Murder in Bollywood (10 page)

‘That's fine, Mr Khatri. But what I don't get is, how come you agreed to come back on board so easily after the humiliation heaped upon you by Mr Hamrahi?' Hoshiyar queried.

‘It's because I love the studio very much, Inspector saheb. I've been a part of this place since I was a young man of twenty-four, and after all these years, this place feels like a part of me. You cannot imagine the pain I felt when Torab saheb told me they were selling the studio to some construction company that would be tearing it down and putting up a residential complex in its place. You wouldn't believe I was so upset that I would come down here every evening after sunset, park my scooter across the road from the main gate, stare at this place for hours and hours on end and cry every minute of that time. Just the sight of the studio so desolate and neglected would fill me with grief that bordered on rage, and night after night, I would return home and lie in my bed dreaming of ways by which I could exact some sort of terrifying revenge on all those who turned my beloved Gulistan Studio into an unloved, unwanted child. But my desires were like the images in my mind, angry fantasies, which I lacked the courage and the means to turn into reality. Then one fine day, Kapoor saheb was found dead on Stage 7, and before you knew it, the deal had fallen through. And that's when I realized without doubt that this grand old dame of a studio wasn't ready to retire from show business just yet,' Israr smiled and said.

‘And what about you, Mr Khatri? Did you have your retirement plans in place? Or just like this place, even you were not ready to call it a day? Because the way I see it, someone bitter and angry at being thrown out of his job, who would hover about the studio at night, thinking of ways and means to exact revenge on the people who destroyed his life, one day thought to himself, what better way to derail the studio deal than to kill someone famous on its premises. And for this, there was no better candidate than Nikhil Kapoor, who that person would see enter the deserted studio night after night all by himself, to work on his new film script at his favourite Stage 7. Now, having worked here for forty years, Mr Khatri, I am sure you'd know many different ways of entering the studio besides the front gate, so it wouldn't have been difficult for you to sneak in without being seen by the lone security guard, then make your way to Stage 7 and kill an unsuspecting Nikhil Kapoor, making his murder look like an accident. As a matter of fact, I quite like the sound of this theory, Mr Khatri. What about you?' Zagde inquired with a cold, hard stare.

‘Hmm,' Israr said, as if in the throes of intense deliberation, ‘it's a very plausible theory, Inspector, except for one minor detail. The night Kapoor saheb died, I was in Hyderabad attending my nephew's wedding. If you had just asked me where I was on that fateful night, it would have saved your little grey cells a whole lot of effort. But on hindsight, I am so glad you didn't, otherwise we would have never discovered your wonderful talent for fiction,' Israr, said, smirking sarcastically, as Zagde looked away feeling rather stupid.

‘Tell me, Mr Khatri, apart from Stage 7, what else is there on this side of the property?' Hoshiyar intervened.

“Well, about a hundred yards straight ahead, we have stage numbers five and six standing side by side, and right next to them is the prop room, where we store all the props and costumes from the half a dozen films produced by the late Gulistan saheb, all of which, unfortunately, were box office disasters. When the sale of the studio was announced and the owners stopped renting out the property, nothing on the lot, including the stages and the prop room, was put under lock and key. I guess the Hamrahi family figured that since the whole place was going to be torn down, why bother locking it up. But after Kapoor saheb's death, everything is nicely locked up at all times, primarily to keep out nosy reporters and fans,' Israr revealed.

‘And what about the security guard who found the body that night? Any idea what time he'll be available, because it's essential that we have a word with him as well,' Hoshiyar said.

‘I am sorry, Inspector saheb, but that security guard doesn't work here any more. Torab saheb had me fire him a few days after the incident. The Hamrahi family believed him to be inauspicious. But that's generally the mindset of the people in the film industry. They believe a lot in luck and ill luck, so if they come across anyone who they feel has been unlucky for their business, they get rid of that person immediately. But I believe that after the studio deal fell through, the Hamrahis needed to release their nawabi anger somewhere and that unfortunate security guard was the most convenient punching bag. Raju, I believe, was his name. But, tell me Inspector saheb, why is the police investigating Kapoor saheb's death all over again? Surely, what happened to him was an accident, wasn't it?' Israr inquired with concern.

‘Yes, I am pretty sure that it was. But after the tragic death of his secretary, Mr Tiwari, we just want to be certain that there are no loose ends,' Hoshiyar informed, and then requested Israr to unlock the door to Stage 7. As the smaller of the two metal doors swung open, the first thing that greeted the officers as they entered the stage was its stale, musty air, coupled with the smell of electricity that had burnt through human skin and flesh, which since that night had seeped into every inch of that place and simply refused to leave. As Israr flipped a makeshift light switch, illuminating the stage, the first thing that Hoshiyar noticed in the corner to his right was the switchboard and the light switch from which Nikhil was electrocuted, placed on a wall five feet off the ground and charred to a hue a few shades darker than the colour of night.

‘Zagde, do you have the crime scene photos with you?' Hoshiyar asked his deputy.

‘Yes, sir, they're right here,' Zagde replied, removing the photos from a folder and handing them over to Hoshiyar, who began studying them intently, until a couple of pictures of Nikhil Kapoor caught his eye.

‘Take a look at this photo,' Hoshiyar turned to Zagde and said, bringing his attention to one of the two pictures. ‘See how his body lies crumpled on the floor, with his right hand burnt to a cinder. Now look at his right shoulder. It's completely dislocated, which according to the forensic pathologist happened when hundreds of volts of electricity passed through his body the moment he flipped the switch, causing his heart to fail and dropping him to the floor, even as his hand remained stuck to the switch. The force with which his body fell, coupled with the fact that his hand was literally glued to the switch because of the electricity, could have easily pulled out his shoulder from its socket and torn all of its supporting tendons and ligaments. But what if he didn't fall and was dropped to the floor instead? I have no doubt that the result would have been the same,' Hoshiyar stated.

‘Dropped to the floor? I don't understand,' Zagde exclaimed, prompting Hoshiyar to explain.

‘What if the killer somehow managed to knock Nikhil out, then dragged him over to the switchboard, where he got him up on a high chair or stool, which he would have needed to do since the switchboard is five feet from the ground? After this, he rested Nikhil's frame against the wall in front and placed his right hand on the light switch that he had already tampered with, then flipped it himself using a piece of wood and pulled the chair out from under Nikhil with the help of a belt or a rope, sending him crashing to the floor, which would have dislocated his shoulder completely, thus mimicking the effect of a fall.'

‘Sir, do you think that's plausible, because according to the police report, the watchman on duty that night heard Nikhil scream just a couple of minutes before he found his body, which would have been unlikely if he was unconscious when electrocuted. Besides, why would the killer feel the need to knock Nikhil down unconscious and create such an elaborate plan to make his murder look like an accident when all he had to do was get here early and tamper with the light switch, knowing fully well that during the course of the evening, Nikhil would tinker with it out of habit and thus get electrocuted,' Zagde reasoned.

‘That's exactly what I would've said if I hadn't come across this photograph,' Hoshiyar answered, putting before Zagde the second photo which he had kept aside. ‘In this picture, the back of Nikhil's head is clearly visible, and if you look closely, you will see a bruise pattern just a little below the base of his skull, which is, undoubtedly, a stun gun burn, identical to what we had found on Tiwari, which clearly proves that Nikhil was first rendered unconscious, then electrocuted.' With these words, Hoshiyar paused to ponder for a moment, then turned his attention to Israr, standing close by and asked him a simple question, ‘Tell me, Mr Khatri, in your prop room, is there any chair or stool high enough to enable a seated figure to reach the height of the switch?'

‘Why, yes there is,' Israr replied almost instantly.

‘Gulistan saheb had ordered a dozen bar stools to be made for a nightclub sequence in his last production, which coincidentally, was also his biggest flop. They are all lying stacked up in a corner, gathering dust,' he revealed excitedly.

‘Are they light or heavy?' Hoshiyar inquired.

‘Light. Very light. Four, maybe five kilos maximum,' Israr replied.

‘Do you remember what they look like? Could you describe them to me?' Hoshiyar asked.

‘Sure, I remember. They are around three and a half to four feet in height, with slim, cylindrical legs, a circular seat with a backrest, and made entirely of wood,' Israr revealed.

‘Is it possible for you to check if they're all there and none are missing?' Hoshiyar inquired.

‘Absolutely, I shall do it right away,' Israr declared, then turned around and left Stage 7, stealthily making his way towards the prop room, as if he was on a secret mission.

‘Sir, what's going on? I don't seem to be following any of it!' Zagde exclaimed, as Israr disappeared from sight.

‘Oh, it's quite simple, really. I just want Mr Khatri to confirm something that I am pretty sure of, which is the disappearance of one of the twelve bar stools from the prop room so that we can search for it and retrieve it from the only place where it could be, which will prove to a certainty that Nikhil Kapoor was indeed murdered,' Hoshiyar replied, and then seeing the perplexed look on Zagde's face began to explain, ‘According to me, the killer had arrived here earlier in the evening without being seen and tampered with the light switch, in anticipation of Nikhil's arrival. I am sure his plan was to rig the light switch in such a way that the moment Nikhil flipped it as per his habit, he would be electrocuted on the spot. After this task was completed, he didn't leave, but stayed back in the shadows of Stage 7 waiting for Nikhil to arrive so that he could make sure that his plan went off smoothly. I bet when Nikhil got here later than usual at around ten-thirty and sat behind his makeshift writing desk, the killer was hiding right behind him in a dark corner, just waiting for him to get up from his seat, walk about the stage and tinker with the light switch. But when Nikhil continued to sit at his desk for the next fifteen to twenty minutes, the killer got impatient and decided to take matters into his own hands. Here, I must say that the killer showed great improvisation and daring, for he first knocked Nikhil out by sneaking up from behind and zapping him with his stun gun, after which he ran across the lot to the prop room a hundred yards away, from where he picked up one of the bar stools and dashed back here, then did exactly as I had described earlier, making a murder look like an accident. Therefore, the person that the watchman heard scream that night was not Nikhil, but the killer, who was trying to create the impression that Nikhil was playing around with the light switch and got electrocuted.'

Just then, Israr charged in excitedly and, to Zagde's amazement, announced that one of the bar stools was indeed missing.

‘Follow me, gentlemen,' Hoshiyar said in response and led the two men across the lot towards stage numbers five and six, even as he continued to speak. ‘It stands to reason that the bar stool used in Nikhil's murder wouldn't have been concealed anywhere near the crime scene for the police to find, and neither would the killer have returned it to the prop room, as the mere sight of it would have aroused suspicion, since it would have been charred at the seat, on account of all that electricity. So, that left the killer with just one option. He had to quickly hide it in a place where no one would look, knowing fully well that when the studio is pulled down, that piece of evidence would be destroyed with it. But he didn't foresee that on account of Nikhil's death, the studio deal would be terminated and the whole place put under lock and key, making it impossible for him to retrieve the one thing which proves murder beyond doubt. And that clinching piece of evidence, my friends, is locked away behind one of these two doors,' Hoshiyar said, as he stopped right in front of stage numbers five and six, then asked Israr to unlock the one that had more clutter and debris. As Israr unlocked Stage 6 and turned on its lights, Hoshiyar found himself confronted by a veritable dumping ground for wood, paint and Thermocol, as if to indicate that a set had been dismantled there a long time ago, but never removed.

‘What a total mess this is! Sir, are you absolutely sure that what we're looking for is here?' Zagde coughed and said, clearly perturbed by the dirt and grime of the place.

‘Under normal circumstances, the killer would have destroyed the evidence by breaking the bar stool into small pieces, which he would have scattered here and in other parts of the studio. But since he didn't have the time to do that, he would have left it as it is, and among all this scattered rubble is the perfect hiding place. Turn everything inside out if you have to, but find me that piece of furniture, for without it, we do not have that one damning proof of murder.' With these words spoken with urgency, Hoshiyar sent Zagde to look for the bar stool in one direction, while he searched in another, with Israr also doing his bit by joining in. Then, about ten minutes later, it was Hoshiyar who emerged triumphantly from a corner carrying the much-coveted bar stool, which he had found hidden beneath a stack of bamboos and some old wooden planks. As Zagde examined the prize, he discovered that Hoshiyar was right, for its seat was indeed badly charred and to one of it legs was tied a leather belt, presumably the one Nikhil had worn that night, which the killer used to pull the bar stool from under him and drop him to the ground during his electrocution.