by Varsha Dixit
That got his attention. Kabir stared at her, his face tight. A muscle moved in his cheek.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Aisha ignored all the alarm bells going off in her head. “You might be a God in this industry, but I could care two hoots. You stay away from my niece.”
Aisha felt some satisfaction as Kabir’s face turned a darker shade of red.
“If Kiara walks away from this shoot, I’ll make sure she will not get another modeling job.” He bit out. “And then, I will sue you for everything you have.”
Aisha wanted to stomp her foot and shout out obscenities. What made her spitting mad was that every word of his threat could become a reality and the law would side with him. “Glad I didn’t kiss you last night.”
Kabir did not bat a lid. “Thank you for sparing me. I hate tasting fake stuff.”
Aisha blinked, taken back at the blister his words caused. Last night, she had come close to being kissed for the first time in a long time, and today morning when she woke up, she sincerely regretted it hadn’t happened.
Kabir’s words had just trashed that memory. It was hard for her heart not to bleed some more.
“Are you going to say something?” Kabir asked, continuing to stare at her.
Aisha felt no rejoinder coming. “I will. Eventually.”
She hopped off the boulder and went toward Kiara who was being helped to her feet. Sometimes her intense emotions for Kiara, for her brother’s killers, her unfulfilled dreams crushed her.
“And I’m not old enough to be her father.” Kabir taunting words stopped her.
Crossing her arms, Aisha tilted her head back and looked at him over her nose. “Thank you, Doofus. You just convinced me to stick to Kiara closer than her shadow. Congratulations!”
Chapter 14
Police Headquarters
Panaji, Goa
A police Gypsy pulled outside the square two-story building colored in bright colors. The parking lot was busy on a sunny afternoon. Roaring vehicles and bleating horns driving in and out of the lot displaced grainy dust.
“This is the police head office?” asked the man on the passenger side, with prep haircut and dark Ray-Bans. A pencil mustache crested above his full mouth.
“This is Goa! Everything is colorful. Even police.” Replied the Inspector in the driver seat.
Returning the salute of the constable who opened his door, the man alit from the Gypsy and slipped into the jacket he had been holding in his lap.
“So, why is the CBI coming to Panaji, Sir?” The inspector asked, still in the driver’s side.
“Because criminals are.”
The man grabbed his laptop bag from under the seat and went inside the building. There was an inspector already waiting for him at the wooden reception desk. Exchanging salutes and handshakes, the man was taken to the second floor and the largest door in the corridor with the sign—Police Commissioner, DGP Meisha Rego.
“Come in!” was the curt answer to his knock.
The man opened the door and walked in, followed by two inspectors. He walked to the woman in the khaki uniform, several epaulets adorning her shoulders.
The man gave her a sharp salute and then extended his hand to her. “Good afternoon, ma’am! SSP Parth Mangal. CBI.”
The commissioner shook Parth’s hand and then offered him a seat. “Hope you had a good flight.”
“I did, thank you.” Parth said, hooking an arm around the empty chair next to him.
“So, what brings you here? Before you answer, remember - no bullshit.” The commissioner said, a burly woman with a heavy jawline and wide set eyes.
Parth shrugged. “I don’t Ma’am. In the past year, there have been two unsolved murders of young women. Same modus operandi—raped and strangled. One of them is related to the LG, Delhi. This news might become national soon. At then it will look good for you, the Commissioner of Police, that you had already involved the CBI.”
“So, CBI is here to make Panaji police look good?” The Commissioner gave a snarky smile. The two inspectors grinned mockingly at Parth.
Parth scratched the collar of his starched white shirt. “You are right, Ma’am. It will be good even for us that CBI was a part of this investigation. You will get credit for any arrests made. Just mention to the press that CBI was involved.”
“Did your bosses approve of this? You guys are known to go back on your word.”
Parth took out a white sealed envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it in front of the commissioner. “It’s on paper. Approved and signed by the bosses.”
The commissioner opened the envelope and read it. She tried to hide the surprise on her face. “This is official?” She asked, sitting back.
“Commissioner, I’m just here to go through some files, visit the murder scenes, log in some interviews. I’ll be here for a week or two and then I’ll head back to Delhi.” Parth lowered his voice. “Also, sightseeing is on the list, unofficially of course.”
“So, you are not here to tell us how to do our job?”
“I’m just here to show that CBI does other things besides wiping the ass of corrupt politicians.”
That made the commissioner laugh. She put her elbows on the table. “I have heard of Vishwanath Mangal, your father. We all are very proud of him.”
“Thank you. Our family is very proud of him too. Now, Dad is retired, enjoying life with my mother in Nainital.”
“It is hard to believe that such a driven RAW director is living a retired mundane life.”
Parth showed his teeth in a quick flash. “He is still living dangerously. He is living with my mom.”
The Commissioner smiled and snuck the envelope in the top drawer. “I have been doing some digging of my own. It is hard to believe, Mangal, that with your case closure rate, you are so relaxed about this thing. Sightseeing as you said it.”
Parth grinned. “I have gone on my mother’s side, which is why I’m so relaxed. As for the high closure rates, off the record, those cases weren’t hard. And we all know having family connections in the department helps.” He adjusted his jacket. “Off the record, of course.”
Commissioner studied his face and then said. “Okay, so what do you need from Panaji police?”
“A car with a driver who knows the city. And accommodations.” Parth got to his feet and extended his hand out to shake.
Commissioner took his hand and held it, her grasp firm. “I don’t like surprises.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The commissioner got to her feet. She turned to one of the inspectors. “Send Inspector Arvind inside and make sure Jacob is available to SSP Mangal.” She turned to Parth. “What are you packing, Mangal?”
Parth touched the left side of his jacket. “The usual. Department issued Smith and Wesson.”
“Good. I don’t like Rambo’s in my city either.” The Commissioner walked out of the door with Parth following her.
Chapter 15
Parth fiddled with the car stereo and settled back once he found a local station playing instrumental Konkani music. The sun was hot but not searing. The traffic was lighter here unlike his hometown, Delhi. The Gypsy went past colorful buildings. Blue, green, and red colours dominated the stucco exteriors on the sides of the narrow straight road.
He turned to the driver, a swarthy middle-aged man with round dark eyes, wavy gray hair, pock marks on his cheek and a bulbous nose. “Jacob, let’s go to the first murder site.”
“Sir, not to the guest house? You must be tired.”
“I’m a single man, Jacob. Even if I sleep for an hour, I sleep very peacefully. And on the plane, I slept for three hours.” Parth chuckled. “Are you married?”
The driver’s fleshy cheeks tinged red. “Third marriage, Sir.”
Parth gave a low whistle. “Third? Jacob ji, now you will sleep in your afterlife only.”
The constable laughed and made a cross sign. His ample gut touched the steering wh
eel.
“So, no suspect for any of these murders?”
“All this nonsense is done by tourists, Sir. So many people going in and out of the city at all times. And girls are not careful nowadays. It’s so easy to get girls from beaches and parties.” Jacob honked at the person in front blocking his way.
“So, these two girls were both tourists?” Parth turned the AC duct toward himself. When it threw some coarse dust, he moved it back to its former position.
“Yes, Sir. One from Delhi, the LG’s niece, and one from Mumbai, a college student. Both very beautiful!” Jacob said, signaling for a right turn.
“Oh, what a pity. Beauty should never be wasted!” Parth fiddled with his belt. He sat back. “So, what are the good places to try some local food near the guesthouse, Jacob?”
The driver duly provided Parth with names of good local restaurants and then the conversation moved to the touristy things. By the time they reached the destination, the town had been left behind.
The Gypsy crawled up a narrow path lined up by small bushes. Jacob parked next to a scratched yellow sign that read Lopez Point. “We are here, Sir.”
Parth unbuckled his belt and got off. He rubbed his stomach. “Plane food sits heavy!” He pointed at the board that shuddered in the wind hitting it from the ocean. “Who is this Lopez chap?”
“He was a rich fisherman who built the biggest church in the village.”
Parth walked on the red soil and stared out at the calm ocean that shone golden and bluish gray in the sun. Several hundred feet below was an isolated rocky beach.
“What a view! But no crowds here.”
The air was ripe with the smell of salt, palm trees and whatever the house nearest to this place was cooking.
“Sir, this place is away from the city so fewer tourists here.” Jacob shared.
Parth pulled up his dark jeans lightly and sat on a protruding gray boulder. He took out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and rolled it between his fingers. Jacob appeared on his side, bending forward, a lighter in his hand.
Parth waved him off. “I quit. It’s been seven months. But it still helps me think. When I’m holding this, don’t disturb me. Wait near the car.”
Jacob backed away. His creased brow indicated that he could not quite get a read on the CBI officer.
After few minutes of listening to sharp shrieks of an odd bird or two, sounds of lumbering traffic and the waves much below him, Parth got to his feet and walked to a spot near the sign. He scuffed the ground with his shoe. “This is where they found her?” He put the cigarette back in his pocket and smiled affably.
“Yes, Sir! Some local boys who used to come here to play found the body.”
Parth opened the side of the car door. “Let’s go, Jacob.”
“Where to, Sir?” Jacob quickly hustled behind the wheel. “To the guest house?”
“No, where the was second body was found.” Parth said, putting his head back.
Chapter 16
Kriti Villa.
In the Night.
The dining table that sat up to twenty people was entirely loaded with various kinds of food.
Some models took their plates and parked themselves in front of an enormous TV in the adjoining informal living room. Other models and the crew were seated at the table itself.
Aisha sat across from Kiara at the table.
Kabir was at the head of the table, away from them.
Aisha made sure to keep her body leaning in a manner that she could stay hidden from Kabir behind the model sitting next to her. She kept shooting glances at Kiara who refused to look her way. Kiara had been giving her the silent treatment after earlier informing Aisha, “I’m not going anywhere. It is unprofessional. Kabir needs me.”
‘What Kabir needs is a noose!’ Aisha would have retorted, had he not been standing right there.
“Can you pass the cucumbers?” asked the model sitting next to Aisha.
“Sure.” Aisha passed her the oval plate, full of glistening cucumber slices.
The model took it with a brittle smile. “Thank you, Aunty ji.”
Aisha smiled evenly. “You are welcome.” She wasn’t offended. In her mind, she was as old as Gandhiji’s stamp on the rupee note.
Aisha did notice Kiara’s mouth tighten, even though her niece focused on her dinner.
“So, are you her mummy?” came the snide comment from another model a few chairs away.
“No, I’m her Bua—aunt.” Aisha took another spoonful of her quinoa.
She noticed Kabir glance in their direction, listening to their conversation. His look wasn’t kind; it was more like a shark watching a school of clown fishes.
The model who had asked for cucumbers earlier gave a sharp crack of a laugh. “Aunty ji, I heard you were trying to sneak in the villa last night and Kabir caught you and threw you out.”
Aisha glanced at the man who had allegedly thwarted her imagined break-in last night. Kabir met her stare, his dark eyes gleaming with unholy light under the chandelier hanging over the dining table. He smirked at her.
Aisha’s own gaze narrowed in challenge. Her smile was harder than chipped ice and did not quite reach her eyes. “Oh, he caught me all right!” She cooed and was satisfied to see the mockery on his face replaced by irritation.
“How could you, Boo?” Kiara spoke, her voice heated.
“Oh, so now you are talking to me?” Aisha blurted.
The snarky model interjected. “Aunty ji—”
“Shut up already.” Kiara grabbed her glass of water and upturned it in the model’s lap. “Cool off, bitch!”
“Kiara!” Aisha gasped, covering her mouth.
Everyone else was shocked into silence.
Kiara pushed her chair back and grabbed the crutches kept on the side of her chair. The model was on her feet, yelling louder than an emergency vehicle as she waved her fists.
“Kia, apologize to her.” Aisha called out, but her niece was already limping away in the direction of her assigned room.
“I’m so sorry!” Grabbing a napkin, Aisha went over to the screaming model and tried dabbing her wet clothes.
“Don’t touch me!” The model yanked the napkin from Aisha’s hand and threw it on her face. “You both are fucking mad.”
“Calm down, Preet. It’s just water.”
Aisha’s eyes widened as she heard who had come to her rescue.
“But Kabir, you saw how vicious Kiara is. You should throw her and aunty ji out.”
Aisha exhaled, blowing a curl off her face and addressed the model. Even though she was acutely aware of Kabir standing next to her, Aisha did not glance at him. “I apologize for Kiara. Please excuse her behavior; it has been an exhausting day for Kia.”
Aisha left the dining room and followed Kiara.
Chapter 17
Aisha found her niece in a room painted in beautiful gray tones.
Rich and colorful Thanjavur paintings in golden frames adorned the walls. Kiara sat on the bed of white sheets piled high with maroon and gold cushions. Her legs dangled down as she stared at the walls, her expression blank.
Aisha got on her knees and slipped her palm under Kiara’s foot, the one she had twisted. “You should elevate—”
Kiara pulled her foot away. “Stop it.” She grimaced in pain. “What is wrong with you? Why are you doing all this?”
Aisha stayed down on her knees looking up at Kiara, her expression even. “You should apologize to that girl. I have raised you better, Kia.”
“You are not my mom; stop acting like it.” Kiara snapped.
“You may not think of me as your mom. However, for me, you are my daughter.”
“Enough, Bua.” Kiara raised her hand and shifted back into the bed. “Your so-called love is suffocating me. Why are you hell-bent on killing my dreams?”
Aisha’s mouth parted, and she jerked to her feet. “I’m killing your dreams? Me?” She beat her chest for emphasis.
Aisha fought hard to co
ntrol her anger, but Kiara’s accusations had ripped a big one in her heart. “I have raised you since you were four. I gave up everything just to be there for you, Kiara. My dreams, aspirations, my normal everyday life. I was just a teenager myself. I gave up everything just for you, and you are saying, I’m suffocating you?”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have made all those sacrifices. No one asked you to.” Kiara flared. “You could have had your own career and family.”
“I have a career and you and dad are my family.” Aisha cried out, her voice thickening.
“Oh, now are you going to cry? Seriously, Bua?” Kiara blew a raspberry. She shook her head, resigned. “Wow! Not fair. Fight with words, not saline water.”
“Keep quiet!” Aisha sniffed and flopped on the bed. She sat facing away from Kiara. They both sat quietly for a few minutes.
“Dada says you are scared of losing me, like you lost granny and my parents.”
“Tact was never your strong point.”
“I lost them too, you know. Dadi and my parents.” Kiara’s voice cracked. Neither of them looked at each other.
“Now what happened to fighting fair?” Aisha reached out and took Kiara’s limp hand. Kiara did not resist. “Yes, I fear losing you. And for the past few months, I feel I have already lost you.”
Kiara shifted closer to Aisha. “I love you, Boo, and you are right. You are my mom. But you can’t live in constant fear for me. If something has to happen–”
Aisha placed a hand on Kiara’s knee. “Shush. Don’t. Come back with me. You are stunning and talented. You will find something else.”
Kiara sat back against the soft pillows. “I’m not going anywhere. And you must accept that. This opportunity is huge. This is my big break. Why won’t you understand?” She pursed her mouth, frustrated.
“Kia listen to me. Your boss, that Kabir is a murderer. That’s why I’m here, that’s—”
Kiara jerked up. “Boo—”
Aisha leaned in, her voice urgent. “He killed his wife. God knows how many women he has killed.”
“Bua!” Kiara simply took her chin and turned Aisha’s face gently toward the door.