This time Vidisha hesitated. ‘I... I think so.’
‘Who told you?’ Darya asked.
‘I don't... don't know. It just struck me...’ She was hesitating too much. Her eyes leapt around nervously.
She doesn't know but she must suspect?
‘Did you have anything to do with their deaths?’ Darya asked. ‘Anything at all?’
‘No!’
‘Then who did?’ Darya asked softly. ‘Who was here then? At Heliconia Lane? Who could it be? Someone who had wanted to kill them...’
It was a warm, humid night, the kind that hung around before an outburst of rain.
Darya watched Vidisha closely. A single line of sweat trickled down her face. Her body twitched with anxiety.
‘Who?’ Darya asked. ‘And why?’
‘It was Gaurav. It was Gaurav,’ she cried, her face bursting with a nervous energy. ‘Or was it...’ she looked at Aaron with a comically frightened expression on her face.
Aaron stared at his outstretched palms and said nothing.
‘Why would it be Aaron?’ Darya's father asked, perplexed. ‘Who is he? We don't know him. And how do you know Varun and Rakhi were murdered?’
‘The police told me,’ Darya said. ‘Inspector Nourahno.’
There was shuffling from Kamble's corner.
‘He wasn't sure,’ her father replied. ‘He was only speculating.’
Bits and pieces... now they've to be woven together.
‘He was not,’ Darya said. ‘I can prove it to you. But...,’ a pause, ‘before all that, we have to resolve something that happened twenty years ago. Why? Because everything's connected. Not fully. No. But at some points, on the surface.’
Three elderly faces stared at her. The other two looked sideways and then down.
‘You're not making any sense, D,’ her father said.
She held up two palms and enclosed them in circles. All eyes were on her.
‘Imagine two bubbles,’ she said. ‘Two lives. We don't touch each other fully...’ She brought her palms together, one above the other. ‘But we do touch. At a point. And at that point your life changes mine. Then while one might move away, and the other stays where it is...’ She moved the hands away from each other, ‘but lives have changed irreversibly. There's no going back.’
Everybody around her held their breath, waiting for her to explain.
‘What happened twenty years ago put in motion a few things and it's important to address that first,’ she finished.
‘Are you talking about Aunt Farideh?’ Vidisha asked, in a whisper.
Darya nodded.
‘Darya...,’ Zabel pleaded, her face ready to crumble. ‘They're bygones. Leave it.’
But Darya was, all of a sudden, very, very angry. ‘You were together in everything, weren't you?’ she said bitterly. ‘The residents of Heliconia Lane. The place in Goa where nothing could happen, where everyone stood together, no matter what. Even if one was caught in a tax crime, or a neighbour's son was arrested by the police or a man beat his wife close to death every day.’
Love as perfect as theirs, they said....
Not love but possession.
‘What did you say?’ her father said, his voice taut as a wire.
‘Complicit in crime,’ she replied, spiteful, slow. She did not look at him. He was in this too, and she couldn't forgive him for it. ‘You were all complicit in crime with him. You protected Uncle Paritosh.’
Filip looked sideways at Vikas, then dropped his eyes to the floor.
‘You all knew,’ Darya said. ‘You knew Uncle Paritosh beat up Aunt Farideh—the beautiful, gentle woman who was your friend—yet you did nothing. Were you glad when she died? No guilt anymore, life could move on as before?’
‘In those days, we ignored such things,’ Filip said, speaking with difficulty. His eyes watered. ‘This was a personal matter between couples... between husband and wife.’
‘And after she disappeared?’
He shrugged and cast his eyes back down.
‘Pa?’ Darya said.
‘D, we talked about this,’ he said. ‘It wasn't possible to do anything.’ He looked at her with dull eyes.
He knows what I'm doing, but he can say nothing. He knows me. I'm like him, after all.
‘Ma stopped talking to her because you asked her not to. You asked her not to interfere when Aunt Farideh asked for help,’ Darya said. ‘She came to us begging for help. For a long time, I thought I'd imagined that.’
Silence.
‘Why didn't you help her?’ Darya asked.
‘But why you are talking about all this now?’ Zabel asked, her voice quavering. ‘I'm not feeling well.’ She turned to her husband. ‘I want to go home, Filip.’
‘Wait, Aunty,’ Darya said, her voice gentle. ‘Only another hour.’
‘What for?’
‘Just... just wait.’
Zabel fell silent as if a button had been pressed. Thank you, Oolo's wonder drug.
No one moved.
A part of her wondered if she should come out with it immediately, the reason why she had assembled all of them. But a part of her had begun to enjoy this cat and mouse game, the thrill of revealing their secrets one by one, peeling away the layers of deceit and lies. She felt so powerful; she felt alive again. She was worth something, the last year of her life, a distant dream.
Heliconia Lane, you diabolical arachnid, you.
With a dramatic flourish, Darya announced. ‘She is alive.’
‘Who?’
‘Farideh.’
Five pairs of glazed eyes stared at her.
Her father shifted in his seat. ‘Darya, not now. Not here. What are you doing?’ he said.
‘She's alive?’ Zabel and Vidisha murmured together, as if in a dream.
Filip sat slumped in his chair but did not look up or say anything.
Darya sat on the last remaining chair with a soft thud. She studied the rapt faces around her.
‘She didn't die that night twenty years ago,’ she said softly. ‘She escaped... escaped from her husband... escaped from you all. She lived a long, happy life and died two years ago.’
Then with a long sigh, she recounted Ruksana's story. No one interrupted as she talked. A stray whisper or two wafted in from outside, but apart from that, all was quiet.
‘She died,’ Filip said in the end, looking almost relieved. ‘She died anyway.’
‘The smoke,’ Vidisha said, coughing. ‘It's too much.’
Darya gestured to Kamble. He walked out to call one of Oolo's men.
The fumes were doing their job well, but the antidote wasn't. Darya's head wasn't as clear as she had hoped.
‘We didn't know... no idea she was alive... we thought she'd died,’ Filip was mumbling, as if talking to himself. Swallowing, he continued, ‘We tried to find her. Paritosh loved her, even after what he did to her...’
‘He loved her,’ Zabel insisted.
They told themselves that, even after everything, so that they could live with the guilt.
‘But...’ her father cut in, the cloud in his head turning the words to a yell. ‘How did Paritosh die? Is that why he died? Who killed him?’
‘But... but...’ Filip shrugged his shoulders, a weak, uneasy motion. ‘How do you know Pari was umm... murdered?’
‘Ah, come on, Uncle,’ Darya said, with a half-hearted snigger. ‘You're telling me Inspector Nourahno didn't speak to you about it? And you don't suspect? Maybe you're even a little afraid?’
Zabel gave a small, strangled cry. ‘Stop this, Myna! Stop troubling the old man. He has suffered enough.’
‘Mostly his own fault, no Aunty? And yours—’
A deep rumble of thunder sounded from outside.
Darya felt relief wash over her. This was the thunderstorm they'd been waiting for. She wished she could run away, slip into bed, fall asleep, lulled by the cool moisture laden sea breeze...
But not now. Not yet.
Choking back
a sigh, she murmured, ‘This is what happened, or what we and by that, I mean the police in an informal capacity and I, suppose happened.’ She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. ‘There were needle marks on Uncle Paritosh's neck. Did he do drugs? It's very doubtful because there were no other marks on his body but those. There was nothing in his blood either. He drank, that was his enduring vice. But drugs, no. The police suspect a large, empty syringe was pushed with force at the back of his neck, probably more than once. When a syringe is injected that way, air enters the circulatory system and causes a condition called as air embolism. When a reasonably high amount of air enters the blood stream fast, the embolism can block major blood vessels leading to a heart attack. When the bubbles of air reach the brain, it results in a brain haemorrhage. He was quite weak anyway; his liver had begun to act up with all the drinking and it must not have been difficult to overpower him. A 100 ml syringe is usually enough to cause a lethal air blockage and a skilled person would also know where exactly to inject so as to cause maximum damage. This method was not fool proof, but it was a good way to ensure no one suspected a murder had been committed. I'm guessing the murderer stayed until Uncle Pari breathed his last just in case.’
They all looked at her with baffled faces—purple, pink, sweaty, upturned—and their eyes wide.
‘Are you sure?’ Filip asked. His shoulder gave a few involuntary jerks.
‘Impossible,’ Zabel whispered. ‘O Lord Jesus Christ,’ as if being strangled.
‘What about my parents?’ Vidisha asked. She was holding her fifth glass of wine. Her mouth was loose, and the words came out slow, one pulling the other. ‘How did they die?’
‘It was either the same way or easier. Their bodies were found much later and were decomposed enough that no forensic evidence could be taken. We suspect the two were made drunk enough to be led to the boat, probably they were drugged too. It was uncharacteristic of them to go out into the sea that late at night in the state they were in. The murderer must have led them to or forced them on the boat, stopped midway, pushed them into the water, and brought the boat back to shore, but he did not tether it. The boat was found close to the shore but far from the bodies. The sea was rough that night.’
‘This is all merely guesswork,’ her father demurred.
‘Then there's evidence that...’ she grimaced as the words conjured up the image again, ‘... Rakhi Aunty was held underwater until she died. Maybe she'd been trying to swim to the shore to save herself.’
There were sharp intakes of breath at this followed by a low moan.
‘Who...’ her rather started. ‘How...?’
‘There are three questions that have to be answered right now,’ Darya interrupted, albeit gently. ‘First, why? Second, how? And third,’ she giggled, unable to help herself. ‘Who?’
‘What are you trying to say, girl?’ her father muttered. ‘Out with it now.’
One wizard and so many fools.
‘And there's another thing,’ she said. ‘Actually...’ she stopped and looked pointedly at each of them, to be certain she had their attention, ‘... the most important thing.’
She told them about the verses found next to Paritosh's dead body and in the Salgaonkars house the day they died and the inspector's suspicions that it had something to do with Farideh's death.
A hush fell into the room, this one of a new kind, where everybody knew something, probably a different, incongruous part, but was afraid to tell the other, afraid to hear what the other had to say.
The tension in the air was palpable.
‘So, you are saying...’ her father murmured, cleared his throat, gulped, ‘... that Paritosh, Rakhi and Varun were killed because someone blamed Farideh's so called...,’ he coughed, ‘death on them?’
Darya nodded.
‘But who?’
Puzzled faces. Nervous shuffling.
‘Ya, and who killed my parents?’ Vidisha asked, suddenly alert. ‘It must be the same person, someone who knew them both. Who had been associated with both? Tell us, Darya. Oh! This damned smoke. I feel so thirsty and too much wine makes me sleepy. That man... he left those stupid verses, those photographs. He must have known her. It must be Gaurav. Must be Gaurav! Who else but him?’
Stupid, derailing fool.
‘He was devoted to Farideh when he was small,’ Zabel said, nodding to show she agreed with Vidisha.
‘Was he?’ Vidisha asked, surprised. Then looking at Darya, ‘We all were. We loved her,’ she said.
‘So, why do you think it was Gaurav?’ Darya asked her.
‘Who else?’ Vidisha said.
The group around her shifted but no one made a move to leave. The fume rose like a cloud around them.
Darya was sinking herself. She knew Oolo would start dispelling it soon. She had to hurry.
They were looking at her expectantly, scanning her face through the purple haze.
Like a soothsayer about to reveal their fates.
‘It was Gaurav,’ Vidisha muttered, her voice hoarse. ‘He was angry at my parents. He wanted their money. It was him. I know it was him.’
‘It's possible. But he'd have to know how to use a syringe in the right way. Not everybody can do it,’ Darya said. ‘And why would he kill my uncle if it were only for the money?’
Vidisha looked confused, opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and closed it again.
‘It was because of the land... the property,’ Zabel muttered. Filip stared at her; his face ashen.
‘Zabel...,’ he warned.
‘Gaurav wanted to sell the land. That's why he did all this,’ she said with a quiet certainty. Her eyes were warm and liquid as if melting from her face.
‘And the verses?’ Darya asked.
‘Because he loved Farideh... or he was just throwing the police off,’ Vidisha suggested.
So, either she knew, or she was smarter than she looked.
‘If not Gaurav, it must be Aaron,’ Vidisha said. ‘He used to be a doctor. He'd know how to use a syringe.’
They all looked at Aaron. A ghost of a smile played on his face, but he said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Darya.
‘I thought about it,’ Darya said. ‘I thought about it more when I saw the medical books on his table. Yes, he was a doctor after all, he'll know how to use a syringe correctly. Then I saw the picture taped behind the door. Also, around the time Gaurav got into the accident, Aaron was in Delhi. Then I thought to myself, who is this guy? How much do we know about him? Was he responsible for all this?’
Darya had risen from her chair and was pacing about.
Their full attention was on her. She looked around her—their shining, floating faces—enthralled.
A surge of adrenalin coursed through her.
‘But why him?’ her father said. ‘How's he connected?’
‘Exactly,’ Darya said. ‘Why would he do it? What was the motive?’
No one moved. No one said a word.
Darya had visualized three alternatives at this point. First, Aaron knew it was Paritosh that had caused the accident and Filip had helped cover it up. He'd accuse them and everything would be out in the open. Second, an anxious Filip might confess to the crime and lead to the same consequence as the first. Or, third, they both would keep quiet, knowing and saying nothing... out of fear, ignorance or a general numbness of senses... she didn't care for the reason why. She only hoped and prayed for the—
The third alternative.
She sighed in relief.
‘Obviously, someone wanted to pin it on him,’ she said, without missing a beat.
A sudden gust of wind blew into the courtyard from an open window. The chandelier swayed. Lights danced, throwing flickers on the walls and the floor, like a million fluorescent ants.
‘So, was it Gaurav? Or Aaron?’ Darya said. ‘Or someone else?’
Ants shimmered on their faces.
‘Eh, Filip Uncle? Eh, Zabel Aunty? Eh, Pa?’ she said softly. ‘Who was
it?’
She turned to the three elders. They stared back at her, their faces blank, muscles smoothened by generous doses of liquor.
The air inside was cooler now; the purple fumes were settling to the ground. The decanter serving wine was almost empty. One of Oolo's assistants came in, filled the plastic cups with margarita and passed them around. He slunk away after signalling how much time she had left.
Things were working perfectly
And now it was time.
‘Vidisha?’ Darya said.
She glared back, her face a blotch of purple.
‘Whose idea was it to remodel the house? You've been talking to builders for a long time, haven't you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sneaking a glance at Aaron. ‘Gaurav was helping me.’
‘Was it his idea originally?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted after some hesitation.
‘Did you know about the clause in the land agreement?’ Darya asked.
Vidisha lowered her eyes. The tips of her fingers stroked the bottom of her cup.
‘Well, did you?’ Darya asked.
After what seemed like a long time and realizing that all eyes were on her, she said with great difficulty, ‘Yes.’
‘Did Gaurav know?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, let me get this straight. When your parents were alive, they did not want to sell the house. After they died, you two got together to sell the concept to the Halogen group. Right so far?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what happened?’
Vidisha did not reply.
‘What happened, Vidisha?’
After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up at Darya. ‘Gaurav changed his mind. He wanted more money,’ she muttered.
‘So, now even after your parents died, and we don't yet know how, he was in your way.’
‘I didn't hurt him,’ she said, her voice expressionless. ‘I was nowhere near him that day.’
‘But you were so keen on sending him to jail.’
Vidisha closed her eyes.
‘Why?’ Darya asked.
She did not reply. Her eyes fluttered in her face.
‘Because if he was gone, his signature wouldn't be needed any more,’ Darya said.
Silence.
‘But all this wasn't your own idea, was it? Someone has been telling you to do all this... your secret lover... the man you're leaving your husband and sons for. Although, have you considered that he might be only using you until this land deal came through?’
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 25
