She looked around at the other students in Sneha’s class. There was a fat lady in a loose-fitting baby-pink cotton shalwaar. She was dripping in gold – gold bangles, a gold-and-ruby nose stud and a gold necklace, barely visible between the rolls of her fat neck. How uncomfortable for a yoga class. Christabel could tell by the display of gold that this woman was a somebody. Who? She didn’t know, but she was going to find out. It was good to make acquaintances with women like this because you never knew when they would come in handy, and they always knew the best mithai-wallah in the neighbourhood. The woman in the baby-pink shalwaar probably carried a box of sweet yellow ladoos with her at all times. Christabel shifted her gaze around the room.
There were three women she had met in the class before this one. One was from Kolkata and the other two from Mumbai, in Goa for a girly weekend. The women were younger than her, but not by much. They looked so carefree. Christabel wondered if they had boyfriends. She couldn’t see any wedding rings or mangalsutras. Probably not, she decided. Boyfriends were hard to come by these days. She felt better about herself then and turned her attention to the two men who had just walked in. They looked like they had just strolled in from a rave party on Anjuna beach. One was tall, with icy blue eyes. He was as thin as a rake, with cropped blond hair. The other was what she would call chubby, with long brown dreadlocks that looked badly in need of a wash. Both were shirtless, and the skinny one was wearing tie-dye harem pants; the other was wearing inappropriately tight-fitting leggings. Christabel knew these kinds of tourists. They came to Goa to find themselves, but instead they found cheap vodka and hashish. They bought loose-fitting clothes and wooden bead necklaces from the flea market. They hung out in beach shacks and slept on the beach. These were modern-day hippies thinking they were living the dream. Only a handful stayed past the extent of their visa. These people were hardcore, mainly because they were stoned. But these two in her yoga class – the skinny blond and the chubby one in leggings – were not stoned. They were just trying to look cool, to be part of something they could write home about; even Christabel could see that. They probably still lived at home, thought Christabel. Proper mummy’s boys.
‘Cooee, hallo. You there. You’re new, no?’
Christabel turned around, surprised by this high-pitched voice, and realised that the woman in the pink shalwaar had moved her mat closer to hers. Christabel looked behind her just to check the woman had intentionally been speaking to her and not someone sitting behind her. It was best to check these things. It wouldn’t be the first time that Christabel said hello to a stranger in response to a greeting intended for someone else. It was very embarrassing when that happened, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself any further. It was hard enough doing the bridge pose without passing wind.
‘I’m new, yes. I’m Christabel.’
‘Hna, good name. I’m Bhumika. Call me Bhum,’ she said, emphasising the ‘bh’.
Christabel nodded. ‘You’re a regular here?’
‘Shut up, no. Never. Exercise and me, pfff. What a joke. My good-for-nothing husband thinks I need to lose some weight. I thought I would humour him, so I came here. What’s there in staying at a retreat for a week or two, na?’
If Arthur ever said Christabel needed to lose weight, she would tell him where to go. Although she often told him that he needed to lose those tyres around his waist, but that was different. Men didn’t mind being told such things. After all, she always told him for his own good. She couldn’t have him collapsing from a heart attack any time soon. He had to marry her and make an honest woman out of her first, although who knew when that would be.
‘Oh,’ said Bhum, scrutinising her face. ‘I can see you think my husband is useless for telling me that. But no, he has his uses, and I’ll tell you a secret,’ she said, leaning in. Christabel leaned towards the woman, always happy to hear someone else’s secrets. ‘I lowe him,’ Bhum said, mispronouncing the word love. She leaned back and laughed. ‘He too is a fatty. He should have come here with me. He could easily have come; he has business here and his brother lives here too, some good-for-nothing writer fellow. He could come and talk some sense into him. But what to do? My husband didn’t want to do any of those things, and he definitely didn’t want to do a retreat. It’s a good thing. I was actually looking forward to getting away. Having what the youngsters call ‘me time’. So funny, all these young ones want me time. For what? They say that they are stressed. This stress is a new invention, if you ask me. Me time, my foot!’ Bhum smiled, exposing her pink gums, which matched her outfit. Christabel fidgeted on her mat. She had wanted ‘me-time’; she had told her mother exactly that. Her mother had laughed. Now Bhum’s words reminded her of that conversation. It was important to have time of one’s own, she silently reasoned, in order to make the right decisions in one’s life.
Bhum busied herself on her peach yoga mat whilst Christabel considered her life decisions. It was a simple decision – she had to decide to stay with or leave Arthur. If she left, she had the chance to meet someone else. She was certain only divorcees remained as potential suitors. Did she really want a divorcee with baggage? With children? Would she be able to cope bringing up children that were not her own flesh and blood? She tilted her head to one side as she considered this. It was a possibility. She had often thought about adopting children in addition to having her own. But she would need to find someone fast, because she didn’t like the idea of being alone. Who would she call at the end of the day to complain about her boss? Who would she make soropatel and sannas for? She knew pickings were slim out there. Her single friends were always complaining.
Then there was the other option. If she stayed with Arthur, he might never marry her. He was a commitment-phobe, she knew that, and so she had to accept the risks. Her dream of having her own family would never be realised. She could be like one of these modern girls and live with Arthur, perhaps even have a child with him. It was a possibility. She considered it for a few minutes, and the idea worried her. What would people say? What would her mother say? But this new way of living excited her as well. It was forward-thinking. It was risky business, as her friend Lisa would have said. Christabel was not one to live on the edge. But maybe it was time that she did.
When Christabel turned back to Bhum, she noticed the woman was sitting in a perfect lotus position. Clearly she was more flexible than her figure suggested. Christabel straightened her back. She didn’t want to sit next to someone who was good at yoga. It would be better if she was sitting next to a novice, then she wouldn’t look so bad in front of the instructor. She looked over at Blond and Chubby. It was a shame they were men, she thought. They would have been the perfect contrast to help the yoga instructor see her potential. She must have been staring at the men, because before she knew it, the blond man was walking towards her. The chubby one was following, beaming at her with a wide grin.
She looked away and swallowed hard, hoping they hadn’t noticed her rude stares. Were they going to ask her what she was looking at? She wouldn’t like that at all. No, she stayed away from confrontation with strangers. Her friend Lisa always asked random people what they were looking at if anyone dared to stare at her, and it always set Christabel on edge. She knew that whoever set eyes on Lisa was staring at her enormous behind that followed. It was Lisa’s style to pull people up on their manners, but it wasn’t Christabel’s style at all. She lowered her gaze and studied her mat, hoping the men would pass. She noticed sweat patches were forming on her new purple sweatshirt. That’s exactly what she didn’t want. She hoped that villa of Arthur’s had a washing machine.
The men walked past her and then backtracked and took the two free spaces in front of her. Christabel exhaled a sigh of relief. They hadn’t approached her and they hadn’t taken the spaces behind her. She could do her downward dogs in peace, knowing the two men wouldn’t be able to spy her brassiere or worse – look at her bottom.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chupplejeep poured himself a glass
of aarak from the earthenware garafao in the kitchen. It had been a struggle to lift the cork off the old bottle, but as he took his first sip of the fermented cashew drink, he smiled. The taste was as good as ever. He let the liquor slip down his throat slowly and warm him as he took a seat on the veranda and appreciated the scenery. He had a good view of the lake from his bungalow. He could even see the reflection of the coconut trees in the still surface of the lake. For the first time in months, he felt his shoulders drop and the weight of the world lift from his shoulders, although he knew the feeling wouldn’t last long. He had to win his girlfriend back, and then there was his newly found biological parents to consider.
When Christabel hadn’t returned by mid-morning from the retreat, Chupplejeep had started to worry, but just as he was wondering where his girlfriend could be, he received a text from her saying she would be at the retreat for the day. He was cross, since he wanted to spend time with her, but she had put a smiley face after her message, something she hadn’t done in a long time, and it softened him. She would be home soon; the sun was already beginning to set. A day of practising yoga was sure to relax anyone. Maybe Christabel would even share the bed with him. He had taken the liberty of planning their picnic for tomorrow. To the south of the lake there was a beautiful shaded spot amongst the karanja trees. As he contemplated the mutton croquettes and Apa de Camrao prawn pie he had bought for their feast, he noticed a figure walking along the path in front of his bungalow. This route was well used by the local residents, so it wasn’t a suspicious activity. The figure was walking with purpose, wearing a black turtleneck and dark-coloured trousers. This was not the attire for lakeside living, especially in the heat of summer, and Chupplejeep was drawn in. Despite the time of day, it was still hot outside. The figure suddenly stopped and started walking towards the edge of the lake just in front of his villa. He couldn’t make out who it was, or even whether it was a man or a woman.
At one time, he had known all the local residents. There was the large white house at the top of the lake and only a handful of villas around the body of water. When he was younger, most of the occupants lived in them full time. Now many were rented out; only the Prasads and the Mendoncas remained. Then there was his villa sandwiched between the two, and Jackpot’s was on the other side of the Mendoncas’. The remaining eight holiday villas to the left of the Prasads’, bordering the hotel’s boundary, were all let by Patel’s Holiday Lets, or so Dilip had said, plus there were the residents of the yoga retreat, and soon there would be guests staying in the new hotel. He looked at the concrete structure on the other side of the lake. Work had started, despite the local opposition; no doubt a big bribe had been paid so that permission would be granted.
Dilip had stopped by earlier and told him that four of the largest bungalows to the northeast of the lake had been demolished to make way for the hotel. Chupplejeep was no builder, but even he could see, with his untrained eye, that the site was not large enough to accommodate the size of hotel Dilip had been talking about. He had shown him a brochure, and the new hotel was offering four restaurants, a state-of-the-art gym and two swimming pools, plus one hundred and twenty-four rooms. It wasn’t possible. The developer needed more space, and the laws had recently been tightened, restricting the height of buildings, making the bribery route defunct. If the developer couldn’t go higher then surely he was planning to buy more land. Chupplejeep pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t any of his business. The architects and engineers on the project could have got it wrong. It wasn’t the first time that this had happened in Goa, and it wouldn’t be the last.
‘You came,’ said an unfamiliar voice. Chupplejeep looked up from his glass of aarak. The comment was so clear that for a split second he thought the statement had been made to him. He had been so lost in thought that he had forgotten about the suspicious figure standing by the edge of the lake. He was surprised he could hear the conversation so distinctly from such a distance. He was no engineer, but thinking about it, he realised that his bungalow was on higher ground than the lake, and the thick laterite stone of the villas and the natural rock surroundings probably created a good acoustic platform, like an amphitheatre. He smiled to himself. He and Dilip used to share all their secrets down by the lake whilst Nana sat on her rocking chair on the veranda. No wonder she gave him that lecture about smoking so soon after he and Dilip shared their first cigarette by the lake. She would have known, but she never let on. Chupplejeep took another sip of his drink. He missed her.
‘Of course,’ a man responded from the lakeshore.
The detective sat back in his chair and listened. The second voice was familiar. He was sure he had heard it during the short time he had been in the village.
‘Did anyone see you come here?’ the man asked.
Silence. Chupplejeep leaned forward in his chair. As the night descended, the frogs were getting louder. He realised then that he hadn’t switched on the light on the veranda, so it was likely that this figure had not seen him.
‘I wanted to see where it happened,’ the other unrecognisable voice said. It was a deep voice, but it was female, most definitely female. Chupplejeep shook his head. He shouldn’t be listening. He was on holiday – he needed to rest those little grey cells of his.
‘There’s a detective staying here,’ the male voice said. Chupplejeep’s ears pricked up again. He held his drink close to his mouth with one hand and twisted the end of his moustache with the other. ‘He wants to make sure things are done properly – that Jackpot’s death is fully investigated.’
‘D’you think Kumar’ll let him?’ the woman asked.
Chupplejeep noticed that the woman had called him Kumar, without any reference to his title. Did she know the detective? Kumar’s blasé attitude towards Jackpot’s death pointed to a man who was easily bribed.
‘We need to be careful with that detective sniffing around. He could cause problems.’ Chupplejeep straightened in his chair.
‘He could be a problem,’ the woman said. ‘Especially –’
‘What are you doing in the dark like this?’ Christabel asked as she climbed the wooden steps to the veranda. She switched on the light. ‘Waiting for me to get home safely?’
Chupplejeep nodded, turning his gaze away from the direction of the lake. There was no harm in letting her think that. He looked at his watch. It was late, much later than any yoga class was supposed to finish. ‘Late class?’ he asked.
Christabel smiled. She was happy about something. ‘I would have called or messaged, but I was with the owner of the retreat, and she doesn’t like people using mobile phones there. I was going against the rules when I messaged you earlier. I didn’t want to disturb her prana by taking my phone out.’
‘Her prana?’
‘You don’t know anything. Prana is your energy flow, your life force.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I’ve read about it in magazines. Yours is probably blocked. Most of us have blocked energy flow. I’m on the path now to unblocking mine.’
‘How did you get to meet this owner?’
‘I took one of her yoga classes. In that class, I got chatting to her good friend Bhum. She’s there because her husband thinks she is too fat.’ Christabel paused, and Chupplejeep knew she was waiting for a reaction from him.
‘Terrible,’ he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. Christabel seemed satisfied and carried on with her story.
‘Bhum invited me for a peppermint tea with them. Peppermint tea helps with digestion. Bhum is a somebody. She knows people, that much I can tell. It’s good to know someone like that.’
‘Aacha. The owner of the retreat is Sneha?’ Chupplejeep asked, remembering his conversation with the petite woman yesterday.
‘You know her?’ Christabel asked with a frown.
‘I met her yesterday when the body was discovered. She was consoling Jackpot’s wife.’
‘She’s a lovely lady and she sees my potential. I’m going to a special class with
her tomorrow. Invitees only.’
‘Great,’ Chupplejeep said. Then he remembered the mutton croquettes he had bought for their picnic. ‘Tomorrow? I was thinking that we could go for a picnic tomorrow. I bought some food, and I know the perfect spot,’ he said. ‘And today I picked up some crab xec xec for dinner,’ he added, seeing her eyes light up at the mention of food. The way back to Christabel’s heart was through her stomach. He knew this because it was the way to his heart as well, and what he had come to realise was that he and Christabel were soulmates, two sides of the same coin, peas in a pod.
Christabel chewed her bottom lip. ‘That’s a nice idea. But I’ve been doing some thinking, and although I desperately want to talk with you about,’ she hesitated, ‘about what happened, I really think I can make progress if I attend a full course at the retreat.’
‘A full course? I won’t see you at all.’
Christabel looked at him with puppy dog eyes.
‘I see,’ Chupplejeep sighed. ‘You’ll make progress with what?’
‘Unblocking my prana,’ she said apprehensively. Christabel walked over to him and placed her hand on his chest. ‘But maybe you can sleep in the bed with me tonight. It must be pretty uncomfortable on that grandfather chair, no.’
Chupplejeep took her hand. He deserved this after what he had done to her.
‘Come on, let’s go eat that spicy xec xec,’ Christabel said, kissing him lightly and walking into the bungalow.
Chupplejeep looked out towards the lake. It was quiet out there now. Either the light had warned the pair by the lake that the villa was occupied, or they had finished their conversation and had parted ways.
He was suspicious of Jackpot’s death, and rightfully so. The conversation he had overheard had got him thinking. But looking into this case would cause problems with Christabel, and he couldn’t afford that. He had come to the lake to make things right with her, not to prove her right! To make her see that she was more important to him than his investigations. But after what he had heard, he couldn’t just let it be, and Christabel was going to be busy every day, by the sounds of it, until her prana was unblocked, whatever that was. He thought about it some more. It was his holiday, but then even his favourite on-screen detective, Poirot, often solved cases whilst on holiday. Chupplejeep swallowed the remaining contents of his glass and followed Christabel into the villa.
Jackpot Jetty Page 5
