by Unknown
“I said he's my friend from the club, but that was just a cover.” Prahald's high pitched voice was trying to make itself heard over the din. “Things have been disappearing around the house for weeks, and I knew it was the new maid, even though I couldn't prove it. So I went to the police station for help. Aditya and Virat came down here specially to keep an eye on the party and catch the girl in the act.”
“I told you servants can't be trusted.” Kapil Chacha put in triumphantly.
“It must be her.” Rekha Mausi turned hysterically to Kusum, who was standing at the back watching the proceedings in surprised silence. “You wicked girl! Where is my necklace?”
“I don't know.” Kusum looked frightened as she looked at Prahlad and Rekha mausi. “I swear I didn't take anything. I was here the whole time.”
“Then you must have taken it earlier.” Mr. Kapoor said forcefully. “It must still be on your person. We must search her dress. Shanti, you do it.”
“I'm not letting anyone near me.” Kusum cried, raising her hands defensively. “I didn't do anything.”
“Either you cooperate with us, or we hand you over to the policemen.” Prahlad said sternly. “The choice is yours.”
Kusum sniffed, and threw a fearful glance at Aditya and Virat. Finally she allowed herself to be steered to a room accompanied by Sheetal and Rajjo chachi. The door closed, and a babble of voices rose again, the loudness redoubled in excitement. Virat suddenly reappeared next to Aditya holding a small bundle.
“What's all the commotion about?” Pammiji said testily, entering the verandah from the back of the room. She made her way slowly to the table. “I had barely managed to put the lid down when you all started shouting. Who died?”
“We've had a theft in the house, Pammiji.” Prahlad said quickly. “Rekha's necklace was stolen. We think it's your new nurse. Rekha is searching her clothes right now.”
Just then, the door of the end room reopened. “She doesn't have it.” Rekha Chachi said as she stepped out. The nurse following her out, her face stained with tears.
“Then she must have hid it somewhere.” Prahlad said forcefully. “You're not going to get away so easily. We happen to have two excellent policemen with us this time to handle the case.” He gazed hopefully at Aditya.
“But she couldn't have stolen it.” Aditya said mildly. “She was never standing anywhere close to...” Aditya tried to recall the surname of Rekha mausi but failed. “To Miss Rekha. She never had the chance to take the necklace.”
“Then where is it?” Mr. Kapoor turned to glare at Aditya.
“Here.” Virat said, holding a solid gold necklace in the air. “Also these.” He placed the bundle he was carrying on the table and opened the knot. A stream of sparkly jewellery cascaded out. He selected a ring with a green gemstone and held it out to Prahlad. “Is this the ring you lost?”
“Yes.” Prahlad said hoarsely, siezing the ring and examining it. “Where was the wicked girl hiding all her loot?”
“It's not Kusum's.” Virat said.
“The maid didn't steal the ring, Prahlad.” Aditya said quietly. He went to stand in front of Pammiji. “Your grandmother did.” He turned to face Pammiji, his expression hardening. “You're a kleptomaniac, Mrs. Kakkar. You've been filching things from your family for the last two months. It's a type of impulse control disorder that-”
“What's that?” Pammi said irritably, putting a hand up to her ear. “Speak up, young man, don't mumble.”
Aditya paused, looking nonplussed.
“You're a kleptomaniac, Mrs. Kakkar.” He repeated in a slightly raised voice.
“What?”
“A kleptomaniac.” Virat bellowed in her hear.
She glared at him. “You don't have to shout.” She said sourly. “I'm not deaf. What's a kleptwhateveryousaid?”
“Pack of nonsense.” Kapil Chacha put in. “People don't start stealing because of a disease.”
“And who made you the expert on brains?” Rajjo aunty demanded. “You're a policeman.”
“I'm a criminal psychologist.” Aditya felt his sense of irritation rising.
The babble of the family rose again. Prahlad gestured to them urgently, and the two rose and headed for the door front door.
“That'll take some time to die down.” Prahlad panted once they had exited the house. “But I'm very grateful for your help, inspectors. This has helped explain so many things. We'll need to keep a close eye on Bibi from now on. But I still can't believe it! We've known Pammiji our whole lives. She was never like this before.”
“My guess is it's a side effect of the trauma from the car accident.” Aditya said. “According to her nurse it was shortly afterwards that your grandmother started displaying the signs related to kleptomania. Substance abuse. Depression. Bulimia. The period before a kleptomaniac steals something she gets restless. Antsy. Just like your grandmother was today. She'd seen the necklace and decided she wanted it. So we kept an eye on her. We saw her slip it off when she was playing the guessing game with Miss Rekha. Virat followed your aunt back to a cupboard near her room where she hid her loot. We wanted to wait till we got a quiet moment alone with you to return the stolen items, but then your relatives discovered the theft, and we got sidetracked. So, Mr. Kakkar, we've recovered the article whose theft you called us here to investigate. But this matter is far from over. Bottomline is, your mother is far more psychologically disturbed by the accident than you had realised. She'll need to talk to a psychiatrist as soon as possible.”
“She will. I'll make sure of it.” Prahlad nodded vigorously. “But I hope you understand, my aunt isn't really a bad person.”
“Of course not.” Aditya nodded. “She needs medical attention, not a police inquiry.”
“And I'm so grateful for your help today.” Prahlad beamed. “Now we can stop suspecting that excellent nurse. I owe that poor girl an apology for accusing her in front of the whole family like that and being so harsh with her.”
Just then Rajat came running out to them. “Pammi's asking for them.” He panted, pointing at Aditya and Virat.
The two looked at each other in surprise. They followed Rajat and Prahlad back into the house where the noise had grown louder than ever. Pammiji sat at the head of the table. There was no hint of guilt or embarrasement on her face as she looked them over.
“Bring them in.” She called out. “They're very silly sometimes, and they've got everyone in a bother about a silly little misunderstanding. But they're decent boys. And they're not going to leave my birthday party with empty stomachs. Now let's celebrate Sheetal's journey to getting her Phd. The first woman in the family who'll be qualified to do something other than gossip and complain about the maid.”
Aditya and Virat gathered around the table along with the slightly bemused family members. Sheetal was beaming. Plates piled with food were passed around by the helpers.
Virat leaned in to whisper to Aditya. “You know, of all the hardened criminals we've met, I think I like Pammiji the most.”
Chapter 8: A Murderish Feeling
A month later, there was still no sign of Satbir, and many of the other leads Aditya had unearthed were drying up. He had known he would not be able to keep his investigations unnoticed forever, and it seemed X was now waking up to the realisation that there was someone on his tail. For the moment Aditya decided to lie low and concentrate on consolidating his cover at the police station.
One night he was walking back to Virat's apartment with eggs and bread. The hunt for a separate apratment for him had discontinued since the last overpriced room they had inspected a week ago. He and Virat had come to an unspoken agreement to continue with their current living arrangement for the time being.
Evening had fallen, and night was approaching rapidly as Aditya strolled through the quiet street. In the distance, he saw Junaid walking down the road holding a small bundle of clothes at his side. He was an elderly man who owned a small tailor shop at the corner of Mukherjee Nagar. He al
so ran a small laundry and did various other odd jobs around the colony.
Junaid had been studying the ground as he walked, but now he looked up and saw Aditya. He stopped and stared. He seemed to be undergoing some internal struggle, gazing dumbly at Aditya for a long moment.
Aditya grinned and gave him a small wave. The greeting seemed to galvanise Junaid into action. He began to make his way towards Aditya.
“Late night call?” Aditya inquired as Junaid walked up to him.
“Yes, bhaiyaji, Mrs. Kambli from House no. 289 wanted her son's school uniform washed and pressed for tomorrow.” Junaid said, falling into step beside Aditya.
“289. That's the house with the little son, right?” Aditya asked, and Junaid nodded. “What's that smell?” There was a pungent odor in the air around Junaid.
“They've just had Raju over to spray insecticide around the house for dengue. Some of the smell got in the clothes they want washed.”
“That'll take a while to come out.” Aditya remarked. “Well, I have to get back to my room, so...”
“Bhaiyaji,” Junaid began, then stopped.
Aditya glanced at him. “Are you all right?”
They had walked under a streetlamp, and for the first time Aditya got a good look at his companion. The elderly man looked distinctly worried. His forehead, lined with age, was furrowed in thought. He was gazing at Aditya with a mixture of confusion and fear.
“Is something wrong?” Aditya spoke again.
“Bhaiyaji... you see... I think...” The man looked hunted. He was clutching the bundle at his side nervously as he looked up and down the street.
“We'll be here all night at this rate.” Aditya said patiently. “I won't bite. What did you want to say?”
“I think there's been a murder in house no 289.” Junaid's eyes gazed at Aditya with unwavering earnestness, beseeching him to be taken seriously.
* * *
“So, why exactly are we here?” Virat asked, stifling a yawn as he walked down the stairs from their apartment beside Aditya.
“We're checking up on what Junaid told me.” Aditya replied. “We're just taking a casual stroll over to House 289 to make sure everything is in order.”
“A truck driver yesterday told me to go to hell for honking at him. Think we should follow his advice, too?”
“Funny.” Aditya sighed. “Look, you weren't there. Something had definitely disturbed him. He didn't say who was murdered or who was doing the murdering, but if the family is in some sort of danger, we should check up on it.”
“This would be easier if we knew the people.” Virat said. “But I don't. Whenever I see them on the street I just smile and nod and move on.”
“We just have a quick look around, make sure everything is as it should be, and then leave. It'll only be five minutes.”
They reached house no 289. It was a modest but well kept house, with a eucalyptus tree growing near the solid steel door. Everything looked peaceful and normal, save the pungent smell of insecticide still lingering in the air.
“Looks a bit calm for a crime scene.” Virat observed.
“Lets see if we can change that.” Aditya knocked loudly on the steel door.
There were sounds of footsteps, and an attractive woman in her early thirties opened the door. She stared at them in surprise.
“Good evening.” Aditya said brightly. “We're your neighbours from across the street. We live in Hakikat appartments. I'm Aditya and this is Virat.”
“Of course.” The woman nodded to Virat. “Can we help you?”
“Well, we just wanted to introduce ourselves.” Aditya said, still with the bright smile. “Virat told me he doesn't know any of his neighbours, and that seemed really strange to me. In Allahabad, where I'm from, we knew all the people who lived nearby, and could always count on their help in an emergency.”
“My father's from Allahabad, too.” The woman said. Her expression was slowly becoming less wary. “And I quite agree, we should all be more neighbourly. Delhi such a big place, and everyone is so suspicious of each other.”
“Tell me about it.” Aditya chuckled. “We're police officers. We have to work with suspicious individuals all the time.”
“You're police officers?” The woman finally seemed to drop her guard as she smiled at them. “I had no idea! I'll sleep easier tonight knowing we have two police officers living in our colony. Would you like to come in and meet my husband?”
“We'd love to!” Aditya said. Virat had contributed nothing to the conversation so far except smiling in an ingratiating manner, and he now made his way awkwardly into the house after Aditya.
The woman led the way inside. They moved through a tiny kitchen and into the living room, where a man on a couch near a glass table.
Mr. Kambli rose when he saw the visitors. He was a handsome man in his late thirties, and his keen, dark brown eyes swiwelled from Aditya to Virat in surprise.
“This is Virat and Aditya from Hakikat apartments.” Mrs. Kambli said. “They wanted to drop by and say hello.”
“Pleased to meet you.” The man said politely. But his eyes were wary as he stared at the two.
A door at the back opened, and a little boy came in, holding a remote controlled car. “What's going on?”
“Hey, I'm Aditya.” Aditya said smiling at him.
The child studied him solemnly for a moment. “I know you. Payal didi told me. You're with the police.” His father, who had been fidgeting in the back, started violently and his eyes darted from Virat to Aditya.
“That's right, we work at the police station. That's a cool car, by the way.”
“Thanks, I won it at the science congress at our school this afternoon. I made a baking soda volcano, and I won third prize, even though I spilled the soda on my uniform.” The child held his trophy up proudly. “So do you two have a gun? Can I come to the station with you two someday? I've always wanted to see a jail! Do you get badges and a tazer?”
“Aarush!” His father's voice was raised. “How many times have I told you not to badger strangers with your questions? And I told you to leave the car in the box until you finish studying for your exam.”
“But the exam's two weeks away.” Aarush sounded aggreived with the unreasonableness of adults. “Why can't I just play with it a little tonight? I want to make sure it works properly.”
“Stop arguing and get back to your books. Now!” Mr. Kambli's gaze was stern and unbending. Aarush sighed and went back to his room, closing the door with a bang.
“I'm glad you dropped by.” He said, turning to Aditya. His eyes did not seem to bear out his statement. “You should come over some day for dinner. Right now, of course, it's too late to prepare food for extra-”
“Is this for a charity?” Aditya interrupted, picking up a flyer lying on the glass table.
“It's something my office is organising.” Mr. Kambli said, taking the flyer firmly out of his hand and placing it back on the table.
“We'd love to donate something, too.” Aditya said brightly.
“Thank you, but it's for the employees only.” Mr. Kambli was taking steps back to the front door. “Now, as I was saying, thank you for the visit, but we have to get to our dinner. It's been a long day for all of us, so if you'll excuse us...”
There was nothing to do but leave. The two bid goodbye to Mrs. Kambli, who gave them a small, slightly apologetic smile.
“Man, that was awkward.” Virat remarked as the two made there back from the house. “More awkward than the high school field trip when I went to the restroom, and had to pee standing next to my history teacher. But I hope you're satisfied? A pretty normal setup. Father, mother, son, All safe. The father might be a bit of a dick for not letting his kid play with the car, but no sign of violence or danger. All that's happened is we've missed the first fifteen minutes of Kung Fu Hustle because Junaid suddenly decided he had ESP.”
