Blood Feud

by Brenda Donelan

  “Miss, I have a delicate question for you,” the officer said, breaking his silence. He turned to face Marlee and when she nodded her assent, he asked, “Were you and Mr. Sharma having intimate relations?”

  Marlee’s jaw dropped, and her heart started to beat more rapidly. This could be the way to save Raj’s reputation, she thought. As she lowered her gaze to the floor in supposed shame, she whispered, “Yes, we did. I was too ashamed to say anything.”

  The officer’s tone and demeanor changed immediately. He looked at Marlee with disgust. “I thought as much. And did your American husband or boyfriend follow you over here and assault Mr. Sharma?”

  “No, I’m not married, and I don’t have a boyfriend. Well, not really. We’re sort of dating, but it’s not official. He’s back home in South Dakota. There’s no one who would assault Raj because of our romance.” The thought of Barry flying all the way to Delhi, India to beat up someone he thought Marlee had a fling with was laughable, but Marlee kept that emotion under wraps.

  “Have you been trained in karate or the other martial arts?”

  “Me?” Marlee laughed. “No. Well, I had a little self-defense training when I was a probation officer. But that was just so I could defend myself if someone attacked me. Wait, you think I assaulted Raj?”

  “We are smaller people here in India. And although we do yoga and are flexible, most of us do not have martial arts skills. Forgive me for saying so, but you appear to outweigh Mr. Sharma by at least twenty kilograms. And if you know self-defense maneuvers, you could have attacked Mr. Sharma and caused his injuries,” said the officer.

  “That’s ridiculous! I would never assault someone unless I was being attacked. And I assure you, Raj never attacked me. What motive would I have for hurting him?” Marlee was becoming more livid by the moment, not only realizing she was in deep trouble, but calculating that twenty kilograms was about fifty pounds.

  “Your motive? Why, it would be one of the oldest motives for assault and murder; a lover scorned. You and Mr. Sharma had an intimate relationship. He saw it as a fling, but a woman of your advanced age would be desperate to get a husband. Mr. Sharma did not want to marry you, and he ended the relationship. You flew into a rage and beat him unconscious,” said the officer in a cool, detached voice. “You thought he was dead and were shocked to find him alive this morning when you came back. You knew other people were in the building, and you could not take the risk of being seen if you assaulted him further.”

  “But I didn’t do it! I wouldn’t! I considered Raj a friend,” Marlee wailed, wishing she’d never come to India in the first place.

  “So, you say, Miss, but you had means, motive, and opportunity to commit this crime. Plus, you said you did not see anyone else in the area that looked suspicious. And by your own admission, Mr. Sharma never said why he thought he was in danger. You made up that story. The two of you came to this building yesterday. He ended the relationship, and this is where you assaulted him and left him for dead.” The officer looked her square in the eye, unflinching. He had the whole crime solved in less than an hour, which would be beneficial for his career, maybe garnering him a promotion.

  Marlee was innocent, but unfortunately, the police would never believe her because she had lied to them about her relationship with Raj in an attempt to keep his secret. She was at a loss as to what her next move should be. She’d lied about having a romantic relationship with Raj because she didn’t want the police to know he was gay. He could face criminal prosecution since homosexuality was illegal in India. Protecting Raj was important to her, but not so important that she would go to prison. Surely, when he gained consciousness, he would be able to name his attackers, which were most likely his brothers. If he couldn’t or didn’t want to name them, Raj could at least clear Marlee of having anything to do with his assault. She wasn’t sure what the penalty would be for lying to the police. For now, she would keep her mouth shut and wait for Raj to clear her name. He was badly beaten, but it shouldn’t take him too long to regain consciousness.

  The holding cell at the jail was made of cement walls and flooring. A single light bulb hung from wires from the ceiling, dangling over the heads of those confined in the small room. A round hole was located in the corner of the room, and a woman in a blue sari hovered over it, urine pouring into the opening. Two women, also clad in saris, sat on the filthy floor with their backs against a wall. They both wailed in Hindi, swaying back and forth in unison, their eyes closed. Marlee wasn’t sure if they were praying. She watched them intently for several minutes, forgetting her own predicament.

  Across the room, a woman dressed in the traditional Muslim full-length black robe known as the abaya and the veil covering the head and face except for the eyes known as the niqab watched Marlee as intently as she watched the two women sitting on the floor. When Marlee caught her eye, the Muslim woman quickly looked away. Moments later, Marlee caught her eye again, and the woman looked away. She realized she was as much of a novelty to the women of India as they were to her. The next time the Muslim woman made eye contact, Marlee smiled. The woman’s mouth was covered by the niqab, so there was no outward indication of a smile, but her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners suggesting she returned Marlee’s friendly gesture.

  After what seemed like several hours, Marlee was taken from the holding cell to another room with a small table and chairs. In that room was the police officer who questioned her earlier and another man. The officer introduced the other man as a lawyer and said he would be visiting with Marlee by himself.

  “I suggest you listen to your lawyer. You will need all the help he can provide. Your charges have changed from assault to murder. Mr. Sharma died from his injuries, and you are facing the most severe penalty possible in my country. There is nothing your country can do for you now, Miss.” With that pronouncement, the officer turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Oh, no! Raj is dead?” she asked the man purported to be her attorney. “He didn’t make it?” Her head swirled as she thought back to that very morning when she found Raj. He was semi-conscious as well as bloody and bruised. She knew he was severely injured, but never would have expected his injuries to be life-threatening.

  “I am afraid so. He just passed. The doctor thinks it was due to internal injuries, but they won’t know until the body is examined further. I will be representing you unless you have another attorney here in India you wish to retain.”

  Her world spun around her as visions of the past four days stampeded through her mind. She thought of her excitement of the first hours of being in India, the novelty of shopping in Delhi, seeing cows meander through traffic on a busy road, having her fortune foretold, being rejected for a marriage she neither wanted or knew about, learning of Raj’s homosexuality and the sanctions he could face if it were made public, Raj’s request to help him move to the United States, his beating and her hiding him in a faculty lounge, and finally, finding him beaten and unconscious in that same lounge.

  “Miss, did you hear me?” asked the attorney. “I said you are facing severe charges. You will spend many years in prison for killing this man.”

  “But I didn’t kill him. I would never kill anyone, let alone Raj. The police seriously think I beat him up just because he supposedly broke up with me? Please! I’ve been broken up with by many guys, and I never so much as slapped any of them. Besides, we really weren’t having a relationship. I just said that, so the officers wouldn’t know the truth about Raj.” Marlee’s words tumbled from her mouth in a jumble as she raced to tell the truth. The sooner her name was cleared, the sooner she could find out who really was responsible for Raj’s death.

  “You lied to the police? That is a serious offense. And why would you lie for a man you just met?” Her lawyer didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. He seemed committed to the story outlined by the police: Marlee killed Raj, assaulting him with her large body and self-defense skills, because she wanted to get married
and he only wanted a fling.

  “I lied because I thought it would be worse for Raj if I told the truth. I didn’t want to get him in any trouble,” Marlee said.

  “So, what is the truth? The complete truth?”

  “Raj told me he is gay. He was afraid of being kicked out of his family, rejected by society, losing his job at the university, and being thrown in jail. I knew the sanctions were very severe since homosexuality is a crime here in India, so I decided to tell the police Raj and I had a romantic relationship to spare him. I didn’t know Raj was going to die. I thought I was saving him from all kinds of trouble and that he would be grateful when he was released from the hospital.”

  “That is very serious, but there are many homosexuals in India, and most are not prosecuted. As long as they practice discretion, there are few consequences in our society,” her lawyer said. “I, myself, know a few, and they manage to live their lives while existing in an intolerant country. It is doubtful that Raj would have faced sanctions as serious as you say if he did not call attention to his sexual status. Prince Manvendra Singh Gohil is a homosexual and is very vocal about it, yet he walks freely with few consequences.”

  “Really? Raj was very fearful and thought he would lose everything. His brothers assaulted him because they were told he was gay.”

  “He said his brothers were involved?” asked her lawyer.

  “Yes, he said Ajay and Sameer assaulted him last night. He said he was in danger, and I suspected it was from them. After I left Raj and was walking back to my campus apartment, his two brothers chased me and pounded on my door demanding to know where Raj was hiding. I think they found him in the lounge and beat him up again. But this time they killed him.” Marlee held her head in her hands, facing the reality of the situation. Her only friend, if he could be called a friend since he lied to her and tried to scam her, was now dead. She had a hard time believing that his parents and nieces and nephews would prefer him dead rather than to live as a homosexual. His brothers, on the other hand, were another story.

  “Miss, let me see your hands,” directed the attorney.

  “What? My hands?” Marlee questioned, wondering if her attorney was some kind of pervert as she hesitantly held out her hands, palms up.

  “If you assaulted Mr. Sharma as the police say, then you would have bruising on your hands,” he said, grabbing her wrists and turning her hands over. There were no cuts or bruises on her hands or arms, and Marlee’s peach fingernail polish remained intact. Before traveling to India, she got her first manicure in an attempt at looking more polished. But now here she sat in an interrogation room at the Delhi Police Department.

  “You’re right! There would be some evidence of an assault if I had beaten Raj. They can take a look at the clothes I was wearing yesterday, and they won’t find any trace of blood!” All of a sudden, Marlee felt much better. She might be able to get out of this hell hole and find out what really happened to Raj.

  Even a cat is a lion in his own lair.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 10

  “As I said, Miss, it was all a misunderstanding. A mix-up, if you will. And for that, we sincerely apologize.” The officer who brought her into jail the previous day was now making excuses for their obvious blunders. “Remember, you were not honest with us when we asked you about your relationship with Mr. Sharma. And then we were given false information by hospital. We worked to the best of our ability given the information we had at hand.”

  If Marlee thought she could get away with it, she would have punched the officer in the gut. The pompous ass who arrested me lets me think I’m going to prison for the rest of my life. She knew she would erupt any minute. The goal was to wait until she was away from the police department before she had an utter and complete meltdown.

  Marlee’s attorney was by her side as the final paperwork was signed, and she was released from jail. Once outside, Marlee let it rip. “I can’t believe they lied to me! They told me Raj was dead, and he isn’t. He got out of the hospital yesterday and is resting at home under the care of his mother. Why would they tell me he died? Is that even legal?”

  The lawyer took hold of her arm as she stumbled on the uneven pavement. “It was most unfortunate the way things turned out, I agree.”

  “Unfortunate? It was a major fuck up, and I’d like to kick that officer’s ass!” Marlee shouted.

  “Miss, please lower your voice. You were just released, and you do not want to be arrested on new charges, I assure you.”

  “Did you know that Raj was still alive? Were you lying to me too?” Marlee asked, unsure how far the deceit went.

  “No, of course not. The police told me the same thing they told you. They say they were given false information by hospital. Another man named Raj was in the room next door with injuries from an assault, and he died. The doctor just mixed them up and reported that your friend had died,” the lawyer said with a weary look in his eye. “As you know, Raj is a very common name in India.”

  “And you believe them?” Marlee knew several lawyers, and had this situation happened back in the United States, they would’ve protested to high heaven.

  “I am not positive if hospital made a mistake, or if the police intentionally lied. Both scenarios are plausible, and I do not wish to jump to conclusions. Let us wait and see before we make any accusations.” It was unclear to Marlee if her attorney really represented her best interests, or if he was merely a shill for the police department. In the United States, the attorneys were on the side of their clients, working to ensure their rights were protected and that they received a fair trial. The role of the professionals involved in the Indian criminal justice system seemed murky. Although far from perfect, Marlee preferred the system of justice in America over what she experienced in India.

  Back at her apartment, Marlee took a shower to wash the jail gunk off her body which had accumulated after sitting in a hot, crowded cell for nearly twenty-four hours. Her next step was to crack open a caffeine-laden Coke and place a call to Raj. He answered on the third ring and assured her he was going to survive.

  “I ache all over my entire body, but I will be back at my post at university soon. Next week, perhaps? The doctor says I have to rest until then,” Raj said, wheezing as he talked. His broken ribs placed pressure on his lungs which caused them to fill with fluid. If Raj didn’t take care of himself, he could develop pneumonia. “Mommy-ji is taking care of me. She is driving me crazy,” Raj said with a whisper. “Every five minutes she is bringing me food. She wants to bathe me, but I won’t let her.”

  “Are you safe there, Raj? Do you think your brothers will try to kill you again?” Marlee asked, worried for her friend.

  “No, after they beat me up two nights ago, they were finished. I don’t think they will hurt me anymore. They expressed their rage, and now it is over. They both came to see me last night.”

  “But they almost killed you! They left you in the faculty lounge to die!” Marlee yelled, trying to impress upon Raj that his brothers would likely try to kill him again.

  “No, they beat me here two nights ago, but they were not the ones who assaulted me in the faculty lounge,” Raj said.

  “Who did it? And why?” Marlee asked, wondering who else would want to cause harm to Raj.

  “That I will not tell you. Some things need to be private, and I will not disclose the name of the person who hurt me. I do not wish for that person to be arrested and imprisoned for a misunderstanding. It was as much my fault as it was anyone’s. Please do not ask me about it again, Miss.” Raj was adamant in his declaration, leaving no room for argument.

  “But...”

  “No! I will not disclose the name of the person who assaulted me in the lounge. Do not ask again. If you pursue this line of questioning, I will be forced to ask for reassignment to another visiting faculty member,” Raj said, the most earnest Marlee had heard him speak since she met him.

  The abrupt end to the conversation left Marlee wondering
who had attacked Raj and left him for dead. And why was Raj protecting them? Was it in fact his brothers? Was Raj keeping their names secret because he didn’t want to get them into trouble and bring disgrace on their family? Was it a stranger? But if so, how did they get into the locked Lotus Building? Did Raj let them in, or was it a university employee with a key of their own?

  The only thing she knew for certain was that she wouldn’t get her questions answered by hanging around her apartment. She had missed her breakfast meeting yesterday and needed to check in with her department today, but first she wanted to see Raj with her own two eyes. It was all well and fine to talk to him on the phone, but until she saw him face to face, she wouldn’t be convinced that he was on the mend.

  Marlee’s sense of direction was horrible, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to find Raj’s home since it involved a walk to the bus stop, a bus ride, and then more walking. She wasn’t completely sure she could even find the bus stop. When they went to Raj’s home the other night, she was concentrating on making a good impression, not memorizing the way there. Nothing stood out to her as a landmark or a historical feature, so it would be nearly impossible to describe to a stranger.

  She found her way to her office, the only place she could locate on campus other than her apartment. Office doors were open with middle-aged people in suits and saris rushing about among more casually-dressed students. Surely, someone there could tell her where Raj lived and give her detailed directions. A helpful group of students led her to the office where Raj worked, and she was able to speak with his supervisor, who also happened to be Marlee’s supervisor as the Liaison Office was overseen by the Sociology Department.