13
WHEN ARJUN GOT TO THE office, Chandu was nowhere to be seen. Liza told him the office helper had gone to get some documents photocopied from the nearby stationery shop.
‘We should have our own Xerox machine by now, shouldn’t we?’ he asked her.
‘That’s what I’ve been saying all this while, sir.’
‘Why don’t you go and get one this weekend from Nehru Place?’
‘Great, sir!’ his secretary said with a smile.
He entered the inner room to find Ujjwal Negi laboriously typing out a case report. Whatever his plus points, typing speed wasn’t one of them.
‘You’ll have to be faster than that, Negi,’ he called out.
‘Trying my level best, sir!’ came the reply from across the partition.
Arjun switched on his computer.
‘Did you deliver the sample yesterday?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Tinkuji said he’ll be here tomorrow with the results.’
It took him hardly five minutes to check his mail. Then he took out the notepad from his desk drawer and jotted down a couple of points from his meeting with Rohit Chaudhry. Among them: that sentence Arjun had remembered, the condition of the expensive SUV and the cigarette paper and lighter in the dashboard compartment—hadn’t Rohit said he didn’t smoke? It could have belonged to a friend, but then why leave it there? Unless Rohit had some use for it.
Next he called Liza and Negi into the room, and gave his secretary and the junior detective a synopsis of the case and his progress so far. He leant back in his chair at the end and asked them if they had any questions.
‘Will the investigating officer give you the relevant documents?’ Negi asked him.
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Arjun said. ‘If he does, well and good. If not, then we’ll have to think of something else.’
‘How strong is Rohit’s alibi?’ Liza wanted to know.
‘Supposed to be watertight, but who knows? This is Delhi. That’s why I want Negi to dig up everything he can on this fellow. All right, Negi?’
The junior detective smiled and nodded. However, Liza didn’t seem pleased.
‘But, sir, Ujjwal has started on that pre-mat case.’
Pre-matrimonial checks were one of their regular sources of income.
Arjun said, ‘I want you to take that over for the time being. Okay?’
‘As you say, sir.’
The bitterness in her voice was palpable, but he couldn’t help it. Negi would be far more unobtrusive while digging out Rohit Chaudhry’s story.
‘All right, time to get back to work, people.’
From his landline Arjun called the second number Liza had messaged him, and fixed an appointment for the next afternoon with Oyum Tagu, the president of NESAD. He mentioned that he was a friend of Amenla’s family, and wanted to discuss the status of the investigation. Next he brought up Cooper Grant’s number on his phone and dialled it from the landline.
‘Yes?’ a careful-sounding voice answered.
‘Cooper Grant? Good morning, my name is Arjun Arora.’
‘Good morning. Where did you get this number?’
‘I’m a family friend of Amenla Longkumer’s. You remember her?’
‘I do.’
‘I was wondering if I could meet you, Mr Grant.’
‘Regarding?’
He had an image of a man wearing glasses sitting at a neatly arranged desk.
‘Something about the inquiry into her death. It would be helpful if we could meet.’
‘Aah.’ A long pause, then, ‘I’m a bit tied up now. Maybe you could check in later?’
Arjun felt a stab of irritation, but suppressed it. ‘Sure,’ he said evenly, ‘I’ll do that.’
No point pushing it right from the start. If the embassy guy didn’t want to meet, Arjun would have to think of a reason to force him to. The third call was to Abeni’s roommate, Chon. She was at the store, and said she would be free to talk at lunchtime.
X
He left his car outside the office and caught an autorickshaw to the Nehru Place metro station; from where he went north, then changed lines at the Central Secretariat stop to head south. He had to jostle with the crowds on the platform and in the coach, finding only standing room. Underground and overground: there were just too many people in this city. Sitting before him was a lanky teenager listening to music on his phone while going through what looked to be an engineering textbook. Arjun found himself thinking back to his journeys on the Blue-line buses while in college, the crush inside them with the sour smell of sweat in summer, and the exhaust fumes at the traffic lights. He would sometimes come down from North Campus with Sonali to watch a movie at Chanakya Cinema.
The fourth stop since he had got on was INA. For the second day, he found himself reminded of an old case. At the height of the previous year’s summer he had followed a girl down to this stop from Rajiv Chowk, in the case involving the psychopathic butcher and match-fixing in the T20 games. As the coach picked up speed again underneath south Delhi, Arjun wondered if there ever might be a day of reckoning for him. He shook off the thought and moved closer to the entrance as they approached AIIMS. Two stops later, he got off at Hauz Khas, and came up and took an autorickshaw from the road. On the other side, behind barriers, was the dust-covered site of an under-development East-to-West metro line.
Ten minutes later the autorickshaw dropped him off at the entrance to Hauz Khas Village. He walked through the midday crowd, looking around at the boutiques and art galleries and restaurants above them. Like Humayunpur, this had originally been an urban village, but it was now trying hard to transform itself into something cool and hip. An overweight man in denims and a black shirt stood before an under-renovation store, talking loudly into his phone about marble flooring. Arjun found Party Animal down an alley, beside a T-shirt shop.
He entered the empty boutique and flicked through a few pieces as he looked around. It was large, stylishly decorated in pink and white, and filled with glitzy women’s wear. The price tags on the clothes made him raise his eyebrows: strictly for the idle wives of the rich. A Mizo-looking woman approached Arjun and asked if she could help. She was early-middle-aged, and wore a black dress.
‘I’m looking for Chon,’ Arjun said, and added, ‘she’s expecting me.’
‘Chon? Oh, she’s gone out for lunch.’
‘But she said she would be here. Do you know where she’s gone for lunch?’
‘She has friends here,’ the woman said, and asked, ‘Why do you want to meet her?’
‘You must have heard of Amenla Longkumer?’
‘Yes! Chon’s old roommate.’
‘Something to do with her.’
‘Oh.’
He could see the suspicion written on her face.
‘My name’s Arjun. What’s yours?’
She hesitated, then said, ‘Rose.’
‘Okay, Rose, I’ll come back in a while. Maybe she’ll be back by then.’
He smiled at her and went out. On the main street he found a paan-wallah from whom he bought a packet of Gold Flakes and lit one. A couple of Indians talking in American accents were buying paan from the man, taking photos of the experience. Arjun went ahead, coming out by the reservoir. There were three pavilions near it, and he went in and sat down under one of the old stone structures, with stray dogs and young lovers for company. He looked out at the greenish waters of the tank (the hauz) and pulled on his cigarette. He had mentioned Mr Longkumer’s name on the phone so Chon couldn’t say no to him, but she didn’t exactly appear to be keen to meet him. Was it nerves, or something else?
He waited for thirty minutes, then went back. Chon, however, didn’t seem to have turned up. Rose was with a woman who had entered the store. After she left, Arjun went over.
‘Chon’s not back yet?’
‘No.’ She checked her watch. ‘But she should back soon.’
‘What about you? Have you had lunch?’
R
ose shook her head. ‘I just have tea during the day,’ she explained.
‘You’re a Mizo?’ Arjun asked, remembering their habits.
‘From Manipur and Mizoram border. But I’m Hmar.’
‘You don’t identify with the Mizos now?’
‘We are separate. But we are all Zo people.’
‘I get it. How long have you been working here, Rose?’
‘Four years. I’m the store manager. Earlier it was in another location in HKV.’
‘And how long has Chon been here?’
‘Not yet a year. Nine months.’
‘And before this?’
‘She was working in another shop here. We had a vacancy, so I called her.’
‘You knew her from before?’
‘There are so many girls from the North-east here.’
‘From all the states?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Nagaland and Manipur mostly.’
He knew the type—from humble families in small towns or villages in the hills, working long hours, grateful just to have a job in the city.
‘People talk about racism nowadays. What do you feel?’
Frowning, she tried to collect her thoughts, then said slowly, ‘I have to say the people are kind here. If they treated us the way we treat vais back home we would have to flee from this place.’
Arjun nodded. She had used the common Zo word for outsiders, or mayangs, as the Manipuris called them. It seemed to him a very honest answer. At that moment a slim girl in jeans and a long black coat entered the boutique, a plastic bag in her hands.
‘Chon, this gentleman is waiting to meet you,’ Rose said.
She put the bag behind the counter and took off her coat, taking her time.
‘I was helping out at Sunita’s store,’ she said to Rose.
Arjun turned to Rose, ‘Is there some place private we can talk?’
‘You can go to the store room there,’ she said, looking at Chon.
The store room was behind a bead curtain, and Arjun followed Chon in. She was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show her slender forearms. The room was small, maybe eight by six feet, with a low ceiling, and stuffy. It was filled with cartons and sacks stuffed with plastic-wrapped garments. She drew out two stools and they sat down. Whereas Abeni and even Amenla were of stouter build, Chon was pale and fragile, almost waiflike, with surprisingly wide eyes. Arjun had to remind himself that he was investigating a murder.
‘My name is Arjun Arora,’ he said. ‘I’m a detective. Amenla’s father hired me to find out who killed her.’
Chon stopped scrolling on her phone and looked up.
‘It must have been a great shock for you. What happened to her?’
‘It was scary. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. I mean, who would want to kill her?’
‘I met Rohit Chaudhry today,’ he continued. ‘What do you think of him?’
She gave a half-smile and snorted. ‘Sometimes Amenla could be too kind to people.’
‘But you all went out together, didn’t you?’
She studied him for a while with her wide brown eyes before replying. ‘We were friends at one time.’
‘He told me Amenla was seeing this guy from the American embassy. Was that true?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘But you were friends, you went over to her place.’
‘We met him just a few times,’ Chon said, and looked through the bead curtain as someone entered the store.
‘What were her plans? Was she planning to go back home? Somewhere abroad?’
‘She was . . . trying to decide what to do.’
‘What about you? Do you like your job here?’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, and took a deep breath, as if she was going to say something more, but then seemed to reconsider. Arjun waited for a moment before his next question.
‘Did Amenla ever mention someone called Tony to you?’
She shook her head.
‘Did any of her friends, any of your friends, have a grey SUV?’
There was a moment’s hesitation before she shook her head: ‘No.’
‘She liked her job, you think?’
‘Yes. She was doing well.’
‘You met any of her colleagues?’
Chon nodded. ‘A few of them. Also her manager, Ronny D’Souza.’
‘Do you have his number?’
‘I’m sorry, no.’
‘You and Abeni were working at that call centre too?’
‘No, that was another place. Amenla joined another call centre after we had left.’
She shifted in her seat, restless. Arjun could feel her attention starting to flag.
‘Which was Amenla’s favourite restaurant here in Delhi?’
‘Let’s see, she liked McDonald’s. Rolls in CR Park. But her favourite was Chungwa in GK-II M Block.’
‘That’s a good place. What about the Hungry Rabbit?’
Chon frowned. ‘The what?’
‘Never mind. Who do you think killed her? Someone she knew?’
‘It had to be, otherwise she wouldn’t have opened her door. But I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill her.’
‘What about Rohit Chaudhry?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘I just feel sorry for uncle and aunty.’
There were voices as a group of people entered the store. Arjun stood up.
‘You need to get back to work.’
As they came out of the store room, Arjun turned to her.
‘Did you get your bank work done today morning?’
She stared at him blankly.
‘Abeni told me you left early because you had some work at the bank.’
‘Oh. Yes, I got it done.’
‘Well, thank you.’
With a wave at Rose he walked out. Going back towards the entrance to look for an autorickshaw, he hardly noticed anything around him. He was playing back the interview, Chon sitting before him with her striking wide eyes. There had been a watchfulness in both her and Abeni. Did they know something they were trying to hide from him?
14
ARJUN WENT BACK TO THE office, where he jotted down a few points in his notebook, then left for home, telling Liza to lock up in the evening. He took the notebook with him, and used it while updating his notes on the laptop. After that he looked up the Hungry Rabbit on Google. It was a resto-pub in one of the two large malls in Saket and was supposed to have a pan-Asian menu. If it had been a standalone restaurant he might have tried to get the CCTV footage from the day Amenla had been there (though after a year that would be doubtful), but in a mall where the CCTV and security would be handled by a separate team it would be that much harder. Maybe he could go and try out the food there sometime.
The parathas with Rohit had made him skip lunch, but now he felt hungry, so he made himself a packet of Maggi (with extra water) into which he stirred an egg and then some cold rice, garnishing the resultant stew with coriander and chilli flakes. He washed down this college-time snack of his with a cup of tea, then came out to the balcony where he lit a cigarette and called Poppy Barua.
‘Hello, stranger,’ her husky voice said over the newsroom din.
‘Has it been that long?’
‘I knew you’d have forgotten about me after all those femme fatales.’
‘You’re always on my mind, Poppy.’
‘Liar. Okay, tell me why you called.’
He could feel as always the unspoken attraction hanging in the air. It would take just a little effort from either one of them to get through that last barrier—but they never would. They both knew that what they had was far too valuable to risk.
‘Naga girl found dead in her barsati in Safdarjung last September. Yaad hai?’
‘Rings a bell . . . okay, I got it. They caught a guy and then let him go?’
‘Yes. Your paper had the headline “North East girl found dead in South Delhi flat”.’
Pop
py groaned. ‘Terrible headline. The cops didn’t get anyone though, right?’
‘No. Which is why the girl’s father has hired me.’
‘Interesting. And have you found out anything?’
‘I’ve been sniffing around. Do you remember anything about it?’
‘One of our reporters did that story . . . but there was something odd about it . . .’
‘Odd how, Poppy?’
‘I can’t recollect it right now, Arjun . . .’
‘Well, let me know if you do. I’ll keep you posted.’
He hung up, watching the lights come on in the buildings around the park in the dusk. She hadn’t suggested that they meet, as she did before. Had she found someone? Maybe it was time for him to start thinking along those lines as well. He suddenly felt very lonely. Stubbing out the cigarette in a flowerpot he dialled Bunty Chawla’s number.
X
Two hours later, Arjun and Bunty were lounging against the bonnet of the latter’s modified red-coloured Gypsy parked near a kebab shop not too far from the entrance to the Jahanpanah city forest. On the bonnet were a plate of chicken tikkas and a plate of mutton seekh kebabs, from which both men would pick morsels from time to time, and a half-litre bottle of Coke (spiked with the aid of a bottle of Teacher’s whisky in the vehicle) which Bunty kept helping himself to. The Gypsy’s windows were rolled down; Bunty was playing some Punjabi rap.
When Arjun had called him, Bunty suggested that they do a spot of ‘car-o-bar’, for old times’ sake. Now he was trying to get Arjun to take a swig from the Coke bottle.
‘I bought a full bottle because you’d be here,’ he complained.
‘I told you I’m dry,’ Arjun said again, and lit a cigarette.
‘You’ll die of those things one day,’ Bunty muttered.
A youth ran over from the kebab shop with a plate of roomali rotis, and they both took one each and tore off pieces with which to pick up the meat.
Across the road were the high, dark boundary walls of a school. To one side was GK-II, to the other Alaknanda. Beyond the small commercial complex near which they were parked was the city forest; beyond that the crowded areas of Dakshinpuri and Madangir. There was a chill in the evening air which made Arjun nostalgic for some reason. But he didn’t let himself pick up the Coke bottle.
More Bodies Will Fall Page 8