Jackpot Jetty

by Marissa de Luna

  ‘Only what is in the public domain,’ she said coolly, her darting eyes betraying her words.

  ‘Do you see much of him around here?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ she said a little too quickly. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  ~

  As Chupplejeep approached the body, he noticed Erik was wearing a necklace. A black cord with a rose quartz stone – the same one he had found in Jackpot’s boat, the same one he had seen on Christabel earlier. His palms began to perspire. Were they dealing with a serial killer?

  He squatted next to the victim and put his fingers on Erik’s wrist. Chupplejeep breathed a sigh of relief. The hysterical woman was right: in the light of the moon, Erik indeed did look pale, as white as a sheet, but he wasn’t dead. He was alive. He took his hand off the Scandinavian’s wrist and stood up.

  Sneha held her head in her hands. ‘This can’t be happening,’ she whispered. ‘This isn’t right… He…’

  ‘He?’ Chupplejeep asked.

  She looked up at him as if she had forgotten he was there. ‘He…he’s dead,’ she said.

  ‘He’s not dead.’

  ‘He’s not?’ Sneha asked, staring at Erik’s body.

  Chupplejeep shook his head. ‘The lady must have got it wrong – with everything that’s happened at this lake with Jackpot, she must have put two and two together and made five. This man’s just intoxicated. Best get him back to his room, with a bucket by his bed.’

  ‘Oh, thank god!’ Sneha said. Her relief was palpable, but she was still frowning. ‘I’ll get the staff to come down and help him. It would be terrible for business for one of my guests to be found dead.’

  ‘Terrible,’ Chupplejeep said.

  ‘I can only imagine the headlines. I should’ve known Sofia didn’t know what she was saying when she started shouting like that. The woman has a propensity to exaggerate. I’ll explain to her when I get back to the resort.’

  ‘It’s much better for you to have inebriated guests and not dead ones,’ Chupplejeep said.

  Sneha turned towards him. ‘It’s a free country, Detective. I can’t stop my guests from taking illegal substances.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ he said, ‘but I never said anything about illegal substances.’

  ‘What d’you expect, Detective? This is Goa,’ she said, thrusting her hands into her pockets. ‘I’m sure he must have been on something.’

  Chupplejeep smiled. ‘I think you’re right,’ was all he said.

  ~

  As the detective and Sneha Dhanjwant made their way back to the resort, a figure stepped out of the shadows and made their way towards the body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ‘And you spoke to the solicitor’s secretary this morning?’ Chupplejeep asked Pankaj. His eyelids were heavy. The events from last night had taken a toll on him.

  ‘She was very friendly,’ Pankaj said, and his cheeks coloured. ‘She confirmed the will was only recently altered to include the property, and the beneficiary was changed a week after that. Jackpot changed his sole beneficiary from his wife to his daughter.’

  ‘Suggesting Jackpot only recently found out about his inheritance. But to change the beneficiary within a week – something must have happened between Jackpot and Talika,’ Chupplejeep said, again recalling the fight between the couple that the two villagers had been talking about. ‘If Jackpot’s wife knew about the inheritance, Jackpot may have suspected her of planning to harm him, causing him to change the will. But if he did that to warn her off then surely he would have made it clear to her that she wouldn’t benefit from his death.’

  ‘Maybe, sir,’ Pankaj said. ‘Or maybe she was cheating on him.’

  Chupplejeep considered what Pankaj said. Dilip hadn’t mentioned that Talika was having an affair, only that Jackpot was rumoured to be having one with Sneha Dhanjwant. Although Chupplejeep knew women were often better at keeping affairs hidden than men. Just because Dilip didn’t know, it didn’t mean that Talika was innocent.

  ‘And what do we know about Jackpot’s inheritance?’ he asked.

  ‘I spoke to a friend in Delhi, where I traced the lakeside properties back to. One Ms Ahuja died and left the bungalows to Jackpot. So basically Jackpot won the jackpot again!’

  Chupplejeep sighed. ‘How long have you been waiting to say that?’

  ‘Okay, sir, you’re right, but it was too good an opportunity to pass. Don’t worry, sir, I don’t plan on becoming a comedian anytime soon.’

  ‘Ms Ahuja. The name sounds familiar. When I was young, the Ajuhas owned the large white house at the top of the lake. They probably still do. Why did she leave the properties to Jackpot? It seems odd, don’t you think?’

  ‘That, sir, is an interesting question that I don’t have the answer to. Maybe the solicitor knows, but whether he’ll help a detective not officially on the job is another matter.’

  ‘You’re sounding more and more like Kulkarni. Speaking of Kulkarni,’ Chupplejeep said, ‘he received the results back from the serology lab, and they show that the alcohol level in Jackpot’s blood was low, at 0.07%. So at the most he would have been a little uncoordinated. He wasn’t drunk. He would need a blood alcohol level of at least 0.30% for it to be life threatening like Kumar’s report said it was.’

  ‘Kumar fiddled the report?’

  ‘Apparently so, and we can’t put that down to laziness. He’s perverting the course of justice to hide something. Why?’

  ‘Did you ask him?’

  ‘I can’t. Not yet. I’m not supposed to be conducting my own investigation, am I?’

  Pankaj was silent for a moment. ‘So the bottles were planted and Jackpot was only a little inebriated. That would have helped his attacker, as he would have been unsteady on his feet, especially on the water, so his attacker could have overpowered him.’

  ‘He only managed to scratch his attacker. We know that from the dead skin cells found under his nails.’

  ‘Someone’s set it up to look like Jackpot brought this on himself.’

  ‘The perpetrator didn’t try very hard. Those marks around his neck told me straight away it was murder. Unless the murderer didn’t plan to kill initially but something happened and he decided to. Or he had planned to kill Jackpot another way. Maybe push him into the water or suffocate him so there would be no visible evidence of foul play.’

  ‘Or she. You’re referring to the murderer as a man, but from what we’ve discussed, it could easily have been a woman.’

  ‘Jackpot’s wife is a likely suspect. She even had a scratch on her neck.’ Kulkarni had confirmed that the scrapings from Jackpot’s fingernails had contained skin cells and blood tissue that were not his own. Did they belong to Jackpot’s wife? He had no way of finding out. And as his wife, it would be hard to use just that as evidence against her. She could claim to have received the scratch during the throes of passion.

  Talika knew about her husband’s recent inheritance; Chupplejeep was certain of this after what Dilip had said. The couple had been heard fighting recently, and although Talika was known for nagging her husband, it was rare for them to have a fight in public. The change in her behaviour Dilip described was a sure sign that something was up. It was clear that her own daughter mistrusted her too. It was always passion or money that drove people to commit murder, and Talika could well have been after Jackpot’s fortune. She had led a humble life until now, and perhaps she wanted something different. She had motive and opportunity, with no alibi for the night Jackpot died.

  Talika was after a different lifestyle. It was obvious from the change in dress and the new, modern haircut Chupplejeep had witnessed the day of the reading of the will. She was getting ready to spend her inheritance because she didn’t know that her husband had changed his will, leaving everything to their daughter. And if Pankaj was right and if Talika was having an affair then she would have another reason to kill her husband.

  Or Talika knew about Jackpot’s affair. Dilip said that Sne
ha was rumoured to have been sleeping with Jackpot. If Dilip knew, maybe Talika knew as well. It was an unlikely match, Jackpot, a boatwalla with his toothless grin and lengha sleeping with someone as manicured as Sneha.

  Was Jackpot’s murder really a crime of passion? Did Talika want Jackpot out of the way or did she know about his rumoured affair with Sneha? It was likely she would have killed the mistress, not her own husband, if she did. And then there were the discarded bottles of Old Monk on his boat, made to look as if Jackpot had drunk himself to death. Talika had said that her husband did not particularly like Old Monk. Had she said that to draw attention away from herself, or was it a simple fact? He had asked in the village if Jackpot had a preference to what he drank, and the response was that he loved arrak but that he would drink other spirits. Which alcoholic didn’t?

  If it was a crime of passion then surely Sneha had to be considered as a suspect too. Had the boatwalla promised to leave Talika and then that fateful day on the boat told her that he would not? Chupplejeep shook his head. Those two bottles of Old Monk were bothering him. The murderer brought them onto the boat, he was certain of it, and they were brought on to hold up Kumar’s theory, that Jackpot died from an alcohol-induced heart attack. The murder was clean; it was planned. And those bottles of rum that Jackpot didn’t particularly like didn’t rule out Talika or Sneha. They could have planted them to throw someone off their scent if the death was classified as a homicide.

  Then there was the rose quartz pendant that Jackpot had on his boat. He knew that Christabel had one, and he had noticed last night that Erik and Tim were wearing them.

  Christabel explained that Sneha had given each of her special students a brown velvet pouch, and inside hers was the necklace. But the detective noticed that Sneha hadn’t been wearing a stone around her neck like she had instructed her students to wear, and he wondered what the significance was. Christabel was vague when he had asked her, and he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily, especially after accusing her of taking Jackpot’s pendent. The rose quartz was significant in unlocking the mystery surrounding Jackpot’s murder, he was certain of it. He just needed to figure out how.

  And then, of course, there was Jackpot’s daughter. She had inherited the eight properties, and he was sure that she too knew about her father’s inheritance before his demise. Jackpot had paid her college fees, paid for new clothes and whatnot. She must have known, and if she did, well, it was a good reason to bump her father off. Talika had said that Jackpot gave their daughter whatever she wanted, but that she always wanted more. And he had heard Roshni talking with a man by the lake after her father’s death. She had questioned Chupplejeep’s presence, and she had told the mystery man that she had wanted to see where her father had died. Was that strange? During his time, Chupplejeep had come across many grievers who wanted to see the exact spot in which their loved ones had perished. It often gave people the closure they needed. It allowed them to come to terms with their loss, acknowledge that a loved one had been taken. But he couldn’t quite remember the tone in which Roshni had made the statement. Was she grieving, or was she taking pleasure in the fact that her father had died at that very spot? The identity of the man Roshni had been speaking to was still a mystery to him.

  Chupplejeep looked at his watch, said his goodbyes to Pankaj and disconnected the call. Talking to Pankaj had helped. But instead of finding answers, he had more questions. Questions he needed answers to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pankaj parked his scooter outside the large white mansion. He peered through the wrought-iron gates. The property was as secure as one could get. The gates were locked, the walls were high and although there were only a couple of staff, their presence could be heard. Somewhere someone was grinding masala. He could hear the monotonous noise of the grinding stone. Someone else was cooking; the delicate aroma of fish curry tantalised his taste buds. To the right of the gates, a man was cleaning one of Da Costa’s cars. From what Pankaj had previously been told, he assumed the three staff at work were Ekanta, Fulki and Ashok. He wondered what Vaayu was doing.

  Pankaj had asked around and confirmed that Ekanta and Fulki were at the market the day the watches were stolen. The fisherwomen who had sold them four mackerel knew the bickering women well and, like all good gossips, she knew which house they worked for. Ashok had been seen by Mr Da Costa watering the plants, as he was doing now. Pankaj looked at the short man with a wide nose, dark skin and a toothy grin. He was doing a thorough job making sure the white flowers of the datura plants were well fed.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Pankaj said through the gates.

  Ashok looked at him and then squatted on the ground. He put the end of the pale yellow hosepipe into the flowerbed and rose to his feet. Plodding over to where Pankaj was standing, he pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy gate, opening it just wide enough to let the police officer in. He closed the gate with a heavy clunk behind him.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘To ask you a couple of questions,’ Pankaj said. He didn’t need to explain that he was a police officer; his khaki uniform gave that away.

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ the gardener said.

  ‘I never said that you had.’

  ‘Then why do you want to question me?’

  ‘Some items were taken from the house a few days ago.’

  Ashok nodded. ‘Like that,’ he said, pointing to Pankaj’s wrist.

  ‘Yes, like that. The day they were taken from the house, did you notice anything different?’

  ‘Different?’ Ashok said. ‘Like what, different? Like were those nesting birds making more noise than usual? Because they were. They made a racket that day and were flying about. Normally they are so quiet. I never see them.’ The gardener pointed up to the roof and smiled, exposing his brilliant white teeth.

  Ashok had a serious look about him; he wasn’t being sarcastic. ‘No, no. Not like that. Did you see anyone at the house that day who is not normally here – visitors or friends of Mr Da Costa?’

  ‘Haven’t you asked him all this?’

  Pankaj sighed. ‘I have, but I’m asking you. There could’ve been someone in the garden who didn’t make his presence known to Mr Da Costa.’

  ‘Ha!’ Ashok said. ‘That is not possible. To come into this property, unless you are staff. You have to be let in, so someone will know and so Mr Da Costa will know.’

  ‘Because the staff here tell Mr Da Costa everything?’

  Ashok nodded. ‘Not only that,’ he whispered. ‘He sees everything as well.’ Ashok lifted his eyes up and then quickly looked down again. ‘Is that all?’ he asked.

  Pankaj nodded, but he wasn’t paying much attention to the gardener, who had now gone back to his watering. He was looking up at the Da Costa house, and high up, behind the fixed window grilles, stood a figure looking down at him.

  ~

  ‘So you’re finally here?’ Mr Da Costa said. ‘It took you long enough. And where are your men to take the prints?’

  ‘They’ll be here shortly,’ Pankaj said. Now he was looking through the grille down towards the gates. He saw a white van pull up and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Ah, they’re here,’ he said.

  ‘Should we go up then to have a look at the room? Nothing’s been touched, as you requested,’ Mr Da Costa said. He opened the window and shouted down to Ashok to let the forensics team in.

  Pankaj doubted Ashok would know what a forensics team was, and he doubted one had been sent by Kulkarni. He was short staffed as it was. The van was likely to contain the two fellows doing work experience with Kulkarni, but Pankaj thought it was best if he didn’t correct Mr Da Costa. It was better to let him think it was a forensics team. He just hoped he didn’t ask them any questions.

  ‘Lead the way,’ Pankaj said. He followed Mr Da Costa up another flight of stairs to where his office was.

  ‘Top floor,’ he said, as if reading the officer’s mind. ‘I get peace and quiet her
e.’

  ‘And this was the spot you were standing in when you were on the phone to your mother that morning?’ Pankaj asked as they stood on the balcony that wrapped around this side of the house in front of the door to his study.

  ‘Yes, about there. I was walking up and down.’

  ‘You have a beautiful view from here, if you don’t mind me saying.’ From where Pankaj was standing, he could see Ashok letting in the two men Kulkarni had sent. ‘You get a good view from here.’

  ‘Yes, and that day I saw Ashok watering the plants like he is today. He waters the plants every day. So I know that he didn’t take the watches.’

  ‘Shall we go in?’ Pankaj asked.

  Mr Da Costa slipped a key into the lock and pushed the door open. Both men walked towards the windows at the rear of the office. They overlooked the back of the house. Pankaj pulled at the grilles at the window, but they didn’t give. Next he looked at the fixings. He was looking for any tell-tale signs, such as fresh chips in the window jambs that would tell him that the grilles had been recently removed. Nothing looked suspicious. He started to sweat. It was warm in this room that had been locked up for his benefit. A trickle of sweat ran down his back. Now what, he wondered. He held his notepad and pen in his hands, unsure of where to go from here. He was certain that the windows would give him some clue, but there was nothing.