The Cosmic Clues (5 page)

“You'll see soon enough! This afternoon I set about the case in a most systematic manner. It was time to turn to the horoscopes and try to find out if I could peg down a particular horoscope. So first, I checked out all the horoscopes to find out whose horoscope matched that of a criminal's. And sure enough I found one which showed me all the traits of a murderer! It amazed me because at that point that made no sense! But I did realize that I'd chanced upon a most vital lead, one which had plenty of potential to be explored. The next step was to go sequentially backwards from what I knew happened. What do we know? I mean, what
really
happened?”

“Satish was murdered.”

“Now the next logical question:
Where
was he murdered?”

“In Ajay Patkar's room.”

“In Ajay's bed, to be precise.
Who
normally sleeps in that bed?”

“Ajay, of course!”

“Right. So if Satish hadn't been in the house, who would have been sleeping in that bed?”

“Ajay . . . my God, are you suggesting . . . !”

“You got it! Conclusion—that paper cutter was meant for Ajay Patkar, and not Satish, as everyone presumes! It was pure bad luck that Ajay invited Satish on the same day as Naresh's gang meeting. Naresh, as a desperate means, placed a dead mouse in the guest room, so that the smell would drive Satish away. Accordingly, Ajay offered Satish his bed, and in the bargain placed his best friend straight into the hands of Destiny! The murderer was unaware of the change. And thinking that it was Ajay in the bed, struck him with the knife!”

“In that case, the murderer has to be someone who did not know that Satish was sleeping in the room that night,” Jatin pointed out.

“Good deduction. Now, who are the people who knew about the change of rooms? Naresh himself, since he was responsible for it, and Yamuna Maushi. And who did
not
know about the change? Mahesh Uncle and Mrs. Patkar. After I realized that, I went back to the horoscope I had singled out. It was
Mrs. Patkar's horoscope
that revealed the criminal traits!”

“But how's it possible? Why would a mother try to kill her own son?” Jatin protested.

“Exactly! I asked myself the same question and the answer again came to me from her horoscope! I won't go into details, but Jupiter in her fifth house is in conjunction with Rahu. Saturn, with Ketu, does not aspect the fifth house favorably, and to make matters worse, the swami or the Lord of the fifth house—a house which governs children—is with Saturn. To make technical jargon simple, such a woman will never conceive and will never have a child of her own. And even if she did, it will not be a son!”

“But she
has
a son!”

“That had me floored, too! But only for a while. The world knows that Ajay is her son but her horoscope denied the fact. Which made me think—was he really her son? I mean, did she give
birth
to him? If my line of thinking was correct, then our whole perspective on this case would change! The issue was remarkably sensitive but I had to find out! Because only the answers to these questions would throw light on this case. It was vital to tackle Ajay. I paid him a visit and put forth my argument in the most persuasive manner possible. He was naturally quite upset by my suggestion that he was not his mother's son. Ultimately, I did succeed in convincing him and he was willing to co-operate. It was their family gynecologist, from Mumbai, who furnished the information we needed.

“Ajay is not the present Mrs. Patkar's son but the son of Mr. Patkar's first love, who died in childbirth. To avoid a scandal, Mr. Patkar had to marry immediately. Alka—the present Mrs. Patkar—was a needy girl from a poor family. After their marriage, the matter was hushed up because Mr. Patkar always wanted his son to believe that this was his real mother. But that is exactly what Mrs. Patkar could never be—a real mother! She despised him, because he reminded her of her husband's first love and because she could never have a child of her own. So she threw herself into social activities, parties, and mounting debts, leaving the child in the care of Yamuna Maushi.”

“Whew! How did Ajay take this news? I'm sure I would have been shattered to discover that my mother was not my own!”

“Oh, he'll come to terms with it, I suppose.”

“But what about the motive? Why would she want to kill Ajay? And with Naresh's knife? What enmity could she possibly have with Naresh?”

“The age-old greed for money. Inheritance. The old Mr. Patkar, knowing his wife's squandering capacity and intense dislike for his son, left everything to Ajay, and after Ajay to Mrs. Patkar. But he made a joint nominee in Naresh, whom he liked and trusted. Mrs. Patkar was neck deep in debts and her debtors were constantly hounding her. She had no control over her husband's money and she hated asking Ajay for it. So she decided to go the whole hog—to kill Ajay and incriminate Naresh so that she could kill two birds with one stone. Or to put it literally, with one paper cutter! Then the inheritance would all be hers! On Tuesday, when two of her rather unpleasant debtors paid Mahesh Uncle a visit and threatened her life, she decided she must act fast. She knew that Mahesh Uncle would be away at the farm that night. She decided to seize the opportunity. Unfortunately, her plan misfired and her knife took the wrong life!”

“But what about proof? And are you going to inform Inspector Divekar about this?”

“Inspector Divekar is at the Patkar house right now. He's positive that he'll get the truth out of her. As for evidence . . . A deep and vicious stabbing always leaves some stains on the clothing of the killer. I am sure a thorough search of Mrs. Patkar's room will reveal a spotted nightgown!”

There was a knock on the door and Inspector Divekar—a tall, broad man with a receding hairline, attired in a brown uniform—strode in, a beaming smile on his lips.

“I can't believe it, Sonia, you did it! A little pressure and Mrs. Patkar went to pieces, confessing all! And we found that nightgown, too! Brilliant work! And you mean to tell me that it was a ‘horoscope' which gave you the lead?”

“Absolutely, Jeevan Uncle, believe it or not!”

“I'm beginning to believe it!” Inspector Divekar smiled.

“Gosh, I'm hungry. Jatin, I thought I told you to order lunch!”

“In a jiffy, Boss,” Jatin remarked with a grin.

“Where's Ajay Patkar?” Sonia asked the Inspector.

“Struggling with hard truths. But he'll be all right. He should be here soon. Hello! Who's this on the cushion?” Inspector Divekar stroked the cat.

“Nidhi—my lucky charm!” Sonia laughed, and Nidhi meowed in agreement.

Lightning streaked across the darkness, ripping the sky open with its brilliance. The thunder followed with such an earth-shaking rumble that Sonia shuddered. Jatin, too, looked a little startled, pausing over his meal. Inspector Divekar merely concentrated on his Chicken
Biryani.
A light drizzle fell outside the restaurant, like soft fountain water.

“What a night!” Sonia remarked. “Though I do hope it pours. It's been such a dry season this year that we almost feared a drought situation. But not anymore, I hope. We need the rain for the crops and the economy.”

Inspector Divekar nodded. “For the first time to-night, I can see some signs of our famous monsoon rains coming on. Are you sure you won't try some of this
Biryani
? It's delicious!”

Sonia smiled. “No thanks, I'm a strict vegetarian. And as it is, I'm full! Thank you for a wonderful treat in this charming place!”

Sonia glanced around at the beautifully decorated restaurant. Located along the curving green banks of the Mula River, the restaurant was aptly called Mula Retreat and served traditional Maharashtrian food. The décor was rustic, with coir mattresses adorning the mud walls, in criss-cross patterns. A bullock cart rested in the corner of the huge hall, where children played, creating sounds with sticks on the wooden wheels. Waiters in white
dhoti
s—loin cloths—kurtas, and small white caps moved around, with food placed in cane baskets, matching the Maharashtrian mood and ambience.

Sonia and Jatin had thoroughly enjoyed the food—
bhakri
made of sorghum flour and crushed chilies along with curds and the spicy gram gravy called
pithla.
Inspector Divekar had insisted on taking the two of them out to dinner, to this new restaurant. They had arrived a little early, so as to enjoy the idyllic location and the cool evening breeze. Mula Retreat was sandwiched between sugarcane and sorghum fields on one side and an open grazing plot on the other where cows and sheep grazed. The metal bells of the cows tinkled melodiously. Local fishermen, in their tiny red and blue wooden boats, who had thrown in their nets for fishing in the rippling water, were now returning home with their haul. The river and the Babul and Neem trees, bathed in the golden-pink glow of the setting sun, sparkled with a dreamy, almost surreal effect.
An ideal evening for meditation and romance,
Sonia had thought. But, without warning, the weather had changed and a cold black blanket had enveloped the entire city.

Thunder rumbled again as Jatin remarked, “The weather's perfect for this kind of spicy food.”

“Also perfect to commit crimes,” Inspector Divekar added, as he polished off his
Biryani.
He looked quite distinguished in a comfortable sky-blue cotton shirt and black trousers.

Sonia smiled. “Trust you to equate a beautiful romantic night with crime!”

“Romantic? This is a setting for criminals! On a night like this, criminals find their way easily and effortlessly to their victims and their loot! I'm positive we'll have a whole list of new cases tomorrow morning at the Police Station.”

“You're right, I suppose. But good criminals, like good Investigators, can strike anytime, anyplace,” Sonia reminded.

“Absolutely. Take the Owl, for instance.”

“The crook who's supposed to have stolen the Kerkar jewels,” Sonia recalled. Mohnish Rai's voice and face, delivering the news on TV, rose in her mind. And she didn't at all appreciate the way her mind automatically supplied these images!

“Yes, the Owl. I'm certain he has the Kerkar diamonds. He's an amazing man, though I've never had the good fortune of interacting with him. You never know when he'll display his skill and talent. He's so perfect in the implementation of his ‘schemes' that he has successfully evaded being caught by the police.”

“So far,” Sonia added.

“Going by his track record, I doubt if he'll ever get caught. He's going to be one of those criminals who just fade away, simply vanish! Never to be seen or heard of again. But, of course, that won't be for a long time still. I'm sure he has yet to accomplish many more feats!” Inspector Divekar prophesied.

Sonia shrugged. “I'm afraid I'm no authority on the Owl. I doubt if our paths will ever cross.”

The waiter arrived with the bill and the Inspector dropped a five hundred rupee note on the tray. Then all three of them hastened to Sonia's parked van. Soon they were out on the street, the tar road sparkling white in the dim streetlights.

“I wouldn't like to be caught out on such a night,” Sonia said, as the vehicle sped towards the city. The headlights, like elongated, golden ribbons on the wet, glistening road, pierced a way into obscurity.

“I'm glad we finished dinner and are returning home before the downpour,” Jatin added.

They drove in silence for a while. Then, suddenly, Inspector Divekar said, “Jatin, please stop the van by this gate!” He pointed out the concrete shadow which was looming up on the left.

“Are you getting off here, Jeevan Uncle?” Sonia asked, puzzled.

“As a matter of fact,
we
are getting off for a few minutes. I'd like you to meet some people, Sonia. They live in this really smashing bungalow you simply must see!”

“Jeevan Uncle, it's late and it's going to pour! Don't you think we should pay this . . . er . . . visit some other, more appropriate day and time?” Sonia suggested, glancing at her wristwatch.

It was past nine. The dinner had been wonderful and it had filled her with warmth and lethargy. And now she looked forward to cuddling up in her warm bed.

“It won't take long and, frankly, the Tupays will profit by your visit,” the Inspector replied enigmatically.

Sonia stared at him in bewilderment. But his plump face was closed. Without awaiting her response, he ordered Jatin to park the vehicle and follow them inside the bungalow. With a strange reluctance of heart, Sonia trailed after Inspector Divekar up the flight of stairs to a wooden double door. He rang the bell, which clanged through the house like an echo of the rumbling thunder. The double doors opened, to reveal a man in his late forties. A streak of white wove through his thick mass of jet-black hair.

“Inspector Divekar! I'm sure glad you could make it!” he exclaimed, his face breaking into a welcoming smile.

“I said I'd come, didn't I? Meet Sonia Samarth, the daughter of my best friend. Sonia, Mr. Tupay.”

“Do come in, Sonia, it's much warmer inside,” Mr. Tupay said, and waved her in.

The hall was like a mini studio, with theatre-like sets, all ready for shooting. A traditional Indian seating arrangement in one corner, complete with pots and handmade long curtains of tiny stuffed toy animals and beads. Low cane chairs, in another corner, a revolving swing to go with it. A plush, heavy sofa formed a ring in the center of the hall.

There were four people seated on the sofa. Three women and a man. Sonia was introduced to each one of them. Mr. Tupay's wife, Medha; their daughter, Revati; her friend Gaurav; and Mrs. Tupay's sister, Pradnya Joshi. Sonia observed them all with a sudden stirring of interest within her. It was second nature to her to slip into the role of an observer and discover little secrets that no one was aware of.

The similarity between the sisters was striking. Both Medha and Pradnya had single, long, thick plaits and were clad in off-white
Kolkata
cotton silk saris. The passing years had lent a few lines to the two attractive faces, but the hint of a frown on each brow was more than a mark of age. It was worry. The two sisters had obviously been deep in anxious conversation before Sonia's arrival. Moreover, the interruption had not dispelled the heavy tension in the room. Something wasn't right here. Sonia remembered what Inspector Divekar had remarked a moment ago—“the family would profit by her visit.” Jeevan Uncle had deliberately brought her here, at this late hour—but why?

“Do join us, Sonia, we were just having coffee,” Medha Tupay suggested, a smile lighting up her rather tired face.

“Coffee would be a treat on such a night,” Sonia surprised herself by saying. She caught Inspector Divekar's eye and was pleased to see his approving nod.

Lightning lit up the room in a flash, throwing a bright blue tinge on all the faces. The thunder rumbled as if on cue and the downpour began abruptly, rattling the wide windows. Jatin entered, barely in time, shaking off raindrops at the door.

“Terrible weather, isn't it?” Inspector Divekar observed.

They were all now sitting, facing each other, almost as if they were ready to begin a game or a drama. Like something was about to happen. The impression was so powerful that Sonia felt strangely excited. It was odd and most mystifying. What exactly did Jeevan Uncle have in mind? Her gaze shifted to Revati. A pretty girl, in jeans and a green T-shirt, slim and fair-skinned, with hair swept up in a ponytail, looking young and vulnerable. She was leaning on the arm of her mother's sofa, her eyes restlessly darting to the wall clock and then seeking those of Gaurav. But her friend sat, his head bent, his gaze fixed on an invisible spot on the red carpet. Gaurav interested Sonia. Of medium build, dusky with a becoming stubble, his quiet reserve instantly placed him as an outsider. But at the same time, he was comfortable enough to completely ignore her presence in the house. . . .

Pradnya Joshi laughed. “It's a night for ghost stories!”

“Don't, Aunty!” Revati exclaimed. “Please, no ghost stories!”

“No need to get hyper, Reva,” Mrs. Tupay admonished her daughter. “Here's the coffee. Thank you, Kaki.” She smiled at the sari-clad housekeeper. “Did you give some to Sushil?”

“Oh yes, he's sitting right there, having it.” Kaki indicated with her head.

For the first time, Sonia noticed that there was another person in the hall. A thin, dark figure sat unobtrusively in a shadowed corner of the hall. It was the manner in which he held his mug, in an awkward grip—as if it might fall off any minute—that most puzzled her. He appeared to be staring straight ahead of him, into the wall.

“What do you do, Sonia?” Mr. Tupay broke into her reflections.

“Sonia and Jatin run a detective agency,” Inspector Divekar explained. “And, to say the least, it's not an ordinary agency. The interesting part is that Sonia's an Astrologer, too. She uses her knowledge in her cases!”

“How unique!” Pradnya exclaimed warmly.

“Yes, isn't it?” Inspector Divekar continued. “And she's really good with her predictions although reading the future is not her profession!”

Sonia waited without speaking, patiently and vigilantly. Her sixth sense told her that Jeevan Uncle was treading a slow and deliberate path in a preordained direction. She only had to bide her time, wait for the Inspector to unwrap his purpose, and watch out for the next cue. Which came soon enough.

“I have my horoscope in my drawer, would you mind reading it, please?” young Revati asked, her voice a peculiar combination of request and appeal.

“Really, Revati . . .” her mother began.

Sonia flashed the Inspector a glance and noted the almost imperceptible nod. “Well, to be honest, I don't usually do this kind of a thing. However, tonight can be an exception.” She smiled at the girl.

“Oh great!” Revati exclaimed. “Thanks a ton! I'll be right back!”

“I'd like mine read, too,” Pradnya spoke up.

“Get all the horoscopes!” Inspector Divekar called after Revati. He turned to Sonia with a slow half wink.

In a trice, Revati was back. She handed a bunch of booklets to Sonia and settled down.

“It's really good of you to do this, but . . .” Mr. Tupay demurred, but the Inspector raised a hand.

“Relax, Ritesh. This is simply for fun and it will hone Sonia's skills, won't it,
beti
?”

Sonia laughed non-committally. “Before I begin, I ought to tell you the rule. Never lie to the Doctor and Astrologer! Like I say very often to my clients, a horoscope is an X-ray of a person. It can tell a lot. Astrology is a science but I combine it with intuition. So if a prediction is correct, no matter what it is, you have to admit it. Sometimes facts—well-guarded secrets—come to the surface. You have to make a clean breast of them. There's no point continuing with this if any one of you is planning to play a hide-and-seek game,” Sonia remarked in a professional voice, softening the words with an encouraging smile.

“I accept!” Revati said promptly, “and I'm sure the others do, too! Right, Dad?”