Fatal Mistakes
Page 16
‘I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in,’ she said, pronouncing each word deliberately, ‘so let me explain it to you. You think you know … some things. You think knowing those things makes you, oh, I don’t know, special somehow.’ She gave a small dry laugh. Then just as abruptly, her expression turned grim. ‘It doesn’t. It just makes you a problem.’
‘For you?’ Avantika asked.
‘Yes,’ Menaka smiled, ‘and believe me, you don’t want to be my problem.’
Her smile could have lit up a toothpaste commercial, but Avantika found it unnerving. Especially since it seemed to be utterly disconnected from the look in the woman’s eyes. That look had knives in it.
‘Is that a … Are you threatening me?’ Avantika asked in disbelief.
It was an incongruous situation to be in, sitting in a posh city suburb, being threatened by a well-dressed woman, moments after being offered confectionery.
Menaka sat back in her chair, with the air of a tigress who’s considering her menu options.
‘I’m just telling you how things work with me.’ She cocked her head again and smiled that curiously detached smile. ‘Name a price. Take some money. Keep your mouth shut.’ She threw up her hands in a carefree gesture. ‘Or don’t do any of those things and … disappear. One reads such terrible things in the papers, you know. What am I saying?’ she laughed. ‘Of course, you know. But the difference is this time, you get to choose. Which is more than what you’d have got, had you been dealing with Nalini.’
Avantika’s mind thronged with thoughts. Menaka knew Nalini was murdering people. Menaka thinks I can be bought? Or disposed of. She forced herself to take a step back mentally. Why was Menaka trying to bribe her in the first place? Or threaten her, for that matter? Threats were pointless. If you wanted someone to shut up, you shut them up. You didn’t wave a gag in front of their face. Even if the gag was made of money. She remembered the hit-man sent to stop her last year. He hadn’t danced in the shadows saying, ‘Stop, haan, or I’ll kill you.’ He’d just engineered a bike accident. No, you didn’t threaten someone with consequences, if you had the power to make those consequences happen. Not unless you were desperate. Or if you genuinely believed that the person in front of you could be scared into submission. She smiled grimly.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s say I take your offer and shut up. What about Heena? What about Nalini? You think they’ll keep quiet? Nalini brought me to the farm because she wanted to tell the world about those murders. You think she’ll just suddenly shut up now?’
Menaka shook her head in amusement as she got up from her chair. She walked to the large window behind the desk and looked out. Thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon, wiping all signs of sunlight and cheer from the world.
‘Heena is going to jail,’ Menaka said in a bored voice, ‘and jails can be very dangerous places, especially if you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut. As for Nalini …’ She shrugged. ‘She can say what she likes, nobody will believe her.’ She smiled a condescending smile. ‘Not if a major investor in the farm gets up in front of the press and denounces her for misusing the farm like that.’ She turned to Avantika with a pout of exaggerated pain. ‘The farm, which so many women had turned to as a beacon of hope.’ She sounded like she was recounting a great tragedy. ‘So many poor women, whom Nalini exploited, whose trust she broke with her misguided blah, blah, blah.’ She waved her hands contemptuously. ‘I’m not worried about Nalini. She’ll find it tough to get anyone to hear her out when they find out that she killed her own husband.’
Avantika felt like the bottom just dropped out of her stomach.
‘She what?’ she exclaimed.
‘See?’ Menaka smirked. ‘And that’s just your reaction. Can you imagine the headlines once this gets out?’
‘Is it true?’ Avantika demanded.
‘Does it matter?’ Menaka asked lightly.
Avantika frowned. Would Menaka really frame Nalini for her husband’s death? She could, of course, considering what Avantika had found in the Mumbai Daily’s archives. Unless Menaka wasn’t making up things as she went along and Nalini had in fact killed her own husband. But why would she possibly do that?
‘If what you say is true,’ Avantika tried, ‘you knew Nalini had killed her husband before you helped her set up the farm?’
Menaka laughed, another mocking laugh. The next moment, her expression turned to one of exaggerated indignation.
‘Of course not, dear,’ she said, raising a hand to her chest, as if clutching her heart. ‘I’m shocked and distraught by this brand-new information.’ She tried to pull her face into an expression of distress, without succeeding. The result was disturbing—a half-smile, struggling to break through a mask of distress, which made the woman look psychotic. ‘But despite the horrible, horrible things she’s done, I genuinely believe Nalini needs help, preferably someplace where she can no longer be a danger to herself or society. WSpot still believes in the original purpose of the farm, which was to help us build a cleaner city and offer shelter to women who need it the most. The farm shall continue to operate, once a suitable new manager is found.’
She sat back with a satisfied expression, toying with a miniature globe-shaped paperweight on her desk. She twirled it around in her hands idly, spinning it this way and that, gazing at Avantika, who found her expression incredibly familiar.
It was the expression her neighbour’s cat got on its face, when it had a mouse pinned down under a paw. Hello, friend, it seemed to say, let’s play. And by play, I mean, dismantle you limb from limb for my amusement. What usually wiped that expression off the cat’s face was a good, sharp smack on the bottom. Sometimes with a newspaper. Which was usually a rolled-up copy of the Mumbai Daily. Oh, the irony, she thought as she took a deep breath.
‘And your husband?’ she asked. ‘He doesn’t get a say in all this? Isn’t he the CEO of WSpot? Or will he not be around to object by then?’
Menaka’s smile slid off her face. She leaned forward in her chair and glared at Avantika.
‘My husband,’ she spat out the word, ‘doesn’t deserve to be the CEO. He doesn’t deserve shit. And if you’re bringing him up, then you know exactly what he is, so tell me this: where in the social justice handbook that you seem to follow, does it say that I don’t deserve justice? Or is it just poor, illiterate women? Is it only the women whose scars show up on their bodies? Only those who have nobody to turn to? Are they the only ones who deserve a shot at seeing their tormentors punished? What about the women who have been used, humiliated and betrayed—what about them? What about me? What do I get? Alimony? Sympathetic looks from my friends? An obituary for my career in the business papers? Or do you think I should thank my stars that I don’t have it as bad as the rest? Hmm? Because I have better means than them, I should just roll over, accept my fate and make way for the next Mrs Reddy?’
She leaned back in her chair, her chest rising and falling rapidly. All traces of amusement had vanished from her face.
‘Well, guess what,’ she said with a vicious sneer, ‘I do have the means and I’m done rolling over. And if you’re going to try to stop me …’ She gave a dry laugh. ‘You’re probably heading back to your office from here, right?’ She leaned forward with a scowl, her voice a menacing whisper. ‘Wanna bet you won’t reach?’
The words sent a shiver down Avantika’s spine. Maybe Menaka wasn’t threatening to hurt her at all. Maybe she was simply promising. She swallowed uneasily.
‘I’ll … need some time to think,’ she said quietly.
‘Think carefully,’ Menaka said, leaning back in her chair and toying with the globe again. ‘Hospitalization costs a lot of money these days. Funerals too.’ The globe stopped spinning in her fingers. When she spoke next, her tone was light, but the knives were back in her eyes. They gleamed. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said, as if it had just struck her, ‘how is your friend Dhruv doing? Recovered, has he?’
Nineteen
A Menaka-shaped peg had slipped into a Madam-shaped hole and all Avantika felt was a sense of restlessness, of time slipping away from her as she grasped empty-handed at thin air. Around her, trendily dressed people sat in elegant cafes having power lunches or stood around, smoking their stress away. She checked her phone, which had been on silent the entire time she had been in Menaka’s cabin. There was a single message from Uday.
Call me ASAP. I have news.
You and me both, buddy, Avantika thought. She hit the call button and waited as the call went through.
‘Avanti? Good, listen.’ Uday sounded excited. ‘I just talked to my contact at Deonar police station. Nalini admitted to everything you said in your statement. But she’s called Heena’s bluff. They’ve both been remanded to police custody by the court. One week for Heena, ten days for Nalini. The police can ask for an extension after that, if they haven’t found enough evidence.’
Avantika chewed on her lower lip, thinking.
‘They’ll both be in the same lock-up for a week?’
‘The ladies’ lock-up, yeah, but it’s not like they’ll be in the same cell or anything …’
‘I need to meet Nalini,’ Avantika muttered, almost to herself, ‘or at least get a message to her.’ She looked at her watch. It was just after two. On cue, her stomach rumbled. Bloody Menaka, she thought. The woman didn’t even have the basic decency to throw in a sandwich or two with all those threats she was dishing out. She sighed in exasperation. ‘I have to talk to this Karuna person. See if she can take me to meet Nalini. Preferably today.’
‘Oh, sure, of course Nalini will want to meet you.’ She could hear the mockery in Uday’s voice. ‘It’s not like you’ve done anything to piss her off lately. Like call the cops on her or anything.’
‘Listen, wise-ass, I’ve just been threatened with bodily injury and macarons———’
‘You what?’ Uday exclaimed.
‘Long story, I’ll fill you in later,’ she said, ‘More importantly, the shit this Menaka lady is going to try and pull? Nalini better talk to me if she wants to save her ass.’
‘Nice,’ Uday said. ‘I’d use those exact words while talking to her lawyer.’
‘I will, once I hang up on you,’ she told him ungratefully, before hanging up.
After five minutes of Googling for the right Karuna Kumar, she found an office number to dial. She told the receptionist her name was Sapna and she had information that Ms Kumar needed to hear about the Dharini Farm case. The receptionist asked her to hold and a minute later, a soft voice said, ‘Hello?’
‘Ms Kumar?’
‘Speaking.’
‘This is Avantika Pandit.’
There was a pause.
‘So you are…?’ The voice sounded wary.
‘I’m the woman Nalini Gupta drugged and brought to the farm a couple of days ago.’
‘Allegedly drugged and brought,’ Karuna corrected her. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to speak to Nalini urgently.’
There was a pause.
‘Why?’ There was genuine puzzlement in Karuna’s voice.
‘I’ve just had a …’ Avantika pursed her lips with impatience, ‘I suppose you can call it a chat … with Menaka Gujaral and she’s planning some things that could make matters worse for Nalini …’
‘Worse than being arrested for criminal conspiracy and culpable homicide?’ Karuna gave a dry laugh. ‘Ms Pandit, you’ve given a statement against my client because of which she is looking at possible life imprisonment. You’re going to have to come up with a better excuse if you want me to take you seriously.’
Avantika exhaled slowly. The phrase ‘getting on one’s last nerve’ was playing in her mind on loop. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But here she was.
‘Either I can talk to Nalini about what Menaka just told me,’ she said slowly, ‘or I can talk to you about Sachin Ghorpade’s murder. Your choice.’
Silence.
‘Look, I’m not interested in who had the man killed or why,’ Avantika said, hating herself a bit, ‘but if I don’t talk to Nalini, I might have to take an interest.’
More silence.
‘I just want to talk to Nalini,’ Avantika repeated. ‘There are things she needs to know.’
‘Fine,’ Karuna’s voice was harsh. ‘Come to Deonar police station by four. I’ll see that you meet Nalini.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Avantika said, relieved. ‘And I’m sorry about …’
The line went dead.
Twenty
The stench was much stronger this time round. Avantika took deep breaths, trying to get used to the stink of the slaughterhouse. She had read somewhere that the human nose takes three to five minutes to get used to bad odours. It felt like she had been in the police station for seventeen years now and yet, her nose continued to get assaulted by the miasma. She felt a pang of sympathy for the cops who had to work here, day in and day out.
Karuna had met her a few minutes ago, her nose covered with the pallu of her grey cotton handloom sari, and led her inside. Once inside, however, she had braved the smell with a deadpan face, talking in a low tone to the police inspector, who nodded and motioned a woman constable to lead them to the ladies’ lock-up. There were two jail cells in the lock-up, with vertical bars painted a neutral beige.
There were five or six women inside each cell. Avantika thought she recognised a surly-looking Heena squatting on the floor among the women in one cell. In the other, sitting calmly on the floor, with her back to the wall, was Nalini. She brightened when she saw Karuna approach, but her expression changed to surprise when she saw Avantika trailing behind the lawyer. She rose and approached them, standing near the bars. She was wearing the same cotton sari she’d worn the last time Avantika had seen her on the farm.
‘Avantika?’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘She wanted to talk to you,’ Karuna replied, her lips pursed in disapproval. She motioned Avantika to approach the cell, so Nalini and Avantika stood close together with just the bars between them. She herself took a few steps back to give them a little privacy. If such a thing was possible in a small space filled with at least a dozen other women. ‘Speak softly,’ she advised. ‘It’s better I don’t hear anything that might oblige me to break privilege.’ She shot a glance at the woman constable standing near her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Avantika told her, ‘I didn’t want to … say what I did yesterday.’
Karuna gave her a look of contempt.
‘You’ll be amazed, Ms Pandit,’ she said disdainfully, ‘at the number of things a “sorry” is inadequate for. Now get on with it; we don’t have much time.’
Avantika turned to Nalini, who smiled her lopsided smile.
‘So, what is it?’ she asked with a sardonic little laugh. ‘I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. Isn’t that why you called the cops?’
‘My friend called the cops when he couldn’t reach me,’ Avantika replied. ‘It was a fallback plan, in case anything went wrong. Which it almost did, didn’t it?’ She held up her hand as Nalini opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’m not saying Heena’s actions were your fault, but the fact is I almost died. I think I’ve earned the right to have my say. So, please, just let me tell you what I have come to say, alright?’
Nalini nodded.
‘I met Menaka earlier today,’ Avantika said in a low voice. ‘She knew the entire time that the farm was killing people?’
A shrug.
‘Was she the Madam Heena was referring to?’
‘You’ll have to ask Heena that.’
‘Don’t play games, Nalini. She is going to massacre you in the press.’
Nalini laughed.
‘Look, Avantika,’ she said, ‘I made the mistake once of telling you the truth. But I’ve learned my lesson. You can keep asking, but don’t expect answers.’
‘Look, I can understand why you want to protect her …’
‘You understand nothing.’
‘I know you feel you owe her your life,’ Avantika said, taking a step forward. ‘I looked up your husband’s death. The night of the gas explosion, you were staying with a friend. That’s why you weren’t killed, right?’ She looked straight into Nalini’s eyes. ‘Nalini, I know who that friend was. It was Menaka.’
Nalini looked startled but said nothing.
‘There was an article in the paper,’ Avantika continued, ‘in my paper. Menaka talked to the police when they came, told them you’d been with her the whole night, told the papers you were too distraught to talk to them. Of course, this was long before WSpot became big, so nobody paid any attention to the friend’s name, except to name her in her quote as “Menaka Gujaral, a close friend of Mrs Gupta”.’
Nalini’s face was unreadable. Avantika waited for a response, but none came.
‘If Menaka hadn’t called you over that night, you’d be dead too,’ Avantika continued. ‘She saved your life, helped you set up the farm and get back on your feet. You owe her your life.’ She leaned closer. ‘And that’s why you agreed to …,’ she stole a glance at the constable who was giving them curious looks and dropped her voice, ‘…kill Yash because she told you he was cheating on her …’