The Cosmic Clues (14 page)

“Whew, I did it!” He sighed, slouching down on the seat beside her.

“And just in time. The ceremony's over and I'm hungry!” Sonia smiled at him. “Aarti's changing. We can congratulate her, eat, and then leave.”

A terrible scream tore across the hall. Startled, Sonia and Jatin jumped to their feet. The guests, too, halted in their tracks. Meera stood frozen at the door of the changing room. Her face was white.

“Something's happened to her! Something's happened to Aarti!” she stammered.

Sonia galvanized into action, as if she possessed lightning instead of feet. Followed closely by Jatin, she streaked to the little room, then stopped. Aarti lay on the bed, motionless. A piece of paper was clutched in her hand. Sonia immediately checked the girl's pulse. Then she plucked the paper out of her hand and opened it. A single line was written on the page:
I do not wish to live, so blame no one for my death.

“Jatin, shut the door and let no one in! And call Inspector Divekar and a Doctor immediately!” she rasped, and Jatin instantly flew into action.

Within moments, the glorious festivities had become terrible tragedy. Aarti was no more. Her body had been taken away for Post Mortem. A glacial hand clutched at Sonia's heart. She hadn't believed Aarti, had labeled her instinctive fears as mere jitters. It almost seemed funny now! Only, death was not funny. It was serious and irreversible! And she'd wasted hours agonizing over stupid arguments, arguing with herself about choosing ethics over life-and-death issues. She certainly had a long way to go as a detective, she chided herself. Because it wasn't important just to be a good Investigator, it was also important to be able to sift instinct from illusion. And, if worst comes to worst, to trust illusion as deeply as one trusted instinct, if only so that you left no stone unturned. And that's where she'd been weak. Guilt tore through her like a jagged knife.
What if . . . What if . . .
The words clamored through her brain in ceaseless, remorseless repetition.

Gradually, the sobs and mutterings of the family members seeped through her numbness. The wedding guests had all left. Pradeep sat, paralyzed with shock, his head in his hands, looking a lonely figure. Aai and Baba were silent, and Beena was sobbing freely, heedless of Meera's comforting words.

“Why did she do it?” Baba, Pradeep's father, kept muttering. “I just don't understand it!”

“She seemed so happy, so excited to get married,” Aai, Pradeep's mother, agreed.

“She wasn't happy, I told you that,” Beena spoke up suddenly. “I told you the other night that Aarti seemed distracted, and reluctant and terribly unhappy. But you told me that was normal. It wasn't normal, was it? Look what she did! And now we shall never know what was worrying her!” Beena burst into sobs.

“I don't understand. . . . They wanted so much to get married.” Aai sounded flustered. “Why would she commit suicide?”

“Do you remember what Guruji told us?” Meera spoke up. “He'd predicted that something like this would happen! Do you remember, when we matched the horoscopes, Guruji said that they didn't match? That Pradeep and Aarti had better not get married?”

“Yes, I did,” a gruff voice interrupted them.

An old man with a balding head drew up a chair. “I'm most sorry about what happened here today. I did say that Aarti and Pradeep are not suited, but nothing in her horoscope would've prepared me for this. Yes, I warned Pradeep that he had a very unique combination in his horoscope. That his first wife would die and then he would remarry. But even I couldn't predict that his wife would commit suicide! And on their wedding day! Life is too complicated and unpredictable, isn't it?”

“Pradeep said at the time that he didn't care, he loved Aarti too much to bother about such predictions! And now look what's happened! A poor innocent girl has lost her life!” Beena cried in a harsh voice.

“She didn't lose her life, she
took
it herself,” Aai corrected sharply. “Let's not blame each other for what's happened, Beena. Be careful what you say. Aarti was obviously the suicidal type.”

“It's all right for you to say such things, Aai!” the wretched groom interrupted suddenly, turning a tear-stained face to his mother. “But I've lost the love of my life and I shall never know why. Oh, why did she do it? Why didn't she talk to me?” His shoulders shook as he bowed his head in grief. Meera moved instantly to his side and pressed an understanding arm around him.

Sonia cleared her throat. “Excuse me, I've been listening and I really must introduce myself to you.”

The others looked at her in surprise, as if aware of her presence for the first time.

“I'm Sonia Samarth, and I run a Detective Agency. Aarti came to me two days ago, feeling thoroughly lost and frightened.”

“Frightened?” Baba questioned, amazed.

“Yes, unfortunately I didn't believe her at that time. But I wish I'd probed, that I hadn't acted so pompous and self-assured. I wish I'd let her talk to me—but I didn't. Can any one of you tell me why she was feeling so fearful, just days before her wedding?”

“We have absolutely no idea! I wasn't even aware that she'd sought your help.” The bridegroom looked even more distraught than before Sonia had spoken.

“She was overexcited and oversensitive to issues,” Beena insisted. “But I wouldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams that she was so desperate! And now she's gone!”

“I can't believe it,” Pradeep murmured in a dead voice.

Sonia stood up. “I'm really sorry—for everything. I wish I could've prevented this from happening. And I wish I could've been of more help. Goodbye.”

She headed to the entrance of the hall. At the door she turned. The family was huddled together, grieving and crying. Sonia felt an intense urge to burst into tears herself—for lost causes, for lost love, and for death, which is the final parting.

“It's been four days since the incident and you're still grinding the memories to powder. You know you can't blame yourself,” Mohnish insisted. “Superfluous guilt will lead you nowhere. And there's no point moping: you can't change the past.”

Sonia was pacing the floor, restless and disturbed. Mohnish was leaning against the table, watching her, his arms folded, his eyes sad. An attentive Nidhi sat beside him. Both he and the cat watched, their heads swiveling along with Sonia's pacing.

“I'm not moping and I know I can't change the past. But I
can
learn from mistakes I've made, can't I?” Sonia pointed out.

“I think you're being too hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, it's normal—it's a human right!”

“Not when it involves a person's life.”

“Aw . . . come on, Sonia! You couldn't possibly have known that Aarti planned to commit suicide. Not you! Not anyone! You said so yourself, she had nothing to tell!”

“Yes, but I should've persisted, read between the lines, helped to sort out her jumbled fears,” Sonia shrugged eloquently, “done
something
to relieve her burdened mind. I just told her she had marriage jitters and let her walk out that door. Marriage jitters, for God's sake! Unforgivable!”

Mohnish was silent. He'd never seen Sonia in such a mood. Anger, guilt, retribution—all directed towards herself—stuck into her customary serene logic like splinters. Perhaps it was best if she purged herself of all these negative feelings. At length, her blazing face lost color and she slumped into a chair.

“Where's Jatin?” Mohnish asked casually, hoping to change the subject.

“Out. I've sent him on some errands.”

“He wasn't here the last time I dropped by, either.”

“He was reading too many books and falling into a habit of preaching to me! So I sent him on some real practical jobs. It'll keep him away from his books and protect me from his intelligent advises,” Sonia replied with a faint smile.

“That's better. You do look quite beautiful when you smile,” Mohnish remarked.

“Thanks. And you make me feel better, too,” she admitted.

Another silence ensued as both looked awkwardly at each other. Mohnish stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. His deep gaze bore into the honeyed depths of her eyes.

“You know that you can always rely on me, don't you? Whatever the situation, Sonia, however silly or dangerous, if you ever need me, you know I shall be there for you. . . .”

Sonia nodded, suddenly tongue-tied. A wave of bashfulness swept over her.

Propitiously, the phone shrilled at that moment. Sonia almost sprang to the instrument, and hastily lifted the receiver.

“Hello? Yes, I'm listening. . . . Oh good! You know what to do, don't you? Go ahead and contact him, I'll talk to him later.” She listened for another minute, then hung up.

When she turned to Mohnish, her eyes were twinkling.

“You said you'd be there for me, right? However silly or dangerous?” she challenged.

“Yes, though I didn't know you planned to take me up so instantly on the offer!”

“That will teach you never to take risks with me!” she laughed. “So? Are you game?”

“Well, since I said it, I'm not one to back out on a promise. Name the situation, place, act, and time!”

The night was cool and a wind swept the dry Banyan leaves off the road. The Zen drove down the road, turned a curve, and halted in front of the Gupte residence. It was a modest bungalow of red bricks. The moonlight bathed the house and the tree-lined drive. Meera hit the button on the remote, and the well-oiled gates swung silently open. Pradeep accelerated and was halfway through the gate when he halted so abruptly that Meera was almost thrown against the windscreen.

“What the . . !” she cursed, turning to Pradeep.

The young widower was staring straight ahead, his eyes wide, shock and fear written all over his handsome face. Meera slowly turned in the direction of his averted gaze and gasped. Aarti stood at the entrance to the residence. Dressed in her bridal yellow sari, decked in jewels, she stood motionless as the wind tugged and pulled at her
pallu.
Her shoulder-length hair blew wildly about her face.

“No . . . !” Meera screamed.

“Stop it! Stop screaming!” Pradeep yelled.

“It's a ghost! She's come back, Pradeep, she's come back! To take revenge!”

“Shut up and get out of the car!”

“No! She's coming towards us!”

Aarti walked slowly to the car. The headlights threw her figure into harsh shadows and the moonlight spun a halo around her slender form. She stopped at the bonnet of the vehicle and raised an accusing hand towards Pradeep. He stumbled out of the car. The wind seemed to blow stronger, throwing him off balance.

“I'm sorry! Forgive me, Aarti! It was all her idea, believe me! I loved you, I truly did!”

“Liar! Liar! You planned it, you never loved her, you killed her!” Meera screeched, scrambling out of the car, now hysterical and out of control.

Aarti turned to her. The venomous hate on the dead woman's face made Meera step back in fear. Wildly, she turned and fled.

Pradeep stared after his adopted sister, uncertainty and fear clogging his brain. At that moment, bright lights went on, and he winced at the dazzling impact.

“Mr. Pradeep Gupte, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of your wife!” Inspector Divekar's voice boomed out through the darkness.

The grieving bridegroom turned a confused, hazy gaze at the crowd suddenly gathered around him. Inspector Divekar, Mohnish, Jatin, and three Constables—their faces hard, accusing, and unforgiving. And at the back of the group, Sonia, holding Aarti's hand. Aarti was sobbing uncontrollably.

“I can't believe that you played such a dirty trick on me!” Mohnish said indignantly, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“The first rule in investigation is never to reveal all your cards. Right, Jatin?” Sonia chuckled.

“Right, Boss, though I didn't know you were reading the same book!”

“I wasn't, but that's immaterial.”

“But it still doesn't justify the fact that you didn't treat friends as real friends.” Mohnish looked hurt.

“The second rule is not to reveal your cards, not even to friends!”

Mohnish grinned. “Okay, I give up. Now tell me exactly what happened! I'm still so confused. I truly believed that Aarti had committed suicide and that you just could not get over your guilt trip.”

“Okay, let me start at the beginning. You know that Aarti came over with all her anxieties and fears and I sent her packing with my confident and immature advises. But after she departed, I checked out the horoscopes she'd left with me. And I realized that Pradeep's Venus and Mars were in the same house as his adopted sister Meera's. Without going into astrological jargon, that was enough to tell me those two were strongly attracted to each other and were having a relationship. But Pradeep claimed to be deeply in love with Aarti. Somehow, that did not add up, since Aarti's horoscope revealed no such bonds with Pradeep. So I began wondering where Aarti fitted in to the picture. There are usually two reasons why couples marry—love or money. Since Aarti was an orphan, with no inheritance, the motive for this marriage had to be love! I began wondering if for Pradeep it was love for Aarti, as he declared, or could it be love for Meera?