“But your sister didn’t want the money. You could have persuaded her, given her more time to think about things.”
“As I said, she sometimes pretended that she didn’t want father’s money. Said that she had good reasons for rejecting it. She also claimed that she had ways of earning money herself. But what she sold would not make her what she wanted quickly enough, and Vani was an impatient girl.”
I asked, “Did you feel no pity for this sister that you loved, no remorse, no shame…?”
“Pity, shame, guilt, fear…even love, are all terms we use to conceal how attached we are to our personalities. Unless we can get detached from ourselves, we are doomed never to understand why stars move or what initiated the explosion that started the universe. Only the moment exists, the act. The victim is not superior to the murderer.”
At last I was able to find out something that had been bothering me for a long time. “Why did you not kill me as well?”
“If you had woken up, I would have had to. But as it was, you were asleep under Vani’s body. And I had ensured that both of you slept well. I knew that Vani spiked the semolina with Benedictine. I added several helpings of valium to the Benedictine at home so you could both sleep well. And die without pain.” He chuckled.
I thought again of how I saw Vanita and me, of the sky-goddess Nut lying over the body of her lover, the earth-god Geb, remembering as I did Vanita’s voice on the tape. “I will protect you with my body, keep it snugly around you, so no one can harm you.” I thought again of my shame at not waking to defend my love the way that Lip Bin and Stella had, and felt absolved of guilt. It was valium not indolence that had caused me to sleep.
I would have stayed with my thoughts but Mohan was speaking, leaving me no time for reminiscing. “It was clearly not the moment to kill you.”
“And you, of course, live from moment to moment?”
“If you will only admit it, you will see that we all do.”
“Killing the other people, the young couple and the two girls, that was all right too?”
“Once one sees the path, one closes one’s eyes and follows it, unfettered by sentimental rubbish like the value of life. Life and death are both part of the Universal consciousness and one, therefore, cannot be superior or inferior to the other.” He sighed contentedly. “If I was convicted of murder, my sister’s death would have been for nothing. It was necessary therefore that the four died to throw suspicion off me.”
“But they had nothing to do with your problems. They were innocent, Mohan.”
“We are all innocent, just as we are all guilty. We find the road laid out for us and walk along it. The only immorality is to deny the existence of the road.”
A plane, its headlights streaking the sky, came in from the west and began its descent. The sea was silent and the hum of jet engines was the only sound in the air.
“Why was it necessary to kill your father?” I added as an afterthought. “You did kill him, didn’t you?”
Mohan was silent. He seemed to be listening to the noise of the aircraft. He waited till this had quite faded away before speaking.
“Our father announced, after the so-called raising of Vani’s spirit, that, though she was gone, the money would be dedicated to her through the power of Kishore. He was going to put the family fortune in the hands of that crook. I had no choice but to kill him; I had to do this before father had a chance to change the will in Kishore’s favour. The existing will left all to Vani but, with her and father dead, I, as the only surviving member of the family, would inherit. Father was talking about going to a lawyer with Kishore on Monday. You know what that would have meant?”
It seemed as good a time as any, and I told Mohan about Vanita’s tape diary, and how Kishore had known so much about her personal life, and what her voice was like.
“Thank you, How Kum. I see the whole plan now. What he did not reveal at the first session would be revealed at later seances. And once faith was established, he would simply invent things as he needed to.” I was quite sure that Mohan was smiling to himself. “Perhaps I should have killed Kishore instead of father but then the old man would have only replaced him with some other crook, and the whole thing would start all over again.” He was silent. “No, How Kum, I did things in the way that my own dharma demanded and I was not wrong to act as I did.”
Somewhere in the darkness, a ship began to move, initiating the flurry of waves that crashed on to the beach.
“What made you get in touch with me, Mohan?”
“You were the only one who might understand. I have expounded my views to you and you seemed sympathetic. Even though you were so carnally attracted to my sister, I do not think you are sitting in judgement over me. It is good for a man like you to know the truth.”
“But that is not the only reason for your seeing me?”
He breathed deeply before speaking. “No. There is a more practical reason. My father suspected that I had a hand in Vani’s death. Last night, he had a long session with Kishore. After it was over, he called me to his room and accused me to my face. He knew I was not at home on the night I had to kill the two girls and, all in all, guessed how I was throwing the police off the scent.”
“Did he threaten to expose you to them?”
“Not directly. I knew, however, that I would never be safe as long as father knew and Kishore was around. Last night, father went on and on about killing one’s flesh and blood. I tried to explain that it was he, in fact, who was responsible for his beloved daughter’s death. If he had not disinherited me, if he had been true to custom, none of this would have happened. But his mind was too poisoned by Kishore’s nonsense to understand true causality. Karma eludes those who are tied to the imperatives of this world. As father went on and on about Vani’s death, he worked himself into a kind of rage I have never seen him in. Suddenly, a man who had never struck me, even when I was a child, began to scream and slap. I knew then that he was out of his mind and would not be guided by reason. We struggled and, as we did, the lights went out. I was behind him. Both my palms were round his neck. I pushed down a little, not strongly the way I had to do with the girl. I was only trying to frighten him, to show him how strong I was through yoga. Then I heard a crack and he went limp in my hands.
“There was nothing I could do. No one would believe that, though it was necessary for our father to die, I had not intended to kill him then.” A cool breeze began blowing in from the sea and I heard Mohan sigh against it.
“Why are you telling me all this? I only wanted to know about Vanita.”
“There is something I need to know from you.”
“What is it?”
“When I knew that father was dead, I decided to make it look like he hanged himself. I had some difficulty in stringing him from the fan as I had to do this in complete darkness. But I have doubts that the deception was successful.” He paused before asking, “The police inspector in charge of this case is in touch with you. Has he said anything about father’s death?”
The man was guilty not only of killing Vanita but five other people. All I had to say was that D’Cruz was convinced that Sundram had committed suicide. Mohan would have returned home and justice would have been done.
I said, “No, Mohan. The inspector knows that your father’s neck was broken before he was strung up.”
“So he must suspect me.”
“He knows that you are the murderer. I thought so myself after we had dinner together.”
“What shall I do?”
“There is nothing else you can do except give yourself up. Singapore is small and well policed. There is nowhere you can hide.”
Far away, I could hear the murmur of traffic and, if I listened very carefully, make out the sound of human voices. Both of us seemed to be listening in case they had something important to say to us.
Finally Mohan spoke. “That would not be in keeping with dharma. I have acted in all propriety and now I will have to live out the consequen
ces of my actions. I will go into hiding or find ways of leaving the country. I cannot let them hang me.”
He stood up, lifted his hand in a farewell salute, and began moving off. I did not try to stop him.
I DIDN’T SLEEP all night and at seven the next morning called Symons. It was Monday and he was in early. I told him that I wanted two weeks off work.
“It’s OK with me when you take your vacation, HK. You can fill in the necessary forms later,” he said. Then asked, “Are you ill?”
“Not really,” I replied. “Just a little depressed.”
Depression was something I resorted to when things got difficult. Right now, I felt that I had reason enough to remain locked up in my room. The love of my life was dead. I had let her murderer go free and by doing so had betrayed a policeman who trusted me. D’Cruz phoned in the afternoon. I told Ma to say that I was too ill to answer the phone. He called round in the evening but Ma stopped him at the door and informed him that I wasn’t seeing visitors. On Tuesday morning, I felt that I could no longer avoid the inspector and spoke to him on the phone.
“You OK, How Kum?” he asked. He sounded anxious.
“As well as I can be,” I replied.
“Finding the body was too much for you, uh?”
“Ozzie, I think I’ve seen more murders than my system can ever hope to deal with.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said. He paused for a while before adding, “I called to say that we have not been able to contact Mohan. I think he realises the game is up and has done a bunk.” Another pause. “Has he or any of his friends tried to get in touch?”
I took a while to say no, then added, “I don’t think he would contact me and I don’t know any of Mohan’s friends.”
“Well, you did meet a few when he took you to dinner and I thought he opened up a bit then.”
“I don’t know about opening up…”
“Enough for you to realise that he was the killer. Something a trained policeman failed to see.”
“That was just gut feeling…”
“I teach the young lads on the force that murder is always about money, and I myself screw it up by thinking of racial prejudice as a motive.”
I didn’t say anything and he went on. “It’s never sex or race, you know. It’s always cash, big dong. Cash is what makes people kill.”
The inspector’s intuition had served him well and I wondered how far it had taken him. “Why did he kill his father then?”
“Even if the old man changed the will in his favour, it could be several years before Mohan could get his hands on the dough, assuming father was allowed to die a natural death. Years in which he could give the money to somebody else, somebody like the crook Kishore. That would be reason to snuff the old bugger as fast as possible. Vanita would have inherited but she dies. Father dies soon after so the fortune winds up with Mohan who, in his eyes, should have inherited in the first place.”
I was impressed by the way the inspector had put the pieces together but wanted to test him more. “After going to the trouble of committing six murders, why is he not around to collect?”
“This bothers me, How Kum. This really bothers me.” He hesitated. “Murderers are usually arrogant. You have to be to take a life. They believe that all of us are arseholes who they can easily fool. What is more, we are dispensable and must not be allowed to get in the way of their grand design. From what you have told me about this bloke, I would say that he certainly holds all of us in contempt. Why then has he not believed that the fake suicide has not fooled the dumb police inspector?”
I seemed to have lost control of my tongue and I heard myself say, “Perhaps someone warned him.”
“No one could have, big dong, because, apart from the forensic boys, you are the only one who knows that it was not suicide but murder.” He waited for me to speak and, when I didn’t, said, “Therefore, I asked if Mohan had been in contact. If he had been, you could have said something that indicated I was on to him.”
“Like what?”
“Like forgetting to offer condolences at his father’s suicide or even just asking in a too anxious voice why he had not been in touch.”
I was relieved that Ozzie didn’t suspect me of treachery. I feared that if I continued talking, I would give myself away. “No. He’s not tried to contact me.”
“Call me at 2227534 as soon as he does. It’s a twenty-four-hour keep-in-touch number. Someone there will always know exactly where I am.”
“I will,” I said and hung up quickly.
He phoned several times over the next six days. I didn’t trust myself to take his calls and got Ma to say that I was asleep or too low to speak to him. I told her to assure him that Mohan had not been in touch.
After a few days I did, in fact, begin to feel depressed. I lay in bed all day and stared at the wall or the ceiling. Vanita’s ghost was no longer around and I knew she was truly gone forever.
Perhaps, I should have been relieved. Now I could relegate her to the kingdom of the dead and begin building memories of my beloved which I could keep for the rest of my life; begin to fashion pictures that would make the world mine again. I wanted very much to do so. But the ceiling-fan refused to become a merry-go-round that provided the coolness of movement, the voices I heard through thin walls were meaningless mumbles which told me no secrets. I listened to the tape again and again but my heart remained empty.
I heard Oscar talking to Ma. “It’s the realisation that the girl is really dead, Lili. That has only just hit the poor boy. Let him alone and he will in slow stages become himself again. Brandy helps but I don’t think he will use it.”
Poor Oscar, I thought, with the part of me that remained outside my depression. I wondered if he would still think kindly of me if he knew that I had allowed a mass murderer go free, and even assisted him by giving him information which only the police had? And Ma. What would she feel about her son, her little boy, who allowed the man who murdered the woman he loved to go free? She would, I suspect, have thought me as callous as my father. Perhaps I was like him, with the added advantage of being literally a bastard.
There was no one I could turn to for I had isolated myself from the world. A week went by, and the next. Then on the Sunday, exactly four weeks after Vanita’s death, Jafri phoned. “Ozzie says you’ve gone into purdah,” he said, laughing. His voice had its familiar, confident ring.
“I’m not a Muslim, I’m not a woman, and I don’t wear a veil. I’m just tired and sad, Jafri.”
“Too tired and sad to have tea with an old friend.”
Suddenly, I was afraid. Perhaps Zainah had told him what had happened on their living-room couch and Jafri wanted to have things out with me. “Zainah as well?”
“No. Zainah is having a little stomach trouble. Vomiting for the slightest thing.”
“Oh.”
“No need to ‘Oh’.” He laughed. “She’s just slightly pregnant.”
It wasn’t just relief that I felt. It was a wild happiness. The world was coming right again. I could feel my depression lifting. Vanita had loved me, had taught me to love, died for it and had done things that only she could do for love. What were justice and truth beside this?
I agreed to meet him a little after six that evening at a restaurant on Mount Faber.
Mount Faber is a low hill which, because of Singapore’s flatness, is looked upon as a mountain. It stands at the southern tip of the island and overlooks the harbour. From where we sat, I could see the ships, which came right up against the land and seemed close enough to touch. Looking to the east, towards East Coast Park, I could see dozens more, waiting their turn to dock, and, behind these, were the Indonesian islands. Further away was the horizon, the edge of the world from which ships came and over which they went.
In the west, the sun was beginning to settle, and it was cool enough for tea to be enjoyable.
“Ozzie is worried about you. Zainah too when she’s not busy vomiting. Ozzie fears you may
go into a deep, irreversible depression.”
“I have been depressed, Jafri.”
“About Vanita not being around?”
“That and other things.”
“I’m a Muslim, How Kum. If nothing else, my religion teaches me to accept death and incorporate it into the fabric of life. I know it’s no use telling you that you will find someone else…and I hope very soon.” He looked sideways at me.
“Zainah says you are badly in need of a woman’s company.” He allowed himself a cryptic smile. “But you say that something else bothers you.”
“I’ve done a terrible thing, Jafri.”
“Do you think getting involved with Quincy was something of which I am excessively proud?”
“What I’ve done is more terrible. Much, much more terrible.”
“Tell a battle-scarred lawyer like me. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”
“I let Vanita’s murderer go free.”
“I am already relieved. I wondered what I would say if you told me that you were the murderer.” He smiled to let his worry lines relax before asking, “Was the murderer responsible for all the deaths?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I think you should start at the beginning and tell me everything.”
I did, with a growing sense of relief. Jafri didn’t interrupt to ask questions or obtain details. He merely tilted his head or raised an eyebrow. When I had finished he said, “Well, that makes you a criminal too.”
“Only morally.”
“I don’t know too much about morals. I do know about legality and you are a criminal in the eyes of the law. You are an accessory after the fact.”
“Oh God.”
He patted my shoulder. “There’s no need to think of it as a terrible crime. From what you have told me, Ozzie D’Cruz is, after a fashion, in the same boat as you, though in his case it was fifteen years after the event, whereas in yours,” he looked at the date on his watch, “it is exactly four weeks. Nevertheless, the crimes are legally very similar.”
Moonrise, Sunset Page 25
