The Siya Rajput Crime Thrillers Books 1-3 (Where Are They Now / Finding Her / The Bones Are Calling)

by UD Yasha

  It hit me then that maa would have seen the same face and the pure evil eyes. And then, she would not have had the bars in between. The monster called Kishore Zakkal would have been free to do anything he pleased.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I watched Zakkal go deeper into his cell. He stayed inside for at least fifteen minutes. I waited patiently. I still had not found out anything about the women who were alive. But I finally knew something about Zakkal’s childhood.

  The police report on Madhavrao Zakkal’s death was vague and short. There wasn’t much description or mention of the extent of injuries he had sustained, except for ‘heavy bleeding, multiple broken bones from a hit and run car accident’. No autopsy had been performed so there was no way to know the exact cause of death. I wondered how Zakkal had killed him. The reports also said Madhavrao was heavily intoxicated? It was possible that a grown man could be so out of his wits that a willing child could kill him. What had driven Zakkal the child to kill his own father? He deserved to die. I decided I would speak with Ranjit tomorrow morning about this meeting.

  I had a working theory about the situation under which Zakkal would have killed his father. Just as I began to develop it, Zakkal came to the front of his cell. Back in the light, one hand on the grill, no expression on his face.

  I decided not to give him Swapna Kiran's earrings. At least not then. I would give them later if it was required. I had him for a couple of times. I had seen him express emotions. I had got more answers than I had hoped for. Now it was time to get information on the women who were still alive.

  ‘Ask me,’ he said.

  ‘What should I ask?’ I was confused.

  ‘What you had come here to ask me.’

  ‘Where are you holding the women captive?’

  ‘He moved them.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘What do you have for me?’

  ‘I was told to say more sun time.’

  Zakkal laughed. ‘They’re idiots.’

  ‘I take that you didn’t call me an idiot as a compliment.’

  ‘I want everything to be approved by the Court, the Governor and Warden Shetty of this shithouse.’

  ‘They’re willing to do that.’

  ‘I want free time with inmates.’

  What?

  ‘You look surprised,’ Zakkal said.

  ‘I thought you’d want to go for a different cell. One with a view. Warden Shetty told me you didn’t like this one.’

  ‘Nah, it’s alright.’

  ‘I even fought with the Governor for it.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’ll like to have the free time with other inmates.’

  ‘It will be restricted to one hour every week for six months. The number of inmates you would be with wouldn’t exceed ten. And I’m required to tell you that your time in the open will be monitored.’

  ‘One hour, every week for a year. I agree with everything else.’

  I thought about it. The extra six months had not been approved.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Zakkal said.

  I shook my head. ‘Okay, one year,’ I said.

  ‘Deal. Get the paperwork ready. I’ll sign. You’ll get to know where the women are after my first hour outdoors in the yard. Now get out of here,’ Zakkal said and went deeper into his cell.

  I turned around and walked away, wondering what had just happened. Why had Zakkal chosen the worse of the two deals he had? I could not help but feel that something was wrong.

  Zakkal watched Siya from the shadows. He had tasted her. She was even better than her mother. He could not wait to get her. He smiled in the darkness. The world was not aware of his plan. Not yet. But everyone would know soon. It had gone exactly as per his wishes so far. I should have never been arrested. I made a stupid mistake. But thank God for my devoted student. He has turned out to be better than I had thought. Zakkal’s smile turned into a grin. Only one step remained between him and freedom.

  He sat up on his bed and meditated for a while. It had helped him immensely to stay in control. He did a shorter routine that day. He had other things to do. He had been told Siya would come to see him at twelve thirty that night. His mental clock had started ticking then. He knew it was quarter to two at that moment. He had calculated. They would push for his deal to be put on paper by tomorrow morning. They would not be able to accommodate a monitored free time for him then. But the CID would not want any further delay. So, they’ll pressure Warden Shetty to give him his free time in the evening. Anytime between five and seven. He knew he had to be ready then.

  He lifted the thin mattress in his cell. He had stuck a small plastic bag under it. He had received it that morning. His protégé had arranged for it to be given to him through an inmate and a hawaldar. That’s what he loved about jails. A small amount of money bought you faith stronger than that of a dog.

  He opened the plastic bag and checked what was inside. Just what he had asked for. Everything else had already been set in motion. He longed for the next day.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  I told Rathod about the meeting on our way back. I kept out the part where I had given him maa’s earrings. The CID was on a call with us throughout. I kept wondering what Zakkal’s big game could be. He wouldn’t give up his most prized possessions to spend time in the open with ten strangers. Was he even planning on revealing where the women were?

  ‘What’s the matter? You look troubled,’ Rathod said after the call was disconnected.

  ‘There has to be something more to this. Why would he tell us a secret he has protected from the jail for which two women and a man have already been killed?’

  ‘Solitary confinement drives even the best to insanity. Maybe he just wants some human connection. He was so high on it because of committing murders that he probably misses it a lot.’

  Maybe Rathod had a valid point. Zakkal had countered her first offer of six months by asking for six more.

  ‘Occam’s Razor, Siya. The simpler theory is more likely to be true.’

  I still was not satisfied. I gave it a rest for now. We had a killer to find. Zakkal was only going to reveal the location of where his victims were being held captive, not the identity of the Bedroom Strangler. But now, I was armed with a new clue from his childhood.

  We reached CID at two o’clock. Everyone, including the Governor, was waiting for us.

  ‘I told you,’ he said to me right after seeing me.

  I did not bother to respond. This was still a game for him. I was just pleased we would know where the women were. At least according to Zakkal. The more that thought stayed in mind, the more convinced I was that this was all a setup.

  Radha saw me from the glass walls of her cabin and rushed out. Even Shadow wanted to greet me but Rahul held him back. Radha ran to me and hugged me tightly.

  ‘I was getting worried about you. You were gone for a long time. Are you okay?’ she said.

  ‘I could crack the son of a bitch, Radha,’ I said.

  I could feel her tears on my shoulders once again. ‘Does that mean maa’s going to come back?’

  I did not share my concerns with her then. ‘It looks like it. If Zakkal keeps his word.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Radha said, pulling out of the embrace as she wiped her tears. ‘I’ll wait for you in the cabin,’ she said and returned inside.

  ‘When will the documentation be finalized?’ I said.

  ‘Tomorrow around noon. We’ll push for his free time later in the same day. He’ll get it from five to six in the evening,’ Shukla said.

  I would have preferred it to be done earlier in the day, but I was aware of the long-drawn process of getting a court order. I was glad it would be done in a day. I had seen instances where the plea bargain took weeks.

  Bhalerao came from one of the cabins. He said, ‘We just found the police officers who were on call when Zakkal’s father died. It has been over thirty years. There were two reporting officers. One of them died last year
from old age. He was eighty-three. The other is still alive. He’s seventy-six. He’s spending his retirement in Pune in an area called Kharadi.’

  It was like one of those places in any growing city that was at the outskirts right now but would become like the centre of the city in ten years.

  ‘His name is Tukaram Phadkule. He was the one who wrote the report we saw,’ Bhalerao said.

  Shukla was from a generation that still wore wristwatches. He turned his wrist and checked the time. It was almost three in the morning.

  ‘Disturb him,’ he said, flinging his hand in the air. ‘This situation warrants for extreme measures. He’s a former cop. He would know.’

  I wondered then if Shukla had a role to play in expediting the process of our deal with Zakkal. That moment was another reminder that Shukla was a good man. He just did not like me for what he thought I had done to his career.

  Bhalerao dialled a number using the landline telephone kept on a table next to him. He put the call on speakerphone. The line rang and rang. Finally, it was answered.

  ‘This is Senior Inspector Mahesh Bhalerao from Pune CID. Am I speaking to Tukaram Phadkule?’

  The man’s voice was sleepy and frail. ‘Yes, of course. Bhalerao, you said?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I want to ask you a few questions regarding a report you filled out thirty years back.’

  ‘I don’t even remember what I had for dinner, young man,’ Phadkule said and laughed at his own joke. ‘I’m kidding. Ask me.’

  ‘It was a case of hit and run. A man named Madhavrao Zakkal died.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘2nd September 1985.’

  ‘I remember it,’ Phadkule said, he sounded excited. ‘I remember that night very well. It was only the second death I had come across in my time with the police. His body was a nasty mess. He had been flung by a car from the footpath.’

  ‘What else can you remember about that crime? The report is very vague.’

  ‘It was late in the night. I was on patrol duty. We didn’t have cars then. We only rode motorbikes. It was raining heavily then. You know how Mumbai rains can get. They’ve calmed down now, I tell all the youngsters when they complain about it. Anyway, I had stopped eating guthka when I was paged about a possible crime. I went to the scene directly. I saw Madhavrao and almost puked. He was badly hit. I remember it vividly. All parts of his body were bleeding. The car had to be extremely fast.’

  ‘Didn’t you follow up on the car?’

  ‘I put an all-points bulletin across all agencies for a car that looked like it was damaged. No leads came up.’

  ‘Who had reported the crime?’ Rathod said.

  ‘Madhavrao’s family. It had happened a few minutes away from their house. It was a big freeway back then. Now it’s a small road because of all the construction that has taken place over there.’

  ‘Did you meet his family?’

  ‘I did. I felt for them. The mother was going to have to fend for both her kids.’

  Everyone in the office caught that. We turned to each other. We knew Kishore Zakkal was the only child.

  Shukla leaned forward towards the phone. ‘Both as in two kids?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. Two kids. Both boys.’

  ‘How old were they?’

  ‘I don’t know. They looked young.’

  ‘How young?’

  ‘Well…I can’t be sure. Both looked to be in the same age bracket. I would say above five or six and under ten.’

  Zakkal was eight years old then.

  ‘Did you get their names?’ Bhalerao said.

  ‘I had no reason to. I got the mother’s name.’

  We had seen it in the report.

  ‘Can you tell us anything about them that stood out?’

  ‘In the kids?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The mother was holding them both close to her. They all appeared to be in deep shock.’

  ‘Nothing else about the kids?’

  ‘No. What do you expect kids will do when their father dies?’

  ‘Thanks for your time. We’ll call you if we need anything else,’ Bhalerao said and hung up. I sensed an irritation in his voice, an emotion we all felt as a result of shoddy police work thirty years back. A sincere cop would have followed up on the missing car, noted down the details of those who reported the crime and got multiple witness accounts before shutting the case close. Unfortunately, Tukaram Phadkule was not a sincere cop.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  We returned home at three fifteen in the night. The night was cold and our house felt cosy. We spoke for a bit before Radha and Rahul went upstairs to sleep. I made a cup of coffee for myself and went to the garage. Could the boy with Zakkal actually be the Bedroom Strangler?

  I typed out a small report of my meeting with Zakkal and emailed it to Ranjit Kadam. I texted him, asking him if we could check his email and get back to me soon. I stared at the murder board. I had to rework it. I looked at the list of suspects once again. I called Rathod to get clarification.

  ‘What have your officers who are tailing Manoj Bedi found so far?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing alarming. He goes to his office from eight in the morning to eight in the evening. He comes back home tired. He hasn’t stepped out so far, but once when he went out drinking to a local bar. We asked around at the bar about him and found out he was a regular. They’ve dance shows and a disco.’

  Booze and sexual fantasies. The ultimate escape of an unhappy man.

  Rathod continued. ‘We don’t know where he was during both the murders though. We only started tailing him later. He told us he was at the bar both times. When we asked the bar, they said they were not sure as the bar was particularly crowded those two days as a dancer by the name of Chikni Kamini was coming. Apparently, she’s a big deal in these bars.’

  ‘How long are you going to tail him?’

  ‘I will take them off tomorrow night.’

  ‘What about Sham Pundlik?’

  ‘He’s still missing.’

  ‘Does he go off often?’

  ‘Not from work. His colleagues said he was particular. But even they weren’t alarmed because he called in sick last week. His family didn’t know he was missing until we told them. They said they spoke to Pundlik on Sunday like they do every time. He didn’t mention he was sick or that he had taken time off.’

  ‘When did he call in sick?’

  Rathod knew where I was going with that question. ‘A day before we found Supriya Kelkar.’

  I thanked him and hung up. I moved Manoj Bedi to the list of cold suspects. I had two more hot suspects. Shaam Pundlik and Hardik Karve. I compared them against my list of the traits the suspects would have. Shaam Pundlik fit them all. Right from being intelligent to having medical expertise. I was not sure about Hardik Karve’s knowledge of medicine or first aid. Shaam Pundlik was thirty-six years old. Two years younger than Zakkal. As children, they could have been bracketed under the same age group.

  I went to Shaam Pundlik’s file. He was born in Nagpur. He was put in an orphanage when he was six months old. There was no information about his biological parents. A family in Mumbai had adopted him. Both his adoptive parents were doctors. He was their only child. Why had he lied to his parents? What was he doing?

  I looked up Hardik Karve. He was not famous by any means but he took up all kinds of issues. He was the kind of lawyer who earned a truckload of money by taking a truckload of cases. I tried to deduce Karve’s age. I remembered seeing a certificate he had hung in his office. It was his diploma from the Government Law College in Mumbai. I had remembered the year on it as well. He had graduated in 2003. He was eight years my senior. Hardik Karve was thirty-eight years old. The same age as Zakkal. Because of GLC Mumbai, I knew he was in Mumbai from the age of eighteen. But Zakkal was not there then. Where had Hardik Karve spent his childhood and teenage years?

  I sat still, consumed in my thoughts for a spell, trying to make sense of it all. I downed my co
ffee and wondered about the second thing that Zakkal had let slip while talking to me. He had accidentally revealed the Bedroom Strangler was not a new killer. Supriya Kelkar was his first known victim but he had killed others before.

  I had run a search for a similar modus operandi in house strangulations. The combination of necrophilia and strangulations was not common. There had been five reported cases of that in the past forty years in India. All five murders had been solved. The killer was either in jail or dead. Nothing had come up in my search. Had the new killer changed his methods? But Zakkal had revealed that his protégé had always been into necrophilia.

  If Zakkal had a bigger plan at work, then the only way to have gotten police attention was to stage a crime scene like he had known to do. The Bedroom Strangler used to kill before also but maybe he changed his method to help Zakkal satisfy his goal, which we still did not know about.

  Zakkal’s words came to me. He adores me. He knows I’ve shaped him. He would never go behind my back. I know it. I’ve seen his dying loyalty for me in action many times.

  He probably killed before but not by breaking into people’s houses. Maybe the theatrics of a house strangulation with messages left behind for the police and me was Zakkal’s idea. In what bigger way could a killer show his loyalty to his teacher than by changing his method of killing to help him? Ranjit had told me that the Bedroom Strangler and Zakkal shared a special bond. We had talked about a mentor-apprentice relationship and had even entertained them being lovers. But what if they were like brothers?

  I heard the first birds of the morning chirp outside. I glanced at my phone. It was almost four thirty. I just saw then that I had received two new messages. I don’t know how I had missed them. The first was from Rathod. He had sent it at three.