Mousebite

by Ganesh Chaudhari

  So he had prepared a list of cops he thought were competent & downright incorruptible. According to him, one of these cops was to be assigned to the investigation of his death so that the guilty could be found. Pulkit had also requested forensic support following his death right from the beginning of the investigation. The DG had that list & was honoring Pulkit’s wish. Khan didn’t ask why. The DG told Khan that he had other cases to be looked into by the department so he could assign Jagtap, as the economic offenses wing was low on work. Khan had promised immediate assignment of Jagtap to the case. Before finishing the conversation, Khan had asked the DG whether his name figured in the list made by Pulkit. The DG had answered in the affirmative. He saw a flash of his own youth in Jagtap & backed him to do the right thing irrespective of the consequences. Jagtap’s run in with Kumar had proved again that he was up for it. He expected him to carry on similarly in investigating Pulkit’s death. Khan thought Pulkit had made a good choice.

  ***

  What do they say about finding a job that you enjoy so that you don’t have to work? I know the answer to that today. I am experiencing it! Though the teenage eagerness of getting to spend time with a likable (lovable?) friend from the opposite sex is somewhat reduced at my age, it is there none the less. To say that I had been waiting for this is an understatement. It is a pity that Pulkit’s death is making this possible, but then such perks come rarely for a bachelor & almost never for a Mumbai cop.

  I called up Bhavna from the office phone immediately after leaving Khan’s cabin as per his orders. She was at her office. I conveyed to her the gravity of this case which required a forensic professional to accompany me. I explained to her the urgency that was apparent in Khan’s assignment details. And then I let her know that it would be best if she could suggest someone to take with me. Then without pausing, I told her that it would be better than best if she could accompany me. She too agreed without a pause. I asked her to be ready so that I can pick her up. And now I am riding my Bullet to her office. I thought of taking an official car but that would have been overkill for just the two of us. I called up Ulhas & let him know that I was assigned to a different case promising to reveal the details about it when we met. He said that he too had something that he would tell me when we meet.

  The traffic is picking up on the streets of Mumbai as office working hours commence. Unlike the usual Mumbai weather, this day is pleasantly cool. I keep going back to meeting Pulkit at the bar. He seemed candid about what he did. And it would be right for me to start finding what all he did to determine why he was killed. By himself or otherwise. There has to be a logical explanation about my being assigned to this case, which is out of the jurisdiction of my wing. After all, I was assigned to Achhu’s case just like this. But it seems too much of a coincidence. I reach Bhavna’s office soon. She is ready as instructed. Wearing a scarlet red half sleeved knee length top & a navy blue slack, she looks fabulous as ever. She has a box like case on her desk. Must be her tools of the trade.

  After exchanging smiles, we go to the administrative section & submit the case details. A middle aged clerk at the desk assigns the necessary authorization to Bhavna after she hands over the list of equipment that she is taking to the crime scene. She collects the box & off we go.

  As we near my parked Bullet, I let Bhavna know that we can take a taxi. The hotel we are supposed to go to is at Byculla. But she sees my Bullet & her eyes glint. Matter closed. As she has a box to carry, she occupies the rear seat in the traditional Indian way. That is, she seats with both her legs on one side & balances the box on her thighs. I think the taxi would have been better, because now we can’t talk easily while I drive.

  The hotel we are going to is aptly named Byculla Residency. I had little time to get all the details about it at the office. Located in the heart of Byculla, it is an old, 3 storey hotel that has been renovated recently. It offers stay and has an average restaurant. By the description of it, it seems a candidate for longtime stay for loners like Pulkit. I already know that Pulkit didn’t have a home of his own. He never owned a residential property even before marriage & now that his family didn’t stay with him, there was no reason for him to. We are at the hotel’s entrance shortly.

  Unlike most hotels that have their parking at the rear or in the basement, this one still has an open space at the front for parking. I walk with Bhavna to the reception. A good looking woman wearing more than sufficient make up is manning it. She is dressed in a metallic gray uniform that has the Hotel’s logo. She eyes me, Bhavna & Bhavna’s curious looking bag with suspicion. Neither me nor Bhavna being in uniform must add to her doubt. I am sure she is used to seeing couples looking like us using this hotel on an hourly basis. She has definitely put me in that category.

  “How can I help you Sir?” She asks in a chirpy voice. She stands up as she asks.

  I don’t answer immediately. Instead I look around as if trying to locate something. Bhavna too does not speak up. I don’t see any sign of change in activity despite a death having occurred here yesterday. It is business as usual. Just when the receptionist is about to ask me again, I show her my police id. The shock is instant but she recovers well.

  “Me & my colleague are here to check room no.207.” I inform her.

  “Ok Sir.” Her eyes have gone slightly wide.

  “I would like to ask you some questions too.”

  “I hardly knew him. Must have met him at the reception a couple of times.” She blurts.

  “Tell me Miss Ayesha, was a he a long staying customer?” I read her name from the name plate pinned to her uniform.

  “Yes. He was staying here for the past few months.”

  “Did he pay regularly, any problems at all with the staff?” I continue.

  “His bills were always cleared. Not sure about the staff part.” She says.

  “Who would know?” I ask.

  “The floor manager would know. Or the room attendents.”

  “Okay. Can you get me a statement of his expenses here since he arrived? Second, I want the keys to 207 & third, I want see the floor manager of his floor & every room attendant who served Mr.Jha. Thanks.”

  She turns around to get the keys of 207 from the wall. The wall houses the lines of boxes for each room. I ask her to keep the bill statements ready. I enter the lift with Bhavna to get to the second floor. Just as the lift door is about to close, a young man dressed in the hotel uniform steps in the lift. All of us get down at the second floor. It is a passageway with rooms on either side.

  “Hello, where is 207?” I ask the man from the lift. He points behind me. The passage is lit with golden colored low lighting in the walls. There are rooms on either side & it is hard to tell if it is day or night outside the hotel. We reach 207. Right then someone shouts from behind.

  “Hey, hey! Wait!” Bhavna is slightly startled & I look back. A man is running at full pace towards us.

  The short & stocky man stops right between me & the door to room 207. He is drawing deep breaths due to his run. Dressed in a half sleeved black silk shirt that has been left out of his white jeans, he looks like a bhai. The dress sense at least is spot on. There is a balding pate that is almost bumping into my chin & a long tilak on his forehead. He has a grand beer belly too.

  “Who are you?” He tries to stare me down.

  “Who are you?” I retort.

  “I am the manager of this hotel.” He tries to say it in an authoritative manner but I know it’s a lie. Every small time hotel usually has a guy like him who spends a lot of time at the hotel doing almost nothing just because he is friends with the owner. He may do odd jobs & may also consider himself responsible for what goes on at the hotel or he may do all the illegal things for the hotel owner. These things include running card gambling clubs in the guise of a social club, dealing drugs, prostitution and everything that requires closed, habitable places. I know his type.

  “Really? If you stand here another minute, I will move you aside myself. This is police
business.” I get to the point. There are beads of sweat on his neck.

  “Do you have a warrant?”Ah, must be seeing a lot of smart ass Hindi movies. I lift him up by the collar of his shirt & put him out of my way. Then I push him. He loses his balance but avoids falling. I give the keys to Bhavna who unlocks the door. He gets up to his feet & looks beyond me lecherously at Bhavna’s back as she enters the room.

  “Oho, so it is a new thane…daar” He taunts me loudly. The intentional pause between thane & dar distorts the traditional word for station in charge into the Marathi slang for in charge of boobs with an obvious reference to Bhavna. He has done the smart thing by moving two paces away from me. I am not sure if Bhavna has heard it, but I close the door to the room. I stay my ground to face the “manager”.

  “You manhandled me. Now see what I do. Do you know who owns this hotel?” He continues his babbling.

  “Wait, I will call him. Then you will know. Wait right here!” He takes out a pink skinned mobile phone & walks away from the room. After being certain that he is gone, I enter the room.

  “Stay right there.” Bhavna instructs me as I close the door after me. This room is on the west & all the windows are closed, so it is dark. A dim light is spreading a golden hue all over it. Bhavna however has put on her lab glasses & is spraying surfaces that she finds interesting for fingerprints, hair, blood or body fluids. It is good to see her go about her job diligently. She hands me over another lab glass. I put it on & the visibility gets better. I see the ceiling fan. Its stem is bent awkwardly so that must be where Pulkit was found hanging. Otherwise nothing seems to be out of place.

  The room has a writing table, an attached toilet & a wardrobe. A medium sized bed occupies the center of the room right under the ceiling fan. There is a stack of books on Indian law on the writing table. She has sprayed the walls, the bed & the study table randomly but has not found anything. She flicks on the main light in the room. It increases the visibility even more. I pick a large evidence bag from Bhavna’s now open tool bag & start bagging everything that she passes me from across the room. She goes inside the bathroom & returns sometime later. She starts spraying the carpeted floor now from the other end of the room. She is on her knees, carefully spraying every spot in the carpet. She approaches my end of the room as her work progresses. She is scanning the room like a grid. She’s right beside me when I notice a cleaning mop with a long handle. It is lying flat on the ground. Bhavna gets on her hands to examine it closely. Both of us have our backs to the door & don’t notice the “manager” open the door of the room and stand beside me. As Bhavna continues her work, I sense him & turn to him.

  “Oh, what is this? Police work or doggy style?” He taunts again. I am deciding whether to clock him with a punch or knee him when the rod end of the mop rises from the ground in a flash. I see Bhavna driving its broad end hard into the carpet. It catches him right between his legs. Now it is his turn to get down to his knees as his family jewels are rocked by the impact of the metal rod of the mop.

  I look back at Bhavna who is staring hard at the “manager” howling in pain. She is obviously enjoying her handiwork with the mop. I touch his forehead with three fingers as if to check for a fever.

  “Naahi, kapalat nahi aalya.” When a man is really pissed off, in Marathi it is described as “Gotya Kapalat aalya”. Kapalat means in the forehead, gotya literally means marbles & aalya means reached. Naahi is no. In short, the Manager’s jewels have just been rattled hard & not launched into his forehead. Bhavna smirks at him for good measure.

  “This room has been cleaned thoroughly. We will need more time & people.” She walks outside the room. I join her & leave the manager on the floor. She removes the plastic covering from her feet & the gloves from her hand. The bag is already with her. We head for the reception. I like this girl!

  The receptionist is still at her desk. She arranges a small room for us on the ground floor where we can interview the staff. I ask Bhavna if she wants to leave but she wants to stay. I interview all the floor managers without success. Most of them had seen Pulkit in the afternoon the day before yesterday. Pulkit was known to lock himself up till the mornings so nobody had bothered checking on him. It was only yesterday evening that they had tried to check up on him & found him hanging by the ceiling fan. I go through the waiters. The final one for the interview is the guy who met us in the lift.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Prasad Bhatawde” He is clean shaven, just about my height & dressed in the uniform.

  “You served food to Mr.Jha on 20th?”

  “Yes Sir. I did.”

  “What did he order? At what time?”

  “It was his usual drinking time sir. Around 7.30 in the evening. He ordered a tandoori chicken & few rotis with raita.” Now this is interesting.

  “Was he alone?”

  “Yes Sir. He was alone when I served the food & when I picked the plates.” He says.

  “Tell me Prasad, did he order tandoori chicken regularly?” My stare & question makes him uncomfortable. He touches his nose before answering.

  “No Sir. He was more into fish.” This is fishy!

  I stare hard at him for good measure. But I have to let him go. Even if Pulkit had told me that he was a vegan, it may not be true. I can’t hold that against Prasad yet. But he is uncomfortable for sure.

  “Ok, Prasad. Thanks.” I smile at him. He leaves quickly. As all the staff members have been interviewed, I return to the receptionist to collect the bill statement of Pulkit. Bhavna is in toe as our business here is finished for now. Ayesha has it ready. I have not seen the guy who claimed to be the manager of the hotel.

  “Who was the man that came after us to the room, the one who claims he is the manager of this hotel?” I enquire.

  “Oh, that is Mr. Sadanand Mane.” I don’t miss her inconvenience at the very mention of him.

  “Miss Ayesha, one final question, who owns this hotel?” I ask almost as an afterthought.

  “Mr.Kedar Marathe” She answers. I arch my brows & roll my head sideways trying to remember if I know him. She helps me out.

  “He is the Home Minister’s brother.” Great. Just what I needed.

  I ask Bhavna again if she would like to take a taxi. This time she agrees. Before seeing her off we discuss to decide upon our version of the incident in room 207. If Sadanand is thick with Kedar, he is bound to retaliate. It could either come as a formal police complaint or as a discreet inquiry from our seniors. We agree upon it being an accident where Sadanand tried to stop us from checking the room & tripped on a mop. The actual description may not be required yet as Sadanand could twist it. Bhavna is looking composed but I feel it has shaken her. I stop a taxi & she gets in.

  “Hey, I am sorry I got you into this.” I apologize. I should have gotten a male forensics guy. People still are ages from accepting a female investigator here.

  “No. Don’t be Pandurang. It’s alright.” She says.

  I am not convinced. I hold her hand & squeeze it reassuringly.

  “I mean it Pandurang. I need these experiences. They will help me.” She reassures me with a puzzle.

  I look at her with surprise.

  “I am appearing for the department exam this year. Consider this as field training.” She says with a smile. That explains her regaining composure. She wants to be a police officer in the field. I return her smile & let her hand go.

  “You did well for an aspiring cop.” I tell her.

  I walk back to my Bullet. As I am about to leave, a Jaguar Land Rover arrives in the parking. A smart looking man gets down from it. He is joined by two bodyguards looking like the government commandos. He approaches the hotel but does not get in. He waits by the door. Then a Lincoln arrives in the parking. The US flag on its bonnet announces it to be a US consulate vehicle. A white man gets out of the Lincoln. He is formally dressed in a suit & is accompanied by a white woman in a formal suit too. The man from the Land Rover shakes hands with the white man &
greets the woman. As he ushers them inside the hotel, I see Sadanand right by the side of the man. He is not looking at me, but I think that the man from the Land Rover is Kedar Marathe. I leave the hotel after the activity at the entrance goes cold. A question keeps nagging my mind as I drive to the office. Why does a US consulate car carrying someone of importance have to bring him to a low life hotel like the Byculla Residency?

  21

  The Taj

  The office is buzzing with Pulkit’s death. There are groups of people at every sizable table. Animated discussions with some recalling their encounters with Pulkit are underway. Encounter has a different meaning in Mumbai police lingo but I am referring to the regular meaning here. These table gatherings are also indicative of the DYSP not being in the office. I approach the office superintendent’s table to inquire.

  “Jagtap, Jagtap.” Pritam mocks a stadium chant as he sees me.

  “You found anything interesting in Pulkit’s khopcha?” He asks me immediately. He has to brag about knowing who’s handling what case. It is unprofessional & even mean at times but he thinks it establishes his relevance. Khopcha by the way means a private corner unseen by most, in Mumbai lingo.

  “Where is Khan Sir?” I answer with a question. His smile changes to a sneer.

  “He didn’t tell me & I didn’t ask. Is that what I am here for?” He snorts. I want to answer in the affirmative as that is about the only useful thing that I have seen him do. Others around him are stunned though. The chatter & the gossip evaporate. I walk away from the table & it goes back to whispering.

  I have to wait for Khan as I can’t call him just to give an update. Also, it makes sense to discuss Pulkit’s case in person. I call Ulhas. He has been assigned to a wife beating case. He has finished recording the statements & closing the complaint by playing a mediator. Cops in India do that sometimes. He promises to see me at the canteen in 20 minutes. I need to know what he has on Sumit Patel. I also need his angle on Kedar Marathe. He follows most of the politicians through the media & his network of people. I walk to the canteen & order a Vada pav.