‘What do you see?’ Shayak asked.
Even now he was in training mode. It was just the two of us, with minutes, maybe a half hour, to go before the police arrived.
I saw a man, throat split open, on his back.
I struggled for composure. ‘Male, middle-aged, possibly early fifties. Wearing grey trousers and a white-and-blue striped shirt, both intact though the shirt has a large amount of blood on it. Dyed hair, moustache au naturel. Looks to be about 5’7”, 75 kg. Shards of broken glass around his head, quite a bit of blood. There is a jagged, penetrating wound to his neck, caused by something sharp. It looks like this could be the cause of death and the source of much of the blood. There is another visible wound to the head, to the right temple.’
‘What about the glass?’
‘It is a translucent green and quite thick, it has shattered unevenly and there seem to be pieces of a label which could probably be read off some of the larger fragments.’
‘And?’
I bent over. ‘It definitely looks like a red wine bottle – I can see some traces of it on the glass. There doesn’t seem to be any serious amount of foreign liquid mixed in with the blood, so I would say it was either completely or mostly empty when the blow was delivered.’
‘You feel the bottle was the weapon?’
‘It would appear so. The blow to the temple could have been inflicted by the intact bottle, and the irregular wound to the neck by a shard of it once it had broken.’
‘What about signs of a struggle?’
‘Difficult to say without taking a closer look at the body.’ I peeked at Shayak’s face. His grim expression was tempered by a glint of approval.
‘Good. Hopefully Forensics will tell us more.’
‘Police forensics?’
‘It’s a collaborative process. We have an informal arrangement on some cases.’
Just then the guard returned.
‘Kimaaya ma’am is calling you. She said to tell you it is urgent, sir.’
We were headed to the golf cart when Shayak stopped midway. ‘Reema,’ he said, ‘come here. Look.’
I followed his line of sight to the gazebo not so far away. There was a body – it seemed to be a man – curled up in a honeysuckle hedge.
‘Another victim?’ I asked.
‘Let’s find out.’
Once we reached him, Shayak kneeled over and felt for a pulse.
‘He’s breathing. Pulse is strong,’ he said, standing up and pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and dialling. ‘Sir, there is another man on the island, alive but unconscious. I’m having him airlifted to the hospital.’
The commissioner of police? The chief minister? Who was it that Shayak called at a time like this? Who was it that he called ‘sir’?
He hung up, then dialled again.
‘Archana, how soon can you have the chopper here? Half an hour is not good enough. As fast as you can. Yes, to the island.’
And then he started examining the body.
‘Can you tell me what just happened?’ I asked.
‘First call to the commissioner. He knows we are here and are investigating, but I needed clearance before moving this man.’
‘And they are fine with all of this. Why?’ If there was one thing I had learnt, the police were a territorial species. Private investigators were seldom on their list of favourite collaborators.
‘Who knows better than them that their resources lag far behind the ideal? How long would it take to get this man to the hospital, and who is to say what his condition will be at the end of it? How much evidence could be lost in the meantime, with an insecure scene like this?’
I nodded my agreement, but my curiosity was piqued by the realization that I knew very little about the influence Shayak wielded over the highest offices of law enforcement. I could not begin to imagine what he had done to get to this position. I remembered what Vinod had told me, about his prior life in the armed forces. That might be part of the reason for such unfettered access.
‘Wait here,’ said Shayak. ‘I’ll get the first-aid kit from the boat.’
I watched Shayak jog towards the buggy and, like I had with the corpse, I tried to get a feel of what may have happened.
I could see no signs of a struggle. The man’s clothes – expensive – were intact and appeared clean except for the soil that clung to him. His gelled hair was still in place, and his peaceful expression seemed ludicrous given his current location. I couldn’t help looking at his hands: manicured, with the sheen of a recent buff.
We had no idea who this man was for the moment. Kimaaya or someone else at the party should be able to identify him.
And then his eyes fluttered open. He stared at my face, poised over his. I straightened up and looked in the direction of the path, suddenly nervous. There was no sign of Shayak, or anybody else. What if this man was our murderer?
He groaned.
‘Don’t move,’ I said. ‘You might be injured. Help is on its way. Do you feel any pain?’
‘In my head.’
‘Do you know your name?’
‘Viraat Khanna.’
‘Do you remember being hit?’
‘No, but I remember drinking a lot.’
Great. A hangover.
‘Where am I?’ he asked. ‘What else can you remember?’
‘I don’t know.’ He thought for a bit. ‘Being at a party. A boat. Am I at sea?’
I didn’t point out that he was lying in dirt. ‘No.’
‘That’s right,’ he exclaimed, ‘I’m at Kookie’s place!’
Kookie – Kimaaya’s nickname reserved for her friends and every tabloid reporter in the country. I heard someone approaching and turned around to see Shayak.
‘Our man has awoken.’
‘Is he hurt?’
‘If you count a bad hangover.’
‘How do you know Kimaaya?’ Shayak asked. ‘She’s a friend,’ Viraat said with a smirk. ‘What were you doing out here?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Was anyone with you?’
‘Can’t say.’
He was beginning to sound like an indecisive survey respondent.
‘Do you know Ashutosh Dhingre?’
‘Who?’
Finally, Shayak pulled out a syringe. ‘I’m going to take a blood sample.’
‘Why?’ said Viraat, more than a little squeaky at the sight of the needle.
‘Because it might be pertinent to the investigation.’
‘What investigation?’
‘There has been a murder.’
‘Whoa dude, what are you saying!’
‘Since you have been found a few metres away from the body, it is only natural that you will be a person of interest.’
‘Murder,’ Viraat repeated in a daze, sitting up and trying to shake off his stupor.
Shayak’s jaw clenched.
‘Who are you?’ asked Viraat.
‘My name is Shayak Gupta. I am investigating the death that occurred on the island on behalf of Kimaaya.’
‘And the hottie over there?’
Shayak looked at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘She’s with me.’
The helicopter arrived shortly with two members of Titanium’s forensics team. The chopper rushed Viraat to the hospital, less one vial of blood.
The forensics team, under Shayak’s supervision, collected samples from around the crime scene and from where Viraat lay – holding off on Dhingre’s body till the police arrived.
They did arrive at last, over two hours after we did. A uniformed man, whom Shayak identified as DCP (Detection) Ajay Shankaran, via a coastguard speedboat, with two paramedics and two junior officers.
‘They really sent out the big guns for this,’ I said.
‘This sort of case doesn’t take place every day.’
‘Not even in Mumbai?’
‘A murder on a remote island involving a Bollywood A-lister? No, not even in Mumbai.’ Shayak and I were there at the ma
keshift jetty to receive them.
‘Ajay,’ said Shayak, offering his hand.
‘Gupta,’ replied the officer with a smile. But then I saw a flash of something else in his eyes, brief and fleeting, but less welcoming. ‘Where is the body?’
Ajay, another officer and I boarded the buggy, and Shayak took the wheel. I observed them both from my seat: two powerful men, both of whom carried themselves well. Shayak wore his authority lightly, Ajay with more gravitas, due in no small part to the uniform, but mostly because of an intensity that emanated from within.
‘A suspect has been removed from the scene?’
‘Yes, one Viraat Khanna. I have got word that two of your men have received him at the hospital.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
‘We’ve collected trace evidence from where Khanna was found, which will be sent back to our lab. The commissioner has said he will be sending someone to oversee that, as well as our investigation into the evidence from the autopsy and trace from Dhingre’s scene.’
It did not seem as though Ajay Shankaran had much time for trace evidence. But when he examined the body, it was clear that he wasn’t going to allow Shayak to commandeer the post-mortem.
‘Get the gurney from the boat. Have him taken away,’ Ajay told his man. The Titanium forensics team, having done its job, also left with the coastguard boat.
Satisfied, Ajay then headed back to the buggy. ‘Let’s get to the house.’
Once again, Shayak took the wheel.
‘The suspect who has been taken to hospital was a guest of Kimaaya Kapoor, I am told,’ said Ajay.
‘Yes, one of her friends. He was found not far from the body.’
‘In what condition?’
‘Unharmed externally but unconscious – or possibly simply asleep – on the ground.’
‘Drunk? Drugged?’
‘The blood work should tell us soon enough.’
We reached the house and followed Shayak in. The foyer was deserted, and Shayak sent the housekeeper to fetch Kimaaya.
Ajay strutted around the living room. ‘Trust the Bollywood crowd to have a lie-in, even when there might be a murderer amongst them.’
Kimaaya emerged at last, fresh out of the shower with damp hair, in a coral shift. She looked lovely and, for a moment, I could see that even Ajay’s scorn was disarmed.
In her second appearance of the day, Kimaaya filled the room, just as she filled the movie screen. I had seen her so many times, in love, in fear, in sadness and in pain. And yet none of those Kimaayas had the power of the one to whom all eyes had turned. Without make-up, without a script, in the face of real danger, she seemed lost. And, in her vulnerability, much more beautiful.
She walked over to Shayak. ‘I was waiting for you to come back. The servant told me something about Viraat being taken away? Why?’
‘We’ll get to that. First you should meet DCP Ajay Shankaran.’
She turned to face him. I had seen her in police uniform in at least two films. ‘How can I help you?’
‘By telling me exactly what you know about last night’s events.’
‘I know nothing. I was having dinner with friends, that’s it, and this horrible thing happened!’
‘What is your relationship to the deceased?’
‘Ashutosh was a cross between a manager and an assistant in the early days of my career. I met him after my first film. I was overwhelmed at the time and, as an industry outsider, I badly needed help. He had contacts, and he helped me negotiate the thorny landscape of the industry. We worked together for the better part of ten years.’
‘When did you part ways?’
‘Over two years ago.’
‘Why?’
‘I had stopped needing his services for a while, and had only kept him on because he was a good person, you know? But producers and directors were approaching me directly, so I no longer needed that kind of an assistant. I needed more of a PA, someone to handle my appointments and endorsements and press, and Ashutosh was too old to learn new tricks and too set in his ways for me to make him run around doing those sorts of jobs.’
‘He must have resented being cast off like that.’
‘He made a lot of money off me over the years. He had no cause to complain.’
‘What was Dhingre doing here last night?’
‘I certainly hadn’t invited him and I have no idea why he was here.’
‘Are people typically allowed to roam on your private island?’
‘Of course not. He must have snuck on, or the guards would have seen him.’
‘How did you learn of his presence here?’
‘The supervisor at the construction site stumbled on the body. Quite literally, I am told.’
‘Did you go out to see for yourself?’
‘Why would I do something like that? The supervisor found Auntie Clementine – Mrs Pereira, my housekeeper – who informed me.’
‘What did you do when you found out?’
‘I called Shayak.’
‘Why not the police?’
‘As far as I am concerned, Shayak is the police.’
I could see that this rankled. ‘Ms Kapoor, a murder had been committed. You did not think it was important to inform the authorities?’
‘I was not trying to hide anything. Shayak is in charge of my security. He also knows every policeman in town. I knew he would do what was right.’
‘As the man in charge,’ said Ajay, turning to Shayak, ‘do you have anything to add to this?’
‘We were understaffed due to a last-minute change of plans on the island. I will be questioning the guards at length later and you are welcome to join. They will be going through the security footage in the course of the day and we will have a report for you soon.’
‘Tell me about the party,’ said Ajay.
‘There were six guests: Viraat Khanna and his girlfriend Afreen, Pratap Puri, Shiv and his sister Sandhya and my old school friend Carol D’Roza.’
My heart thumped rudely in my chest. ‘Pratap Puri? You mean the sustainable energy guy?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ said Kimaaya.
‘He is setting up an off-grid energy solution here, to reduce dependence on generators,’ explained Shayak.
‘Currently the only source for power is the generator?’ asked Ajay.
‘Yes, seeing as how we are in the middle of the sea,’ said Kimaaya.
So, this is where Pratap had come last night when I followed him to the boat! But surely his wife should be here too, in that case? I remembered the guard mentioning the guest who left last night. Was that Poonam?
And this also meant that I would meet him sooner or later. If he recognized me from the nightclub, I was screwed. I tried hard to think what I had actually told him. I had done my best to evade the truth, I remembered, but hadn’t actually lied.
‘How did they all get here?’ Ajay asked.
‘Shiv, Sandhya and Carol came with Viraat; Pratap arrived separately.’
‘We only saw one yacht, in addition to your speedboat,’ I said.
Kimaaya nodded. ‘That is because Pratap’s wife Poonam had come – was supposed to be there for the party – but had to leave all of a sudden.’
‘What time was that?’
‘They were the first to arrive, around seven. She left at about nine thirty.’
‘Did she say why?’ asked Shayak.
‘Nothing to me, but you could try asking Pratap that,’ she said. ‘Anyway, they were all here by 9 pm. We were lounging by the pool, having a few drinks. At about 11.30, I sent the servants away. We continued till about 2 am. Then we – or I, at least – went to bed.’
‘Do you know what Viraat might have been doing outside after that?’ Shayak asked.
‘I didn’t even know he went outside.’
‘We found him by the gazebo, fast asleep.’
‘He was a little drunk. Who knows? Maybe he just needed some fresh air,’ Kimaaya said with a shrug.
‘Did he know the deceased?’ asked Ajay.
‘Not that I was aware of.’
‘Did any of the other guests?’
‘Again, I am not aware of any connection, but you really should ask them.’
‘Could you ask them to come here?’
‘All of them?’
‘Let’s start with Viraat’s girlfriend,’ said Ajay.
‘Sure,’ said Kimaaya, leaving the room.
Shayak turned to Ajay. ‘There are between twenty and thirty people on this island at the moment, apart from the guests.’
‘So many?’
‘At least ten of them are attached to the house: cooks, maids, gardeners, the housekeeper. There are two Titanium security guards. And then there is construction going on at the southern part of the island, so there are a number of workers there.’
‘What construction is this?’
‘A luxury resort.’
‘I thought this was a private island.’
‘It is. The project is Kimaaya’s. And I think I should mention that I am an investor and Titanium is in charge of the construction.’
‘Really?’ asked Ajay. ‘You are now in the hotel business, too?’
‘We have a number of investments that aren’t a part of our core business. I can have a list of all the staff sent to you.’
‘Fair enough.’
Afreen entered with Kimaaya. She was about the same height as the star, but less slender. She wore a skirt and halter top and, though they looked pricey, she carried them in a way that made clear she was not used to gatherings such as this. She had a pretty face, but one I would not remember in a crowd.
Ajay seemed almost not to notice her at first. ‘Ms Kapoor, I need a list of all the household staff with their addresses, years of service and what they do here,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ she replied, sitting down on the sofa, taking out her phone.
Ajay gave her a long look. Was he going to ask her to leave? He should have, given that he was questioning a possible suspect. But such was the effect of Kimaaya’s status that even the unsmiling officer let it pass, turning his attention instead to Afreen.
The Bollywood Affair: Reema Ray Mysteries Page 6
