The detective slowly made his way towards the clearing amidst the karanja trees. When he reached his destination, he kicked the red mud from a worn patch of grass. This was the place he had wanted to bring Christabel for a picnic. His mouth started to salivate at the thought of the prawn rissoles and chicken patties they would have brought with them, but instead he was here in this romantic picnic spot, waiting for a thug and, if he believed the rumours, a murderer too.
It wouldn’t have been the first time the detective had put himself in danger by meeting a hardened criminal alone without any backup. He had made it a bit of a habit, but it was his duty as a detective, he reasoned as he kicked up another cloud of dry mud. He looked at his watch. Vadish was late. After he had spoken to this thug, he had done his research. He had previously lived in Mapusa but had moved to the area only a couple of years ago.
A known crook, Vadish was reputed to not only be a goon who beat up villagers who owed money to the sharks they had borrowed from, but he was also noted as a hired hitman. The information, when he had found it, had excited Chupplejeep. It was the first break he had in the case of Jackpot’s murder. So he had dug further into Vadish’s past, calling in on favours that were owed to him in stations in and around Mapusa. Vadish’s name had come up in a couple of attempted murder cases, but to date he didn’t have a kill under his belt. His uncle did though – he was involved in several cases where the victim had been strangled. In each case, the strangulation marks had been covered with some kind of neckerchief in a similar way to how Jackpot’s bandana had been placed around his bruised neck. There were four cases that bore this hallmark, but Vadish’s uncle had never been prosecuted. Either the local police had not gathered enough evidence or they had been paid off. Chupplejeep was sure it was the latter. If the same had been done in Jackpot’s case, it explained Kumar’s apathy.
It ultimately proved to be a dead end though, because Vadish’s uncle had been in Mangalore since the beginning of the year, and the man appeared to be living a quiet life with a thriving chicken restaurant near Panambur beach. He was quite the host, because the local police who frequented his chicken shack most nights said he had been there every night without fail since the restaurant had opened in January. But Chupplejeep was curious to see whether Vadish was involved. It was too much of a coincidence that his uncle’s successor had relocated to Porvorim and then a body turned up with the hallmarks of a murder committed by his uncle. Had the boy finally made a kill?
Vadish had told him over the telephone that he had a watertight alibi for the night Jackpot had been killed, explaining that he had been with his regular at a well-known brothel in Porvorim. Chupplejeep had checked, and his alibi stood up. Several witnesses had seen him that night. A man like Vadish did not keep his indiscretions a secret. But Chupplejeep still wanted to meet him.
‘Why are you meeting with someone like that?’ Christabel had asked when he mentioned it to her.
‘To ask him what he knows about Jackpot.’
‘Will he tell you?’
‘Unlikely. Even if he had nothing to do with it, he would cover for whoever it was. Honour among thieves and all that.’
‘Then why are you bothering?’ she had asked as she slipped on her nightdress and got into bed.
‘He’s a local lowlife. He’ll know other lowlifes, and if he had nothing to do with it, he’ll be just as keen to find out who the murderer is because they used his uncle’s hallmark of covering the strangulation marks with a bandana. I want to make sure I’m not missing any opportunities here.’
‘You and this case,’ Christabel had said before turning over and switching off her side light.
Chupplejeep heard a noise, the noise of a bike. He looked up and saw a black-and-red motorbike with full-beam lights coming towards him. He held his ground, hoping that his reflexes were better than his fitness levels. The bike skidded to a halt in front of him. The man took off his helmet and jumped off the bike.
The detective looked down at him. He was short and stocky, with dark skin and thick, wiry black hair. He was a good foot shorter than Chupplejeep had imagined, and a good head or so shorter than himself. Hardly a stealthy hitman.
‘Vadish,’ he said, sticking out his hand. ‘Thanks for meeting me.’
‘A friend of Dilip Mendonca’s is a friend of mine,’ he said with a wry smile.
Ah so he knew Dilip had passed on his details. Were the two close?
‘I like to keep the local police happy,’ Vadish said. He was a man who had a large expense account; Chupplejeep was sure of that. He could imagine Vadish and Kumar sharing a couple of Kingfishers together, laughing about the fictitious blood alcohol level stated in Jackpot’s autopsy report.
‘But you’re not local police,’ Vadish said. ‘You’re the famous detective that’s too good to be corrupted,’ he said dryly.
‘I’m a detective, so naturally I have an interest in the case.’
‘There’s nothing natural about that. Like interfering on another detective’s patch, do you?’
Chupplejeep ignored the question.
Vadish got back onto his bike. ‘I don’t have long. You checked my alibi?’
‘Hang on a second,’ Chupplejeep said, placing his hand on Vadish’s arm. Vadish started at this gesture, then looked up. ‘The Mama of the house I visited and the proprietors of the surrounding bars have already told me that you’ve checked my alibi. So what is it that you want?’
Chupplejeep removed his hand from Vadish’s arm. ‘What else do you know about Jackpot?’
‘What do you mean?’ Vadish asked.
‘Did anyone want him dead? Had anyone been asking about him?’
‘Jackpot was a simpleton; no one asks about simpletons,’ Vadish said, touching his nose – a usual tell when someone was lying, Chupplejeep noted.
‘Nobody asked you anything about him? Asked you to follow his movements, break into his house, something like that?’
Vadish shot him a look and then straightened, shaking his head and putting the key into the ignition of the bike. Then he turned the key of the ignition. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you, Detective,’ he shouted over the sound of the motor. He forced a smile, slipped on his helmet, revved his engine and left.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Chupplejeep made his way from the clearing towards the lake. It had been a brief meeting, hardly worth the effort, but he had learned two things. Two important things. The first was that Vadish was the one who had broken into Jackpot’s house. He could tell by the look in the thug’s eyes as he mentioned the break-in. The second was that Vadish had spoken to Kumar. It was clear the detective was in cahoots with the criminal. But who was covering for whom? He certainly couldn’t rule out Kumar from his investigation. He pulled out his phone to check for any messages. It had vibrated when he had been talking to Vadish. Kulkarni had sent him a message asking him to call. He had some information on Tim’s death. Chupplejeep was about to dial the medical examiner’s number when he saw a figure step out from behind one of the trees.
It was a man. He waved to the detective, and Chupplejeep reciprocated. As he walked closer to where the man was standing, he realised it was the same fellow that he had met the first day he had arrived at Toem Place. The writer fellow who had a way with the ladies. He had been meaning to speak to Arjun because he had found the body, and now was his chance. In Chupplejeep’s experience, nine times out of ten the person who found the body was innocent, generally a relative or a lover, in some cases a completely random stranger out walking their dog. But occasionally, the person who was the first to come across the body was the culprit.
Arjun held out his hand as he approached, and Chupplejeep took it. Standing in front of the author with his toned physique, he instantly became aware of his own protruding stomach.
‘What are you doing here?’ Chupplejeep asked, keeping his tone light. He wondered if Arjun had been listening to the conversation he had with Vadish.
‘Me, Detective?�
�� Arjun said. ‘I’m always here. I should be asking what you’re doing here.’ Arjun smiled, exposing his brilliant white teeth. He pressed down his thick moustache with his thumb and index finger and then pointed to the tree he had just stepped out from behind. ‘I go to the local gym, but I like working out with nature all around me as well. The world is beautiful, is it not?’
Arjun looked up, and Chupplejeep did the same. He saw a thick branch, worn in a few places. Before he had time to look back at Arjun, the author had jumped up and was doing pull-ups on the branch. He noticed then the author was wearing red shorts and a white vest along with a pair of black fingerless gloves and armbands that covered most of his forearms. He must have been sweating in all that paraphernalia, especially in the heat, but what did he know about fitness gear.
‘Working out with nature is always better than the gym. Every pull-up is different. In the gym every manoeuvre is the same. Here every pull-up has a slight, subtle difference. No two days are the same. My grip has to adapt to the thickness of the branch and the surface. Every time I pull up, different supporting muscles are used. It prepares you for every eventuality. It’s like life: you have to adapt to different circumstances. It’s called functional training, and it’s much better than the gym. You should try it, Detective.’
Chupplejeep smiled. There was no chance he would be working out amidst the trees like a monkey. ‘Is that why you swim in the lake?’
‘Every morning,’ Arjun said, pulling himself up again. ‘The fresh water in that lake is better than any chlorinated pool. It’s good and cold. Makes you feel alive.’
The statement sounded familiar. It only took Chupplejeep a moment to realise why. He had read those exact same words in his novel, The Tide. The main character, the rich brother, swam every morning, just like Arjun. He wondered if the writer too was estranged from his brother like his protagonist was. It would explain how Arjun had written so well about sibling rivalry.
‘It must clear your head for writing too,’ Chupplejeep said.
Arjun hesitated. ‘That it does. So you know I’m a writer then? Have you been asking about me?’ He lowered himself down to the ground and adjusted his gloves. Sweat was dripping down his face. Chupplejeep questioned why he would be doing exercise outdoors, in the height of summer, at nearly thirty-seven degrees, when he could use an air-conditioned gym.
‘Villagers like talking about their neighbours, especially when there’s a celebrity in their midst,’ Chupplejeep said. There was something about the writer lurking in the trees that bothered him, and he couldn’t quite decide if it was because he thought Arjun had been eavesdropping or if it was the combination of his confidence and physique that irked him. Was this what had attracted Roshni to this man, her and several other women in the village? Chupplejeep was aware of his fat belly again and folded his arms across his chest.
‘Who’s that?’ Arjun said.
‘Why you, of course. You’re the writer with published books.’
Arjun nodded. ‘I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity.’
‘That’s the benefit of being a writer. No one really knows or is bothered about what your face looks like,’ Chupplejeep said.
‘No, no they don’t,’ Arjun said curtly. His tone changed. ‘What is it that I can help you with, Detective? You must be a busy man.’
‘On the contrary, I’m here on holiday. I have all the time in the world,’ he said. In reality he didn’t. He was eager to speak to Kulkarni to find the cause of Tim’s death, but he didn’t want to let Arjun know that. Something was bothering the author, and he wanted to know what it was.
‘You were out swimming the morning Jackpot’s body was found?’ Chupplejeep asked.
Arjun nodded. ‘Like I said, I go out most mornings. I hadn’t noticed that the boat wasn’t tethered to the jetty where it usually is until I saw Talika. You know the rest. You were there not long after.’
‘Did you know Jackpot well?’
Arjun looked directly at the detective. ‘I spoke to him once or twice. I’m sure you’ve heard I dated his daughter. Just the one time, and he didn’t like it. Told me as much. The usual concerned father. I did what he asked; I stayed away.’
Motive for murder? Chupplejeep had wondered when Dilip had previously disclosed this to him, but here Arjun was, readily parting with the information. Was he just being honest or was he hiding in plain sight?
‘You gave up just like that?’ Chupplejeep asked.
Arjun winked at the detective. ‘Let’s just say there are plenty more fish in the sea.’
‘You live by the lake. Villa two, is it?’
Arjun stared at Chupplejeep for a moment. ‘It is, Detective,’ he said.
‘Did you see or hear anything suspicious that night? The night Jackpot died.’
‘Nothing. I was home alone, watching a movie. No one to back me up, I’m afraid.’
All those women with their eye on him and yet he was home alone, thought Chupplejeep.
‘Why are you asking me all this?’
‘I’ve been asking all the residents,’ Chupplejeep said, and he had been that very morning. Nothing suspicious had been seen or heard, not even a splash.
‘It’s good someone is looking out for us, making sure that things are done properly.’ He smiled at the detective, but to Chupplejeep it looked forced. ‘Now, Detective, if you don’t mind, I must get back to my workout,’ he said.
Chupplejeep left the writer amidst the trees and walked back towards his villa with a furrowed brow. The way Arjun had expressed his gratitude for having him look out for the villagers at Toem Place stirred something inside him and made him feel uncomfortable. He pulled out his phone and dialled Kulkarni’s number. As the telephone rang, he considered what Arjun had said. The writer wasn’t trying to hide his relationship with Roshni or her father’s disapproval, but he was quick to point out that he’d moved on. Had he moved on or was it a cover-up? Still, it had only been one date with Jackpot’s daughter; it was hardly a relationship. Chopra wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t even proposing marriage, so that was hardly motive for murder. The more he thought about it, the more Chupplejeep realised that although Arjun would make a good suspect, there wasn’t enough reason to suspect him.
~
‘So you’re saying that he died from a poison?’ Chupplejeep asked.
‘You could say that. Poisonous to him, far from a poison for many,’ Kulkarni said. ‘But then you know the saying: one man’s meat is another man’s poison, eh.’
‘Please don’t talk in riddles,’ Chupplejeep said, speaking into his phone as he walked up and down along a stretch of land close to the lake. ‘Are you saying that Tim died from taking some sort of hallucinogenic, some kind of recreational drug? Because that would make sense. His friend and travel companion, a fellow called Erik, was found just a few days ago completely stoned on the beach. Now he’s disappeared, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tim’s death and Erik’s disappearance are connected.’
‘And Jackpot?’ Kulkarni asked. ‘Is his death linked to these two? Because there was no such substance found in Jackpot’s body.’
‘It’s too much of a coincidence, two bodies and possibly a third being found dead in the same vicinity, for the deaths not to be connected.’
‘Plus all three men had a link, eh,’ Kulkarni said.
‘The rose quartz?’ Chupplejeep asked.
‘Sneha Dhanjwant.’
‘Okay, Kulkarni, stop playing detective and tell me about Tim’s death. Are you saying it was a recreational drug that killed him?’
‘You could say that, but it’s not what you’re thinking.’
‘You just said –’
‘I was theorising, that’s all, Detective.’
‘Well, stop theorising and give me the facts,’ Chupplejeep said as he walked towards his villa.
‘You saw the body as it was taken to the morgue, eh.’
Chupplejeep confirmed that he had.
‘People take sild
enafil citrate like candy these days.’
‘What’s that? I’ve never heard of it,’ Chupplejeep said, stopping to listen carefully to what Kulkarni was saying.
‘You have. You just know it by its brand name – Viagra.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘People often take the drug before understanding why they are impotent in the first place. It could be psychological or it could be diabetes or kidney problems. They take Viagra without looking into all this, with no medical supervision, and then there are complications. Sometimes people die. Not from the drug itself, you see. Generally, it is reacting with some other drug in their system or it makes their pre-existing conditions worse.
‘From examining Tim’s body and from what the medical examiner has told me, the drug Tim took was definitely some form of Viagra, and to make matters worse, it was not the true product. Instead, someone made a version in their garage to sell. These days we want one object to do several things – twenty years ago, who would have thought we would be taking photos with our phones. It’s the same with drugs. They want to cure erectile dysfunction and get high at the same time. It’s what they call a multi-drug. It has multiple benefits, but also multiple side effects that these young, impatient people don’t want. Sometimes, unfortunately, in these untested drugs, especially when you are on other medication, the side effect is death. A sad fact, but a true one.’
‘So did Tim die from taking this impotence drug or did this drug react with something he already had in his body? It’s important, because in the first instance it could be manslaughter, but in the second it may just be classed as death by misadventure.’
Jackpot Jetty Page 17
