The Cosmic Clues (12 page)

“But why would she do something like that?” Mohnish demanded.

“Because she wanted to take no chances. She realized that we had begun to suspect something. At the same time, she dared not tamper with the horoscopes, perhaps because she was aware that a good Astrologer can figure out if anything is amiss with a horoscope. So quite ingeniously, she changed the names to confuse us.”

“But you
read
the horoscopes, found out the natures, and even got the clue of the bank fraud! Neha's husband was not involved in any of that,” Mohnish pointed out.

“True, though I didn't get the bank lead from Jaidev's horoscope—which is also Tushar's horoscope—I got it from
Mr. Kapoor's
!” Sonia told him.

“Hold on a minute! I can't seem to follow this. . . .”

Sonia put up her hand. “Let me explain. When Mrs. Kapoor put her husband's name on Jaidev's horoscope, all she did was
put the right name
—
the real name
—
on the right horoscope
!”

“What! You mean . . .”

“Exactly. Jaidev is the
real
Mr. Kapoor and that means Mr. Kapoor is
alive
!”

“Then the other Mr. Kapoor . . . I mean, the man who died?”

“Was Neha's husband, Tushar!” Sonia disclosed. “It was an infallible, premeditated plan! But for a few chance loopholes, they would have been successful! Mr. Kapoor—I mean, Jaidev—embezzled money from his bank. To shake off the constant threat of the police, he and his wife devised a brilliant plot. Kapoor met Tushar one day and found out his penchant for changing jobs and his weakness for money. Kapoor and his wife offered him a good deal. Tushar was to impersonate as Mr. Kapoor in Pune, so that everyone recognized him as Mr. Kapoor. Tushar accepted, because they offered him a great deal of money against total secrecy. The poor chap had no idea what the Kapoors really had in store for him. As per their strategy, they would get rid of him—which they did—then they would announce the death in the papers and put an end to Dhiresh Kapoor and the bank fraud! In due course, they would have moved to another town and lived happily ever after with their loot!”

“But what about the photograph in the obituary? Surely, that would give their plan away. After all, people in Delhi would recognize the original Mr. Kapoor even if the Puneites did not!”

“Yes, I thought of that, too. So I sent Jatin all the way to Delhi to check out the newspapers. To my great delight, the proof we needed fell straight into his hands. The obituaries in the Pune papers displayed Tushar's photo. But the Delhi papers had
Jaidev's
photos on them! It was a daring plot, but the Kapoors obviously banked on the Delhi–Pune distance and the short public memory! It was sheer bad luck that Neha recognized her husband from the newspaper wrapped around the food she had purchased here in Pune,” Sonia finished with a satisfied smile.

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant detective work!” Inspector Divekar enthused.

“Yes, but I have another question,” Mohnish interposed. “What was Tushar's horoscope doing with Mrs. Kapoor? How did she have it to give the Inspector?”

“I think it was simply good thinking on the part of the Kapoors. They'd clearly worked out their plan to the last detail. They knew that there certainly would be a police inquiry once Tushar was found dead. Some kind of documents would be needed—which they were.”

“But wouldn't it have been simpler to say that the horoscope was lost or got misplaced in the Delhi–Pune transit?”

“I don't think so. Even today, we treat the horoscope with respect. People may not entirely believe in them or find them indispensable, but that does not stop most people from getting their horoscopes made. Impulse and curiosity betray the so-called scientific and logical mind. The urge to find out more about our future proves stronger than common beliefs and rationality. Human beings live with this paradox all their lives! So in this case, a refusal to give the horoscopes, under any pretext, would have perhaps roused suspicions. It was safer to give the horoscopes, since it bought them some time, and the Kapoors—like the majority of our lot—underestimated the power of the stars. They also saw no reason to worry, since they planned another vanishing act soon enough!”

“Yes, you were absolutely right there,” the Inspector said. “Your warning prompted fast action. I put two plain-clothed Constables on guard outside the Kapoor house. And sure enough, a van did arrive to pick up their furniture and luggage! That was good foresight, Sonia! Fortunately, we were on the spot to put a spoke in their wheel.” Inspector Divekar chuckled. “So all's well that ends well!”

“Poor Neha. It really pains me to pass on this bad news to her,” Sonia said with a troubled expression.

“I'll do it for you, if you like,” Mohnish offered, then added gently, “It's not just bad news that you deliver to her. It's also justice done! You've managed to catch her husband's murderers—I think that would satisfy Neha!”

“I hope so.” Sonia sighed.

“I'd better get going, Sonia. I have loads to do! But I'll keep in touch.” Inspector Divekar took her leave and Jatin went to see him off.

Mohnish observed Sonia quietly. She wore a pure white
chikan salwar kameez,
with a string of fake pearls round her neck. Her face was bent towards Nidhi. A lock of silky hair swung loose and covered her profile, and absently, she tucked the errant strand behind her ears and glanced up, meeting his candid gaze. For a second, their eyes locked, then she turned away, a slow blush creeping over her neck.

Mohnish smiled and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Well? Your map—your horoscope—took you to your destination?”

“Yes, my ever-faithful map!” Sonia smiled. “What will poor Neha do now?”

“I think she has plans to stay on at the Naari Kendra. They find her very useful, doing odd jobs and helping with the work. I can assure you that she will be perfectly happy there!”

“That at least relieves my mind!”

“Good, because I want you to relieve my mind, too! I've been waiting anxiously for this case to get over so that I can make you a request,” Mohnish said, with a cheeky grin.

“You mean you wish to discuss
your
case?” Sonia remembered.

“Well, not quite. It's something else.”

“I'm not giving you an appointment for an interview!” Sonia laughed.

“Then how about an appointment for dinner?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

Sonia blushed again. “Just the two of us?”

Mohnish nodded, his dimple prominent in the right cheek.

“And we won't discuss cases?”

“Anything but that!”

“And we'll go to a lovely, cozy place?”

The dimple deepened. “Paradise on earth!”

“Sounds fine to me, but first I shall have to ask Nidhi! What do you say, dear?” Sonia fondled the golden fur and the cat meowed her response. “Oh, I'm afraid she's given her permission!”

“She knows what's best for us!” Mohnish laughed and Sonia joined in.

“I don't believe it!” Sonia laughed.

“You better believe it!” Mohnish replied.

The evening sun made the old stones of the Shaniwar Fortress glisten and shimmer. The 1736 historical monument, partly destroyed in a fire, stood in the centre of the city and still drew tourists in large numbers. It was a place synonymous with Pune and its cultural heritage. In front of the grand entrance stood the magnificent statue of the eighteenth-century Maratha general Bajirao Peshwa, the first. People still admired this undefeated hero, who had brought the downfall of the Moghul Empire at Delhi.

On the right of the spiked gates, the fast-food stalls made good business. The
bhel
puri and
ragda
patties stalls were mobbed by children and parents, in their best holiday mood. Laughter rang out amongst the clusters, attired in colorful saris and
salwar kameez.

Sonia observed Mohnish minutely, as they stood in front of a
paani
puri stall. Was he joking or serious? She couldn't tell with Mohnish. In a lemon-yellow T-shirt and cream trousers, he looked the picture of innocence. And the dimple in his right cheek was so disarming, she knew she would believe him if he said the earth was square.

“You mean you have a Flower Shop
and
a Photo Studio?” Sonia confirmed.

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “And I don't think it's funny that you doubt it!”

“Okay. I'm not trying to be rude. But
you
?” Sonia emphasized exaggeratedly. “A sophisticated, classy, freelance journalist, with a cell phone—in a Flower Shop—the picture just doesn't fit!”

“You'd be surprised if I revealed all my activities to you!” he shot back.

“You mean there's more?” Sonia's eyes widened in amazement. “You'd better tell me all—I really don't want to be staggered with shock!”

“Okay, then, don't say I didn't warn you. I own a Flower Shop, a Photo Studio,
and
a Garage!” Mohnish confessed.

“And yet you need to earn your living as a freelance journalist and reporter!”

“Not quite. I freelance as a hobby—not as my bread and butter!”

“Well, I won't believe you till I find out for myself. Or until I read your horoscope! By the way, what
is
your zodiac sign?”

“Can't you guess? I thought you guys could look at a person and predict such things?”

Sonia pushed her plate forward for another round of
paani
puris. The Vendor added the boiled potatoes and sprouts to the puris, dipped them in the tamarind water, and placed each fat, round puri on her plate. Sonia always had a problem stuffing the whole puri in her mouth without spilling the tamarind water all over her dress. But the mouthwatering dish was too tempting to be considered a means of indignity! Mohnish was more adept, she noticed, as he neatly popped a puri into his mouth, without displacing a single drop! He savored the burst of spicy liquid.

“So can you guess my zodiac sign?” he repeated.

“I think I can take a guess. Your ascendant is Scorpio, “Sonia stated emphatically.

Surprise flickered on his face, but he dipped his head and polished off his last puri before saying “Justify, please.”

“Are you ready to take the good with the worst?” she asked, with a grin.

“Oh-oh, that doesn't sound too good for me,” he chuckled, as he paid the
Paani Puriwala,
the Vendor.

They strolled down the road and towards the bridge, oblivious to the jostling crowds and the traffic. A light drizzle began and Sonia raised her face to meet the fine rain. She was glad she'd agreed to take the evening off. Mohnish had proved to be most interesting and intriguing company. And the evening had granted more than promised, to say the least. They walked leisurely over the bridge, the cool wind riffling up Sonia's silky blunt hair.

The Mutha River—a major tributary of the Mula River—flowed silently below them. Pune city flourished around their confluence. Several bridges joined the two sides of the town here, and in the fast-dimming evening glow, the bridges appeared like a group of thin arches fading into the horizon. Pune city stretched on either side of the river—a wild, unruly combination of very old, quaint, rickety wooden structures and ultra-modern concrete buildings; of natural fauna, tropical trees, and parks; and temples, mosques, and churches signifying the curious and amazing mix of religions and castes. Pune, with its
galli
s—small alleys, which were the adventurous walker's delight—was an eternal source of fascination for all visitors. And for die-hard Puneites like Sonia, too. She threw a look of appreciation at the sprawling city, soaked in the drizzle of the setting sun. She glanced at Mohnish, who was studying her with a faint smile on his lips.

A group of street dogs followed them, wagging their tails. Sonia threw some of the biscuits that she always carried in her handbag. The tails wagged harder in appreciation, as the dogs gobbled down the biscuits, then curled up on the uneven pavement contentedly. Sonia smiled at Mohnish.

“What were we talking about?” she asked casually.

Mohnish grinned. “You were telling me about my zodiac sign,” he reminded.

“Oh yes! You're a Scorpio. Scorpios are dynamic, loyal, and family-loving—”

“That I am,” Mohnish agreed promptly.

“But they are also vindictive, shrewd, and cunning!”

“That I'm not!”

“Scorpios are dangerous people to cross. They always remember a wrong done to them.”

“Hey, that's not fair,” he protested.

Sonia laughed. “I can perfectly understand how you feel. Sometimes Astrology can be pretty cruel!”

“Right! And what is your zodiac sign? Gemini? I believe they're the most flighty!”

“That's a myth. I'm a Sagittarius—and please spare me the boredom of a character sketch! I still have to learn to accept the crevices in my character gracefully!”

Mohnish's glance flickered to her curved lips and then to her twinkling eyes. Her sense of humour was appealing. As was her unself-consciousness. She was refreshingly unconcerned about her looks—which made her seem like wildflowers dancing with the wind. . . .

“Is it true? Can you tell looking at a person's face what his zodiac sign is?” he asked suddenly.

“Sometimes.”

“Suppose the Owl were to stand before you, would you be able to recognize that this guy's a criminal?”

“The Owl—you mean the crook?”

“Not just a simple crook. He's a genius. Light with his fingers, agile on his feet, and I heard that he possesses a superior IQ.”

“Wow, sounds like an interesting man. Have you seen or met him?”

“As far as I know, no one has ever met him. He's so well hidden and disguised that he could be the next guy on the street and you would never know. But there are speculations about him—that he's stolen some of the best heirlooms in the world, he's handsome and dangerous and has houses strewn everywhere, travels in his own jet. . . .”

“All stolen money.”

“Some of it. The rest is well invested and well distributed. He's rumoured to have made generous donations to social organizations and such kind.”

“I certainly must meet this man.”

“But would you be able to pin down his zodiac sign?” Mohnish persisted.

“I really couldn't say. It's not like if you're a criminal you've got to have such and such a sign, or if you're not, vice versa. Astrology is far more complicated. But yes, sometimes you can take a guess. Sometimes a person's star sign is so imbedded in his personality, you can immediately spot the sign. But there's no rule.”

A marriage procession trailed down the crowded street and Sonia and Mohnish's attention was riveted on the cavalcade. A live musical band, consisting of a keyboard, trumpets, clarinets, and drums, played the latest Hindi film number. The youngsters of the group danced along with the music, leading the bridegroom on a heavily decorated white horse, while the more elderly family members followed them sedately. It was a grand procession, a display of sparkling clothes and jewels. Someone burst firecrackers and they exploded into a thousand diamonds against the sky. Sonia tried to take a peek at the groom's face as he passed her. But a huge garland of flowers covered him from top to bottom. With a shrug, she turned to Mohnish and grinned.

“I love weddings! And I love to watch the groom's face when he's on horseback—sometimes enjoying it, sometimes feeling terribly out of place!” She laughed.

“Tradition can make you feel equally good and foolish,” Mohnish agreed.

“I guess that's true. Going with the changing times, tradition can either enrich or embarrass. It all depends on the way you look at it.” Sonia glanced at her watch. “I'm afraid I have to leave. I promised my mom that I would go to a friend's place with her.”

“But we still have to discuss my case. Remember?”

“Yes, I do, but there's a snag. I don't mix business with pleasure. I'm afraid you'll have to take an appointment and come to the office, one of these days.” Sonia shrugged exaggeratedly.

“Oh, but this won't take more than a minute. . . .”

“I've never been accused of being partial to anyone before. And I would be called that if I break my own rule. So no business with pleasure!” Sonia laughed. “Unless it's so important that you've lost sleep, appetite, and weight over your problem. And I see no signs of any such changes in you.”

Mohnish chuckled. “So I'll reserve my case for a rainy day, right?”

“You got it,” Sonia agreed.

For a moment they looked at each other, the intimacy of shared pleasantries soaking into their new friendship.

“Need I say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself today and that we must go out again?” Mohnish remarked, on a more serious note.

“No, you needn't,” Sonia replied, equally grave. “And I, too, look forward to another evening like this.”

Mohnish watched her climb gracefully into her van and drive away. She really was unique. And with every passing moment, his need for her company was forming into something more long-lasting and permanent. Which was good, wasn't it? he asked himself. And for the first time, doubt uncoiled into his mind. Was he heading the right way? With a troubled sigh, Mohnish turned towards his car.

Sonia stroked the silky head of Nidhi as she curled in her lap. She glanced at the roses on the table and frowned. The card displayed the words
Secret Admirer.
Was this Mohnish's idea of fun? If it was, she should tell him to stop squandering his money on flowers, even if he did own a Flower Shop! There were other ways of impressing her.

The door opened and Jatin popped his head in.

“There's a lady here who says she simply must see you,” he told her.

“So send her in.”

Jatin hesitated.

“What's the matter?” Sonia stopped cuddling Nidhi, who immediately busied herself with cleaning her face. Jatin stepped in, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Should we allow her to just barge in and meet you? Without either appointment or a call? And you with a
cat
on your lap?”

“Jatin . . .”

“After all, Boss, you're quite famous now and you should demand such formalities!”

“Jatin.”

“An appointment, maybe a week later, a little display of work pressure—all these things go a long way in creating a good impression! It would help prove how busy we are.
Busy
is the keyword for success and increased clientele. Besides, you rarely discuss money! You should permit me to take care of that important detail in the outer office. Each client should pass through me—”

“Hey, hold it right there!” Sonia raised her hand, struggling to hide her amusement. “You've been reading that
How to Be Successful
book, right?”

“How did you guess?”

Sonia sighed. “I am an Investigator, aren't I?” she mocked, then, seeing the hurt on his face, added quickly, “I've seen you reading that book, hour after hour, so it was no big deal. However, I wish you wouldn't follow the advises as golden rules. It helps to bend our all-busy schedule for an urgent case, okay?”

“Okay!” Jatin grinned, and pivoted on his heels towards the door.

Sonia sighed again. Jatin was so uncontrollable at times. But also indispensable . . .