He grunted. Swore under his breath.
‘You bided your time, hoping for revenge, harbouring that anger, waiting for the perfect moment. Then how lucky... twenty years later... a chance for retribution. A double motive. A trigger.’ Her voice had turned grating. Cracked ice. She hardly recognized it as her own. ‘Hotel groups were showing interest in Heliconia Lane. And then you decided. Now was the time. You took you brother's name, Francis Xavier. I should've known, you always lived in his shadows. Two different coloured eyes, a soft Portuguese accent, hair much longer than before, the body a lot skinnier, more tanned, almost handsome,’ she murmured. ‘No one recognized you. How could they? You left as a child... returned an adult. I saw your Facebook profile, Anton. Your updates from Lisbon stopped in mid of 2007. No pictures either but I noticed you'd enrolled in a short Pharmacology program in Lisbon. Yes, you are a data engineer, but in Pharmaceutical Sciences. You didn't think to mention that to me. Did you take up this particular area of study to build common ground with Aaron or learn how to use a syringe or perhaps to study the effect of various drugs? I don't know. And then you created the profile for Francis in 2008. Not so smart, were you?’
Pause. Hush. Patter of rain.
Silence like that of a graveyard in a stormy night.
She hesitated. Tried to shape the next words in her mind. ‘And while I cannot be sure what led to what... this is my guess. You were in touch with Vidisha and asked her to reach for a temporary truce with her brother. He was a real estate broker who could scout for opportunities to sell to the bigwigs. Or maybe you'd already read of such prospects in the newspapers...’
She considered the rapt faces around her.
‘Anyway, the three of you were interested to sell, but I guess none of the older ones were. So… you decided to get rid of them.’ She paused, then said dramatically, ‘So Francis, did you help Gaurav murder his parents? And then followed through with my uncle? Or did you go alone both times? I suspect Gaurav and you worked together the first time. It's not a one-man task to lead two people to a boat and Gaurav hadn't reported them missing though he'd been staying with them at the time. I doubt though that Vidisha knew any of this... you kept her out of it. She talks way too much anyway.’
It surprised her when Vidisha did not react.
Darya continued, looking intently at Francis, ‘You hated them in any case... for a reason bigger than any other. You blamed them for ruining your life. This was a good time as any. What's that saying... one stone and two birds?’
He hadn't spoken a word until then. She watched as he swayed on his feet, as if tipsy, though he hadn't had anything to drink. A nasty gleam made his eyes look bigger than they were. Brown and Blue. Tiny, curious gemstones. A dim purple light shone on top of him, making swirling patterns on his head.
He was beginning to frighten her a little.
‘Were the verses from Rubáiyát a last-minute touch? Or were they to throw people off?’ Darya asked softly.
‘It's not possible! How my baby can kill anyone? Tell him Anton,’ Zabel cried. Looked up at her son with pleading eyes.
He did not look back at her. She buried her face into her hands and sobbed, despair in her hunched shoulders, repeating, ‘Not possible. Not possible. Not possible.’
‘He hurt you too, didn't he...?’ Darya turned to her, ‘... when you were supposed to have had a relapse? It was his laptop I saw in the servant's outhouse—probably girted to him by the Halogen group. I'm assuming you didn't know what Anton did in Panjim, because you did not seem to know Aaron or recognize Francis when I talked about him. That was very clever.’ She turned to Francis. ‘How did you manage that? Did it help that Uncle rarely went to Panjim anymore?’ She turned back to his parents, now sitting with their heads down. ‘What…? Were you not willing to sell either? But you gave in finally. He's your son, after all.’
Filip's eyes were glued to the floor. He looked as if all the blood had been squeezed out of his heart.
Vidisha had fallen silent. Her clenched knuckles were white. Her eyes stared ahead, horrible.
Only her father and Aaron were alert, comprehension slowly dawning in their eyes.
Anton took a few steps towards her, his eyes glinting in the dark. He seemed steadier than before and right now... and too close for comfort.
Don't panic.
‘Was it going to be me next? If we hadn't agreed to sell?’ Darya whispered.
His face twisted, lips in a sneer.
‘Were you that angry, Anton?’ she asked softly, feeling unutterably sad. ‘Did what happened twenty years ago change you so much as a person that nothing else mattered, nothing was of value anymore but getting payback?’
They stared at each other.
Like looking inside a tunnel... of crypts and catacombs. Had she really thought him handsome once? It was hard to imagine now. She tore her eyes away and felt a cool relief wash over her. But like a demonic curse, her eyes sought his again.
‘Do you know, Anton...,’ Darya whispered, ‘... that Aunt Farideh was actually alive? She hadn't died that day twenty years ago.’
His head snapped up. His eyes flashed.
‘She lived a full, happy life far away from Heliconia Lane, and obviously never once asked for you or anyone else in that time,’ Darya said. ‘Never bothered to. She died two years ago.’
Then, for the first time that night, it was Anton that spoke, his voice like an echo from deep inside a storm drain.
‘That's not possible,’ he said, his face expressionless.
‘I met her daughter,’ Darya said, feeling a strange satisfaction as she crushed the image in his head.
‘You're lying,’ Anton said but she heard the splinter of doubt in his voice.
She reached into her pocket and took out the heart shaped locket. ‘Remember this?’ she asked, turning it around to show him. ‘You must remember this? Aunt Farideh wore this all the time. Never took it out.’
He read the inscription at the back. His face hardened.
‘It's not possible,’ he repeated, his jaw set in a stubborn line.
But she saw that he knew it was. He'd been only waiting for proof.
‘It is,’ Darya said. ‘You know it is.’
‘Where was she?’ he muttered, not looking up, his eyes fixed on the locket. ‘Where did you find her?’
‘In Manali,’ Darya replied. ‘She had a family. A husband. Three children. She was very happy.’
‘No...’ He caught his breath as if in a gasp of pain. ‘She wouldn't do that.’
‘She did,’ Darya said, the same nasty joy filling her voice again.
‘After all I did for her...’ Anton murmured as if in a trance.
‘What did you do for her, Anton?’ Darya asked softly.
He didn't hear her. His voice dropped and he seemed to be talking to himself. ‘They hurt her, made her leave... and when she didn't call or write back, I thought she'd died... killed as she was trying to escape. Later, I tried looking for her... but nothing, nothing at all.’
‘What did you do, Anton?’
‘I knew she hadn't been kidnapped that night. I'd seen that man with her before. She'd gone willingly. But I did not tell anyone, because if she came back, her bastard of a husband would hurt her again. He didn't deserve to live.’ His voice was like that of a ten-year-old. ‘None of them deserved to live.’ He glared at his audience, ‘None of you did.’
‘But you told them about the car. Described the man,’ Darya said.
He looked at her sorrowfully. ‘I saw her leaving. Ran out to stop her. Tripped on the road and hurt myself.’ His face twisted, as if in memory of that pain. ‘I was delirious and told the housemaid a few things then, I shouldn't have. Luckily, no one suspected she could've left on her own and I didn't correct them.’
‘Did you...?’
‘She used to read the Rubáiyát to me,’ he said dreamily, speaking as if Farideh were standing right beside him. ‘To all of us.’ He nodded at Vidisha who pursed
her lips and looked away. He didn't notice. ‘We looked forward to it. Sitting on the beach, around her in a circle, as she read. But Uncle Paritosh did not want her to waste time in... frivolities he called it. He wanted to get rid of the book. He wanted to get rid of everything that was good about her.’
‘Did you kill Uncle Paritosh, Anton?’ Darya asked. ‘And Varun Uncle and Rakhi Aunty?’
‘They made her leave,’ he said, the tone neutral, the accusation hardly perceptible. Only a stubborn twitch in his chin.
‘Did you?’ Darya asked.
He turned his face to look at her. His eyes gleamed feverishly, like silver coins under moonlight.
A shiver ran down her spine.
He took a step forward.
She couldn't move. She stayed rooted to the spot.
He leaned towards her. His breath grazed her skin, warm and putrid.
‘Of course,’ he whispered close to her ears, a macabre grin on his face. ‘It helped that they were sitting on crores worth of property that was lawfully mine.’
Then taking a step back he raised one hand and hit her across the face. Hard.
Darya stumbled, stunned. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her ears rang.
Then he punched her on the face and shoved her back using the full force of his body.
Darya fell. She screamed as she fell. Waves of excruciating pain coursed through her body. A thick mass of purple and red flashed before her eyes.
Anton made a dash towards the exit, knocking over tables, toppling the cups, canisters and plates along with it.
With a collective gasp, the group around her jumped to their feet.
Kamble sprang into action. Picking up the baton hidden under the table, he dodged the stricken guests, sprinted forward and disappeared through the door.
A loud sound of commotion followed. Oolo's men were also giving chase.
Her father hurried to help Darya up. Aaron started to run towards the door.
‘Stop. Don't,’ she said, her voice barely carrying. ‘Let him go.’ She leaned on her father. ‘He won't get far. That man who ran out after him is police.’
Then she took out her mobile phone and made the call.
Epilogue
Darya opened die door to The Drowsy Poet and stopped in surprise.
The place was milling with people—with books, a cup of coffee or soft drink in their hands. Some were talking and others, especially the children, were helping themselves to cakes and candies heaped on the poufs. Balloons hung from ceilings. Streamers were stuck to the walls. Two little girls in identical dungarees were bouncing about, trying to keep the loose balloons in the air.
A party. Why hadn't she been invited?
She caught Aaron's eye. He was standing at his usual place: the billing counter. He smiled.
‘Letting it loose, I see,’ she said and walked towards him. He grinned and handed over a shot glass. ‘What is this?’ Darya asked, and without waiting for a reply, gulped it down, balking at the slimy bitterness that poured down her throat.
‘Liquor?’ she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, disgusted, pleased.
‘Yeah,’ he replied.
‘Are you distributing this in your store now?’ Darya asked.
‘It's a private stash. For friends only.’
Darya let the warm glow of his words and liquor permeate her insides. She waited for a few seconds for the headiness to pass.
‘And what if they soil your beloved books with crumbs?’ she asked, gesturing to the noisy gathering.
There were about thirty people inside. A few of the men threw her curious glances.
‘Make merry. We're in Goa,’ he said, cheerfully, as if that were explanation enough. He lifted an empty shot glass.
‘I thought you didn't drink,’ Darya commented.
‘I'm not,’ he said. Then asked her to follow him.
They edged past the cantankerous group and stepped outside.
It was eight in the evening. The sky had turned an inky blue-black. The streets were milling with more lights and people than usual. The smell of oil and batter hung heavy in the air.
A band of musicians was setting up at the end of the street. One started to strum and soon, a few onlookers joined in a raucous rendition of Maria Pita Che. A teenager in distressed jeans distributed pamphlets of a party at Tito's Nightclub. A giggly group of girls pumped their fists into the air, starting a group chant. Viva La Goa. Viva La Goa. Viva La Goa.
A lingering feeling of expectation was around her. She could almost touch it.
‘You've got yourself a new female assistant,’ Darya said.
‘She reads, she's young and she looks at me like I rule the world,’ Aaron said. Absently, he smoothened the sides of his Hawaiian shirt.
The change in him over the past couple of weeks had been remarkable. He had lightened up. The dimples on his cheeks showed up more often. He talked to people... made friends... it was as if the pain festering inside was out in the open along with his secret and... it had healed.
But Darya hadn't told him the truth about his parents. She wasn't going to. She was terrified of doing it.
Filip knew; and Darya was grateful he hadn't said anything. As yet. Both Zabel and her father seemed clueless. In any case, they were preoccupied with more important issues and she hoped...
But what happens when he does get to know? If he gets to know? He'd know she lied to him. He'd hate her for what her uncle did to his parents... and how Filip helped cover it up. It was unforgiveable. She felt shitty keeping it from him... but she couldn't tell him. She just couldn't.
Also... because now that he thought Paritosh a.k.a Darya had nothing to do with it... it looked like he was living a new life. He said he was going to make peace with his past and look ahead to the future. The two had grown to be close friends. And could... maybe grow to be something more.
Then as if to affirm that thought—
‘Dinner tonight?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, sure,’ she smiled. Then cursed. She'd forgotten to ask him.
‘What is it?’ he said.
‘I've got to go to the police station tomorrow. Will you come with me?’
Her father had lodged an FIR with the Canacona police to open an official investigation into his brother's death. Vidisha had lodged an FIR for her brother's death. She claimed she knew nothing of the murders and had only been helping Anton secure the land to sell to the builders. Sub-inspector Kamble had managed to record most of Darya's conversation with Anton except for the last few seconds but Inspector Nourahno worried it might not be enough to hold up in court as sufficient evidence against him. He was collaborating with the Delhi police and hoped that Anton would be indicted for Gaurav’s murder at least; there was CCTV footage at the accident site and two eyewitnesses had come forward.
But Darya knew how the Indian criminal justice system worked.
‘What if he gets off? What if comes back to harm us... harm me?’ she had asked.
He was probably going to be out on bail, the inspector admitted. But he was given to understand from his network of informants that some of Gaurav’s business associates were on the lookout for him. There was going to be justice, he assured her, one way or another.
Filip and Zabel had moved to Borim in North Goa. Zabel had spent her childhood there, by the Zuari River and some of her family still lived there. The two had shrunk into themselves. Cut off all contact. Darya prayed they'd recover soon.
They had managed to keep the events around Anton away from the media but Farideh's story made headlines. Someone, and she assumed it was either Vidisha or one of Oolo's friends out to make a quick buck, had tipped them. Darya couldn't be persuaded to reveal Farideh's adopted identity or the location of her new family, so journalists dug up old articles and photographs. Concocted wildly imaginative stories. A couple of pulp news channels with national coverage played it too and Ruksana called to express her displeasure. Darya managed to convince her it hadn't been her doing and t
hey weren't going to know more than they already did. She added that her father might visit them, but she actually had no idea what her father was planning to do. She was going to have to talk to him about it.
‘Of course, I'll come,’ Aaron said now in response to her question. ‘Is your father coming too?’
Darya shook her head. Her father had returned to Nagpur soon after talking to the police. He couldn't wait to wash his hands off the whole affair. He wanted to sell the house and Darya was glad for it too. Despite her fondness for Sea Swept, it held too many bad memories. They had managed to negotiate a better deal than before with the Halogen group and Darya hoped the money would be enough to take care of Veronica and Joseph at least for a few years. She had grown increasingly fond of the two.
Her father asked her to return to Mumbai. Get back to your normal life, he said. But what was normal anymore? This seemed normal to her, her life in Goa: by the sea, the smell of coconut, feni and wine in the air, the nodding palms by the road, the lazy mornings... the people, the music, the festivities... particularly at this time of the year.
And I still love the sea. The mellow kiss of salt. That'll never go.
As if reading her mind, Aaron asked, ‘Did you decide how long you're going to be staying?’
‘No,’ she said. Her heart constricted. Forever, if she could help it.
‘We'll need to clear out of the houses in three months,’ he said. He had remained at Constellation and she at Sea Swept.
‘I know,’ Darya murmured.
She'd told her parents she was taking a break from work. And from Spandan.
He had finally stopped texting and calling. She had received a message from Veda to say he was now dating a model and going about town telling everyone what a bitch Darya was and how happy he was now that she was gone.
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 27
