Dead in a Mumbai Minute (25 page)

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Not bad!’

‘He’s not sleazy, is he?’

‘Not as far as I can tell. But I don’t know him personally. He is doing well for himself in the force and is known to be clean. Not to mention a bit of a hottie.’

‘Hmm.’

‘But I need details.’

I satisfied Sohana’s curiosity as I beat the eggs and cream, grated a little nutmeg and seasoned the custard base.

‘So what’s the problem?’ she asked.

‘We are working together.’

‘I seem to recall you using that same argument to keep your dishy boss at arm’s length.’

‘Same logic applies.’

‘Not really. If we were all to swear off every person with any connection to our jobs, how are working women to meet anyone?’

‘He’s a cop. He’s got all the power.’

‘If he is the kind of guy to misuse it, you should stop seeing him. But to assume he will be some sort of twisted thug seems rather harsh.’

I laughed. ‘Back up a bit. I never said he’d act like a thug. Just that power is power. No point in being naïve about it.’

‘And which relationship isn’t about power play in some form?’

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her.

‘Which is why I don’t understand why you are shunning Shayak Gupta,’ she shrugged.

‘I didn’t. Not to begin with,’ I said. ‘Well, first I thought he was a murderer and then, when I realized he wasn’t, we had a moment. A brief one, a yummy one, before he offered me a job.’

‘Your life is never boring, is it?’

‘You’d be surprised.’

‘And you are sure that is a road you don’t want to go down?’

I thought about Shayak’s insatiable need to charm everyone, and was grateful he would never meet Sohana.

‘You are smiling, Reema.’

‘Am not!’

‘And now you are blushing.’

‘Lies. Too dark to blush.’

‘The word is dusky, sweets. You may be bronze enough to hide your blushes, but that doesn’t mean you don’t do it, and I have known you long enough to see past the tan. What happened, Reema?’

‘One kiss on his yacht.’

‘He has a yacht? Are you insane? What are you waiting for?’

‘I get seasick.’

‘I feel like sticking your head in the oven with that blasted rajma pie!’

‘It is way too complicated!’

‘Fine, I get it. Shayak is out of bounds,’ an exasperated Sohana conceded. ‘But no matter how you want to spin it, Ajay is not.’

I retrieved the piecrust from the oven and discarded the rajma, to Sohana’s relief. ‘Okay. One trial dinner,’ I said, layering in the bacon, sautéed leeks and cheese, topping it with the egg mixture, and putting it back in.

‘See? Does it feel so horrible to give yourself a chance?’

I ignored the question as I closed the oven door on the quiche and turned my attention to the salad. I still wasn’t convinced about any of it.

The next morning, I fell out of bed with a thud. My eyes flew open to see Sohana looming over me. ‘Hey, what the hell!’

‘You are the most tight-lipped bitch I’ve ever known!’ she screamed.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

Sohana thrust the newspaper under my nose.

‘STAR’S SECRET MARRIAGE REVEALED!’ it screamed. Kimaaya’s picture from a recent society event was splashed across it in four columns.

‘We talk till, like, three in the morning, and you don’t mention that your hot boss who has the hots for you was married to this woman?’

I could have denied knowing, but there was no point. I swept the hair out of my eyes and read the short piece on the front page.

Kimaaya Kapoor’s secret marriage and divorce – worthy of the raciest Bollywood potboiler – has been revealed.

Kapoor, it has been learnt, was married as a young woman to the shadowy and reclusive Shayak Gupta, a former military officer. Why the marriage was kept such a tightly guarded secret for all these years is not known, but with the spotlight on Kapoor for the recent murder of her former assistant on her private island, the relationship – which was dissolved before Kimaaya began to work with the slain Ashutosh Dhingre – is bound to come under the scanner, especially since Gupta is still a business associate whose company Titanium is in charge of Kimaaya’s security.

A pointer directed readers to the entertainment supplement, where the story was continued in purple-and-yellow detail. I threw the newspaper down on the kitchen counter as I set about making coffee, slamming the cups down with more force than necessary.

‘You know I couldn’t tell you this. It concerns an ongoing investigation,’ I said, partly because it was easier to address Sohana’s mock betrayal than consider the implications of the revelations.

‘I get that part. But is this why you won’t have anything to do with Shayak?’

‘No, Sohana. What difference does it make whom he was married to? I have known from the beginning that he was divorced.’

‘That the ex was once the heartthrob of a billion people is not relevant to you?’

‘Not really,’ I said, not completely honestly. ‘Except that it is about to seriously screw up this investigation.’ I picked up the entertainment supplement.

KIMAAYA KAPOOR WED AND DIVORCED BEFORE HER FIRST HIT

Kimaaya Kapoor, who broke into Bollywood in the late 1990s with hits such as ‘Maaya Mumbai’, ‘Love in Hong Kong’, ‘Hello Goodbye’ and ‘Hero 420’ had been married at the time of her debut and soon divorced, a fact that she has managed to keep from her fans and the industry for fifteen years.

Why the secrecy? Industry insiders, not wishing to be named, feel that it is most likely because her chances at success would be much higher if single. Link-ups with co-stars are now part and parcel of promotion of films and, as the fate of recent heroines proves, fans prefer their female stars to be unwed, as it makes them more believable in a romance.

She was married on 26 February 1997 and divorced on 13 July 1999, a few months after she was romantically linked to Suresh Sharma, with whom she had two films in the pipeline. Whether the relationship was the cause for the breakdown of the marriage is not known. ‘I had no idea, just like the rest of India, that Kimaaya was married at the time I met her. I feel cheated and betrayed, and grateful that our relationship ended,’ said Sharma, who has not been seen in a film since the box-office disaster ‘Bhookamp!’ in 2008. He and Kimaaya broke up under a cloud of suspicion that he was stopping her from taking plum roles with Abhijeet Bhagat, whom she was later rumoured to be in a short-lived, tumultuous relationship with.

Despite numerous attempts to contact her, Kimaaya Kapoor was not available for comment.

Now all that remain are questions: Did Ashutosh Dhingre know about the marriage, and could it have anything to do with his death? Is this marriage why Kimaaya has chosen to stay single after all these years? And, finally, who is Shayak Gupta?

But that wasn’t all. Taking off from where the previous piece left off was another story, accompanied by a picture of Shayak, face shielded by a cap, getting off his yacht and onto Maaya Island.

Next to it was the blurb: ‘Who is Shayak Gupta?’

This shadowy figure is someone whom everyone knows, and yet no one knows. Titanium Securities is India’s largest private security agency by some distance. As a privately held company, financial data is hard to come by. It provides security solutions to companies and individuals, including many of India’s leading cricketers and Bollywood stars and corporates. But it seems an equally popular choice with politicians and for high-profile public events, such as diplomatic visits, large concerts and shows. It is the go-to firm for cyber security. Despite all this, so little is known about the man at the top that his marriage to one of India’s leading stars was, till this morning, a secret.

There are whispers of him being ex-military, of a continuing cozy association with the armed forces and politicians. It is not known how he has become trusted by every source of power; his parentage is an absolute mystery, as is any family he may have acquired since the end of his marriage over a decade ago.

The article was remarkable for how very little it actually said. And luckily the picture was not a good one. But I knew that wherever Shayak was, he was livid.

I looked at Sohana. ‘This is bad. Very bad.’

Sohana nodded. ‘Not sure why it is such a secret in the first place, but this is guaranteed to be in the news forever. They aren’t going to let it go.’

I looked at the byline: Prashant Parashar. It was the same on the other two stories as well. ‘I need to speak to this journalist.’ Whoever gave him this information might have made contact with the killer. He might even
be
the killer.

‘Let me make a few calls,’ said Sohana, getting on the phone.

I turned on the TV. All the news channels were covering the story. But none of them had any additional information, and several were citing the newspaper article as the source.

‘Here’s his number,’ said Sohana in fifteen minutes, scribbling it on a piece of paper. I tried calling immediately but had no luck. I continued dialling as I got ready for work and headed in to office. Finally, after about the tenth attempt, he answered.

‘Yes,’ came the voice, short and curt.

‘My name is Reema Ray, I am with Titanium Securities.’

There was a pause, and I thought I had lost him. ‘Hello?’

‘Yes. I have been trying to get in touch with you guys for three days.’

I was confused till I realized he must have been trying to contact Shayak’s office for the story. ‘You wouldn’t have been trying to get in touch with me. I am investigating the death of Ashutosh Dhingre, and believe you may have relevant information.’

Another long pause. ‘How have you come to that conclusion?’ he said at last.

‘I really do believe this conversation should occur face to face.’

‘I have an obligation to protect my sources.’

‘Mr Parashar, this is a murder investigation, and I am sure you can appreciate its gravity.’

‘I will not tell you my sources.’

I fell back on the old line that had been serving me so well. ‘Would you like me to involve the police? We are working with them and it would not be a problem bringing you in for questioning. I am, for now, offering you a far more … civilized alternative.’

‘Let me speak to my editor and get back to you.’

In five minutes Parashar sent me a text, summoning me to his office at 4 pm. I was in.

I found myself alone at office. I tried my best to order my thoughts, but was struggling. Two murders, Shayak disappearing, Kimaaya’s secrets all over the news – we had been engulfed in chaos.

I got a call on my cell from an unknown number; it looked to be an international one. I answered. ‘Hello?’

‘I’ll make this short.’ It was Shayak.

‘Where are you?’ I asked.

‘We need this journalist to talk.’

‘Already on it,’ I said, telling him about the appointment later that day.

‘Good. Chances are you will also meet the editor, Shakuntala Padhy. She knows me. Keep your chat off the record. Be careful how much you say – she is great at getting information out of people. About Kimaaya – she assures me she did not speak to any journalists about this business.’

‘Okay. Can I contact you?’

‘I will touch base with you somehow, as soon as I can. As of now, you are the only one from Titanium working on the Maaya Island murder.’

‘I can’t do this alone!’

‘Why not? I have already seen you solve a murder on your own with a damn sight less than what you have now. Use whatever resources you need. It’ll be taken care of. Vinod is yours. For logistics, there is Archana. No one else.’

‘Where are you?’ I asked again.

‘Away,’ he said. I was surprised by how distant he sounded. And then he sighed. ‘I might need … help, Reema. Soon. Just remember: don’t always believe what you hear.’

He hung up and I stared at the phone in exasperation.