Doosra: The Other One
Page 28
Kitty Varghese was a complicit accomplice in all the crimes. She wasn't indoctrinated, she didn't need to be. She was equally guilty. She was a runaway from a Catholic seminary because she didn't want to waste her life by becoming a holy sister. She looked extra-terrestrial in the environment: far too attractive to be of any assistance to God or His worshippers. If anything, she believed, she would only be a distraction to men if she stayed there. She hadn't broken off with Veer Singh because of what she had admitted to Rita: that Veer Singh did not accept her modelling career was nonsense. Honey Singh was the man who had a precarious plan. The risk was so enthralling it paled all worries, all consequences. She relished cheap thrills a little too much for her own good. Running from the seminary and getting away with it once had given her the confidence and the impetus to up the stakes. It engendered a false fortitude. Aware that her modelling career would expire with her youth, the diamond larcenies, the threat of getting caught only pushed the adrenaline higher. Risqué that she was, men always went out of their way to succour. Like the guy who told her how old and grand the building was of Zaveri Jewellers; it even had a glass dome on top. Like the guy who helped her hire a motorcycle in Germany without too many questions or papers...
They could have left the game after the first burglary or the second. Hadn't they made enough dough? The murder wasn't planned, and it could have been very much avoided. Honey Singh could have apologised to Ron Jogani, given some hogwash how he accidentally entered the wrong room, blamed the hotel clerk or locks and keys, gotten away. Maybe he could have merely shown the gun to Jogani to shut-him up and run away without the diamonds. Maybe Jogani wouldn't have reported it. Of course, no one will ever know what could have happened. The fact was that Honey Singh couldn't control himself: when the stakes are that high people do unprecedented things. And that, precisely, is the problem with avarice. No one always wins. No one always loses. The art is to win more than you lose. Or, at least, stop playing when it's a zero-sum. Then leave the table. But when you start descending into the darkness of evil you see no reason, you stop nowhere or at nothing. In their lust for more, most people make sure they lose everything they've already got. That's how the Devil plays; he always blinds you and suspends you in some fifth dimension where everything sounds like a lament. There is no restitution.
The plan of concocting the theory of a duplicate, and establishing a specious spoor to implicate Veer Singh was Kitty's idea to save her Honey by zeroing in on the private detective, Mr Raja — the dingbat, as she referred to him — was hired to follow Honey Singh so in case someone came asking they would think: poor Honey Singh. The lie worked for some time before it decalcified.
***
The money — most of it unspent yet — was recovered from four separate anonymous offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. No diamonds.
Kitty Varghese got six years for being a willing accomplice to the break-ins and thefts. Honey Singh admitted under oath, that Kitty Varghese was never an accomplice in either of the two murders. The judge still saw her as an “accessory after the event": she should have reported the heinous crimes, but she didn't. Six years was too harsh for burglary, too little for murder, people thought. The media hawks got new material to deliberate for weeks.
Honey Singh committed suicide, two months after he was sentenced to life imprisonment.
As expected, Mrs Lucky Singh was distraught. She had no idea her son had a deep-rooted hatred of her in-laws for fleecing her when she, herself, had long been over the grudge.
***
There are times when you know what's happened is correct, but it's tragic nevertheless. Sad, Rita thought. Two mislaid souls. It would have been akin to explaining the laws of gravity to a couple of potatoes falling from a skyscraper. Too complex. And now, perhaps too late.
Rita fixed herself a Jim Beam, put on Jimi Hendrix: Castles made of sand came alive reminding her that all such castles fell into the sea eventually. One quick drink later, Mr Ash Mattel and his chintzy witticisms surfaced in her thoughts. She poured another drink, braced herself for a barrage of innuendos and called Ash.
'Tell me you're wearing stilettos and nothing else...' He didn't disappoint.
She smiled.
A Note to Readers
The idea of Doosra came to me immediately after finishing Bhendi Bazaar, but as I was occupied by another project I let it float and take shape in my mind for a while longer. Doosra is the second DCP Rita Ferreira case. Although it has references to Bhendi Bazaar, it isn't exactly a sequel — it is very much a standalone story.
A lot of people helped me write Doosra, and it would be impossible to list all of them. As usual my wife and biggest critic, Nidhi, was the first reader. After reading half the manuscript she told me that the story lacked zing; it needed some more action. And hence I deliberated, altered some parts and added new dimensions to make the story come alive. Thank you Nidhi.
As an author I get very defensive of all the words I put in the first draft of my manuscript but my editor, Debz Hobbs-Wyatt knows how to sharpen it and make it an entertaining story. Thank you Debz.
My friend Patrick Whittick took a look at the final document and ironed out the errors in language, pointed out inconsistencies in the plot, and provided a few valuable suggestions, which I incorporated. Thank you Patrick.
And finally, a big thanks to my publishers Rumour Books India Team for giving me the opportunity to bring my work to you all.
I hope you enjoy reading Doosra as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Vish Dhamija
vishdhamija@gmail.com
Or search for Vish Dhamija on Facebook or
@vishdhamija on Twitter.