Seduced by Murder (10 page)

“Nasty man. I was just getting transported.”

Bruno looked at my eye and started barking in terror – part charging, part retreating. “Shut up, stupid dog. It’s your master.”

“You need a doctor, man,” Pranay commented noticing my eye.

“I need a drink.” I was exasperated.

I went to the mirror and looked at the wound. It was ghastly. The plum had bloated to double the size. The only good thing was that the major impact of Leo’s blow had missed the eye, and landed upon the upper cheek, so the wound was more cosmetic.

“What are you drinking?” I asked Pranay.

“Standard. Rum.”

I took the bottle lying on the table and poured myself a generous amount of rum and coke. I refilled his glass and raised a toast.

“Cheers. To swollen eyes.”

“So how did you get that eye?”

“Long story.”

“I can spare some time from my busy schedule.”

I filled him in on the details, starting from the car chase with Paras, and ending at the commando-confrontation with Leo.

“So, you think Shalini is the murderer?”

“Don’t know. But I do know that she is trying to throw me off the case for some reason.”

We drank in silence and soon Pranay closed his eyes and smiled. Transported, perhaps.

I sat there drinking alone, until I had wiped off more than six inches from the bottle. The music was soothing, and I poured myself another drink. A lazy warmth pervaded me. I remembered Aditi’s smile at the café. It must be a masochistic need in people to think about their biggest losses after getting drunk. The glass fell down and broke into a million pieces. I took a swig from the bottle. The darkness was whirling in concentric circles, and I felt the familiar pull into the vortex of promised love. My sentinels were defeated, and I gave in to the past.

“I
want to become a monk,” she said.

Just minutes ago we had been kissing passionately. If anyone else had displayed this transition in mood, I would have laughed my guts out. But not with Aditi. Such impulsive introspection was natural to her. I was used to her transformation from a seductress to a pensive woman, to a chaste monk, in a single moment. It fascinated me.

“When did you decide that?” I asked.

“I have always been exploring the idea. I tried chanting mantras, and visited shrines. It brought me peace.”

Her eyes had a distant, dreamy look. Yet they were attentive, examining the surroundings with purpose.

“I don’t think you are cut out to be a monk.”

She looked up and locked her eyes with mine. I had that familiar, eerie feeling that she could read my mind and tell exactly what I was thinking.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

I grinned. “Monks are supposed to be celibate. Your passion could be a hindrance.”

She smiled back. “Well, I could be celibate if you were nowhere near. It’s only with you that my animal instincts are aroused.”

“Then maybe I should stay away from you. I hate to be an obstacle in your spiritual quest.”

She smiled, and ran a finger down my cheek. “No, that will make me sad.”

In the west the orange and red glow of the sunset was beginning to fade away. We were sitting on the edge of a hill, and I could see eternity in the depths of the valley below. I sensed her sadness, and knew she was feeling guilty about Chetan.

She asked me almost on cue, “Do you believe in God?”

I pointed to the red and velvet ribbons emerging from the sinking sphere. “I believe in nature. It never betrayed a heart that loved her.”

She looked in the direction my finger was pointing at. “That’s a beautiful thought. But nature is neutral. Do you fear that there is a God who keeps a tab on our good and bad deeds? And that we will have to atone for our sins?”

“I don’t know. But if there is some sort of celestial justice, I wouldn’t mind. It’s fair.”

“Yes. I hope so too. It is only fair. But do you fear that?”

I put my arm across her shoulder and reassured her. “Listen, what happened was not your fault. He was weak … and let me assure you, you don’t have anything to fear. It was his infatuation that drove him to suicide, not your encouragement.”

Even as I said that, I diverted my gaze lest she see the doubt in my eyes. “There are other tangible fears that should be occupying your mind – like what nerve racking dinner the mess will serve tonight.”

She smiled. “Hmm … I think I have one of those … tangible fears.”

“What’s that?”

“Public singing.”

“Public singing?”

“Yes. When I was nine years old, I was asked to sing at a birthday party. I started singing, and all the other children started laughing. I’ve never sung in public after that.”

“Sing for me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want to hear you. And I could never laugh at you.”

“That is because you are biased. But I will sing anyway. I always wanted to sing to someone.”

“Great.”

“There is this song by Bette Midler. It reflects my thoughts. Have you heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, here goes …”

She looked down shyly and started singing. I couldn’t understand much of the song, and her voice was out of tune and untrained. But sitting on that hill, being an audience with the trees, it was the sweetest voice I had heard.

It’s the hope of hopes, it’s the love of loves
,

This is the song of every man
.

And God is watching us, God is watching us
,

God is watching us from a distance
.

She ended the song and looked at me intently, trying to gauge my reaction. I was entranced and replied after a few seconds, “That was quite good. You have an innocent voice.”

“You have to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Yes, you have to. That’s what lovers do. Hide each other’s flaws.”

I woke up with elephants stampeding in my head. It was ten in the morning, and I vowed for the umpteenth time not to have rum. It was strictly for the dogs. I went to the refrigerator and made my customary hangover destruction drink – the ephemeral battle of refreshing the senses only to intoxicate them.

I looked at my eye in the mirror, and was pleased to see that the depressing purple had transitioned into a rebellious red. I was debating whether to sleep my headache off or keep my appointment with the Kapoors, when the phone rang. It was Vimal.

“Hi.”

“Good morning. Did I wake you up?” he asked in surprise.

“No, I was up hours ago.” I lied for the heck of it.

“Oh … I have been trying to reach you. You were not taking the call.”

I saw the missed calls on my mobile screen.

“Yeah, I was meditating.”

“Oh … okay. I told Dad you wanted to talk to some family members. He has requested that you meet him before you speak to anyone else. There is a prayer meeting for Anil starting at one today. Some relatives and guests are expected. We are a little busy, so we wanted you to come a little early.”

I looked at the time. It was already ten-fifteen. There was throbbing pain at my temples, and my back demanded a soft mattress. I tried to keep the relief off my voice.

“Not a problem, I can come tomorrow.”

“Okay … hold on. Let me ask Dad.”

There was an exchange in the background.

“Dad says it would be nice if you could come today, before the ceremony starts, and talk to Shalini. He would also like to speak to you himself.”

“Uh … thanks, Vimal, but I didn’t say I wanted to speak to Shalini.”

I must have been on speakerphone, for Paras responded, “I assumed that you would want to talk to Shalini. Was I wrong?”

His tone was confident and mocking. Obviously, he suspected her too. Maybe he had some evidence and wanted me to confront her.

“No, I did want to speak to her. I will be at your place in an hour.”

I took a shower and dressed quickly. Bruno followed me around, growling at my eye. I put on sunglasses to relieve him. I woke Pranay up, and told him to meet me at office for lunch. An hour later, I was at the Kapoor residence. The gate was opened by one of the trigger-happy guards. He opened the boot and searched the car. I took off my sunglasses, hoping that he would recognise me from last evening.

“Sign this,” he said gruffly, thrusting a register at my face.

“I was here last evening with Vimal.”

“Many people were here last evening. Sign it.”

I filled in the details and handed the register back to him.

“You can pass.”

Maybe it was my car that pissed him off. He probably wasn’t used to searching cars that were anything less than flashy SUVs. I blew him a kiss, and drove in.

A spacious tent covered half of the lawn that was witness to a flurry of activity, with cleaners and waiters running around. I parked the car and walked to the main door. I rang the bell, and was surprised to find Ram at the door.

“I thought you were the caretaker of the farmhouse. What are you doing here?”

“I come to the city whenever there is a big function, to supervise things.”

“Good for you. I am here to see Mr Paras Kapoor.”

“Yes, he is expecting you. Please follow me.”

He led me through a claustrophobic hall, meshed with grandeur and pomposity. He stopped in front of a door and knocked. Paras was sitting on a rocking chair, turbaned in a white bandage. It was a plush set-up with neat and tidy woodwork. Long rows of books in oak shelves ran along the perimeter of the room. A home library. Nice. Ram was exiting when I called him back.

“Ram, I would like to talk to you after this. Where can I find you?”

He turned around and asked cautiously, “Talk? Regarding, sir?”

Paras intervened. “That’s okay, Ram. Stay in the kitchen till he calls you.”

That settled it. The general had ordered the valiant soldier to stand in front of the firing squad. Ram took a half-bow, and left.

“How is your head?” I asked Paras.

“It’s a minor scratch.” He pointed to my sunglasses. “How is your eye?”

“Playing rainbow. It has already changed three colours. Should be back to the normal colour soon.”

“Vimal told me what happened yesterday. It was very brave of you to apprehend Leo. Babu called this morning. Leo was speaking the truth. He has more than six witnesses who saw Anil return the locket to Leo that night. What can this mean?”

The old man smelt of deception. He knew precisely what it meant. I played along.

“Well, it would seem that someone planted the locket to frame Leo. Probably the murderer. He must have got nervous.”

Paras got up slowly from the rocking chair, and walked towards one of the book racks. He picked up a book and glanced through it. He put the book down, came back, and sat down on the rocking chair. He rocked the chair for a few seconds, building up suspense.

“Yes. You are probably right. When Shalini remembered she had heard some noises outside the gate, and Babu found the locket, it gave me hope. But if Leo is innocent, then it can only mean one thing.”

He said the last sentence with resigned acceptance, and looked at me, anticipating some comment. I raised my eyebrows questioningly. He rocked his chair for a few seconds, and then said firmly, “This is going to be complicated. I assumed you would want to speak to Shalini today.”

“Yes, I was planning to start with her.”

“Do you suspect her?”

“No. Do you?”

He looked at me in disbelief. “You don’t suspect her! Then why do you want to interrogate her?”

“Not interrogate; talk to her. To start with. I would like to talk to each family member subsequently.”

He stared at me. “Why don’t you start with me?”

“I have nothing to ask you now, unless you want to tell me something on your own accord.”

“Hmm … how old are you … if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nope; age I am okay with. Just don’t ask what my salary is. I am twenty-eight.”

“You are smart for your age. I was surprised when you showed up at the farmhouse. I asked Sunil, and he mentioned that you had been classmates.” He paused. “She is a beautiful girl. You must be regretful.”

I was glad I was wearing sunglasses, and the old man couldn’t see the wild movements of my eyeballs. I said in a mind-your-own-business-tone, “Forgetful, not regretful. How did you know?”

“A guess. I noticed Sunil was not particularly fond of you when you showed up at the farmhouse that day. That drove me to grill him about you. You can always tell with your kids”.

“Well, I don’t have the luxury of having grievances against my clients. Bad for the business.”

I didn’t want him to digress from the topic. “Okay, sir. I want to start with you, ask some basic questions. Tell me, what is bothering you? Do you have a gut feeling about who the murderer is?”

He stared at me for a long time. It was an intimidating stare, used to make people nervous. I stared back. Finally, he said in a weary voice of a sixty-year-old man, “Yes, I have suspicions. And so do you, young man. Maybe we suspect the same person. Anil had his shortcomings, but no one would want to murder him. And yet everything suggests that he was murdered by one of my own. If that is the case, then that person is Shalini.”