3 and a Half Murders: An Inspector Saralkar Mystery

by Salil Desai

  “We need to prepare for both possibilities,” Inspector Hegde said as the four police officers conferred on a con-call. PSI Motkar and Murgud’s boss sat beside him while Senior Inspector Saralkar was at the other end of the line, three hundred kilometres away in Pune. “If Anushka Doshi agrees to meet Dr. Dhingra at his clinic in Goa then it might be simpler. We set up a police team at the clinic, in wait for Anushka to show up. Meanwhile we send Murgud to the farmhouse where he is let in by the two caretakers. Then our police team follows, makes them surrender with Murgud’s help and releases Geeta Chaudhari. Ditto, if Anushka calls Dhingra to some other location. On the other hand it’s going to be very tricky if Anushka calls Dhingra to the farmhouse in Dharwad. She will then have two hostages instead of one. Assuming we send in Murgud and surround the farmhouse, how do we know for sure Anushka and the two henchmen will surrender without a fight?”

  Saralkar, seated in his office in Pune, grunted into the receiver. “True.” He refrained from mentioning that what was really giving him the jitters was the third possibility of Anushka Doshi simply turning down Dhingra’s proposal. Then they would be left with no option but to plan a rescue operation within hours.

  “What do we know about the couple at the farmhouse? Are they history sheeters or just petty criminals?” he asked.

  “Not comforting at all,” Hegde replied. “Both the man and woman have a record of violent crimes. But Murgud says they’ll do exactly what he tells them to.”

  “Including surrendering meekly and getting arrested if there is a police raid?” Saralkar asked sceptically. “I doubt that.”

  “Mm . . . I am also not all that sure after seeing their records.”

  Motkar interjected. “The two also have arms with them, sir. Two country-made revolvers at least, Murgud told us.”

  “That’s bloody great,” Saralkar grumbled. “Is that guy Murgud just bloody rotten or also crazy to supply gun toting henchmen to a murderer for a crime like this? It can’t be just money.”

  “Everything in this case seems bizarre, Saralkar, and everyone sounds crazy,” Hegde replied. “I mean this guy Sodhi undergoes sex change, becomes a woman and lives as Anushka Doshi with Bhupathi as husband. Later she suddenly wants to reverse the change and wants to become a man again, so she kills Bhupathi and another woman to pass off as herself. Then she kidnaps her doctor’s paramour to force him to conduct an impossible reversal surgery. It’s too twisted even for someone like me who’s seen it all. And to top everything, a police officer is involved neck deep in the crimes.”

  Saralkar took a deep breath. It was now time to take them into confidence and lay bare his startling conjectures and conclusions. “That’s not all, Hegde,” he said. “There’s still something Murgud hasn’t told you.”

  “What?”

  “That it wasn’t Shaunak Sodhi who underwent sex change to become Anushka Doshi. It is Rahul Fernandes who transformed into Anushka Doshi. It was Shaunak Sodhi who was killed by his partners Fernandes and Bhupathi all those years ago. It was Sodhi’s body you found with its head severed. So it’s Rahul Fernandes we are dealing with.”

  There was a bewildered silence on the con-call for a few seconds, as if the three cops in Belgaum had collectively held their breaths or had the plugs pulled out of them.

  “Anushka Doshi is actually Rahul Fernandes?” Inspector Hegde repeated slowly, grappling with the new information. “How do you know? Did Sherly Fernandes tell you this?”

  “No. She doesn’t know Rahul is alive and exists as Anushka Doshi today. What she confirmed was that Rahul Fernandes married her to use her as a guinea pig.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, it’s bloody convoluted. Can I explain later? There are a lot of conjectures and leaps of reasoning from my side as of now. Only when we have Anushka Doshi in hand can we get the whole picture,” Saralkar said. “But I am quite sure of one thing. And that’s that we are after Rahul Fernandes not Shaunak Sodhi, who’s long dead.”

  He knew it must sound unsatisfactory to his colleagues in Belgaum and they would be itching to ask more questions. Mercifully his cell phone rang at that moment. “Just hold on, Dhingra is calling on my cell.”

  He took Dhingra’s call, listened to what the doctor said, asked a few questions and gave instructions.

  “We’re on,” he relayed to the Belgaum team after completing the call. “Dhingra says Anushka Doshi has agreed to come and meet him at his Goa clinic tomorrow morning. Let’s get started with the preparations.”

  “Okay. In that case, Murgud should be getting a call from Anushka any moment now,” Hegde responded. “Are you going to Goa, Saralkar, to nab Anushka when she shows up at Dhingra’s clinic?”

  “Yes,” Saralkar replied. “Anushka Doshi alias Rahul Fernandes.”

  Anushka Doshi combed his hair. She’d dreamed of having long tresses but even now they were barely shoulder length, something she’d managed to grow even as Rahul Fernandes. She kept the comb down, picked up the lip gloss and began applying it on his lips.

  Bitterness seared through her soul as she looked at his face in the mirror. He should’ve known she would never completely look feminine or pretty. Rahul peeped out from too many features. The threaded eyebrows were feminine but not the eyes. The lips were luscious and full like a woman’s but the tent shaped nostrils above far from delicate. The less said about her body the better.

  Life had duped him, playing an almighty hoax—deceived him into believing that he could lead a life as a person he was not born as merely by making changes to his body and become the she he had always felt frolicking inside him. Well, the body had not become the organ he’d wanted it to become. The only music it made was off-key—no harmony, no melody, just an unbearably hair-raising, screeching sound, like the scratching of nails on a slate.

  If he couldn’t be Anushka Doshi, he wanted Rahul Fernandes back. She didn’t know why, just as he hadn’t known why he had desired to become a woman earlier. It was some compelling, unstoppable impulse that ran riot through his mind and body. Then and now! It was ruthless in its desire, even manic. He’d killed before for it, she’d killed even now, and it would make him kill again if forced to. It couldn’t be thwarted. A heart wants what it wants! And if it knew it wasn’t going to get what it desired, it could also be vengeful.

  Someone had to pay. Someone always paid. Sometimes, the not-so-innocent like Shaunak Sodhi and Bhupathi and sometimes the completely innocent like Meenakshi Rao and Geeta Chaudhari!

  Anushka took one last look at himself in the mirror, then opened her bag to double-check the contents. Everything she needed for that one last gamble was packed—money, clothes, documents for Anushka Doshi as well as for Rahul Fernandes. She zipped it up and walked across to the next room for one interface with his victim.

  Geeta Chaudhari cringed and shrank pitiably on her bed. Pain and fear were the only two emotions that coursed through her veins now. Everything else had been drained out since the previous night when Meenakshi alias Anushka had suddenly appeared next to her, surgical knife in hand. Before she had even realized what was happening, Geeta had felt the sharp blade slice through her firm flesh, twice, in quick succession. The raw agony had been indescribably excruciating as the blood spurted out and she lost consciousness.

  She had woken up some time later, her fresh wounds throbbing and hurting like hell under the two bandages covering them. The searing pain had continued all night with her muffled moans as the only antiseptic against the skewering of flesh and numbing fear.

  “Don’t worry, Geeta. I just came to say bye,” Anushka Doshi said with menacing pleasantness. “I am going to meet your lover now. I hope he can make me happy for your sake. I can’t remain unhappy all my life and let others remain happy, can I?”

  She paused and regarded her terrified victim, running her eyes over Geeta, lingering and lascivious. “Sorry if that hurt a little last night, but I’ve got a right to be a little spiteful. Let’s see if your lover can fix that f
or you since he’s supposed to be such a great cosmetic surgeon. I’d love to see the look on his face when he sees my handiwork. Maybe he might like your lopped off looks?”

  Anushka winked and grinned. “You never know, Geeta. Men are so kinky. I’m keeping these as mementoes.” She held up the two soft, button-like pieces of pinkish, brownish flesh she’d sliced from Geeta the previous night.

  Geeta held her breath, too paralysed by fear to think. What was Anushka going to do to her how? That was the only question drumming in her mind.

  “Oh and one last thing,” Anushka Doshi said coming closer. The movement made Geeta’s flesh creep, and when she saw Anushka’s hand emerge from behind, holding a syringe and a needle, her heart beat like a machine gone crazy.

  Anushka had given her two injections earlier. Both had generated weird sensations in her body. She tried to plead desperately by shaking her head. But Anushka Doshi had already jabbed the needle into her, with no effort whatsoever to minimize the pain. The needle sunk into Geeta’s flesh.

  “This might pain, just a bit,” Anushka Doshi said with relish as she pumped a final dosage of malice and venom into Geeta’s body.

  “Saralkar, Anushka Doshi has just left the farmhouse in a white taxi, Karnataka registration. Our plain-clothes team will be tailing her in another taxi but we don’t want to make her suspicious,” Hegde intimated Saralkar.

  “That’s fine. I am relaying the cab details to the Goa Police. They’ll start tailing her when she crosses the state border,” Saralkar replied. “I just hope the rescue operation of the hostage goes off without any snags. You don’t think Murgud has any last-minute trick up his sleeve, do you?’

  “I don’t think so, Saralkar. What’s he going to do? Enter the farmhouse under our watch and then join the goons? Threaten to kill Geeta Chaudhari if we don’t allow him safe passage?” Hegde asked, articulating Saralkar’s precise fears. “I doubt Murgud’s that crazy. He knows if he helps us he has a chance of turning prosecution witness and getting a light sentence. If he does anything else, he’s gone. No, don’t worry on his count.”

  “Okay. All the best. Let me know once it’s done,” Saralkar replied, still unable to share Hegde’s confidence. He disconnected. There were nearly three hours to go for Anushka Doshi’s scheduled meeting with Dr. Dhingra. Preparations were in place. He had tutored Dr. Dhingra on how to handle Anushka, what to say, and how to draw her into incriminating herself. He had told the doctor about what to do in case Anushka Doshi became violent or aggressive or happened to be armed. The Goa Police team would, of course, be close at hand to deal with the situation but he wanted to ensure that Dr. Dhingra didn’t say the wrong things or act in a way so as to endanger himself.

  Rahul Fernandes alias Anushka Doshi had so far shown himself to be wily, dangerous, and unpredictable. It was best to expect the unexpected while dealing with him, rather her.

  His mobile pinged. It was a message from his wife. ‘You could’ve at least taken me to Goa with you. Have fun.’ A smiley followed. Instead of lightening his mood, he felt irritated. No bloody fun, he wanted to respond.

  His head had been throbbing all morning, probably the after-effect of the overnight journey to Panjim from Pune. He wondered if he could ask Dr. Dhingra for a pill to set it right. Even gender reassignment specialists were bound to know enough basic medicine to cure a headache.

  Just as he began striding towards the doctor’s chamber, Saralkar suddenly felt giddy and for a second everything went black, as if someone had just shut off all daylight. He was ambushed by a frightening sense of disorientation, as if he was hurtling down a great height—free falling all the way. Saralkar desperately tried to open his eyes and re-focus but the blackness cloaked him again. He heard a thump, then realized that it was the sound of his own body slumping and hitting the floor. Pain shot through his right side which had taken the impact. He heard voices and exclamations. Somebody called out his name, probably one of the Goa police constables.

  He briefly opened his eyes but everything was swaying and swimming around, so he shut them again instantly. Saralkar felt himself being lifted by a few hands and transferred to the doctor’s examination table. Even as the giddiness continued gripping him, he felt incredibly angry and foolish for having made a spectacle of himself like that.

  Next, he heard Dr. Dhingra’s voice addressing him, even as he felt the stethoscope lightly press against different spots on his chest. His pulse was also being taken simultaneously. Then he heard the familiar ripping of Velcro, an armband being wrapped around his upper arm and the sphygmomanometer being pumped for taking his blood pressure readings. The rapid tightening and loosening on his arm followed twice in quick succession.

  The swaying and swimming had ceased now, so Saralkar opened his eyes gingerly. Apart from Dr. Dhingra, the faces of Goa Police personnel stared down at him. Saralkar felt his humiliation was complete.

  “Do you have a history of hypertension, Inspector Saralkar?” Dr. Dhingra asked grimly.

  “Not really,” Saralkar lied instantly, then added, “although a couple of days ago it was slightly high.”

  “Are you on any medication?”

  Saralkar had no wish to admit he’d been advised to undergo tests, which he had been avoiding.

  “Why? What’s the problem?” he counter-questioned grimly.

  Dr. Dhingra said, “Look, your blood pressure is too high right now. We need to get it normalized. And you require bed rest.”

  Those were the precise words Saralkar didn’t want or care to hear. “Oh, come on, doctor, it can’t be all that serious,” he said gruffly. “Just give me something to lower my blood pressure, I’m okay otherwise. You know we’ve got a job to do.”

  Dr. Dhingra looked at the posse of Goa Police, then back at Saralkar. “Perhaps some other officer should handle it. You’ve already explained to me how to tackle Anushka Doshi, but I don’t think it’ll be a good idea for you to.”

  Saralkar felt enraged but just as he was about to fire back at the doctor, darkness blanketed his eyes again and the giddiness and nausea returned. “Okay,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed. “Do what you have to. But I need to be up on my feet again in an hour’s time.”

  Anushka Doshi alias Rahul Fernandes watched the highway zipping by. An hour to go before he entered Goa. He had been a fugitive from justice for too long now, to not have developed an unerring instinct for picking up its faintest signals. The moment Dr. Dhingra had changed his tune from insisting sex change procedures were irreversible to claiming that it could be attempted at an institute in Europe, Anushka Doshi’s sensitive antennae had sensed a false note.

  When Dhingra had offered to pay for the procedure, even arrange medical documents to support and arrange her visa applications and also accompany her, Anushka Doshi was near certain that the doctor wasn’t acting alone. Either he had got in touch with the police or with a private party, which was trying to set up a trap for her to walk into. Without prolonging the conversation, she had accepted the offer of meeting Dhingra at his clinic in Panjim.

  Anushka had then mulled the situation, getting surer by the minute that it had been a ruse—to buy time so that she wouldn’t harm Geeta.

  The confirmation came when he’d called up Murgud. He’d known Murgud long enough to know something was up from the way the cop had spoken. There had been a strained quality in his voice, pauses where there should’ve been none, as if he was parroting a script or being prompted. And most significantly he’d asked too many cautious questions— something highly uncharacteristic of Murgud.

  Moreover what had been a dead give away was when Murgud had twice told her not to harm Geeta, in the course of the conversation. That kind of overt concern was most unlike him. Right at the outset he’d warned Anushka that if Dr. Dhingra did not yield, she was free to do what she wanted to do with Geeta Chaudhari but no blood should be spilt in Karnataka state, his domain. Nor would he or the two history-sheeters help. Anushka would have to take the hostage else
where on her own and Murgud would have nothing more to do with the matter. She could release the hostage or kill her but somewhere far away in another part of the country, with no trail that could lead back to Murgud.

  It was therefore most odd that Murgud had exhorted not to harm Geeta Chaudhuri, especially when his own people were on guard at the farmhouse. And so Anushka Doshi had made the shift to Plan B, to do what he did best—disappear!

  For disappearance was the key to be free. And remaining free was a requisite to having any chance of finding some happiness in her wretched life. She permitted himself a brief smile. Thank God he had been born in Goa.

  Saralkar had been dimly aware of somebody calling out his name and shaking him gently. The voices had now become louder and the shaking considerably more vigorous. He stirred and tried to open his eyes. It was a Herculean effort, as if his eyelids had been glued together with adhesive. When they finally became unstuck, the visuals were hazy and his mind completely befuddled, wondering where he was. For a moment he felt like Rip Van Winkle, before memory began trickling back. Mercifully the world wasn’t swimming and although his head was still heavy, it felt much better. Probably Dr. Dhingra had given him a sedative and medication to lower his blood pressure.

  “Sir,” a young Goa police officer was addressing him, “PSI Motkar is on the line. He needs to talk to you urgently.”

  Saralkar noticed the officer was holding his own cell phone. He took it from the officer, without getting up, because he still wasn’t quite confident of even sitting up. “Yes, Motkar.”

  “Sir, are you feeling okay?” Motkar asked.

  Still feeling embarrassed, Saralkar replied tersely, “I’m alive, Motkar. Go on, what’s the update? Has the hostage been rescued?”