No Illusions in Xanadu

by Ruby Gupta

  Inspector Bhogle knew that the professor was not likely to be mistaken about something like this. ‘So, there must be two pieces and one was dropped by her on the night of the murder. So maybe, maybe, she was there. Wow! This is a breakthrough. What was she doing there? She was supposed to be in Delhi. We must follow this up. This is the first breakthrough in weeks,’ excitedly Bhogle sat up from his chair.

  ‘Hey, hang on. First let us think it through,’ Professor Shantanu cautioned.

  ‘What is there to think? We will confront her with the pin and her reaction will tell us everything,’ Bhogle was intent on action. This case had become like an irritating tick.

  ‘Well, okay, I guess.’ Shantanu followed reluctantly.

  Forty-five minutes later, they were at Xanadu.

  A pensive and expressionless Mridula sat facing them.

  Seeing her defenceless demeanour, Bhogle softened. ‘Madam, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you a few questions,’ he spoke gently.

  ‘Sure,’ Mridula remained immobile.

  ‘Where were you on the night that Rajvir was murdered?’ Bhogle asked.

  Mridula’s eyes widened. ‘Why are you asking me this? You know I was in Delhi with my family,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Madam, we know. But I still need to ask you again,’ Bhogle became firm.

  ‘Well then, like I said, I was at my home in Delhi,’ Mridula’s lips tightened.

  ‘Can anyone vouch for your presence there?’ Bhogle asked.

  ‘My husband was away on a business trip to Bangalore. But my children and the servants were at home with me,’ she said.

  ‘How old are your children?’

  ‘Two and four.’

  ‘And how many servants stay in the house?’

  ‘A nanny and a maid stay round-the-clock in the house. There is also the security guard.’

  ‘I see,’ Bhogle paused and cleared his throat. ‘I suppose Madam that since your children are so small, they must be sleeping fairly early?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’ Mridula’s voice held irritation.

  ‘Please humour me, Madam,’ Bhogle said.

  ‘Yes. They go to bed between seven and eight.’

  ‘So then, could it be possible that after your children had gone to sleep, you could have asked your nanny and maid to retire early, taken a 10 pm flight to Mumbai and be back home by an early 7 am flight?’ Bhogle spoke rapidly.

  ‘Are you out of your mind!’ Mridula’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘Are you accusing me?’ Her voice rose in ire.

  ‘No, Madam. I am not. I am just speculating about various possibilities,’ Inspector Bhogle remained calm.

  As Professor Shantanu quietly watched the interrogation, he had to admit that the inspector’s methods impressed him.

  ‘You are not here to speculate. This is not a joke!’ Mridula’s cheeks had reddened.

  ‘I agree Madam, this is very serious,’ Bhogle paused. Slowly he took out the silver pin and held it up.

  Mridula looked startled.

  ‘This is yours, isn’t it, Madam?’ Bhogle asked. Her expression had already answered his question. But he had to be sure.

  ‘Yes, it is. So?’ her voice held a note of bewilderment.

  Were her reactions indicative of guilt, Professor Shantanu wondered.

  ‘This pin, which belongs to you, as you have admitted, was found at the scene of the murder on that night,’ Inspector Bhogle said triumphantly.

  ‘Wh … what? What are you saying?’ Mridula spluttered.

  ‘Exactly what you heard. This means that you were there on the night of the murder and probably dropped your pin in your haste to get away or something,’ Bhogle said.

  ‘What absolute nonsense! How dare you! I will ask Karan Ahuja, CP to take action against you! I will have you suspended,’ Mridula spoke shrilly.

  Professor Shantanu was taken-aback. He had never expected that the calm facade of the mousy Mridula hid such volatility.

  ‘Madam, you may say and do anything. But facts are facts,’ Bhogle spoke smugly. He was convinced that Mridula’s over-the-top reaction was evidence enough of her guilt.

  Instantly, Mridula took control of herself. ‘Inspector if you go by facts, let me tell you the facts. You are basing your assumptions on the fact that you found that pin in my father’s study. Fact number one, I have two such pins. Fact number two, the last time I was here at Xanadu some months ago, I had misplaced one of my pins and never found it. Fact number three, the pin that I lost could have in all probability been embedded deep in some corner for weeks. Opportunistically for you, that day, during your meticulous search, it must have been found. On what basis can you claim that the pin was left there only on the day of the murder? There is no basis of it at all,’ she spoke calmly.

  Bhogle remained quiet.

  Professor Shantanu had to admit that what she said made sense. This is precisely why he had wanted that the inspector should have thought things through before going ahead and accusing her. Now even if Mridula was guilty, she would become ultra-careful and would ensure that nothing gave her away.

  ‘Umm, yes, Madam, you could be right,’ Bhogle said reluctantly, after a while. ‘But you see, I have to explore all angles. Do not take it otherwise. I will explore some more and get back on this…’ Bhogle’s last words trailed into a mumble.

  ‘Yes Inspector, you do that. I hope you will keep in mind who I am, before you say such wild things the next time,’ Mridula spoke imperiously.

  Bhogle had nothing more to say. He left.

  Professor Shantanu decided to stay back.

  ‘I really think what Inspector Bhogle said, was totally uncalled-for,’ Professor Shantanu said, adopting a conciliatory tone.

  ‘Absolutely. I mean really! The audacity. Accusing me! Or trying to accuse me. And the wild theory that he was basing it upon. Totally preposterous,’ Mridula voice still held an element of outrage.

  ‘I agree. I mean, my dear, I have been observing how all these days you have provided calm strength to the family in this time of crisis,’ Shantanu said.

  ‘Yes. But I don’t think anyone values me,’ she said with a note of self-pity.

  ‘I agree. I mean, take Rajvir’s will for instance. Surely, he should have left something more substantial for you,’ Shantanu spoke softly, intent on goading her.

  ‘You think so?’ Mridula’s face became animated. ‘This was exactly my thought too. I mean, legally too now, the daughter is supposed to get an equal share. But no, not me. Since childhood, I have been discriminated against. It’s not fair, you know. There is a limit to how much injustice one can take. I really have had it with suffering so much unfairness against me. That too by my own father – my own flesh and blood. The only person I have ever loved – loved more than myself, loved even more than my own children. How could he not see how much I loved him? And then he had to go and not think of me in his will? Why?’ her voice rose plaintively.

  Professor Shantanu reached out and held her hand in a gesture of support. There was nothing to be said.

  ‘Get me the list of names of all passengers on all the flights from Delhi to Mumbai on the night of Rajvir’s murder,’ a fuming Bhogle barked to his subordinate, back at his office.

  That Mridula was hiding something. He was convinced of it. And he was dammed if he did not find out what it was.

  Besides, what else did he have to go on?

  His phone rang. ‘Yes?’ he spoke, irritated.

  ‘Is that Inspector Bhogle?’ the voice at the other end sounded a bit diffident.

  ‘Yeah, who else!’ Bhogle could not be bothered with niceties.

  ‘Umm, I am Nalini. I have some information which may be relevant to the Rajvir case,’ the voice became assertive.

  ‘Really!’ Bhogle wondered whether this was a crank call. But the voice sounded educated and mature.

  ‘Yes. I am the Chief Editor of Acme Publishing Company, which is very shortly bringing out Rajvir Kapoor’s biography. I have reason
to think that the author of the biography, Bipin Prasad, could have had something to do with the murder,’ the woman spoke self-assuredly.

  ‘I see. And what makes you say this?’ Bhogle was still sceptical.

  ‘Bipin Prasad is a struggling author. He has never seen success in his entire life and hungers for it so much, that I suspect it has made him sort of unhinged,’ she paused.

  Bhogle waited patiently.

  ‘His biography of Rajvir Kapoor was good, meticulously researched, and well-written. So, we accepted it. Bipin Prasad had heard of the grand party scheduled at Rajvir Kapoor’s house. He convinced us to get him an invite to Xanadu so that he could add some more authenticity to the manuscript. We thought that it was a perfectly legitimate demand, and got him an invitation. The same night, Rajvir was murdered,’ she spoke convincingly.

  ‘So? This is not indicative of anything,’ Bhogle said.

  ‘I agree it is not. But then, Bipin Prasad’s reaction was curious. It was almost as if he had predicted the murder and timed for the biography to be released coinciding with it. He even had a chapter lined up as the grand finale to the book, in which he hints and speculates about who could have committed the dastardly crime. Bipin had gloated that all this would ensure that the book became a bestseller and he would be catapulted in the literary world as a bestselling author. All this is too much of a mere coincidence,’ the lady’s voice was compelling.

  Instantly, Bhogle sprang to attention. This was a promising lead. Quickly, he jotted the lady’s phone number and address and also that of the author, Bipin Prasad who she said was suspect.

  He wondered whether he should let Professor Shantanu in on this information and take him along. That would take too long. Inspector Bhogle was itching to move forward. He would inform the professor of his findings later, over the phone.

  Rapidly, he bounded out of his office.

  First, he would go and meet this Nalini lady, take her inputs and then go and have a talk with this author.

  But could some author have something to do with the murder? It seemed a long shot – quite improbable, actually. But then, he really did not have much to go on at this point of time. In any case he must and should explore any and all leads that came to him.

  ‘So where have you reached in your investigation?’ Dinkar asked his friend as they sat together, sipping their evening tea.

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t reached anywhere as such,’ Shantanu looked morose.

  Professor Dinkar looked at his friend in surprise. This was not the Shantanu he knew of yore. ‘Hey c’mon. Just give yourself time. You will soon be on top of it, like you always are,’ he spoke encouragingly.

  ‘I hope so. This entire thing is awfully muddled up.’

  ‘Whom all do you suspect?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘Mostly the family members only…’ Shantanu paused. ‘Though there is the possibility of a few outsiders as well,’ he continued.

  ‘Who?’ Dinkar really hated his friend’s habit of grudging information.

  ‘Of family, everyone is suspect really. It could be Amar, or, or, Pallavi… maybe Remanika too, or, or maybe Mridula also.’

  This was the first time Shantanu had admitted out loud, that Pallavi could be suspect, Dinkar noted. ‘And the outsiders?’ he asked.

  ‘Lucas, or the hired killer, or that writer Bipin Chandra as Inspector Bhogle told me about. Of course, the identity of the person who hired the killer is not known. There is also the possibility of the man with the slight shoulder stoop whom we have not been able to pin-point as yet,’ Shantanu paused.

  Professor Dinkar waited.

  ‘It is entirely possible that the chap with the shoulder stoop who went into Rajvir’s study that night and the chap who hired the killer is the same person,’ Shantanu said reflectively.

  ‘Really? How can you say that?’

  ‘Actually, Bhogle told me that during his interrogation of the contract killer, the latter confessed that though he could not see who his hirer was, he did notice a couple of things. One that he was not very young and second that he sat bending to one side, as if his neck was hurt. Now that bending to one side could very well be the shoulder stoop. My conjecture is that it is the same person,’ Shantanu explained.

  ‘If this is so, that means that this person is someone close to Rajvir or the family or at least someone known to them for him to be invited to the party and for him to be hanging around late at night on that day and yet his presence not be questioned,’ Dinkar pointed out.

  ‘Yes, definitely. So, who could it be?’

  Both fell quiet as each became lost in his own rumination.

  ‘You know, if the shoulder stoop is not really a shoulder stoop but the consequence of some temporary neck injury like the hired killer hypothesized, it will be impossible to identify him. For the injury must have healed by now, and the chap must be walking around without the distinctive stoop,’ Dinkar said.

  ‘I know,’ Shantanu spoke unhappily.

  ‘And do you have any evidence against the family members and the others – Lucas and Bipin Chandra?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘My dear, if there was any evidence, one would not be going around it in circles, would one?’ Shantanu ran his long, well-shaped fingers through his hair, in frustration.

  ‘So now what?’

  ‘Now we simply eliminate the suspects one by one and whosoever cannot be eliminated at all, will be the likely killer,’ Shantanu said.

  ‘So, who all have you eliminated?’

  ‘No one, I’m afraid. Based on circumstantial evidence and motive, at this point of time, all these people could have committed the crimes.’

  ‘Did the same person commit both the murders?’ Dinkar asked.

  ‘Evidently. It has to be the same person.’

  ‘Why do you say so?’

  ‘The murders of Rajvir and Natalie have to be inter-related. There is no way two people who are so closely involved with each other, both personally and professionally, could be murdered by two different people, and that too within such a short interval of each other. That would be too much of a coincidence,’ Shantanu spoke compellingly.

  ‘Yes, you are right,’ Dinkar conceded.

  ‘I think I will go and meet Bhogle and compare notes,’ so saying, Professor Shantanu walked out.

  Professor Dinkar sat for a long time mulling over the puzzle. He wondered whether he could apply some tangential thinking of his own and arrive at some breakthrough. That would be great. For once then, he would be one up on his friend.

  Chapter 17

  Softly, Jyothika let herself inside her luxurious apartment that occupied the entire thirty-fifth floor of the prestigious Ville Parle housing complex.

  She had been away for the weekend to Pune, to be with her ailing mother.

  It was 9.30 in the morning – still early by Chandra Prakash’s standards. Her adorable son must be asleep as usual, she thought.

  Keeping her bag in her bedroom, she went into the kitchen and took out the saucepan for making tea. After putting the water on the gas to boil, she tiptoed towards Chandra Prakash’s room. She could never resist watching him as he slept. He looked like an angel when asleep.

  As she watched her sleeping son from the doorway of his bedroom, an unconscious smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He did look like an innocent little cherub, with his tousled hair lying in disarray over his forehead, and his long eyelashes framing his closed eyelids.

  He looked exactly like the Rajvir of twenty years back.

  Jyothika hesitated, wondering whether she should go up, push back his hair from his forehead, and give him a little peck on the cheek.

  She knew that if he woke up, he would get irritated and grumble at her for waking him up.

  But what the hell; she had not seen him for two days, she deserved this bit of joy, even at the cost of angering him.

  Eagerly, she walked up and laid a hand on his forehead.

  Instantly, she froze.

  This w
as not her son’s forehead.

  Her hand transmitted the sensation of touching a cold, alien surface to her brain.

  She snatched back her hand in shock.

  What had happened?

  Was she dreaming, hallucinating?

  Her darling son looked the same; and yet, why did he not feel the same?

  Gingerly, she touched him again.

  No – there was no mistake, this was some horrid sensation, something she had never before encountered.

  She looked around the bedroom in panic for some clue that would explain this bizarre situation. She could not find anything.

  Unwilling to believe the logical explanation that her brain offered, in response to what she was encountering, she shook her son at the shoulder.

  First, she gave him a gentle shake. When there was no response, she began shaking him wildly, as tears began flowing unhindered down her alabaster cheeks.

  Chandra Prakash was lying on his side. Her violent shaking caused him to turn, and the blanket that covered his body slipped off.

  Her unbelieving eyes stared in terror as she saw the stab wounds in her son’s heart and the copious amounts of blood that had soaked through his clothes, the sheets and the mattress.

  Everything had been covered up by the heavy blanket.

  A primal scream rose up in her throat, came out of her mouth, and went on and on, refusing to stop.

  Much later, as Inspector Bhogle inspected the scene, he wondered what to make of it.

  Was this related to Rajvir’s and Natalie’s murders?

  It had to be, given their inter-relationships.

  But why?

  What the hell was the goddamn motive, he thought frustrated.

  He had not succeeded in solving Rajvir’s murder, and then Natalie was killed, and now Chandra Prakash.

  What the hell was happening?

  Was there a serial killer on the loose?

  But why kill these people?

  Was it someone who was on a vendetta against Rajvir’s family?

  Was it some crazy fan?

  What was the link between the three murders?

  Would there be another murder after this?

  The staccato questions clamoured within his brain.