‘I do not enjoy people being murdered on my watch.’
‘That’s not all.’
‘You’ll find out soon enough. Why don’t we just enjoy what’s left of the trip? You seem to be doing better now.’
It was true. Being above board seemed to have helped much sooner than any meds could have possibly started to work. If I hadn’t descended into the bowels of the ship – beautiful though they were – maybe I could have avoided the upchuck altogether. Yet another thing to blame Shayak for. If he hadn’t been so bristly, I may not have felt the need to flee and would have bypassed the bucket.
‘Maybe you could tell me why you are annoyed with me,’ I said.
Shayak looked at me in surprise. ‘Not with you.’
‘Then? Why the foul mood?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘When isn’t it? Try me.’
‘It’s Kimaaya.’
‘Kapoor?’
‘Is there any other?’
‘I am sure there are many – even if you have eyes only for one of them.’
Shayak laughed. ‘You should eat something,’ he said, looking more pleased than he should be, all of a sudden.
‘I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.’
‘Being on an empty stomach will only make it worse.’
‘But the kitchen is downstairs. I can’t go back there again.’
‘Don’t you remember my stash up here?’
Of course. My first time aboard the Titania, when it was safely and comfortingly docked in Calcutta, on the relatively still waters of the Hooghly, Shayak had produced a veritable buffet of world cuisine stored in a cooler somewhere up here.
‘There’s a smoothie in there for you,’ said Shayak, pointing in the direction of a chill chest disguised as a table.
I opened the top and saw a tall cup with a thick straw protruding from it. I took a sip. It was delicious. I could taste blueberries, mango and smooth, creamy yoghurt. My stomach gratefully received the offering. ‘Thanks.’
‘I think I have cracked the secret to making you happy.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Keeping you fed. At all times. The better the food, the less likely you are to fight me and anyone else you find in your way.’
Easy as that made me sound, I couldn’t argue with his logic, even though the tension simmering between us this morning seemed too large to be done away with by a blitz of fruit and dairy, no matter how restorative.
‘It won’t be long now,’ said Shayak.
I scanned the horizon for anything that might betray life. ‘I don’t see anything.’
‘It’s a small island, and we’re still about fifteen minutes away.’
I drained my cup and set it down. ‘What are all these buttons and things for?’ I asked, taking in the formidable console before us.
Shayak talked me through the main controls, and I tried to display more than a cursory interest in what was clearly his favourite toy. We were being guided by a GPS system, but it seemed as though Shayak knew his way well enough without it.
‘You want to have a go?’ he asked.
‘At what?’
‘At driving this big old jalopy.’
‘First of all, even I can tell that this ain’t no jalopy. And second of all, no.’
‘Why not? It’s easy-peasy.’
My mind went into montage mode as I imagined Shayak – the wind in our hair, sun glinting off sparkly white teeth, his hand over mine – teaching me how to steer his boat.
‘Maybe later,’ I said, taking a seat.
The sun warmed my face and soon I actually found that I was enjoying myself. Before long, I saw a speck emerge. ‘Is that it?’
‘Yes,’ said Shayak, grim once more.
‘It doesn’t seem very large.’
‘It’s not.’
‘It’s a closed-door murder,’ I said, a vein of excitement finally taking over from the gloom of the morning.
‘Sorry?’
‘It is an isolated island. The murderer might still be hanging around.’
‘It’s too early for assumptions, Reema. And this isn’t one of your detective novels: Mumbai, as you have just discovered, is only a boat ride away. The murderer may well be on his way out of the country by now.’
‘Still, having a crime scene so contained can be a good thing.’
‘That might be true, but don’t expect anything about this one to be straightforward,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let the show begin.’
Shayak guided the yacht into what passed for a dock, right beside a smaller yacht and a speedboat. The whole arrangement was far more ramshackle than I had expected on the private island of a leading Bollywood star not known for discretion in her ways.
‘This is the temporary dock,’ Shayak explained before I could ask. ‘The main one is being renovated.’
‘Is that Kimaaya’s yacht?’ I asked.
‘No. I imagine it must belong to a guest. The speedboat is hers.’
‘I would have thought a yacht was a necessary accessory if you owned a private island.’
‘She had one till recently.’
We disembarked, and I was surprised by how well Shayak knew his way around. Of course, Kimaaya was a client, a very prominent one, and he must have worked on the security plan for the island. From the little I had learnt about Shayak’s activities in the time I had been with Titanium, I knew he was hands-on with most of his biggest clients. It was, I had been told, his personal commitment that made him so sought after among the rich and famous. Now a murder had been committed here, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether heads would roll.
A man in plain black uniform waited for us, one of Titanium’s security staff. He saluted Shayak.
‘Have the police arrived yet?’ Shayak asked.
‘No, sir.’
‘Good.’
We had walked to a golf cart, and Shayak and the guard took the front seats, leaving me to climb into the back.
‘Sa’ab, I don’t know how this happened. I was at my station the whole night,’ the guard said. I heard the quiver in his voice.
‘Where exactly was the body found?’
‘You want to go there now, sir?’
‘Just tell me what you know.’
‘It is not far from the old dock.’
‘By the construction site?’
‘Not very close to that either; it was on the other side. Around 300 metres away.’
‘None of the workers reported any disturbance?’
‘It was away from the quarter, sir. And there is reduced staff strength right now.’
‘The site manager found the body?’ ‘Yes, this morning, at around 5.30. He came to the house and I spoke to you immediately after.’
‘To whom does that other boat belong?’
‘I don’t know, sir, but a number of guests from last night’s party came on that.’
‘Party?’ Shayak shook his head. ‘How many people?’
‘Not many – I would say no more than eight.’
‘Are they all still here?’
‘Yes, sir. All except one who left last night itself.’
Shayak didn’t ask any further questions, and the guard volunteered no more information.
The island was lush – far more untouched than I had expected. I could see the house in the distance and, as we drew closer, there was more landscaping – a small waterbody, with a pagoda connected by a bridge, hedges of flowers and a curved driveway with a couple more carts parked on it.
We came up to the house – and I would call it that only loosely. It resembled a spa resort in Kerala or Bali more than a home the likes of me would know. Tapering wooden pillars held up a tiled roof with fluid lines. Flowing curtains and plants provided a veil from prying eyes – not that there could be many unaccounted-for peepers on a private island in the general scheme of things. But this was now the scene of a murder, and the openness of Kimaaya Kapoor’s home could only spell tro
uble for the
security-minded.
Shayak turned to the guard as we disembarked. ‘I’ll sit with you and the other man on duty later.’
The guard gave a nervy salute.
I followed Shayak into the house. There was no door, and consequently no bell, and I found myself standing in a magical, welcoming foyer sort of space, with low seats and a sunken fish pond. There was a wooden divider separating it from the main living area, giving the impression of openness without leaving the inhabitants completely vulnerable.
We walked through to a living room where we found Kimaaya Kapoor, in a strappy top and yoga pants, talking to another woman. She turned to watch Shayak as we approached. The face I had till now only seen larger than life at the cinema seemed far more vulnerable and mobile before me. She was even more beautiful and delicate, the flirty, self-aware smile that had sold many a film ticket and tabloid was now replaced by a look of dismay.
‘Oh Shayak,’ she gushed, stepping towards him.
‘What a nightmare this is!’
He watched her with a curious mix of anger and exasperation. ‘What will we do?’
‘I will do what I always do, which is to pick up after you,’ he said. ‘You will do your best not to get in my way.’
Kimaaya didn’t seem to mind the cold words, except that they were uttered in the presence of a stranger. She turned her attention to me, starting at my feet, encased in black ballerinas, moving slowly up to take in my jeans and black top, before finally resting on my face with an icy smile.
‘Kimaaya,’ said Shayak, ‘this is Reema, my newest, brightest recruit. She’ll be lead on this case.’
I was as surprised as Kimaaya at this.
‘What do you mean? Where will you be?’ she asked.
‘Don’t worry, I’m here too. But it is critical I keep some amount of objective distance.’
‘But Shayak ...’
‘No buts. I don’t want to be seen too close to this business or they will be all over us like a swarm of locusts.’
‘Still afraid, I see.’
Shayak shook his head. ‘Don’t forget that this is my failing. We are here to investigate, but before that I need to find out how this happened, and ensure you aren’t left so exposed ever again, at any location.’
‘Hard on yourself, as usual.’ There was a softness to Kimaaya’s words, which left me wondering.
‘Don’t worry, I blame you equally for this mess.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You shouldn’t have been here, Kimaaya. You weren’t supposed to be here with such little security, and you just wouldn’t
listen.’
‘But after my South Africa schedule got cancelled, what did you expect me to do? Hang about uselessly in Mumbai, waiting to become tabloid fodder?’
‘You could have given me time to clear the island of the construction staff and up the security to an acceptable level.’
‘Well, there’s no point blaming me now.’
‘You and me both.’
‘Either way! Tell me what’s happening.’
‘I’ll be here for now,’ continued Shayak, ‘for as long as I need to be. But after that you are in Reema’s hands. Give her
what she needs. Be nice. Try not to suck her into your vortex.’
Kimaaya looked from me to him and seemed to decide it was time for her 500-watt smile. ‘Shayak,’ she said, stepping up, snaking her arms around him and planting a full kiss on his mouth, ‘only from you would I tolerate such talk on a day like today. It’s been horrid – just horrid! There is a dead body on my lawn that happens to be of someone quite important to me! And had you been there last night like you promised, I’m sure none of this would have happened!’
She buried her head in his chest. I could almost see Shayak counting to ten before he took a deep breath and looked at me.
‘Reema, meet Kimaaya Kapoor, my ex-wife.’
The Masala Murder: Reema Ray Mysteries Page 26
