Srivastava’s face spasms at this crude remark but he manages to continue his narration solemnly.
‘As you say, sir. Then he made a suggestion which he said could help us both. You print two winning tickets for the middle line this year, he said. Give one to your proxy and one to Khurana – he’s sure to make an ugly scene, and it will make him look ridiculous, which will help my election prospects greatly. Well sir, I didn’t see any harm in doing this, even if it meant we would probably have to split our winnings with you this year, but when the ugly scene during the tambola lead to a murder the next morning, and plainclothes policemen started swarming the length and breadth of the DTC asking questions—’
‘Your neat little scheme came under the police scanner,’ Mukesh Khurana concludes grimly. ‘Well, well, you definitely got what you deserved, Srivastava! Now why the hell have you come to me?’
The secretary clears his throat. ‘I’ve come to make you an offer, sir.’
Mukesh’s jaw sags. ‘You! Offering me a deal!’
‘Yes, sir,’ Srivastava says with calm audacity. ‘I will come forward and reveal this information about General Mehra coming to me and asking me to set you up if, in return, you promise that there will be no criminal persecution against the admin staff, and our tradition will be allowed to continue once Mrs Khurana is elected president.’
Mukesh is quiet for a long time. He is reluctantly impressed by the working of the old bulldog’s mind. Srivastava has figured that his tale will strengthen the case against the general, but could potentially land him into trouble as well, so he’s figured out a way to wriggle out of the mess.
He cocks an eyebrow at the old man. ‘Got any proof?’
‘I have the entire conversation recorded sir. I switched on the audio recorder the moment it got interesting.’
Mukesh Khurana’s utters a short neigh of laugher. ‘You’re a sly saanp.’
A complacent expression settles on the secretary’s face. ‘I am just very aware of my responsibilities as Club Secretary, sir. I am in a sense, the custodian of the grand traditions and great history of the DTC.’
Khurana purses his lips. ‘Yeh toh too much ho gaya, Srivastava!’
‘No, sir,’ the old man maintains doggedly. ‘I perform exactly the same tasks Bhatti sir used to before he retired from his position as home secretary. Ministers come and go, but the bureaucrats remain forever, don’t they, sir?’
‘You’re a sly snake,’ Mukki repeats, breathing hard. ‘Don’t ever try to daso my wife or I will cook you in a Korean sauce and feed you to the peacocks in the mango trees of your precious DTC.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the old man replies unblinkingly. ‘Do we have a deal, sir?’
Khurana sits back, and stares down at his glass, swilling its contents. This is an interesting development which can – and should – be milked well.
He nods curtly. ‘We have a deal.’
‘Dammit, PK, your team spent the whole day eating popcorn and binge-watching that damn footage like it was Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan! You must have found something useful, yaar!’ Bhavani demands cantankerously.
Shalini, reading a book beside him in their bed, looks up warily.
Earnest squawking noises are emerging from Bhavani’s phone. They go on for a while. He nods, frowning.
‘And that’s it? Nothing else?’
The squawking is shorter this time and regretful in tone.
Bhavani cuts the call and tosses the phone away moodily.
Shalini puts down her book. ‘You’re like a bear with a sore head,’ she says. ‘You need to eat less salt and drink more water.’
He rumples his grey hair unhappily …
‘We thought Leo’s hard disk – the one we found in the Hayabusa – would give us some more leads, but there’s nothing useful on it!’
‘Nothing?’
He throws up his hands. ‘Nothing that tells us anything we don’t already know! The general coming out of Ganga’s house late in the night, looking besotted. Aryaman describing what mixing alcohol with drugs feels like. But mostly just videos of Leo and Urvashi dancing.’
She says tentatively, ‘So maybe the general did do it, Bhavani?’
He shakes his head. ‘The general is nat guilty. That gun is just too damn convenient. It has been planted, afterwards, just to confuse us.’
‘Okay ...’ She hesitates, ‘ So who do you think would do something like that?’
‘Everybody,’ he replies promptly. ‘You know we always suspect everybody, Shalu. But right now, after the discovery that Ganga’s husband, Ajay Kumar, was actually dealing to the TVVS kids, Aryaman Aggarwal seems to be leading the pack.’
‘Urvashi?’
He shakes his head. ‘The dancing on those tapes is pretty sexy, but it is just dancing. Nothing he could have blackmailed her about.’
She stares down at her fingers, thinking. ‘What about these youngsters of yours?’ she asks. ‘Your Kashi and Bambi duo? Didn’t she say she has a stalker? Her supposedly dead fiancé?’
He yawns tiredly. ‘That is a long shot. But yes, it could fit into this set-up. Matlab, if we were a billionaire with a scarred, psychotic son on the loose, we would pull whatever strings we could to get somebody else convicted for his crime!’
‘So you think this Anshul is really alive and killing admirers of Bambi?’ she asks sceptically.
‘She saw an eye in the wall,’ he reminds her.
‘It’s too … fantastic, Bhavani. People would have noticed some heavily scarred man limping about the DTC, surely!’
‘Agreed.’ He sighs. ‘But we’re on a morning–evening flight to Kolkata tomorrow to meet this Anshul’s father. We weren’t sure he would speak to us – he’s a big man – but he agreed at once.’
‘And Kashi?’
‘What possible motive could he possibly have, Shalu?’
‘Well, you say he has a girlfriend, but he seems obsessed with Bambi. Maybe, if he felt somebody was trying to harm her, like this Leo, for example, then he could’ve—’
His phone beeps. Once. Then twice. Then several times in succession.
‘That’s a woman for sure.’ He sighs wryly.
‘Sexist!’ She pulls a face, clambers off the bed and tosses him his phone. ‘Dekh lo.’
Silently, he passes the phone to his wife. She reads, then quirks a teasing eyebrow.
‘ACP Brownie?’
‘Shalu, please.’ Bhavani goes rather pink. ‘Focus on the important thing!’
She shrugs. ‘She seems to think she’s cracked it.’
‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘If this were a murder mystery novel somebody would definitely bump her off tonight.’
Shalini snorts. ‘Not in her big, fat, south Delhi bungalow with security guards outside! And there’s a gallant Mr Katoch in the picture too!’
‘That is true.’ Bhavani takes his phone back. ‘Well, well, seven suits us actually – we can proceed to the airport from the Taj itself.’
The Taj Lobby is full of pink Oriental lilies,’ his wife says wistfully. ‘Oh, you must order a good breakfast and charge the department!’ She smiles, ‘Send the bill to Buckingham palace!’
He looks at her blankly.
‘It’s from My Fair Lady, Bhavani.’
‘O really?’ he says vaguely. ‘Let us hope the “something” she has “remembered” will turn out to actually be useful …’
14
Flames & Flowers
‘Alcohol is a terrible thing,’ Cookie Katoch says with a pious little shudder. ‘I toh never touch a drop!’
Coming from somebody who was spectacularly inebriated the first time they met, this is pretty rich. But then, Cookie Katoch is pretty rich too – and the rich are permitted their pretty little lies.
‘So great of you,’ he murmurs politely
She feels the need to explain. ‘I only take alc
ohol if I’ve had a terrible shock.’
‘Haan, then toh it is must!’ Bhavani agrees at once. ‘All the best doctors prescribe alcohol for shock.’
Having cleared up this point, Cookie Katoch chugs down the fresh sweet-lime juice she has poured three sachets of Stevia into, then leans in conspiratorially, spilling out from several places in her pink velour tracksuit. With her chubby face, high ponytail and massively oversized D&G sunglasses, she looks rather like a Punjabi Powerpuff girl.
‘Katoch is terrible with alcohol. He doesn’t know when to stop, and then, once he’s drunk, he insists on driving … Even if the driver is there! We’ve had a few ghastly experiences, driving back from parties and all …’
Bhavani nods along, giving her his full attention, wondering where this story is going.
‘And so I decided, when the invite came for Bambi and Anshul’s engagement party at the DTC, in the middle of the foggiest month of the year, that the best thing to do, because Pankaj Todi and Katoch are such thick friends, and they were all sure to get roaring drunk that night, was to book a guest cottage for the night at the Club only!’
Bhavani pricks up his ears. ‘O really.’
She beams at him, nodding gleefully. ‘Haan! Now you’re suddenly looking alive, ACP Brownie! Did you think I called you here just because I have a crush on you?’
Bhavani’s homely features redden. ‘Yes, mada— I mean no, madam!’
She chuckles. ‘I’m just teasing. Where was I? Oh my God, this is too exciting, but scary also – my cheeks are getting so hot, uff!’ She presses them with the back of her hands, then beckons a hovering waiter. ‘Excuse me, beta, come here! Can you get me glass of really, really cold water? Thank you! So, ACP, like I was saying, Katoch and I took Guest Cottage No. 4, I think. We went in there around two in the morning, and then at around three, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I heard people arguing very loudly outside my window. Very, very loudly. It was actually scary – so I moved the curtains, very little bit, and I looked out into the parking lot, and of course there was so much swirling fog … Ek toh this Delhi ka pollution na, but through it all, I saw them!’
‘Who, madam?’ His voice is perfect – interested, but not intrusive.
She looks around furtively, then removes her sunglasses to reveal huge, unslept-looking eyes, part-worried, part-feverishly excited. ‘Him only, Ajay Kumar, Ganga ka husband! I recognized him in the wedding picture that was printed in that article! I’ve a very good eye for faces, because I’m an artist … But you know that, you came for my Shivling exhibition. My company’s called—’
‘ShivBling. Yes, madam,’
‘It was him only, pukka-promise, with his French beard and his dark circles and his pink flashing gums! He was shouting, and the other fellow was shouting too. Some dhakkam dhukki also happened, and it looked like it was going to turn into mukka-mukki, which was very interesting, but it was also a very, very cold night, and I wasn’t wearing very much, because Katoch and I were … er …’
‘Yes, madam.’
She smiles at him gratefully. ‘So intelligent, you are. So like I was saying, I shut the curtain and got quickly back under the warm razai with my warm husband!’
‘And, madam, you didn’t say – did you recognize the other person also? Who was it that was arguing with Ajay Kumar?’
‘Oh, didn’t I say?’ She looks around furtively, then leans in even closer, and whispers. ‘Actually I’m not really surprised, because he was always a strange child – I took him to Funky Orbit once, when he was very little, along with my son and some of their friends and he exposed himself to me quite blatantly inside the red twister tunnel. I was horrified – but too scared to tell his mother, because, baba re, she’s the type who never blames her child for anything! Unlike me – I toh am very strict! Whenever people do shikayat of my children, I always give them two tight slaps before even asking for their version of the story!’
‘That is excellent parenting, madam, I’m sure your children love you very much.’
She gives a little wriggle of pride. ‘Oh yes! They’re well settled – my daughter’s a banker in New York and my son’s an engineer in Seattle. We’re looking for a nice girl for him but …’
She trails off and sips the iced water which has just arrived at the table.
‘Anyway, I had started taking a video, but I stopped because Katoch was calling me back to bed. Still, it’s long enough to see the two faces quite clearly! It was on my old phone, we had to stay up till three last night to retrieve it, but I have it here.’
She slides a phone triumphantly across the table.
Bhavani beams. ‘That is excellent work, madam! You should be in the police force!’
‘Hain na?’ She beams back. ‘I’d look so good in uniform!’
Bhavani pushes aside the mental image that has sprung unbidden to his mind. ‘Madam, please, in your own words, who is Ajay Kumar arguing with this video?’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’
She leans forward, beckoning him to lean forward too. Their heads meet over the Taj’s beautifully polished silver sugar pot.
‘Arya!’ she says in an appalled whisper. ‘Aryaman Aggarwal, my friend Roshni’s son. I don’t know what the fight was about, but it looks, doesn’t it, like they had some argument that night, and Arya killed Ajay Kumar, and buried him in the composting pit?’
As Bhavani drives to the airport, deep in thought, he gets an SMS alerting him to a flight delay of half an hour. On a sudden impulse, he directs his car towards the DTC.
A few people are browsing the Daily Needs when he walks in, but Ganga seems free. She sits very straight behind the counter, sari meticulously ironed, pleated and pinned, hair pulled back into its smooth plait with not a strand out of place. Bhavani wonders what Shalu would make of her and decides that she would declare her prim.
Her large eyes widen in her glowing brown face when she sees him.
‘Good morning,’ he says in a low conversational voice. ‘We wanted to pick up some apples. They look so fresh.’
She looks slightly confused. ‘Oh but aren’t you …’ She pauses, then continues haltingly, ‘I mean, you’re the police, aren’t you, sir?’
He nods. ‘We are ACP Bhavani Singh. You have met some people from our team.’
‘Yes.’ She hesitates. ‘Sir, you can only shop here with a DTC card. We can’t accept cash payments.’
‘Good.’ Bhavani beams genially, not at all put out. ‘We will save some money. And not have to lug apples all the way to Kolkata.’
‘You’re going to Kolkata just now?’ Her large eyes grow scared. ‘Why?’
Now what is there about Kolkata to scare this girl? Or is she scared about something else?
‘To meet your friend Bambi ji’s ex-fiancé’s family.’ He explains genially. ‘But before that we just wanted to chat with you – ask how you were.’
Ganga grows pale and seems to sway.
She says defensively, ‘I have already been questioned by your team—’
‘No, no, no.’ He shakes his head. ‘You misunderstand – we just wanted to apologize for how all this must have disrupted your life.’
Her chin rises. ‘I’m very well, thank you.’
‘And business?’
‘Is booming.’ Her sweet voice has a bitter edge. ‘Everybody wants to have a good look at the woman whose husband was murdered and buried in the kitchen garden by her jealous sixty-plus lover.’
Bhavani looks distressed. ‘We are so sorry.’
‘Not as sorry as me, I’m sure,’ she replies. ‘My parents live in a small town in east UP, and even they have seen pictures of my husband and me in the newspaper! I may not have great social standing and status like the people who are members of this club, but I do have a small circle of relatives and customers! What am I supposed to say to them?’
‘We’re so sorry,’ Bhavani repeats
. ‘We didn’t realize …’
‘Why should you?’ she says bitterly. ‘I’m not a particularly important person, why should I be on your radar?’
‘The police exists to protect everybody, not just VIPs,’ Bhavani replies, genuinely stung by this remark. ‘Those journalists had no business printing your wedding photo. Especially when nothing has actually been proved yet! That the body is hundred per cent your husband, Ajay Kumar, we mean! Perhaps he will see the news in the paper and phone you?’
Ganga snorts. ‘Not a chance! If anything, he will stay in hiding if it means making me suffer!’ She throws up her hands as she speaks, hitting the lapis lazuli bowl full of white jasmine. It starts to spin, and she settles it, repeating, more calmly, ‘Not a chance.’
‘That is not very nice,’ Bhavani says decidedly, now leaning comfortably against the counter. ‘Waise, what kind of a person was he? We apologize for being so curious – but we have two daughters of our own, and we are interested to know why your parents married you to him if he was such a bad lot.’
She laughs bitterly. ‘Oh, Ajay Kumar knew how to put on a good act! He had a good job – assistant manager in a nice restaurant in Connaught Place – not a driver or a peon or something dead-end like that! And always smartly dressed. And spoke such good English. He impressed my family good and proper! It was only after I got to the city that I realized how jealous and suspicious he was … how violent, and moody. Bambi didi says he was a sociopath.’
‘Was he a big spender?’ Bhavani probes casually. ‘Generous with money and all?’
She shrugs. ‘Sometimes he was very generous, but sometimes he wasn’t. I couldn’t understand it. Maybe he had another wife, and he was spending on her too? Anything was possible with him, I don’t know!’
‘You depended on him for money?’
‘Initially I did. But then I got a job of my own – cleaning and cooking, a servant’s job – but I didn’t see any shame in it. I was happy doing that for a while and being independent and sending home money, but then—’ Her expressive face clouds over. ‘Then that soured as well.’ She looks up at him, her large, soft eyes kindling. ‘Is there something about me? Do I send out some signal? That it’s okay for men to prey on me?’
Club You to Death Page 26
