The tabloids too gave up after a while.
Mrs. D’Mello withdrew into her bedroom and rarely ventured out. Sitting in her rocking chair, she made up stories to comfort herself. Her daughter was married and in Canada; she was in a better place, married and with children; she was coming to see her soon; why, she even sent them money every month. She was all right.
In due time, everyone in the neighbourhood learned to ignore her ramblings.
‘The Angel Killer,’ Darya intoned. The words conjured up the gruesome image of a long-haired, white-robed, sneering man; machete in one hand, the weapon dripping with blood. She remembered reading about the Angel Killer on the internet. The disappearance of three young and pretty girls had built up a popular frenzy for a while and she had followed the case with interest, stopping only when the details became lurid and unbelievable.
There was silence for a minute. Darya’s heart felt heavy. Until last year, she’d thought murders happened outside the periphery of her life. She’d believed—like a million others, who eagerly lapped up the horrific stories the media served them, thinking themselves to be untouchable—that she would be safe if she played by the rules, stuck to the averages. But the last year had taught her many things.
Gloomily, Darya asked, ‘Anything else?’
‘Well…’ Veda hesitated.
‘What is it?’
‘No one said it as such…’ Veda muttered. ‘but I got a general feeling…’
Darya’s interest was piqued. ‘What?’
‘You see… the general feeling was…’ Veda rubbed the back of her neck as if trying to coax out the words. ‘The girls were young and beautiful… but they had ambition not becoming of them. They probably deserved what they got.’
‘Huh? Ambition?’ Darya was perplexed. ‘They seemed like ordinary girls. What ambition do you mean?’
Veda pushed her phone towards Darya. ‘Read this.’
It was an excerpt from an online tabloid. A resident, who did not want to be named, said Eileen looked much older than her eighteen years and was already attracting unwanted attention from the boys on the lane. He claimed one of them might have had an ‘axe to grind with her’. He didn’t elaborate on what that axe might be. Another local, a hairstylist, said Linda had come to her parlour and demanded outrageous things. She wanted to look different, she said. She asked for her hair to be styled straight, with large seventies bangs to cover her forehead. She had tattoos all over her body. ‘Very odd for someone so young. After all, she was from a middle-class Indian family. And that too from Chapel Road.’
There was silence as Darya absorbed the words.
‘What happened to Linda and Madhu’s parents?’ she asked.
‘Linda’s parents sold their house and moved to Nasik. Her father visited Mumbai from time to time to follow up on the investigations. Madhu was from Lucknow. Her mother died of a heart attack soon after she learned of her daughter’s disappearance.’ Veda paused. ‘Oh… and another thing.’
Darya was not expecting what came next.
Veda had read a small paragraph tucked in one of the initial coverages of Eileen’s disappearance. A reporter had interviewed Viktor Mascarenhas, who had been doddering about in the garden. Viktor had been more forthcoming than the other neighbours, many of whom, after a comment or two, had to purportedly leave to do a chore or attend a call.
‘What did he say?’ Darya asked with bated breath.
‘Wait for it,’ Veda said dramatically.
‘Come on, tell me—quick!’ Darya protested.
Veda told Darya that it was Viktor who had helped create the moniker of the ‘Angel Killer’. He probably hadn’t meant to, but it had caught public imagination and so it stayed.
Viktor had told the reporter the girls had become angels. The reporter had found it amusing enough to include in her story. And thus, the label was born.
‘And then… Viktor told the reporter that his family made angels,’ Veda said.
Darya gaped in surprise. A jolt of excitement passed through her. ‘But that’s bizarre. What did he mean?’
Veda shrugged. ‘You do know he’s cuckoo, right?’ she said.
‘Not a cuckoo.’ Darya giggled. ‘A hummingbird.’
Veda gave her a dry smile. ‘Yeah, he does seem obsessed with that thing.’
They’d recently discovered that the wooden figurine on his desk was a hummingbird. It had strange spirals and lines all over it, crudely etched with a knife—apparently something Viktor liked to do in his idle time.
Darya glanced at her phone. ‘We’re late,’ she said. ‘Let’s talk about this later.’
It was 10 a.m. when Darya and Veda were finally ready to head for work. It was earlier than usual for Darya, but she was going to catch up with an old colleague before her class at 11 a.m. Veda was late but didn’t seem to care.
Darya locked the door to their room and followed Veda down the stairs.
They bumped into Max and Kyra, who were walking up.
‘Sorry,’ Darya said, taking a step back and moving away.
‘Hello,’ Veda said cheerfully, flattening herself against the wall.
‘Hey,’ Kyra mumbled, walking past.
‘Hallo!’ Max said, giving them an exaggerated curtsy. Tall, lanky with curly hair and a ready smile, he was easy on the eye.
He stayed where he was.
Darya shifted on her feet and wondered if they should carry on. She glanced at Veda, hoping for a cue. But Veda continued to stare at Max, a slight smile playing on her lips.
‘Where are you off to today?’ she asked.
‘Dharavi, the biggest slum in Asia,’ he answered. ‘We’re going to join a tour group.’
Standing behind him, Darya rolled her eyes.
Veda ignored her.
‘We should all go out for a drink sometime,’ she suggested. ‘I know a few good places around here.’
Darya gave her a long look. Not one for small talk, Veda was actually flirting with him.
‘Oh, sure, sure,’ Max replied, then turned to Darya, as if to seek her permission.
Darya nodded dutifully. She tried to catch Veda’s eye again. They needed to leave.
‘I’ll see you later then, yeah?’ Max said, flashing a large smile.
‘Yeah,’ they said together.
He turned and walked upstairs.
Darya tugged at Veda’s elbows. ‘What were you doing?’ she whispered. ‘He has a girlfriend.’
‘Don’t be a prude,’ Veda said. ‘We were only talking.’
‘This is not like you at all,’ Darya hissed.
‘Don’t be such an idiot. You…’ Veda began, then let out a surprised yell. ‘Oh!’ She tottered backwards, throwing Darya off-balance.
‘Hey!’ Darya protested, trying to steady herself. ‘What happened?’ Then she saw. Veda had landed on Debbie’s feet. They had been walking downstairs, talking amongst themselves, and hadn’t noticed her.
‘Sorry,’ Veda said hastily. ‘We didn’t see you there.’
Debbie didn’t react. She was staring at Veda, a pensive expression on her face. Her lips were a thin line, her eyes narrow.
Her lips moved.
Darya leaned forward to hear.
‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ Debbie said.
‘Doing what?’ Veda asked. She sounded nervous.
‘Guests mustn’t flirt,’ Debbie said softly.
At that instant, Debbie looked less like herself and more like her brother. An orange pallor had come over her flared nose. Her eyes were glassy. Her lower chin quivered. She no longer looked beautiful.
After an astonished pause, Veda protested, ‘I wasn’t!’
Then as if a lever had been pulled back, Debbie’s eyebrows untwined. Her face broke into a flaccid smile.
‘Viktor said you needed new sheets,’ she said brightly. ‘They’re in the reception.’ And before they could say anything, she edged past them and disappeared upstairs, leaving behind a faint whiff of lave
nder.
Madwoman. Darya mouthed the word to Veda. Her phone rang. ‘Talk to Viktor and get the sheets or tell him we’ll collect them at night,’ she said hurriedly and walked out to the garden to take the call.
It was her mother calling to tell her that her father was going to be in Mumbai the week after. She wasn’t sure what he’d planned or how busy he was going to be, but suggested Darya make time to meet him.
Darya scowled at the thought of having to explain to her father, yet again, why she was staying at Chapel Road when she could be living at a luxurious apartment owned by one of his rich friends. He’d also never really understood why she preferred to stay in Bandra over all other places in Mumbai and why she would want to live independently over having a hot home-cooked meal every day in a fully furnished penthouse.
They talked for a few more minutes. Darya convinced her mother she was going to be available to entertain her father and yes, she was eating well.
After the call was over, Darya went back inside. She saw Veda standing at the bottom of the stairs, her face flushed.
‘What happened?’ Darya asked, confused.
Veda shook her head but wouldn’t meet Darya’s eyes.
‘Hey, V, what’s the matter?’ Darya asked, moving closer.
She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then: ‘Something’s wrong with him,’ she said quietly. Her voice shook.
‘Who?’ Darya asked, puzzled.
‘Viktor.’ Veda stared into the distance; her arms stiff by her side.
‘But we know what it is,’ Darya replied. ‘Has something else happened?’ She thought back to how odd he had seemed a day ago, lurking outside their door. Did Veda have a similar experience?
Veda stayed silent, her eyes glazed, breathing hard.
‘Veda, what is it?’ Darya asked.
Veda didn’t tell her then. It was only later that Darya found out.
And much later still that she believed in the truth of it.
When Darya returned to the villa in the evening, Veda was already in the room, talking in a hushed tone to someone on the phone.
Darya paused, her fingers hovering over the doorknob. Veda’s voice was filled with uncharacteristic softness.
‘I know. I miss you too. No, honey…’ A sigh. ‘I’ll find out soon. No, no. I’ll do it. Trust me.’ A long pause. ‘Yes, I wish I was snuggled up next to you too.’ Pause. ‘No, we cannot meet here. Listen, it’s time for Darya to come home. No, she doesn’t know anything.’ Another deep sigh. ‘Yeah, I’ll tell her when you tell everyone. Okay, you need to go now? Okay, will see you soon, bye.’
Darya was confused. Was Veda back with Rishabh? Had the two of them made up? But Veda would have told her. She’d denied vehemently even a few days earlier of ever considering getting back with him. Not even when I’m dead and in flames were her exact words.
Or was there a new man in Veda’s life?
‘Hello,’ Darya announced, rather too loudly, opening the door wide. She entered the room. ‘What are you up to?’
Startled, Veda sat upright on the bed and gaped at Darya, at a loss for words. Her skin was flushed scarlet.
Darya tried to bite down a smile and decided she wasn’t going to ask Veda to explain. Veda would tell her who the mystery man was when the time was right. ‘Hungry?’ she asked lightly.
‘Yes,’ Veda replied in an unnaturally shrill voice. ‘Did you have a good day?’ she added, which Darya assumed was an attempt to deflect attention from herself.
‘I did,’ Darya replied, playing along. ‘Learned to make the perfect espresso.’
‘Perfect?’ Veda said, looking sceptical.
‘Okay, a good one! Dinner?’ she asked again.
Moments later, she ordered home delivery. Two packets of Lucky’s Chicken Biryani.
After they had eaten and cleared up, Veda started, ‘Listen, Darya…’
Darya, who was changing out of her work clothes, paused. She glanced back questioningly.
A glum pallor shadowed Veda’s face; her good mood was gone.
‘What is it?’ Darya asked, then guessed, ‘Something to do with what happened in the morning, isn’t it? With Viktor?’
Veda nodded. Briefly, their eyes met.
‘Out with it,’ Darya said.
‘You won’t believe me.’
‘Try,’ Darya said.
However, when Veda told her, Darya reacted in exactly the way Veda thought she would.
‘No fucking way!’
Veda glared at her. ‘You see?’
‘Are you sure?’ Darya asked, leaving her clothes forgotten on the floor. She rubbed her forehead in disbelief.
‘I know what I heard,’ Veda replied tightly.
‘But he’s mentally challenged,’ Darya protested. ‘Is he even capable of it?’
‘Fuck you, Darya. I knew you’d say that,’ Veda snapped.
‘Veda, I didn’t mean…’
‘Forget it. Just go to bed.’
A few hours later, Darya was woken by a ruckus downstairs. She glanced over at Veda, who was sleeping peacefully next to her, the thin cotton sheet tucked under her chin and stretched taut to her toes.
Darya gave her a nudge.
Veda groaned.
Another nudge.
‘What’s going on?’ Veda asked, rubbing her eyes. She struggled with the sheet for a minute, then reached out to switch on the lamp.
‘Can you hear it?’ Darya whispered. ‘Downstairs.’
‘What is it?’ Veda said, sitting up.
Darya climbed out of the bed.
Immediately, they heard a sharp noise outside their door.
‘Whoah!’ Darya exclaimed.
‘Who is that?’ Veda hissed.
And before Veda could stop her, Darya walked to the door and opened it.
She took a step back in surprise.
Max was standing outside their door, leaning against the balustrade, his back to her. His body was trembling.
‘Darya, who is it?’ Veda called from behind her.
Darya swallowed. ‘Max?’
He turned sharply. ‘Sorry I… couldn’t see… I crashed on your door…’
Then as if unable to hold himself any longer, he cried, ‘She’s gone.’
‘What… who?’ Darya said. ‘Who’s gone?’
‘Kyra,’ he sobbed. ‘Kyra’s gone!’
‘What do you mean?’ Darya asked, bewildered.
‘We had a fight. I walked off…’ He spoke fast, his words jumbling. ‘Told her to meet me in the room, but she isn’t here! It’s been twelve hours.’
What a drama queen. Darya wanted to chastise him. Maybe Kyra was sulking away somewhere, planning to come back when she simmered down. Darya did a lot of that herself with Aaron.
‘Why did you two fight?’ Darya asked.
Max was blubbering. ‘We were planning to go to Himalayas after this, but she didn’t want to go. I’ve made the bookings. It’s a lot of money.’
‘Why didn’t she want to go?’
‘She wouldn’t say.’
‘Are her things still in the room?’ Veda interrupted. She had joined them.
‘Yes,’ Max said. He looked heartbroken.
‘Mobile phone?’
Darya felt a spasm of guilt. Hadn’t she heard horror stories of what happened to young foreign women in the city? Kyra was not safe out this late at night.
‘Switched off,’ Max said.
‘Did you go to the police?’ Veda asked.
‘I went to the Hill Road police station. They made some phone calls,’ he replied. ‘Then asked me to wait for twenty-four hours.’
‘Then wait,’ Darya said.
Veda gave her elbow a warning tug.
‘I asked Viktor if Kyra came back here,’ Max continued. ‘Could he help me find her? I don’t know anyone else in this city. But he was angry because I’d woken up his mother. Co mam teraz zrobić?’ He lapsed into Polish.
Darya and Veda exchanged glances.
&n
bsp; ‘Forget him,’ Veda soothed. ‘We’ll come with you to the police station if Kyra doesn’t turn up by morning.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Darya assured. ‘She’ll be back.’
Max nodded dumbly. They stood in silence for a few seconds until Veda leaned forward and spoke gently. ‘Why don’t you go to your room and wait for her. Try calling her a couple of times. She might pick up.’
Max didn’t reply. His lips trembled.
‘Go to your room and get some sleep,’ Veda said firmly.
‘Okay,’ he replied.
They watched as he shuffled to his room and shut the door.
When they woke up in the morning and knocked on his door, no one opened. Then Viktor and Debbie tried. The door remained shut. In the end, Debbie went downstairs to get the master key and opened the door.
The room was empty. The bed hadn’t been slept in. And all the luggage was gone.
Later, Darya wondered if the noises she’d heard not long after Max had left them to go to his room—heavy footsteps, a scuffle—what she’d thought were part of a nightmare—were actually sounds of Max leaving.
At 9 a.m., they came downstairs and saw Viktor checking in a new guest.
‘Room 202,’ Viktor told the man.
‘That was fast,’ Darya muttered, sneaking a glance. The man was staring down at the register, writing rapidly. Of wiry build, with slick, side-swept hair, he wore a white Lucknowi kurta and khaki pants. Darya also caught sight of a thin moustache over nicotine-stained lips. An expensive-looking sable bag lay at his feet.
‘Obviously rich,’ Darya told Veda as they walked out, ‘Wonder what he’s doing here.’
‘Yeah, I saw the Rolex,’ Veda replied.
‘Did you catch his name?’
‘Parthiv Goel,’ Veda said. ‘I heard’—a discreet clearing of the throat—‘him repeat it after Parthiv wrote it down in the register.’
Darya threw her a curious glance. ‘You can’t even say Viktor’s name anymore, can you?’
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 30
