Rita didn't think it was advisable to let Honey Singh know that she would have her guys follow him around once again, just in case. 'Don't worry too much. If someone wanted to cause you any harm they had a few months. If they haven't done it yet it means they don't want to hurt you. However, I have to tell you to be extra careful.' Rita looked at Vikram who still sat silently scribbling in his notebook; she raised her eyebrows to ask if he had any further questions for Honey. He creased his brow and shook his head slightly to decline.
Rita asked where he had spotted the familiar car and Honey told them it was somewhere between his residence and office.
'Has anything like this had ever happened before?'
'No.'
There was a slight pause in the conversation. Then:
'You said you would tell me what this is about? I can't believe that someone looking for Veer Singh is tailing me after three or four years since I've last seen or even spoken to him. I don't even know where in the world he is or if he is even alive.'
'This is a murder investigation, Mr Singh.' Rita decided it was time to drop the other shoe now.
If he was aware of what Rita was actually looking for he did not let it slip. But Rita was now aware that it was difficult to redline what was true and what wasn't with Honey Singh. He was crooked, but he didn't appear to be the guy they had been looking for; doubts were indeed denting the initial euphoria of finding someone who looked like Sishir Singh.
'Who...Veer?'
'No. You must have read in the papers that there was a murder in Brussels in April. One Mr Ron Jogani was shot in his hotel room and the killer or killers got away with diamonds worth millions.'
'Yeah... ' Honey said seemingly without having to think. I read about that and my question still remains, what does it all have to do with me?'
'The suspect fleeing the murder scene was caught on camera.'
Rita paused, half expecting Honey Singh to utter something. But nothing except a cold stare came from him for a full sixty seconds.
'So if you have the photo of the killer why don't you just arrest the suspect?'
Rita was mindful he would comprehend the dilemma in a second. She waited him out.
'You're not saying the photograph you showed me—'
'I'm saying exactly that. The photograph I showed you,' — she pushed the photograph that still lay on his desk towards him once again — '...is this. And this was taken inside the elevator in the hotel in Brussels, and which your mother and you have identified positively as you.'
Confusion. Apprehension. Exasperation. Grimace. All expressions passed Honey's face in quick succession. Then Rita saw fear in his eyes, which could mean anything or nothing. The dichotomy was that if he had been involved in the crime either directly or indirectly he'd be afraid, but in case he wasn't aware about the Brussels murder till he had read it in the newspapers he'd still be fucking shitting.
'There has to be a mix up. I've never been to Brussels.'
'We know that.'
'How d—.' He stopped halfway through. 'So I don't need to even ask you the exact date and time of the murder to provide an alibi. You should know that this couldn't be me in this picture. It may be some kind of a coincidence—'
'It's seems like one hell of a coincidence, doesn't it?'
'What do you mean?' Honey looked pale.
Rita was certain Honey Singh had attempted to lie, but eventually gave up and admitted the truth. She was equally concerned that if Honey Singh wasn't involved, Vikram and she coming his office might get reported to the killers and that could trigger events that might not have been in their agenda presently. A thought pushed through that if there was some real threat to Honey Singh's life, she had to do something about it. She had to divulge a bit more. If she were to err it would rather be on the side of caution, she couldn't just have someone's life be at risk. she waited till some colour had returned to Honey Singh's face.
'We think it's orchestrated, not coincidental.' She gesticulated to halt his questions. 'We also think it might be someone who knows you or knew you well enough—'
'Veer Singh?'
'Maybe, maybe not. So now what more can you tell us about him?'
'As I said we were close friends. Very close friends.' Honey detailed their long friendship from engineering college days till they both started their careers in Mumbai running their respective businesses. Veer was also an information technology expert. As Veer had no family he used to hang at Honey's apartment on most weekends. And Veer had met Kitty through one of his business contacts and later introduced her to Honey and things just went from there.
'So how tall was Veer?'
'An inch shorter than me.'
'Weight, colour, build?'
'Almost the same as me, we used to be in the college basketball team together, visited the same gym, exercised almost the same amount, so our builds were obviously comparable, unless he's changed in the last three years or so.'
'And his face?'
'Obviously, we weren't a replica of each other. We have. or rather had — as I don't know what he looks like now — common features like skin colour, sharp-ish jaw, but that was because our roots were similar; our forefathers came from the same region in P
unjab.'
'Were you ever misidentified for Veer Singh or him for you by someone? Anyone? Ever?'
'No.'
'Not even in the dark?'
'Nope, never, at least not me. If he was even mistaken for me he never told me. But I cannot believe this. Why would he do this. sure, I mean we split up, but he was still a very close friend, we loved each other like siblings. Why would he do something that would hurt me, why would he let me down?'
'By definition only people whom you love or trust can let you down. Think about it. How can someone you don't know or never trusted let you down? And as far as betrayal of an old friend goes, worse things have happened, Mr Singh.'
'You can call me Honey.'
'No,' Rita smiled. 'Believe me I'm fine calling you Mr Singh.'
I wouldn't have minded if you were Sonny, but I won't be going around calling someone Honey? Sheesh!
'So you think he framed me or he is framing me?'
'Again... maybe, maybe not. We do not have sufficient evidence to conclude that.'
'Why would he have me followed then? If he wanted to frame me, he's accomplished the burglary and the diamonds and got away with it so far. What is in it for him to get me followed now?'
Rita knew she had to draw a line here. A perceived threat to Honey Singh's life may have prompted her to give him more details than she had originally set out to provide, but outlining her entire theory and conjecture wasn't in her agenda. She had no desire to spill the proverbial beans of past burglaries, and her hypothesis on future ones even if Honey Singh was the priest in the confession box.
'That's precisely what we are trying to establish, Mr Singh.'
Rita pondered asking Honey Singh about Kitty Varghese, but in the end dropped the idea. She had no intentions of cautioning the model. She didn't want Honey or Kitty to know that the police had uncovered a potential link between the murder in Brussels and other burglaries in India. There wasn't any evidence yet, just conjecture. Rita checked if Honey had ever been mistaken for anyone else, not just for Veer Singh. Nada. Was his identity ever stolen? No. Had he ever been a victim of something as simple as credit card fraud? Nope. She spent another hour combing for, well, anything but failed to get anything that could implicate Honey Singh or give her some kind of a clue to progress.
She looked at Vikram with eyebrows raised a bit: have I've missed anything? Vikram only shook his head a millimetre: No.
OK, Mr Singh,' Rita stood up. 'We'll leave you to your work now. If you think of anything that might help us or anything unusual, please give us a call.' She gave her card to him. Vikram handed Honey Singh his card too. 'And what is the best number to get you on in case we need to speak?'
Honey opened the top drawer, took out two cards and handed them to both detectives. 'I always carry my mobile.' He pointed towards the iPhone on his desk.
Not a Blackberry like the guy in the elevator, Rita observed.
Rita and Vikram took the elevator down and walked up to the Gypsy. There was only a pedestrian exit at the back of the building that led to the next office block, so Vikram needed all his driving skills to reverse the vehicle all the way out because people rushing into the voluntary prison didn't seem keen on extending any courtesies to those exiting.
'I find it hard to believe that Honey Singh does not know about being followed. He lied at first, and then he vaguely remembered sighting someone. If it were me someone was following for so long I would have even found out who, why, where, what? Wouldn't you be curious, ma'am?'
'If I knew someone was following me, I would be. quite worried, actually. But he says he didn't even notice till we prompted him to think hard.'
The evening rush hour had started and it took Vikram over an hour to cross over from Bandra East to Bandra West to drop Rita off at her residence.
'Each day on the wrong track is also a day away from the right track,' Rita murmured before she said bye to Vikram.
Mr Joginder Raja aka Handlebar, the best intergalactic private investigator you could find, ladies and gentlemen, did not succeed in the challenge he had set himself. The gauntlet he had thrown of ferreting out his mystery client who had set him up to tail Honey Singh had only steered him into a spot of frustration. He realised that the technology his client used was far more secure than he had anticipated. The VPN walls showed every sign of being impenetrable. Moreover, the fear factor played with his nerves. The client had already warned him once. And that DCP woman had mentioned in conversation that there was a murder investigation that was associated with this, in some way. What if the client decided to carry out the threat against his family if, in some way, he established that Handlebar was taking shots at scrapping the VPN wall? And what for? Did he care who the client was in the end? The client had reprimanded him for not being diligent in the job that had been assigned to him, which, in itself, wasn't overstepping the mark. Like most people, after having vented his frustration on his own incompetence he justified his client's transgression and carried on. It was Friday and his next report was due the next day. Thankfully, the cops had left him alone so the client would have no more nuisances from someone tailing Handlebar tailing Honey Singh.
He had set out early this Friday morning to take his position but the front driver-side tyre had a puncture just outside Lokhandwala. Cursing his luck, he tried calling for help, but eventually gave up the doomed pursuit and changed the wheel himself. Conscious that he had lost a crucial forty-five minutes, and Honey Singh would have left his home for the office by now, he decided to drive straight to BKC. When he got to Bandra Kurla Complex he spotted Honey's car in the parking area. Assured that he had only missed the first leg of the chase, he drove further down into a private bank's car park and left the car. He sauntered back a few metres and placed his considerable haunches on a small plastic chair provided by a makeshift tea stall. He was careful to move his seat behind the vast trunk of the tree, ostensibly looking for shade but in reality looking for a spot where he had visibility of Honey Singh's building exit while he stayed concealed; he ordered a masala chai and a packet of Gold Flake Kings and sat down. It was his typical routine for last few months now. The tea vendor had a surplus of newspapers that kept him occupied for a few hours till lunch. His cover had not been blown so far and there was no cause for worry that it would be now. The quarry was too posh to visit this little outfit. Unless someone actually walked past the stall looking for him, he wouldn't be spotted. Even that smartass DCP with her police guy were there the day before and he noticed her looking out for someone, most probably him, but she had missed. She might have expected him in his car, but with him and his car separated even her hawk-eyed inspection had failed to detect him. He might have slipped once, but he was still the best investigator wasn't he? See how he blended in with the crowd here?
However, he was concerned what that DCP Ferreira woman had visited Honey Singh for. He had thought about calling Jatin Singh to check but didn't follow through with his own plan, and now sitting here again, that troubled him. He made a mental note to check later when he would be in touch with them regarding this week's report to his client.
Boisterously slurping his tea and patting his vast moustache with his kerchief after every sip he settled down by 11:15 to read the news. He hadn't even finished his first cup of the day when he saw Honey Singh arrive wearing a powder blue T-shirt and dark denims — he was roughly six to seven hundred metres away but Handlebar was certain it was his target. The distance didn't compromise his vision or his ability to recognise his subject; he had tailed only one person in the last hundred days. Honey Singh was difficult to miss or mistake: there was not even an iota of doubt there. Heck, he even knew what temple Mrs Lucky Singh regularly went to. He even recognised the milkman who visited their apartment every morning. He could rattle off Kitty Varghese's vital statistics or her swimsuit size without blinking an eyelid. Not recognising the target was out of question. 700 metres? He could have recognised Honey Singh by his body odour now.
Seeing Honey Singh stealthily sneaking into his own building gave Handlebar a second wind. He upended his cup finishing the remaining tea and got up. Though he had a lighter in his pocket, he walked to the vendor under the pretext of asking for matches. He got a little over two metres closer but, when standing he had an even clearer view. It was indeed Honey Singh, but he had arrived in a taxi, which meant he had left his car in the office car park and then gone somewhere and was returning now. He had got dropped off a few paces before the gate, which surprised Handlebar. That was only first of the firsts: Honey Singh had never taken a taxi previously—since he had been watching. This was also the first instance when Honey Singh left the office and ventured out soon after arriving there. He normally stayed in the office all day; in all the time Handlebar had been watching him Honey Singh had left the office in the day only five times. On emergency client visits, when Handlebar guessed, something critical broke and there were no personnel to be sent immediately. However, to get to some place right away why would Honey Singh take a taxi, and not drive? Maybe his car had broken down, too, today?
He twisted the ends of his handlebar moustache in succession: right first, left next: always in that order. Taking out his Samsung phone he zoomed and snapped a picture.
And as if all that irregular activity wasn't enough Handlebar saw Honey Singh stop at the gate and surreptitiously glance around like he was looking for someone, something. Had he been warned of someone following him? That fuckin' DCP woman. Intestinal cramps ensued. What if Honey Singh wandered down to the tea stall and questioned him? More importantly, if his client even got a whiff of this, he would be fired instantaneously — no question about that. The greater problem would be if the client got to know that the police were in touch with Handlebar and the same police-fuckin'-woman was the one who had apprised Honey Singh of the surveillance, he better be prepared for severe repercussions. The client might not carry out what he had threatened to do to his extended family, but Handlebar didn't want an encounter with some rogues and a few broken bones in his body either. Who knew?