Vidisha's head shot up. This seemed like a new idea to her; a possibility she hadn't considered before.
Abruptly, Darya turned to Filip.
‘Why do you want to sell now, Filip Uncle? After so many years—your beloved Heliconia Lane?’ she asked softly.
‘We are getting old,’ he murmured.
‘Really? Is that it?’
He shrugged, looked washed out.
The words came tumbling out of her. She couldn't stop.
‘Who beat you up, Uncle? Did Zabel really have a fit? Whose laptop did I see in your outhouse—the Samsung laptop with the red and green logo, two hands in a steeple—it's the Halogen group's insignia, isn't it? Whose was it? You were in such a tearing hurry to return it, it looked to us like you were having a heart attack. Then, of course, the big question. Why did you change your mind and decide to sell the land, all of a sudden? I know you were planning to die here, die in Primavera and now you want to sell Heliconia Lane? To a greedy set of developers, no less!’
He held out his palms in a gesture of defeat. His lips trembled.
‘Stop, D,’ her father said. ‘If you know something, say it. You're confusing everyone... and honestly, we all feel a bit sick with the smell and fumes. Let's go. Come back to Moonshine with me.’
‘Almost done. I ask for only thirty minutes more,’ she said, rocking back and forth on her feet. ‘Here's what I know. The Halogen group wanted to build at Valsolem. The Salgaonkars and Uncle Paritosh didn't want to sell and the property sale couldn't go through without their signatures. And so, they died in a space of a year. Probably, even Filip did not want to sell for a long time, I don't know. But now he wants to sell. Vidisha wants to sell. And, so do you, Pa. Gaurav wanted to sell at first and then got greedy, landing up in a coma at the ICU. Now the path is clear. Who benefits?’
Her audience squirmed in their seats. Her father sat up straight, a frown on his face, his hands clasped tightly on his lap.
Taking a long, deep breath, Darya announced—
‘You, Filip Uncle. You do.’
His body wracked with dry laughter. Or were they sobs?
‘Me...? I am fifty-five years old. Will I start killing people now for money?’ he said. ‘The gases are making you mad.’
‘If not you, then who?’ Darya asked, her voice sweet as honey. She slowed down her breath and prepared in her mind about what to say next. Because this was the nub of it, the base of everything that was happening. She was not sure of it, but she felt it... like a pervasive sensation... like the touch of air on her skin... or the hum of the sea in her ears.
‘The funny thing is...,’ she said. ‘I don't think this was about the money or land at all. That was just a bonus. Or a trigger. The driving force was hate... a stronger motivator for murder than greed. And if I know anything about this person, he did it because of the loathing he nursed in his heart... over years and years... biding his time... waiting for the right moment. He'd lost what was dear to him and then he lost some more. It made him angry. It made him hate. Then he thought to play a game. He played it slowly... effortlessly. A game of chess. Maybe Filip and Zabel were going to be next on his list. Then you, Pa. Or me. I don't know. But I know this... you all supported him... one way or other... inadvertently... but even so... you were complicit?
‘What are you...?’
‘I will not have this!’
‘Darya, what's this nonsense?’
Only Aaron was quiet. He looked at her with an expression she found hard to read.
And now... the finale.
From the corner of an eye, she saw the door open.
Oolo showed in the last person attending her little melee.
The Inquisition
‘Please welcome my knight, my guardian, my new friend,’ Darya announced with an extravagant display.
Everyone turned. Francis stepped inside.
Immediately, he stopped, looked around, his eyes wary.
‘What's going on?’ he asked.
‘Francis,’ Darya called. ‘Come in.’
He didn't move and his voice was gruff when he said, ‘What's this? What's going on?’
One of Oolo's associates gave him a prod. Francis threw him a glare and took a couple of steps inside.
Darya walked to him in long strides. On reaching him, she circled an arm around his waist and looked up.
‘You're going to protect me, aren't you?’ she asked, her tone playful.
He returned her smile. ‘Yeah, but what from?’
Behind him, through the open door, they saw first, then heard: a lightning bolt, followed by a crack of thunder. They held their breath in anticipation and were rewarded by the gentle pattering of rain.
Darya felt the mood in the room shift, from nervous confusion to barely controlled anticipation. She inhaled the rain soaked purple fumes. Her heart danced about in her chest.
Almost done.
She looked at Francis, the man she could have fallen in love with, the man she had spent so many fun evenings with, who had made her believe everything happened for a reason, that she had let go of her past only to embrace him in the present...
The man who had been using her all along.
His face was flushed.
He knows something's up.
She turned around to address everyone, her eyes moving from face to face.
‘This is Francis from the bookstore. Some of you already know him, I think. I've talked about him.’
‘Darya...’ Francis cautioned, trying to pull away from her. ‘What're you doing? And what's this purple thing? There's too much smoke for me to even see anything.’
‘This is Oolo's creation. Purple salt. Isn't it amazing?’
‘We shouldn't be here long. This smoke must be unhealthy,’ her father muttered from his place, but made no attempt to move.
‘It's perfectly safe,’ Darya said, ‘I checked up on the Internet. And only a few more minutes Pa... a few more minutes.’
Her father looked at his watch, an impatient scowl on his face. Filip and Zabel sitting next to him seemed in a dead stupor. Aaron and Vidisha were slumped on their chairs, barely breathing.
Rain was pelting on them from all sides now. On the roof. On the walls. Windows juddered and slammed shut. Doors banged.
Clankety-clank. Ka-boom.
Darya did not take her eyes away from Francis.
‘Francis, why did you hate Gaurav so much?’
Eyebrows shot up in surprise.
‘Who? What…?’ her father started to say but Darya shushed him with a glance.
Francis looked at her, his eyes narrowed to slits, the difference in colour hardly discernible in the dark. Darya was thankful. They seemed sinister to her now and no longer glamorous.
He frowned, opening his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. He ran a self-conscious hand through his hair.
‘Is it because you were having an affair with Vidisha? Gaurav knew about it, didn't he?' Darya said.
‘What the—’ he started. His face darkened.
‘What're you talking about, Darya?’ Vidisha cried, drowning his voice. ‘Have you gone mad?’
Darya gave her a sad smirk. ‘That indignation will hardly help you, dear neighbour,’ she said. Then slowly, painfully, the words came out—‘I saw you both yesterday, kissing... at Constellation. I thought I'd find Aaron or even you alone, but....’ She remembered the rage and betrayal she'd felt at the time but now as she spoke, it drained out of her. ‘I saw you and Francis. Together. It was... quite something, believe me. Very unexpected. I gather though he was the one with you the last time I came to your house too... when I'd come to return the vessels, remember? You'd been quarrelling then, and I suspect he hit you.’ She trained her eyes on Vidisha who looked mortified and also a little frightened. ‘Francis is the man you're leaving your husband for... though, did you ever pause to wonder why he was showing so much interest in you?’ Darya asked.
They stared at each other.
<
br /> ‘You're no catch,’ Darya commented.
A furious blush covered Vidisha's face.
‘So, why?’
‘We didn't...’
Come on...
‘We love each other!’ Vidisha snapped. ‘He loves me.’ Then immediately, grasping the import of what she'd said, pursed her lips and turned her face away.
Darya gave a snort of laughter. ‘That's what I thought as well. About him and me, not him and you.’ She winked at him as if he were a co-conspirator. ‘You're quite the lady killer, aren't you?’
‘Darya,’ he said, his voice tight with anger. ‘What the fuck are you saying?’
Loose tendons... came to her mind then. He was like a loose, strained, torn tendon. He held the story together but was damaged; the body inflamed.
The body. Their story. Their lives at Heliconia Lane.
‘What a remarkable web you weave, my friend,’ Darya said and brought her hands together in a slow clap.
He took a wavering step towards her, his jaw slack, his face black as thunder.
Darya raised her arm to stop Kamble who had taken a few steps forward.
Her eyes never left Francis' face.
He cannot move, but soon he'll be able to.
She had to get it all out now.
Quickly.
‘Is that why you ran over Gaurav? Was he threatening you?’ she said.
‘You mean...,’ her father muttered.
‘Gaurav's accident, yes,’ Darya said, without looking at him.
‘He wasn't even there,’ Vidisha protested. ‘Francis... he wasn't even there when it happened. Aaron was there. Francis, tell her.’
Darya passed around a knowing smile. ‘Oh, he was there alright,’ she said. ‘Aaron hadn't gone to his meetings alone, at least not to the one in Delhi. Francis simply omitted to tell me. Tell you even. He kept up the pretence, calling me up every now and then, I guess, even when he was in Delhi. The last time I called you...’ She studied his averted face, ‘you were at the airport, right? Not at the railway station making deliveries, like you said. The noise, the announcements at the background, I was confused. But thinking back, the timing was precise—you were leaving to go to Delhi. And the next day, you didn't pick up your phone when I called, and I was worried. I didn't suspect then, but now when I consider it... it fits. Perfectly.’
They all turned to look at Francis inquiringly. He returned a burnt-out, vacuous glare. Nothing moved in his face. An invisible hand seemed to have clamped his jaw in place.
They turned to Aaron for confirmation. He gave an imperceptible nod of head, his gaze fixed on Darya.
‘He came for a day,’ he said. ‘He joined me in Delhi.’
‘And was he with you all the while?’ Darya asked.
Aaron shook his head. ‘Only for a few hours. He said he had to catch up with an old friend.’
Gasps.
‘It can't be,’ Vidisha whispered.
‘Did you know we went out for a while, Francis and me? He was courting me,’ Darya told her. ‘He was definitely interested in taking it forward.’
The distress on her face turned to a smirk. ‘No, he wasn't,’ she said.
‘I'm telling you,’ Darya said, putting on a miffed expression.
‘I know what he was doing.’ The smirk intensified.
‘I think he liked me. He would've left you to be with me,’ Darya said.
Vidisha looked at her uncertainly for a moment. Then her eyes darted to Francis. He shifted his feet and clenched his fists, his eyes cast down.
She hesitated.
‘He definitely was very, very interested,’ Darya goaded. ‘A few more days, and he would've asked me to be his girlfriend.’
Then breaking her daze—
‘No!’ Vidisha snapped. ‘We love each other.’
‘But you're married. You have children. Older too. He must have gotten bored... must have been exploring other options.’
‘He loves me! We've loved each other for a long, long time,’ she cried. ‘He did this so he could be close to you.’
A hush fell into the room.
Darya cocked her head to one side, as if surprised. ‘Close to me... err... but why?’
Realizing she had made a mistake, Vidisha threw a furtive glance at Francis. He did not move, did not look back at her.
Darya prompted, her voice quietly menacing. ‘Won't you tell everyone here, why?’
She didn't answer the question, instead grasping blindly at an earlier loose thread.
‘He didn't hurt Gaurav,’ she mumbled. ‘He couldn't have.’
‘How do you know?’ Darya said.
‘He wouldn't hurt anyone,’ she cried. ‘I'm sure of it.’
Darya inhaled deeply.
She could see everything with perfect clarity now. The other players—Vidisha, Filip, Zabel, Gaurav, and even her father to an extent—were merely pawns. They knew parts of the story, but not the whole.
She had to show them.
‘Not only did he hurt Gaurav,’ Darya spoke, ‘he wanted us to think Aaron did it. I don't think he planned for it, but things worked out for him.’ She turned to Aaron. ‘Tell us Aaron, how did the two of you meet? How did Francis come to work for you?’
This time Aaron needed no persuasion. He spoke readily and lucidly, as if no longer affected by the fumes. ‘We met at a party,’ he said. ‘He knew about my parents. He'd probably heard from the common friend whose party we were at. We talked about it and...’ He paused to take a gulp of air, ‘... and he was sympathetic. He seemed to know a bit about loss himself. We got friendlier. He volunteered to help in the bookstore. I didn't really need anyone, but he said he'd do it for cheap.’ He glanced at Francis who continued to stare ahead, a tick playing in his jaw. ‘I didn't think... didn't suspect...’
Darya interrupted him, albeit gently this time. ‘Francis knew Aaron was looking for a man who owned a Mahindra jeep, the man who'd killed his parents. I suspect he knew this even before he came to Goa. Aaron was famous. I'd read a few of his interviews on the Internet in which he talks about the accident and his plans to move to Goa. Francis knew I drove a Mahindra Classic. He'd seen me with it the first day at the bookstore. He must have dug deeper, or asked Vidisha or Filip, I don't know, and found out who I was. Or he already knew Uncle Paritosh owned a similar jeep and this was, at any rate, part of the plan. So, he suggested Aaron move into Constellation. Therefore, on one hand, Vidisha gets an onsite resident to coordinate with the builders when they visit and on the other... a man on the hunt for his parents' killer... living next door to one who he might mistake for the killer and thus, if someone were to discover that the deaths in Heliconia were in fact murders, Aaron would be a natural suspect. Both Francis and Aaron had been in Goa for over a year and a half. Timeline wise too, it was perfect.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘We've got to give it to him—very smart work! The perfect cover. He never had to use it, but was preparing to, just in case.’
No one interrupted her.
‘Then he got close to me, I guess mostly to throw me off since I was new and asking questions, wondering about things, talking to the police. Also, he wanted to know our plans with Sea Swept—he couldn't have me spoil everything he'd worked for.’ She turned to him and asked with an unhappiness that she could not help, ‘Was it going to be me next? Were you going to kill me next?’
A muscle twitched in his jaw. A grisly expression—somewhere between shock and dread—was frozen on his face. His eyes were unfocused as if sleep walking.
Purple salt.
‘You broke into our house; I don't know how many times. You must've gotten the keys from Filip. I know you stole the old photo album. Why?’
Silence.
‘Did you wonder if it had any of your pictures? That it may help me remember?’
Silence.
‘What else did you take from the house?’
‘Wait a second, wait a second...,’ her father interrupted. ‘Why him? Who is he? Why would
he do all this? Why would he want Pari's photo album?’
‘Don't you recognize him, Pa?’ Darya asked.
He looked back at her blankly.
‘Oh, come on. Really?’ she said. ‘I was a child. But you should remember him.’
Her father shook his head. His eyes moved from Francis to his daughter.
‘Who is he?’ he asked.
‘This is Saint Francis Xavier,’ Darya said, giving him a bow. ‘The patron saint of Goa. Otherwise known as...,’ she squinted at him as if staring into the dazzling sun, ‘Anton... Anton Castelino.’
Bodies fidgeted in their chairs. Mouths sucked in air. Exhaled.
It was all coming together.
‘Of course, the verdict is still out if he was really a saint or the architect of the bloodiest inquisition in Goa.’
Aaron and her father sat up straight, a frown across their faces. Filip and Vidisha stayed stiff like mannequins, their skin pale and shiny as stretched plastic sheets. Zabel was slumped over and moaning softly.
Francis stood frozen in his place.
Aaron and her father and spoke together.
‘Who?’
‘He doesn't look like that. I remember him.’
Darya waited until they had calmed down.
‘Heterochromia.’ She rolled the words in her tongue. ‘I wondered how I had not recognized him at all. He was my childhood playmate, after all. Someone I once knew well.’
She had their attention now.
‘Heterochromia happens because of a wounded eye—when a blunt injury to the eye causes loss of pigmentation in the iris. It changes the colour of the iris. That's why the blacks I remembered are now hazel and blue. Mesmerizing, I'd thought. Like David Bowie. Pa, you know him, right?’ she addressed her father without looking at him. ‘Both of Bowie's eyes were blue when he was born, but one turned brown when a friend's fingernail accidentally sliced through it. For Anton—and that's what we are going to call him from now on—this happened when he fell on the curb, the night Aunt Farideh escaped. He was crying so hard... heartbroken that he was.’ She turned to consider him. ‘You loved her a lot, didn't you? She was the mother you never had. You blamed your parents when she left, probably blamed everyone else on this lane, and of course, chiefly her husband, Paritosh. You were ten when Uncle and Aunty sent you to boarding school in Lisbon... oh, wait, first to the hospital for your treatment because your eyes were beginning to change colour and then to the boarding school...It must have been too much to bear for a ten- year-old? Did you get teased a lot because of your eyes?’
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 26
