Killer Moves

by Varsha Dixit

  Her father had directed her not to bother Kia and bring back a bottle of Fenny. Her boss had grudgingly given her the time off and requested a few bottles of Fenni. Her assistant had merely requested that Aisha get a crate of Fenni for the guests at his funeral.

  Aisha walked on the beach, holding her sandals. Today it was teeming with tourists, locals, and food carts. Restaurants were open alongside the beach. Sounds of traffic, live music, and human chatter appeared grotesque in comparison to the vast and mysterious ocean. Hurtling jets skis and a few speedboats created commotion there too.

  Aisha noticed the crowd ahead of her. “Offo, for goodness’ sake. Enough with the gawking!” Hitching up her white cotton skirt with blue leaf life pattern on the border, Aisha went around the crowd that meant walking ankle deep in water. “What the…?” She saw the two bodies nearly half-kilometer out in the ocean.

  A person was flailing in the water, and a man was swimming toward her.

  Shit! Kia!

  Aisha panicked and ran into the water.

  “Boo, wait! I’m here.”

  Aisha turned to Kiara’s voice. Her niece stood near the pier, waving at her.

  The security let Aisha pass through. “What’s going on?”

  Kiara slyly pointed at an older, bird-faced woman standing in the water calf deep, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes fixed on the figures in the water. “That is Ameena Afreen, the model coordinator. Her daughter, Nagma, went for a swim in the ocean and I’m guessing the current pulled her away from the shore.”

  “And who is rescuing her?”

  “Kabir. He went right after her.”

  “He did?” Aisha could not keep the surprise out of her voice as she focused on Kabir and the girl as they swam closer to the beach. “This place is jinxed. Something or the other keeps happening here.”

  Some men from the crew and Amee ran deeper into the water to help Kabir and Nagma. The latter was struggling to catch her breath but other than that she appeared all right.

  “She’s fine, Amee. She’s okay.” Kabir said, breathing hard, his face clenched because of the exertion. He carefully handed Nagma over to the crew members.

  “Thank you!” Amee hugged him and then quickly went to her daughter.

  Kabir walked past the pier. Someone handed him a towel and he used it to wipe down his face and hair. He came toward Kiara, his expression pleased. And then he noticed Aisha. His smile disappeared, and he changed directions.

  Kiara winged her an apologetic glance.

  Aisha waved her hand. “Don’t bother! How is your ankle?”

  “Better. Much better. I took my painkillers, gave the ankle hot and cold compress. As you can see, I have a crepe bandage on.”

  “I’m impressed!” Aisha smiled. “But where are the crutches?”

  “C’mon!”

  Aisha chuckled. “I’m messing with you Kia. You did good.”

  “Hey Kiara, we are taking a break for some time. Kabir and costume are deciding on the wardrobe for the evening shoot.” One of the crew members called out.

  “Evening shoot! He is making you work in the night, too?”

  Kiara gave Aisha a pointed look. “No big deal! It should be fun. We are going to some place called Lopez Point. It is Kabir’s favorite, favorite spot. I have been told it has a view to die for.”

  “Just be care—” Aisha stopped herself. “Great.” She gave the ‘thumbs up’ sign. “You have fun! Text me when you get back.”

  Kiara whistled. “You are really backing off, Boo. I’m so proud of you.”

  Aisha snorted. “Smartass. Let me know when you have time tomorrow and we’ll go for a coffee.” She turned to walk away, her heart heavy.

  Dammit, it is hard to let go of your child!

  “Boo come join me for lunch. They have a buffet laid out inside.”

  Pausing, Aisha glanced at the villa. “No, it’s okay! You go in. I have plans.”

  “You have plans? What plans?”

  “To go and seek the man of my dreams?”

  “You are on a roll.” Kiara snickered. “Just don’t get yourself pregnant, okay?”

  “Kia, keep your voice down!” Aisha looked around to see if anyone had heard. There was no one around them.

  Kiara winked at Aisha and then began to hobble slowly. Aisha lent her an arm. “Boo, you do know how babies are made, right? Let me tell you a big secret: it’s not the stork.”

  Aisha laughed. “Oh stop!”

  #

  Kabir came to the wide window of his sea-facing bedroom. He looked outward as he pulled the dry black tee over his head. He saw the pair—Kiara and her aunt. They were laughing and chattering while coming upon the villa, but they halted at the gate.

  Kiara appeared to be inviting her in, but Aisha shook her head. She blew Kiara a kiss and urged her to go in. Kabir knew why she wasn’t coming in. Because of him!

  Good!

  He saw Aisha turn, pause, and then tilt her head up. She was staring directly at him. Kabir stilled and could not help but stare back.

  Chapter 22

  Aisha did not understand what made her look up, but she hated whatever that feeling was. Her gaze locked straight with Kabir’s and she could not look away. She felt he was staring right into her mind, reading her thoughts. The intensity of Kabir’s gaze even at such distance and through the glass surprised her.

  “Afternoon!”

  A cheery call jolted Aisha. She blinked and pivoted away from the man in the window.

  “Morning, Doc! The girl who was rescued, is she okay?”

  Dr. Christin stopped next to her. “Yes, she’s fine. Just swallowed some water and in a bit of a shock.”

  “Good you were here.”

  “I live in that smallest villa at the beginning of the road. Kabir is a friend of mine. So, when he shoots his calendar he has me hang around. Some models tend to … you know what.” He made a sign as if tipping something in his mouth. “So, this whole week, I’m the doctor on set.”

  “The girl was lucky someone spotted her!” Aisha and Christin fell into easy steps, walking next to each other.

  “Kabir saw her. The number of people he has saved around here!”

  Aisha blinked. “Really? More than one?”

  “Yup! There is no lack of idiots who decide to go swimming in the ocean without understanding the ocean currents or knowing how to swim.”

  Christin observed Aisha’s face. “Stupid me! I just impressed you about another man, didn’t I?”

  Aisha laughed consciously. Did I look impressed?

  He put a hand over his chest, looking crushed. “Give me a chance to make amends. May I take you out for coffee?”

  Aisha paused. This is unexpected! She had not dated in a long time. Maybe it’s time to change that fact. “Why coffee? Isn’t it time for lunch?” Her look was bold and confident.

  Christin’s features lit up. “Absolutely!”

  “But only if we go Dutch, please!”

  “I do not know any Dutch restaurants here.”

  “I insist, please. I will pay my half of the bill.” Aisha crinkled her nose. “Please?”

  “Fine! This time we’ll do it your way. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” Aisha grinned.

  Christin jogged away to his house.

  Aisha clamped her lips, feeling a rush of nervousness and excitement rushing to her stomach.

  What am I doing? The first day of freedom and I literally asked a man out.

  Reaching in her satchel, Aisha pulled out a lip gloss and coated her lips thickly with the pink cotton candy gloss. A shadow passed over her. Aisha looked up, her eyes widened briefly.

  It was Kabir. He was going in the direction of his crew that was gathering the props and lights near the pier.

  Taking a deep breath, Aisha jogged behind him. “Excuse me! Excuse me!”

  Ignoring Aisha, Kabir kept treading away from her.

  “Hold on, please!” Aisha stumbled, t
he sand made it harder to run fast.

  Flexing his shoulders, Kabir finally stopped.

  Aisha came up on his side. “I just want—”

  “I told you to stay away from me!” Kabir did not even deign to glance at her.

  “Yes, you did. But—”

  Kabir commenced walking, leaving her mid-sentence. Aisha reached out and grabbed his arm. His muscles were firm and sinewy under her fingers. Her fingers curled around his arm, the sensation surprisingly thrilling. Aisha stared at her hand over his skin lost in the fuzzy feeling that enveloped her. It was like holding your favorite old T-shirt.

  Chapter 23

  Kabir stopped watching Aisha’s face. Her touch was soft on his arm like cotton. Her lashes resting against her cheeks were long. Her nose short, thin and her heart-shaped mouth appeared pouty because of the gloss. The rapt way she studied her hand on his arm was endearing. Her hands were soft and petite.

  At that moment, Kabir could not bring himself to brush off her touch. So, he quietly cleared his throat; it suddenly felt clogged.

  Aisha raised her eyes at the sound and dropped his hand as if she were holding something on fire. “Sorry!” She too cleared her throat. “I just wanted to apologize for calling you a mur . . . I was wrong. You couldn’t have killed . . . hurt anyone.”

  “Why?” Kabir’s voice was terse, and he switched his gaze from her face to the horizon.

  “Because someone who risks his life to save others is not capable of taking it. He knows the value of a life. It is—”

  “Invaluable.” Kabir finished.

  “Yes!”

  Kabir flicked his gaze back to Aisha. “Still, ‘stay away from me’ clause stands.” He watched her closely and saw the flash of irritation cross her eyes.

  “Fine!”

  “But you are free to hang with Kiara in or out of the house.”

  A smile started at the end of her mouth, traveled to her eyes, and stayed there. Her cheeks were round and her mouth small and fleshy. She would always appear younger than her age. Her nutmeg eyes were expressive as if feelings were a free commodity. What Aisha felt was reflected in her eyes.

  The signs of an optimistic soul. A complete opposite to me.

  #

  Aisha wasn’t easily fazed yet the scrutiny of Kabir’s dark hooded gaze made her fidget and she felt warm as if the equator had suddenly shifted closer to her.

  “Hello!” Christin’s voice interrupted them. “Hi, Kabir.” Then he glanced at Aisha. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Aisha nodded.

  “Ready for what?” Kabir asked.

  “We are going for lunch and you are not invited.” Christin quipped.

  “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” Kabir said, a sting to his voice.

  Dr. Christin’s cell rang, and he looked at it.

  “Just give me a minute.” He walked away for privacy.

  Aisha moved to follow him when she was stopped by a gentle yet firm touch—Kabir’s hand on her arm.

  Aisha tipped her head back, trying not get distracted by the warmth of his touch that had traveled right from her arm to her toes.

  Kabir leaned closer, looking straight into Aisha’s eyes, his expression unreadable. “I will be asking Kiara to go out tonight.”

  He dropped Aisha’s arm and walked to his crew, leaving Aisha staring at after him.

  Lout! Jerk! How can he? Aisha felt like kicking something or someone. But the ‘someone’ had walked away.

  “Are you planning to have lunch with me or are you going to make me the lunch?” Christin came back.

  “What?” Aisha’s look was sharp, but she immediately tempered her irritation. “Sorry, I just . . . He’s just…” She pointed at the tall man standing some distance away, giving instructions to his team.

  “I know, he’s harsh. And aloof. But Kabir is one of the good guys.”

  Sure, and I’m Mother Teresa!

  “So, where are we going for lunch?” As a test, Aisha placed her hand on the doctor’s arm lightly.

  She wasn’t happy with the results. She felt nothing on touching the doctor. No sparks, no tingles and definitely no proximity to the equator.

  Damn!

  Chapter 24

  On D. B Marg, near the overhead water tank, sat a gray building on a quiet triangular plot enclosed by a rusty chain-link fence broken in several places. The windows on all floors were shut. The parking lot housed a few old model cars and an odd motorbike and a few scooters. The area was devoid of any human sounds. The place seemed to belong to some grainy film reel rather than the present day.

  Jacob parked the Gypsy in a spot farthest from the entrance. Once he shut off the engine, he quickly made a cross sign.

  “Was that for the dead or the ones alive?” Parth asked, taking off the seat belt.

  “Sir, please don’t joke about the dead! Their spirits might hear you.” Jacob replied somberly.

  Parth took off his Aviators and cleaned them before putting them in his shirt pocket. “Jacob, if you were a spirit and you were free to go anywhere in the entire world, would you spend your time hanging around this dump, just so you can curse the asshole with a sense of humor?”

  Jacob clucked his tongue. “Sir, can I wait outside. I . . . don’t like the smell inside.”

  “Me neither.” Reaching inside the Gypsy, Parth pulled something out of the bag tucked under his seat. Opening the indigo plastic bottle, he took out some viscous gel and applied it liberally around his nostrils. “Put this on; the smell won’t bother you much.”

  Jacob took the bottle. “Vicks! Doesn’t this help you smell better?”

  Parth paused and gave him a clear-eyed glance. “Don’t be the next asshole with the sense of humor. Remember the spirits?”

  He smirked when he saw Jacob hurriedly reach down and kiss the small golden cross that hung around his thick neck.

  The two men walked inside the building with a sign painted in white and blue on its front, A.S. Mortuary. The interiors were dank, and the smell of mildew was strong.

  Parth went to the man at the reception. “I’m here to see the Chief Examiner.” He flashed his credentials. “Parth Mangal, CBI.”

  “Please go to the basement. Use that lift.” The receptionist pointed to the side.

  The stench was what hit Parth first as he got off the elevator. It was like he had walked into a room full of rotten eggs. One could taste the foul smell, which was thick enough to cut through. The sound of the metal door closing behind him made Parth spin around.

  Jacob was gagging. He frantically kept pressing the elevator call button. “I can’t. . .” He took the elevator and went up.

  Parth pressed Vicks further into his nostrils and took tentative steps in the corridor, which was chilly.

  “Here!” A woman popped her head out of a room, some distance away and waved at him.

  Parth went through the wooden door. There were some faded brown stains on the floor and empty portable steel stretchers lay around in no particular order.

  Parth avoided stepping on the stains; he knew what old dried blood that had seeped through porous floors looked like.

  He focused on the chubby-cheeked and middle-aged woman in green scrubs, sitting at a desk overflowing with paperwork. The woman was heavy set, fair skinned with dark frizzy hair that was more gray than black. Her small eyes behind rectangular glasses studied Parth back.

  “Like what you see?” Her tone was as wry as the expression in her eyes.

  “Sorry! SSP Parth Mangal, CBI.” He put his hand out. She didn’t take it so Parth dropped it, feeling like he was facing his fourth-grade teacher.

  The teacher who made him stand in the trash bin that would be full of pencil shavings, crumpled paper and a few sticky things that did nothing to tame a rebellious nine-year-old. He still called her occasionally.

  “Dr. Madhuri Lorso.” she said, waving her hand as she slapped a paper that was about to slip off the desk. “So, why is the CBI here?” She took off her glasse
s.

  “Because of the murders of the girls I mentioned on the phone. Dr. Lorso, did you conduct an autopsy on any of them?”

  Dr. Lorso rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You are here for the files?”

  “The files too, yes. But can you tell me something about the condition of the bodies?” Parth leaned on a bookcase behind him.

  “It’s all there in the files. I have them in my office. You can make copies and take them.” Madhuri Lorso got to her feet and grabbed her glasses.

  “This is not your office?”

  “No, I just finished an autopsy. A sixty-year-old organ doctor found dead under suspicious conditions.” Her dark eyes held amusement.

  Parth did not understand the joke.

  “He had only one kidney.”

  “Oh!”

  Parth followed Dr. Lorso to her office on the first floor. It was clean, organized, and spotless, and smelled lightly of antiseptic.

  “So, whose desk was that in the basement?”

  “Whoever is working the night shift on that day.”

  Parth felt like he had just passed a hazing test. He sank in the comfortable chair with the upholstered back.

  Dr. Lorso walked to the file cabinet behind her chair and unlocked the top drawer. She pulled out two thick manila folders. Pressing the intercom button on her table phone, she called the peon in.

  “Make copies of these for Sir. ASAP.”

  Parth waited for the peon to leave. “Dr. Lorso, please tell me what you think of the bodies?”

  “It’s all in the files.”

  Parth leaned forward. “It’s never all in the files.”

  Dr. Lorso sat back and studied his face for a few minutes. “What do you want to know?”

  “Your interpretations based on your experience.”

  “You really want my opinion?”

  Parth nodded, surprised that the woman who had so many plaques and awards from reputable organizations framed on the wall behind her required this level of reassurance.

  Lorso exhaled. “Okay. The killer is skilled and knows the importance of DNA and evidence. While raping the women, he wears condoms and pours bleach over the women’s mouth, hands, and genitals after.”

  “So, he does rape them?”