Kashi nods enthusiastically and doesn’t mention that his father had been thoroughly appalled by the thing, dubbing it ‘a donkey’s phallus’ and draping it decorously in money plant before displaying it in the garden so that the modesty of Sector-44, Noida, would not be outraged.
‘Still, my work’s nothing compared to Chrysanthemum!’ Cookie says modestly. ‘Chrysanthemum is—’
‘The lifestyle store?’ Bhavani Singh is impressed. He is aware of Chrysanthemum – his wife has recently saved for three months to buy a bone china tea-for-two set from there to enliven the evening tea in their empty-nester home.
The ladies nod.
‘It’s a big success. She got a fifty-crore funding for it recently.’
‘So aunties, then why do you say poor Urvashi?’ Kashi endeavours to bring them back to the point.
‘Because she’s married to Mukki,’ Roshni responds bluntly. ‘The man’s boring, and charmless and ugly. And he’s passed on his ugly DNA to their two daughters, who, poor things, will never win a beauty pageant – what d’you say, young Dogra?’
‘I think beauty pageants objectify women,’ is his steady reply.
She dismisses him with a wave of her bony hand. ‘Your generation is too politically correct! And that’s why I say poor Urvashi. It was heartbreaking to see her valiantly trying to prettify those ugly girls – she might as well have wrapped Chantilly lace around two baby buffalos! Even now she keeps insisting they’re late bloomers … Arrey, they’re twenty-six and twenty-four! Aur kitna late bloom karengi?’
‘Ro, they’re quite namkeen-looking!’ Cookie objects. ‘You’re just being mean now!’
Roshni sniffs. ‘People always say namkeen when they mean ugly.’
‘Words can be ugly too.’ Kashi’s calm voice has a warning edge to it. ‘Don’t you think?’
There is a small pause.
Then Roshni shrugs and continues, ‘Anyway, the point is that Urvashi, so beautiful herself, and a great connoisseur of beauty and style, condemned to live with Mukki and her two bhains-like daughters, cannot be blamed for gravitating towards Leo Matthew, also so beautiful, but in a delightfully male way.’
Bhavani, himself a plain man married to an extremely attractive woman, is reeling slightly at these sweeping statements. However, he manages to nod in agreement and look meaningfully at Kashi, who wades dutifully into the fray again.
‘D’you really think they were having an affair, auntie?’ he asks, fixing his brown eyes entreatingly on Cookie.
She responds to this direct appeal at once. ‘See, all of us have – had – a bit of a crush on Leo. We giggle and talk about him, and of course all our pot-bellied husbands get jealous. It’s all quite harmless. Urvashi doesn’t giggle though. She’s not the type – too dignified. But the thing is, she really enjoys the Zumba. Initially, she was just like any one of us – shy, you know, and self-conscious of all those Latino moves and Hispanic thrusts, and the way Leo would keep urging us to
“throw a little hip into it!” But then … maybe because she’d been doing yoga at home for years and is naturally flexible … she started moving differently … all Spanish and sexy … She even began talking about becoming an instructor herself!’
‘She started standing front and centre, too,’ Roshni recalls. ‘We used to all be really shy about standing in the middle of the front row. We would all hang back, and Leo would make fun of us for acting like backbencher schoolgirls, but then Urvi just started walking in and taking that place like it was reserved for her by right! And then Leo started praising her, and picking her every time he wanted to demonstrate a move with a partner … Then she got all these new gym clothes … and then he started asking her to stay back and help him fine-tune his yoga asanas because he wanted to be more flexible like her and then—’
‘Have you seen English Vinglish?’ Cookie interjects.
Bhavani Singh blinks at this random change in topic. ‘Yes.’
Cookie beams. ‘So it was like that only. The dancing unlocked something in her personality! She got this glow.’
‘Please!’ Roshni’s bony face acquires a knowing expression. ‘That glow was not just from dancing, Cooks.’
They both giggle.
But Bhavani Singh is not amused. A glow won’t stand up in court, he gloomily. What he needs is proof of an affair and there seems to be none forthcoming. Then he remembers Leo’s phone. Hopefully, there will be something in there … pictures, messages … With a sudden start he realizes Cookie is speaking to Kashi.
‘See, if Leo and Urvashi were having an affair while that wet fish Mukki was balancing the account books of his stupid rich clients then it was really not anybody’s business except Urvashi and Leo’s, and perhaps Mukki’s. But with the Club election coming along, it suddenly became everybody’s business.’
‘Why does Urvashi Khurana want to be Club president?’ Bhavani asks abruptly.
This stumps the two ladies slightly.
‘Uh, what?’
‘Matlab, from what you’ve described, she’s a busy, successful businesswoman, doing yoga and Zumba – and having an affair. Where does she have the time to stand for an election as well?’
Cookie’s pudgy brow furrows. ‘That’s true …’
Bhavani smiles genially. ‘So then?’
‘You know, ACP, I think that she’s a woman who likes a challenge,’ Cookie says finally. ‘Initially it was all about getting back into shape after her children were born, then it was about balancing work and home … Now that her girls are grown, and Chrysanthemum is all settled, she’s restless again … And the DTC has never had a woman president before!’
‘You’d never have asked that question if she were a man, officer,’ Roshni says severely. ‘You’d have just assumed that it’s perfectly natural for a man to want to add another feather in his cap. But a woman’s ambitions must always be questioned! You’re being sexist!’
Genuinely abashed, Bhavani asks for forgiveness.
‘So, what plans does Urvashi auntie have for the Club?’ asks Kashi.
‘A much bigger rainwater harvesting plant, for one!’ Roshni says. ‘That’s why Mehra’s so wild at her. She wants to put it where the kitchen garden is. Which is dedicated to his wife’s memory.’
Kashi raises his eyebrows. ‘That sounds insensitive.’
Roshni bristles. ‘Not at all! She got it surveyed by the rainwater harvesting people and they said it’s got the best catchment area. And she says they can replant the garden over it once they’re done. But he’s so gussa about it!’
‘Men have so much ego.’ Cookie sighs.
Bhavani attempts to re-enter the conversation.
‘Could you tell us something about Leo, also? What did you ladies talk to him about?’
There is the oddest little pause. The two women, so loquacious thus far, seem to have utterly dried up.
Kashi looks from one to the other.
‘Err … Cookie auntie? Roshni auntie?’
Slightly pink-cheeked and not quite meeting his eyes, Cookie says, ‘We didn’t talk to him too much, actually.’
Kashi’s eyebrows rise. ‘But why?’
‘Oho, you won’t understand, beta!’ Roshni says. ‘We said hello and goodbye and thank you and all that. And of course, if we did something wrong, he corrected us – but we didn’t chit-chat.’
‘It gets complicated if you chit-chat,’ Cookie explains. ‘People start taking advantage.’
‘Ya, see, it’s always awkward with these in-between types,’ Roshni chimes in. ‘People who are not quite your social equal, but higher than drivers or maids or the other trainers in the gym! Because such people are actually quite narrow-minded beneath their thin veneer of sophistication! If we talked too nicely he might have thought we were infatuated with him!’
‘Which we were!’ Cookie gurgles.
‘But not really!’ Roshni clarifies
. ‘We just liked looking at him!’
‘Baith mere paas tujhe dekhti rahoon,’ Cookie hums. ‘Tu na kuch kahe aur mein na kuch kahoon.’
Bhavani notices that Kashi is having a hard time dealing with all this casual objectification, and interjects smoothly.
‘Can you tell us little-bit about his phone? We understand you picked it up and opened it?’
Roshni nods. ‘I did it sort of automatically – I do it with my son’s phone also sometimes, when his alarm is ringing and he is sleeping through it. Just grab his finger and press it to the phone to open it. I thought that would be the fastest way to inform his family.’
‘That was good thinking on your part, madam,’ Bhavani says. ‘And you were lucky. That technique wouldn’t have worked with a cold corpse. But clearly you got there just minutes after he died.’
She shivers. ‘I still can’t quite believe it. Somebody we know … sneaking into our happy little balloon-filled gym, tip-toeing to the fridge we drink out of every day, clutching a lethal drug in their sweaty hands, opening the flask with their hearts thumping hard – because surely your heart must thump hard when you pull this kind of a stunt, officer?’
He nods soberly. ‘O yes. Murder is always stressful, madam. Even for the most hardened killer. Let no one tell you otherwise.’
‘One must burn a lot of calories while killing somebody, I suppose,’ Roshni says thoughtfully. ‘Your BMR must go through the roof! I wouldn’t be surprised if one lost a few kilograms out of sheer stress!’
‘I should probably kill somebody then!’ her friend replies, staring ruefully down at her empty plate. ‘Why did you let me eat all those cutlets? Especially after we missed our morning workout!’
‘Cooks, we’re going to have to find a new trainer, fast,’ Roshni says seriously. ‘I can feel the fat crawling up around my thighs already.’
And it’s back to business as usual, Kashi thinks to himself. A man’s dead, for fuck’s sake, but they’ve already moved on. Wow! Is that an old person thing, a rich person thing, or a DTC member thing?
‘You should start the Canadian army’s XBX program for ladies, madam,’ Bhavani tells the women meanwhile. ‘It’s just an eleven-minute workout and we do the gents’ version of it every day! It can be done anywhere – no need for music or special equipment or an instructor!’
Cookie blinks at him. ‘Well, music and equipment and a qualified instructor are kind of the point actually,’ she replies. ‘I mean, we’re not some Hanuman bhakts doing rote exercises in a colony park!’
The old policemen blinks at this careless barb, yet continues to smile. But Kashi has had enough.
He says, rather sharply, ‘Of course, now that we know that it was a murder, your handling of the phone amounts to evidence tampering, auntie.’
Roshni sticks out her tongue contritely, in a child-like gesture that looks odd on a woman in her fifties. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she says.
‘Who did you phone, by the way?’ Bhavani asks.
Her eyes widen guilelessly. ‘The number one name on his speed dial. ‘Rax something. But he didn’t pick up. And there was no “mum” or “dad” or “babe” saved in the contacts.’
‘That sounds so lonely!’ Cookie remarks, with belated sensitivity. ‘Poor Leo! How can you have no one to notify when you die? We should’ve gotten over his hotness and talked to him more often, Ro.’
‘We just thought of him one-dimensionally,’ her friend agrees. ‘But clearly he was a whole person … and we have no idea who that person was …’
6
Cheeky Peaches
‘Was that a good interview?’ Kashi asks Bhavani after the ladies have tottered away to their cars, escorted by Padam. ‘Did I help? Or make things worse?’
Bhavani sighs. ‘No, no, you did well, vakeel sa’ab,’ he says. ‘But the main thing is that the good ladies were correct. We know nothing about Leo, or the person he was. There is no point talking to anybody else till we figure that out. And the answer to that question is right here.’
He gestures with one stubby finger to the black mirror surface of Leo Mathew’s latest model iPhone, lying open and defenceless amongst the tea things on the cluttered study table.
‘You wanna do the honours?’ Kashi asks.
The old ACP sits forward, sighs, sends up a wordless apology to the dead man whose privacy he is about to violate and taps the phone gingerly. The screensaver blooms to life. A zoomed-in shot of Leo Matthew’s torso, smooth, alive and rippling with muscle. The words ‘BODYBUILDING IS CHARACTER BUILDING’ are tattooed into his sternum in simple black type.
‘Hmm.’ Kashi tilts his head to one side and considers the motto. ‘I’m not sure I agree entirely. I mean, sure, bodybuilding teaches you discipline and is a great stressbuster. But it doesn’t make you a kinder person, or a more empathetic person or even a more intelligent person.’
‘It is an ape’s motto.’ Bhavani grunts succinctly. ‘We are nat impressed by it at all! Now, what else does Matthew sa’ab have to say for himself?’
He fishes out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, puts them on, then presses the Gallery icon and peers down at the screen.
‘Not too many photos,’ he murmurs. ‘Now that is very odd. Such a vain man must have taken a lot of pictures of himself!’
‘Maybe he was vain enough to have a fancy camera as well,’ Kashi suggests.
‘Hmm.’ Bhavani considers the suggestion. ‘Maybe. Let us see what he has on WhatsApp.’
There are eight groups with new notifications.
*Golf Links Girls
*Panchsheel Ladies Zumba
*Sundernagar Zumba
*Def Col Body Combat
*Vv Ladies Bollydance
*Saket Ladies Zumba
*Gulmohar Park Evening Zumba
Bhavani raises his eyebrows. ‘Quite the little Kishan Kanhaiya!’ He presses his big square finger to the screen and randomly opens Golf Links Girls.
The other groups are all full of similar messages.
Kashi’s forehead wrinkles. ‘They’re so polite,’ he says. ‘Except for that one terse lady. When I’m late for a consultation, everybody bites my head off.’
Bhavani opens the group he’s most interested in. *Dtc Girls Zumba, last active at 5.40 this morning. He scrolls upwards to the beginning of the month.
Bhavani Singh lets out a low, impressed whistle. Five thousand rupees a month? This is a pricey class! And what is the full class strength anyway? He clicks on Group info.
There are sixteen women in the group. From the pictures, they seem like a mix of young and old. Going back to the chat, he can see that ten have put thumbs ups and confirmed for February.
Quickly, he does the math.
‘Look at this, vakeel sa’ab! Your friend was taking eight different classes every month – charging each lady a fee of five thousand rupees. With roughly ten women in each class, toh’ – he does some quick calculations – ‘that was four lakh a month! For teaching this Zumba dancing! And he probably didn’t pay any taxes either. All payments in cash only!’
‘He’s making more money than me,’ Kashi says a little glumly.
‘Except that he’s dead,’ Bhavani points out practically. ‘So he isn’t making anything any more. You’re better off, don’t you think?’
They continue to scroll through the group chat. It seems very businesslike – just timings, and a few messages from Leo about pending fees, running late, or calling in sick. There are a lot of Zumba videos on the group – full of shimmering, flat bellies and lithe limbs, all dancing energetically with wide smiles on their faces – and even a video of DTC GIRLS ZUMBA dancing to Shakira’s ‘Waka Waka’, recorded by Leo.
‘That must be madam Urvashi,’ says Bhavani. ‘She is standing front and centre, and she certainly is very beautiful.’
Urvashi is also very much the leader of the group, dressed i
n a simple, but gorgeously coordinated white-and-gold gym tights and matching vest. On her left is a sleepy-looking Bambi in a grey sweatshirt and baggy pants. On Urvashi’s right is the maroon-haired lady, resplendent in red spandex. Cookie and Rosh, standing in the second row, are visible through the gaps.
When the music kicks in, Urvashi is absolutely electrifying – lissome, flexible, light on her feet and completely unselfconscious. Bambi is erratic, good when she remembers the steps, but blanking out sometimes – hopping about with a foolish, self-conscious grin on her face, till the group reverts to the main hook step that she has mastered. Cookie and Roshni give a fair account of themselves, but look utterly exhausted – the video has clearly been shot at the fag end of the one-hour class. And the maroon lady stomps gamely through the lilting song with robotic focus, managing to reduce the graceful, fluid steps to a series of PT exercises.
Kashi chuckles. ‘Bambi’s barely keeping up!’ He stares down at the screen amused, as Bambi Todi forgets the steps and clowns around the floor.
‘Focus, vakeel sa’ab!’ mutters Bhavani, and abruptly exits WhatsApp.
Having spent thirty years in the Crime Branch, eighteen since the advent of the smartphone, he knows that almost every phone has its own little chamber of secrets. Shady deals, private diaries, bank accounts numbers and other financial details, archived chats, sexts, dickpics. You just have to keep digging till you find it.
He picks up the iPhone. It feels alive with its owner’s essence, bursting with little secrets and insights. But it is proving to be aggravatingly bland.
He checks Call History.
The maximum number of calls Leo has received recently are from an individual called Rax, whose display picture shows a grinning, paunchy guy with a shaved head, probably in his mid-thirties.
Going back to WhatsApp, he checks Leo’s chats with Rax.
TWO MONTHS AGO
Club You to Death Page 9
