Seduced by Murder (13 page)

My headache took control of me, and commanded that I march to the liquor cabinet. I placed the laptop on the table, got up, and walked towards the bar. There was no whisky or rum in the cabinet. Only gin and vodka. I cursed silently. What was wrong with the world?

I had picked up a glass to pour myself a drink. I remembered my manners and asked Shalini, “Can I pour you one?”

She grabbed the glass from my hand. “Let me. I am quite good at making drinks.”

She gave a smile that seemed too eager to please. She carefully measured an exact amount of vodka in my glass,
mixing a viscous blue liquid from an unlabelled, transparent bottle. She handed me the glass.

“Try it and tell me how it is.”

I felt sorry for her. I knew she was playing around, her enthusiasm a facade to cover the tremendous pressure she was under.

I took the glass from her, and was struck by the unpleasant thought that if she could research gypsies, she could research viscous blue poisons that went along well with vodka. I stared at the drink in my hands. What the heck! You were born to die anyway. I took a sip and relished the taste. It was actually good, and I smiled at her. I could swear she blushed.

She smiled and said, “So you see, there were no footprints on the sand because the knife was thrown from a distance by a gypsy. You can convince people about that. Would you do it for me?”

I finished the contents of the glass before replying, just in case she decided to snatch it back.

“A gypsy from the village? Hmm, the idea is strange.”

“Why? Every village has gypsies!”

“No, that is fiction propagated as truth by Bollywood movies. I assure you most Indian villages do not have knife-throwing gypsies picked up by the mafia to become assassins.”

Her face contorted angrily and she said, “You just saw the pictures. The murderer is most certainly a gypsy. I am going to show the results of my research to Babu.”

She made the last statement with triumph. It was a false effort though. Her eyes belied the terror she felt, and her voice was high pitched, reflecting her insecurity.

“I would advise you not to share this with Babu.”

“Why? Because then he would know that your theories are silly?”

I remembered Paras’s reference to her madness, and wondered whether she would really be better off in an institution.

“Nope. You shouldn’t share your theories with anyone for a good reason. The initial pictures you showed me were of a gypsy tribe from Hungary. The other picture was from a remote village in Africa. You may find it difficult to find their descendants in your local village.”

She sighed wearily and looked at me sincerely and said, “Vishal, Anil was a bad man. I swear he got what he deserved. I had endured enough, and this was God’s way of giving me justice.”

I gauged the implication of this sentence. I had it on tape. I waited with bated breath for the impending confession to follow.

“Please, let it rest. It will not harm you to tell Inspector Babu that some villager committed the crime. Please.” Her eyes glistened with tears, imploringly.

I tried to sound shocked. “Rest! Shalini, your husband has been murdered! Why would you want me to stop the investigation when I have a hunch that I may catch the murderer very soon?”

I walked a few paces towards her, so that her next words would be recorded properly. She surprised me by walking faster towards me, and putting her hands around my neck.

She spoke firmly.

“Just back off, Vishal. How does it matter to you? I will do whatever you want. You want to sleep with me?” She pulled me towards her, grabbed my hand, and placed it on her breast. Her eyes made her look like a mad woman. I felt the heat radiating from her body.

I reacted instantly, roughly pushing her away. She fell down on the floor and started crying. However, there was some fatalism about her crying now. I felt sorry for her. I realised that my anger would only worsen her battered state of mind. I poured a glass of water and offered it to her.

“I am sorry, Shalini.”

Tears were cascading down her pale face. “I am sorry. This is so embarrassing. I am not like that,” she said amidst breathless sobs.

It was heart wrenching to see her cry. I knew there must have been a compelling reason why she had debased herself in front of me. I just hoped the reason was not murder.

“Will you take money?” she asked suddenly, all attentive.

Again, I was surprised by her quick recovery. I shook my head.

“Shalini, I am sure you have a reason for your actions. I want you to know that I see you as a woman of substance, and that will not change, no matter what. I promise you one thing, however. If I find the murderer, I will tell only Mr Paras Kapoor.

“I will not disclose anything to the police, or to any other family member. If it is any solace, Mr Kapoor is not going to hand the murderer to the police. He may only transfer the person to a psychiatrist.”

She started to shiver. Her body was trembling. I saw her pupils enlarge. There was a cold knot in my stomach, as I remembered the poison theory. But she hadn’t tasted the vodka. I went towards her just before she passed out. She wasn’t faking it; she was out cold. I lifted her up and placed her on the bed. I held my finger beneath her nose and checked her pulse. The breathing was normal, and the pulse was steady. She needed rest. I covered her with a blanket. I hadn’t got a
confession, but a bond had been created. Between a detective and a criminal. Ironical. The bond of common suffering.

I picked up the mobile on the table next to her bed. I went to call-register and checked her received-calls. The last ten calls were from the same person – Raj. I checked her dialled-numbers folder. The last six calls Shalini had made were to Raj. The last one was made at eleven-fifteen, minutes before I came into her room. I checked her messages. The inbox was empty. She had deleted all the received and sent messages. I flipped through the deleted-messages folder. One of the messages was still there. It had come at eleven-twenty. It read,

Just thinking. The gypsy theory is weird. Just offer him money. Relax. You will get thru this. I am always there for you
.

I dialled the number. He picked it up at the first ring. “Hi baby. How did it go?”

“It went just fine.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Who is this? Where is Shalini?”

The tone tottered between panic and anger.

“I am Vishal, a private detective hired by Mr Paras Kapoor. You are Raj?”

“Where is Shalini?”

“She is asleep.”

“Wake her up. I want to speak to her.”

“Not a good idea. She needs some rest.”

“If you have harmed her, you will be sorry! I know about you.”

“Listen Raj, why don’t we meet?”

“I am on my way. Stay there until I come.”

“Splendid. How much time will you take?”

“I will be there in twenty minutes.”

“Great. I am waiting.”

I
exited Shalini’s room with mixed feelings. I should have felt euphoric, but I felt dismayed. I had nearly solved the case. But the solution would also bring an end to Aditi’s presence in my life. Paras’s words resounded in my head,
Do your work and leave
.

It had been a mistake to get onto this case. Like cancer, her magic was engulfing me, and each cell in my body had turned traitor, prompting me towards her. I hoped I would see her again.

I tried to subdue my thoughts about Aditi, and concentrated on what had transpired with Shalini. I had almost got her to confess. The corridor led to a balcony. I walked into the balcony, and felt the warm sunshine and crisp air. A colossal tent covered the lawns filled with hundreds of neatly stacked chairs. A portrait, the size of a billboard, was placed at the centre. I focused on the handsome, young face of Anil that smiled at me from the portrait. It was a pity to die so young, no matter how fiendish he was. I saw Vimal barking orders, and supervising the caterers who were laying food on the tables. The waiters lingered around carelessly. There was no sign of Aditi.

“I am here, sir,” I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and saw Ram.

“Ah … here you are. I was looking all over for you,” I lied.

“I have been waiting for you to come out of Shalini madam’s room, sir. Malti told me you had come to the kitchen. I am sorry; I was out on an errand. Do you want to talk to me now, sir?”

The excitement was evident in his eyes. I could almost imagine him telling his grandchildren the story of the great detective, who interrogated him regarding the gruesome murder of Anil Kapoor.

“Who’s Malti?”

“She is my niece. She took you to Shalini madam’s room.”

All my suspicions were fixed on Shalini. The poor lady had almost acknowledged her crime. I decided to interrogate Ram purely out of habit, rather than agenda. Maybe I could get an insight about Shalini’s relationship with Anil.

He led me to the dining room, so that he could keep an eye on the cooks. The aroma of the various delicacies being prepared tantalised my nostrils, and I remembered I hadn’t eaten a thing since morning. Ram turned out to be a mind reader.

“Sir, have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah,” I lied. I didn’t want any digression.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?” he asked obsequiously.

“Sure. Coffee. Black. Thanks.”

Ram yelled at a servant in the kitchen, and asked him to make some black coffee for me.

“I heard how you caught Leo, sir. It was a very brave thing to do. Could I look at your eye?”

“Sure,” I said, removing my sunglasses, and let him make a fuss over it.

I gave him the same bullshit about Paras having given me the rights to question him, and began his interrogation.

“How long have you been working with the Kapoor family?”

“Seven years, sir. Since the time they built the farmhouse near my village. I helped Paras sir procure the land, and then supervised the construction of the farmhouse. My main responsibility is to take care of the farmhouse whenever the family comes visiting.”

“Not much work, eh?” I winked at him.

He appeared shocked. “Oh no, sir! I travel to the city at least twice a week – whenever there is a function, or whenever the family travels abroad, like today I am here to supervise the cooks and the other domestic servants. In fact, my presence here is so important that I have a permanent room in the servant quarters.”

“Point noted. So you are indispensable to the family.”

His chest swelled up by at least a few inches. A servant came in with my coffee. I was just about to pick up the cup when Ram stopped me.

“Idiot!” he shouted at the servant. “Get the other crockery. Do you know who he is? He is from the police. How many times have I told you to get cream biscuits for important guests? The ones Vimal sir got from America.”

The servant vanished, depriving me of the hot coffee, but I said appreciatively to Ram, “I see what you mean. You are the man in charge.”

He gave me a grovelling smile. I was not actually from the police, but I hated the idea of telling him the truth and disappointing him. The coffee gave me a rush of energy, and I decided to shake Ram up a bit.

“How is your neck? I see the scratches have almost disappeared.”

He paled visibly. “Sir, I got them from the trees in my village. I will cut a tree and bring it to the city, so that you can see how densely they are covered with thorns.”

“No, no, not required,” I said hastily.

I pretended to stare at a non-existent mark on my nails, and said casually, “Anyway, Babu will get the fingerprints report by tomorrow. There were some fingerprints found on the body. You needn’t be afraid, since you didn’t touch the body.”

He looked terrified. “Sir, I did touch the body when I found it. My fingerprints would definitely be there.”

“Did you touch the knife?”

“No, sir.”

“Then there is no need to worry. The police would most probably take the fingerprints on the weapon. I will inform them that you touched the body accidently though. Rest assured.”

His face regained the entire lost colour, and he offered me the imported cookies.

“But then of course, if the murderer was smart, and wearing gloves … as I suspect he or she was, then the police would have to rely on the fingerprints on the body to zero in on the suspect. In that case, there would not be much I could do.”

“Oh no!” he gasped. “I need to talk to Inspector Babu.”

I almost choked on the cookie. “No need for that. I will take care of you.”

He folded his hands in appreciation.

“I know an innocent man when I see one, although…“

“Although what?” he shrieked.

I whispered, “Well, we have firmly established that the murderer is an insider. And remember, Ram, blood is always thicker than water.”

“What does that mean?” he said, confused.

I looked at him, picked up another cookie, broke it dramatically into half, and gobbled one piece. I paused dramatically.

“Do you know what our first lesson is, while investigating a murder case like this?”

He shook his head.

“That in ninety per cent of the cases, the person who discovers the body is the murderer.”