The Miss India Murders

by Gauri Sinh

  ‘Yes,’ I told her, disturbed, as I put the diary she offered me in my handbag. ‘We don’t have time, though. Nor anything to go upon …’

  ‘It will turn up,’ Parvati mused, cutting me off, before I could complete my sentence. ‘The clue. We need to go over each murder over and over again, till it does …’

  20

  Akruti

  ‘All prepared for tomorrow, girls?’ Josy Joseph’s booming voice suddenly penetrated our consciousness and conversation. So engrossed were we in our discussion that we had not noticed him in the passage leading to the elevators. With him walked our speech mentor, the self-possessed Lubaina Pervez.

  ‘As prepared as we’ll ever be,’ I said, confidently. I was, after all, expected to do well in this contest. It didn’t seem right to appear diffident now.

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ Josy said robustly, even as Lubaina watched us in speculation.

  ‘Were you called in by the police just now?’ she asked. ‘Is there progress on this situation?’

  ‘No idea,’ Parvati spoke up. ‘We aren’t being told anything.’

  ‘Are you both nervous at all?’ Josy was asking.

  ‘Well, it would be foolish to say we aren’t,’ I told him. ‘It’s the finale after all …’

  ‘Do the meditation I taught you,’ Josy said decisively. ‘The power of it is such you feel better immediately. Do it tonight. In fact, do it right now!’

  I smiled at him, thinking he wasn’t serious, but to our surprise, he was.

  ‘Both of you! Show me how you do it,’ Josy said.

  We couldn’t very well refuse our mentor, especially the popular one who had been coaching us for the better part of two and a half weeks.

  ‘You can do it standing up. Get rid of inessentials first. Physically—’

  ‘Here, let me take your things,’ Lubaina said hastily, reaching for both our handbags, unsurprised at this impromptu relaxation lesson. She had worked with Josy on this pageant for the past many years, was no doubt used to his take-charge ways.

  ‘—then mentally. Now close your eyes. Breathe …’ Josy instructed.

  Nonplussed, we did as we were told. The meditation was to be in silence, counting breaths in intervals of ten. We did this silently, our eyes closed as Josy counted for us.

  It was done in five minutes, but five minutes of inactivity can be a long time for minds in hyper-mode. I don’t know if we were able to wind down as much as Josy wanted us to, but we assured him we felt much more relaxed and he looked pleased.

  ‘Have you seen that girl, Shilpi?’ Lubaina asked us as we thanked Josy.

  ‘You mean Nina,’ I said, instantly.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ a faint line of annoyance crossed Lubaina’s face, but her brow fell back into smooth lines almost immediately. ‘I meant Nina. Have you seen her?’

  ‘No, we haven’t,’ Parvati told her. ‘Do you want us to fetch her?’

  ‘No, that’s all right,’ Lubaina said, checking her watch—our cue to exit, definitely.

  We claimed our bags from Lubaina who bade us a snappy good luck—she wasn’t one for unnecessary casual conversation out of turn, as Josy was. Her air was aloof, her pep talks reserved for her sessions alone.

  ‘Well, that was an unexpected encounter,’ I said to Parvati as we waited to hail the elevator to head to our rooms upstairs.

  Parvati didn’t answer, she just looked speculative, lost in thought. As she was being uncommunicative, my gaze wandered to the lobby, visible from the elevator area.

  And I started, because all of a sudden, I saw the same person I had seen on the lawn outside during Lubaina’s session. The man purposely dressed so as to appear nondescript, at a distance still, but nearing us now. He was walking rapidly down the lobby area coming straight to the elevators. Coming straight to us.

  ‘Parvati, look,’ I urged, turning violently to get her attention, because she was behind me. She stepped forward, but he had moved like lightning it seemed. He had entered an adjoining lift a short distance from us in that split second and the door shut unceremoniously in our faces as we raced up the stairs.

  ‘It was that man I saw!’ I told her urgently. ‘The man you felt might be a journalist. But Parvati—no journalists are allowed in this area now. And he’s used the restricted access elevator.’

  Parvati looked at me, her eyes hooded. ‘Maybe he was a plains-clothed policeman. We should concentrate on what we want to find, leave the uncertain parts of the jigsaw to the experts …’

  ‘What if no one from this contest is a murderer?’ I persisted. ‘What if it’s a complete outsider, like this person? And we’re not even telling the Addl.CP …’

  ‘Tell Mhatre you saw him, if you must,’ Parvati said curtly. ‘Either you’ll be telling him of the existence of one of his own men or it might be new information … But, Akruti—Mhatre isn’t going to share anything important with you regardless. He didn’t earlier, did he? Better we concentrate on how we can best help Tara for now, don’t you think?’

  ‘If she’s innocent, that is,’ I said brusquely. I wasn’t happy about Parvati brushing off this person just like that. And nerves for next day were also a factor, if I was being honest about it. I really wanted this crown.

  ‘Oh, she is,’ Parvati said gently. She was intuitive, guessed I was a bit cheesed off right then.

  She continued, ‘Shall we continue our methodical listing of the events so far? To try and search for something we might have overlooked or missed? It would keep your mind off the finale tomorrow. Unless you’d rather just de-stress in your room?’

  ‘No, I want to do this with you,’ I said.

  She was right, it was better for me to divert my mind from the finale. I wanted it too bad to be calm just then. Occupation with something else would help. And this something else was far bigger than the contest—darker, joyless. But I’d never been one to shy away from reality.

  ‘Give me my diary,’ Parvati said as we finally entered the elevator to go up. ‘We’ll need to write down all we discuss once again.’

  I opened my bag to hand her the book. Only I couldn’t find it.

  ‘Parvati …’ I looked up, suddenly fearful. ‘It’s not here …’

  21

  Akruti

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Parvati met my eyes with the cool-headedness that was so typical of her. ‘It has to be. Maybe you put it in a different compartment of your bag. Search again.’

  Sure enough, it was as she said. There was the diary, in the second compartment. I pulled it out, shuddering in relief.

  ‘Thought I’d lost it,’ I said, handing it to her.

  We stepped out of the elevator, to go back to my room.

  With unending good fortune, we realized Roxanne hadn’t yet returned. We had the room to ourselves.

  I put coffee to brew in the coffee maker—if we were going to be brainstorming for a bit we needed a strong fix to keep us going.

  Parvati began flipping the pages of her diary absentmindedly, as she waited for my attention.

  ‘You remind me of me,’ I said, catching her eye in the mirror in front of the coffee maker.

  ‘I do?’ Parvati looked puzzled.

  ‘Yes. Your expression—lost in thought,’ I explained to her. ‘I felt the same, I remember, while Doreen was doing my hair. She wouldn’t stop chattering … and I caught the time on the clock in the mirror facing me, just like I’m catching your eye now … and I only wanted her to finish, so I could go!’

  ‘She was being her usual self, telling me about her husband, his Dubai job, I was distracted, only half listening. Just as you now, lost in thought—only my thoughts were on the imminent swimsuit round,’ I continued. ‘But she was a well-meaning soul, y’know, for all her chatter. She was basically conveying her husband’s good will to me. He told her I was his favourite, even though he’d worked with three people in the contest before, Doreen told me. That was so sweet, I felt so bad later—’

  ‘Repeat that,’ Parv
ati has sat up straight cutting my prattle abruptly.

  ‘Repeat what?’ I asked, startled at her sudden brusqueness.

  ‘What you just said,’ Parvati’s voice was low, expectant.

  ‘… That Doreen told me I was her husband’s favourite in the contest?’ I asked astonished.

  ‘No, after that,’ Parvati’s voice had turned low and silky, that special voice she used when she knew she was onto something important.

  ‘That I was his favourite despite the fact that he’d worked with three contestants before?’ I asked, now completely at sea. ‘What’s the big deal, Parvati?’

  ‘The deal, Akruti,’ Parvati’s voice was thick, predatory. ‘Is that Doreen’s husband is a make-up artist. He works only with professional models. But you and Lajjo were the only two professional models in the contest. So who was the third contestant Doreen’s husband was supposed to have worked with?’

  I gazed at Parvati open-mouthed. That she could’ve found something of such significance in a half-remembered conversation, narrated as prattle rather than a serious attempt at fact-finding—I was overcome with something akin to awe.

  ‘Oh my God!’ I mouthed. ‘I can’t believe I remembered this only now. It’s important, so important …’

  ‘You are sure she said he’d worked with three people in this contest? Not ‘known’ them, because that could imply a general relationship, not a professional one?’ Parvati quizzed me.

  ‘Yes,’ I told her. ‘Even though I was listening absent-mindedly, my powers of retention as you know are fair …’

  ‘More than fair,’ said Parvati, looking at me with gratitude. Then her expression turned serious once more.

  ‘Someone else in this contest had modelled professionally. Someone who hid that fact for professional or other reasons. Why?’ Parvati was writing the very words she was speaking aloud to me, in her diary.

  ‘Could this person be ashamed of the kind of modelling she’s done?’ I offered. But even to me that didn’t ring right. Any professional experience gave one confidence, any publicity was good publicity in the modelling line.

  ‘Perhaps. Or then … this person bent the rules to be here. No one knew … but Doreen must have, she said so. And she must have, not because this contestant told her, but because her husband told her … he had worked with this person.’ Parvati continued.

  ‘The elusive Laddo!’ I breathed in sudden realisation. ‘The third contestant was Laddo!’

  Parvati met my eyes then, looking up from her precious diary.

  ‘Possibly, yes,’ she acquiesced. ‘And both Doreen and her husband knew the contestant fairly well, because they used a pet name no one here is familiar with.’

  ‘And no one in this contest seems to know who Laddo is …’ I added.

  ‘Either that … or we haven’t been persistent enough,’ Parvati said grimly. ‘Someone does. And we need to find them.’

  ‘You know who might have a clue?’ I suddenly had a brainwave. ‘Avi! He has worked with everyone. Even if he hasn’t, his gossip network is legendary. He wasn’t in the green room when you shouted out about that phone call for Laddo, hoping to find out her identity. He has no clue we’re even doing this, or looking for her … but he might know her.’

  ‘It is best not too many know that we’re investigating,’ Parvati’s eyes were hooded again. She thought for a moment, then appeared to have come to a decision.

  ‘But we can always ask Avi casually,’ she said. ‘In fact, better if you do it, Akruti. You know him best. Do it casually, so he doesn’t suspect anything.’

  Roxanne entered the room before we could even get down to discussing the other murders. We were running out of time, both of us were acutely conscious of the fact. We greeted Roxanne, and she shot us a curious glance before heading to the restroom.

  ‘See you later,’ Parvati’s eyes warned me to stay silent as she got up and made to leave. ‘Rest well for tomorrow.’

  ‘There is still the morning,’ I told her brightly.

  ‘Don’t put off for tomorrow what can be done today,’ Parvati mouthed the age-old homily lightly, but I knew what she meant. Parvati knew she was onto something, she meant for us to move in quickly before the track went cold. That the contest was on the morrow mattered little to her in actuality.

  Also, it seemed to me, we were working out quite a code in front of others. But would it lead to something, all this effort on the eve of what was most important to my career at least? Shouldn’t I actually be resting up for the big night to come? I knew I had to try and do both to the best of my ability. My conscience would not allow me to stop helping Parvati, even if my ego would not take a defeat at the contest kindly.

  I decided I would call Avi once Roxanne went down for dinner. I needed privacy.

  ‘Your bag is open,’ Roxanne said, as she flopped down on her bed returning from the restroom.

  With a start I realized I had forgotten to shut it earlier, rummaging about for Parvati’s diary. And I realized in her hurry, Parvati had taken her diary with her, back to her room. The very room where it went missing for a bit. I made a mental note to call her once Roxanne left the room.

  As I shut my bag, a notion, and then the surety of it came to me. I had put Parvati’s diary in a different compartment from the one I finally found it in. But my bag had been with me all along—so how then had it travelled to the second compartment from the first?

  ‘The mystery of the missing diary is nothing in comparison to the mystery of the missing Laddo,’ I said to myself, giving my head a little shake in an effort to clear it. ‘I’ll ponder over this one later. Let me get down to calling Avi first.’

  22

  Akruti

  ‘Aku!’ Avi’s voice was both firm and breathless. Only Avi could sound this way. I had called him the instant Roxanne went down for dinner. She had cajoled and coaxed and finally threatened me to go with her to eat, but I had insisted that I wasn’t hungry.

  ‘Fine—you might want to look ultra-thin by starving yourself for the big finale tomorrow, but remember, fainting for lack of adequate food intake is not an option!’ she had sniffed in defeat and flounced off.

  I had nodded indulgently at her. No matter how sarcastic Roxanne was, her kind-heartedness always shone through.

  ‘It’s been horrible, Aku. Horrible!’ Avi’s inherent penchant for the dramatic was in free flow. A stranger witnessing this side of Avi would possibly not be able to reconcile it with his grace under pressure just a few days ago. But then, Avi was a chameleon—always about the moment. And in this moment, his lament about the contest’s sullied fate demanded drama, it seemed. ‘Will this contest ever survive this scandal?’

  ‘No doubt,’ I told him drily. ‘It will be topic of conversation for years to come. But rest assured, there will be a contest every year, regardless. This is Eye India we’re talking about. Why, even this year, despite all that has happened—we’re still up for the finale. But Avi, I need you to listen. Tell me—do you by any chance happen to know a Laddo in this contest? It’s a pet name I believe …’

  ‘A Laddo?’ Avi repeated, all attention now. We had that rapport, he understood nuance to the T. ‘I don’t think so.’ I imagined him frowning in concentration at the name at the other end of the line. ‘Why is this person so important to you, Aku?’

  ‘Oh, just some message someone told me to give her, only I forgot to ask who Laddo was,’ I said airily. My response was vague to the extreme, but Avi, wrapped up in narrating his anguish about the condition of the contest, didn’t notice.

  ‘Simply awful, this state of affairs,’ he lamented. ‘Enough to give us all nightmares.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I told him, shuddering. Avi didn’t know just how much I sympathized with him on this point—my own nights had been full of foreboding. Restless, with that dark dream from a few nights ago still playing on my mind.

  ‘Listen to me, Aku,’ Avi whispered suddenly, lowering his voice. ‘Y’know the night Lajjo d
ied?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, all ears now.

  ‘I remember she had come to me before the rehearsal in the morning, saying she had a terrible stomach bug,’ Avi confided. ‘She said one of the mentors had offered to give her a natural remedy for it.’

  ‘Go on,’ I urged, realizing Avi was leading to something incredibly important.

  ‘Aku—I know she was stabbed, so this has no real relevance,’ Avi said. ‘But somehow, I got a bad feeling about this when I remembered it yesterday. Do you think I need to notify the Addl.CP? Only we had so many mentors, and I didn’t ask her which one …’

  ‘Avi, you need to tell Addl.CP Mhatre immediately,’ my mind was racing as I conveyed this. We had so many mentors … who on earth had offered to help Lajjo out that fatal day? And might it have anything to do with Parvati’s poisoning theory?

  ‘I’ve been going over it,’ said Avi, sotto voce. ‘The only logical conclusion would be Josy Joseph, because he’s the health and fitness mentor …’

  I realized Avi was right. It was the second time Josy’s name had come up as a possible suspect.

  ‘You can’t just accuse anyone, Avi,’ I said cautiously. ‘Just tell the police what you know. The rest is for them to figure out …’

  ‘I have spoken to the Addl.CP at length,’ Avi continued. ‘Several times in fact, though not about this. I only got back today, from all those Eye India meetings, anyway. Aku, there are some things the police are insisting on, about Lajjo, which baffle me, because they do not ring true.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked Avi, concentrating so hard on him I almost dropped the phone in my eagerness to listen. I did not ask him about the meetings with his bosses that he mentioned. I knew that if he had wished to share something, he would have.

  ‘They say Lajjo was under extreme stress. And was taking pills to help herself through it.’ Avi said, then added, ‘But Aku—Lajjo, over the many shows we’ve done together has never appeared stressed, no matter how high the tension. She just wasn’t that person.’