The Bollywood Affair: Reema Ray Mysteries

by Madhumita Bhattacharyya

  Shayak nodded his head. ‘Precisely.’

  nine

  We continued to an annexe of the house, which had a line of rooms styled in a similar manner to the main building but enclosed.

  ‘This is the service wing. There are a number of rooms here. The housekeeper has her own, so do Raj and Nimisha when they are around. The others are dorm-style for the rest of the staff. The gardener and the boatman usually stay in a small one-roomed cottage near the old pier, which is currently being used by the police.’

  ‘Would you like me to interview the staff?’

  ‘For now, I want you to have a look around, get a sense of the space.’

  The quarters were well concealed from the house. They were single-storeyed, with a thick fringe of trees between it and the main building, which was angled away from it. There were paths leading to the grounds.

  ‘Did the police search include the servant’s quarters?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Anything turned up?’

  ‘Not that I know of. But the police tend to rely more on confessions than evidence, Reema. Don’t expect them to be thorough.’

  ‘Did the Titanium team search the premises? What about the other guests?’

  ‘That, unfortunately, we could not do. Kimaaya will not permit it unless we find specific evidence implicating one of them. She said the police search was inevitable, but she wouldn’t put her guests through further inconvenience.’

  We were headed back to the house when we heard a ruckus in the direction of the pier. Getting closer, we saw that from among the media boats had emerged a larger cruiser. Shayak pulled up to one of his men. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sir, that is Bindu Bisht.’

  ‘Why is she docking?’

  ‘It is Bindu Bisht,’ he repeated.

  ‘So? No media. I thought I was clear about that.’

  ‘Sir, Miss Kapoor herself asked us to let her on the island.’

  ‘Just perfect,’ Shayak mumbled, speeding off as fast as the golf cart would allow. ‘Of all the vultures to invite into her home at a time like this, Kimaaya has to choose the worst of the lot.’

  ‘Why is she here?’ I asked.

  Shayak shrugged, annoyance writ on his face.

  ‘She has an all-access pass in Mumbai. No matter what she writes.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘She is the best connected because she is the journalist who is much more than a journalist. She is a socialite, a bestselling author, a trophy wife and effectively the most powerful gossip columnist in town.’

  ‘I’ve read her column and I don’t know that I’d categorize it as gossip.’

  ‘She throws in substance now and again to keep people guessing, and she is careful never to trample the egos of those whom she likes, and those with true power. But make no mistake – Bindu Bisht is toxic.’

  I turned around to see a woman being led off a boat, amidst shouts from the other reporters who had been camped out for two days.

  ‘Why are you letting her on?’

  ‘Tell Kimaaya to hold a press conference and we will all go away!’

  The police officers on watch made it very clear that if they got any closer, there would be consequences.

  Bindu Bisht arrived in her always impeccable skirt suit, her working uniform, as she called it, in the interviews she was so happy to give. Pearls in place around her neck.

  At the house, she seemed to know everyone except Afreen, Shayak and I, air-kissing her way through the room, finally throwing her arms around Kimaaya with a sympathetic cluck.

  ‘Poor Kookie! This must be so awful.’

  Kimaaya closed her eyes and nodded. ‘You’d met Ashu, right?’

  ‘Who hasn’t? He used to be everywhere back in the day.’

  Kimaaya nodded again, and gave a delicate shudder. For the first time since I’d met her, she was in full performance mode.

  ‘Are the police being ghastly, dear?’

  ‘They tried their best and have practically held all of us hostage since the nightmare began, but thankfully Shayak is here to help,’ said Kimaaya, with a flutter of eyelashes.

  Shayak’s jaw clenched as Bindu looked towards him. ‘You two haven’t met?’ asked Kimaaya.

  ‘I don’t believe we have,’ said Shayak softly.

  ‘Bindu, this is Shayak Gupta, one of my oldest friends.’

  She took a long look at Shayak before proffering a hand.

  ‘And this is Reema,’ he said.

  Bindu turned her unerring grey eyes on me and I knew that this woman could not be dismissed as yet another Bollywood hack. I hadn’t read any of her books on cinema – or the racy fiction it had inspired – but after this meeting, I thought I might.

  We all proceeded to the formal dining room where a lunch buffet had been served. The sideboard was laden with salads and appetizers, while the main course was on the long wooden table. Kimaaya, Afreen and Bindu seemed to have an appetite only for salad. Afreen, in particular, picked at a few leaves and little else besides. The men, Sandhya, Carol and I made the most of the spread of poached salmon, spinach and ricotta quiche, honey-glazed ham and bread.

  Bindu dominated the table. ‘It is just appalling how they have made this into a circus. So crass. All those cameras out there should be towed back to the city.’

  ‘I haven’t turned the TV on out of fear. My assistant is keeping a watch. If they cross the line, I am taking them to court,’ said Kimaaya.

  ‘Line? What line, darling,’ said Bindu with a laugh. ‘They are making this murder about you and your lovely island, and may as well have forgotten about poor Ashutosh.’

  I wondered who had paid for the speedboat that had brought Bindu here. The newspaper she worked for, perhaps?

  ‘You knew Ashutosh?’ I asked.

  ‘As I said, I’d met him.’

  ‘You must know everyone in Bollywood.’

  She shot me a sharp look. ‘Yes, that’s true. And you mustn’t call it Bollywood, dear.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Our film industry is not derivative of any other in the world. It is unique and deserves respect.’

  I nodded, though I couldn’t quite believe I had just been told off by the woman who had named her first novel Bollywood Belles.

  ‘So where is the investigation now, Shayak?’ asked Carol.

  ‘It’s only been two days. These things take time.’

  ‘What happens next?’ asked Sandhya.

  ‘I, for one,’ said Pratap, ‘leave tomorrow morning. I am in the middle of a fucking deal and I can’t be here indefinitely, just because someone happened to be murdered.’

  Sandhya and Shiv instantly perked up. ‘Can we go back with you?’ asked Shiv.

  ‘Sure. My yacht will be here first thing, and I need to be out of here by 8 am.’

  ‘Have you run this by Ajay?’ asked Shayak.

  ‘He had made a request that we stay, Shayak. That’s it. He can hardly expect us to give up our lives for this. I have millions on the line.’

  ‘Just keep him posted is all I am saying. Pissing him off is in no one’s interest.’

  After lunch, the group broke up and wandered off towards their pursuits of choice. Afreen hung back, looking rather lost. It didn’t seem as though she was in any particular hurry to go, though the only one who had paid her much attention since Viraat’s departure was Pratap, and now he seemed keen to leave too.

  ‘Have you heard from Viraat?’ I asked her.

  ‘I tried calling, but the police have his phone.’

  ‘He’s okay,’ I said. ‘We met him at the hospital.’

  She smiled a little, as though she was happy to hear it but didn’t really care very much.

  ‘What are your plans now?’ I asked. ‘To do whatever the police want me to do. I am not important like the others here. I can’t afford any trouble.’

  ‘You must be impatient to get back home.’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Are you working
on any films now?’

  ‘One. I haven’t done any shooting yet so I’d rather not say.’ Her pretty features were clouded by something more than uncertainty – it felt like fear.

  ‘How did you meet Viraat?’

  ‘Oh, you know, common friends,’ she said with a shrug. Afreen appeared to be an old hand at evasion.

  ‘What did you think of that bottle of wine he came up with?’

  ‘I don’t usually drink wine,’ she said. ‘I only knew it was a big deal because he said so.’

  ‘Do you know what prompted him to bring it out?’

  ‘Who knows with these people?’

  ‘These people?’

  ‘Sometimes I think it is unfair how much they have and how little they appreciate it.’ She had me pegged as closer to her own social standing than the others at Maaya Island – and she was right.

  ‘You must have some recollection of what happened, now that some time has passed.’

  Once again that flash of panic. ‘I don’t think Viraat and Pratap like each other,’ she said, speaking a little too fast. ‘They were both showing off, trying to get the most attention. Pratap cooked, flirted and dove like a dolphin into the pool. Viraat talked about his boat, his watch, how much money he had just spent on this bottle of wine.’

  ‘Did he mention that it was meant for a client?’

  ‘Not that I heard. In the middle of it all, that fitness instructor came in and had a conversation with Kimaaya. He didn’t look very pleased, though Kimaaya didn’t pay him much attention.’ This was the first I had heard of it. ‘Do you know what time this was?’

  ‘It was after we ate. Around 1 am, maybe? Viraat knows him too, so he went over for a chat.’

  ‘And you went to bed at what time?’

  ‘Around 3 am.’

  ‘When you went up to the room, was Viraat still wearing his watch?’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t think I noticed. Why do you ask?’

  ‘It’s missing.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you see him take anything? A pill, perhaps?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘He had drugs in his system. As the last person to see him conscious, I thought you may have noticed something.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t.’

  ‘You aren’t used to circles such as this.’

  ‘Hanging with A-list Bollywood stars? Yes, that’s new for me. And look where it’s left me.’

  ‘Do you find it intimidating?’

  ‘Only the women,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘And the men?’

  ‘They don’t judge. They are easier to handle.’

  ‘And with intimate access to them, you can get what you want.’

  ‘If you think I took Viraat’s watch, you should come out and say it.’

  ‘I can’t ignore the possibility, since you were sharing a room.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought you’d be different. But you are just as quick to jump to conclusions as the rest.’

  ‘I’m only asking the obvious question. It has nothing to do with who you are and everything to do with opportunity.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she mumbled, walking out of the room.

  I left in search of Shayak. I found him on the phone, and angry.

  ‘Where is the hold-up?’ he said. ‘I expect it by the end of the day, no matter how late.’ He turned to see me standing there.

  ‘The forensics report is not yet ready,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We need clearance from the state lab before we move on. They will tally our findings with their own, append the autopsy results and release them officially. Adlakha hasn’t managed to get it done.’

  ‘Nothing unofficial we can use?’

  ‘The footprints at the old pier have been confirmed as Dhingre’s.’

  I nodded. ‘How the hell did he get to the island?’

  Shayak shook his head. ‘A mystery.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, but it will have to wait.’

  I was surprised just how by-the-book Shayak wanted to play this. Surely the Titanium lab could send us the results to help us get moving before the official report came through?

  ‘Why don’t you question the staff at the house? I’ll head down to the construction site,’ Shayak said.

  I was puzzled and annoyed. Cooperation with official actors was supposed to speed things up, not slow them down. Without timelines and specifics, our questions would be speculative and sloppy at best.

  I walked away, distracted by my thoughts, quite surprised to find myself missing being my own boss quite so soon. I turned the corner towards the staff quarters, when I was assailed by the loud blare of a TV. The informal sitting room was separated from where I stood by a thicket of bamboo and curtains. Then I heard voices: female, hushed, angry.

  ‘You haven’t been taking his calls. He isn’t happy.’

  ‘What does he expect?’

  ‘Your loyalty. He wanted me to tell you to remember what he’s taught you. And to find your own way to the truth.’

  ‘I have nothing to say.’

  ‘That’s convenient. Are you forgetting what he’s done for you so soon?’

  ‘No one told me that there were these kinds of strings attached.’

  A laugh. ‘There always are, sweetheart. You should consider yourself lucky.’

  Then an ad came on and the TV blared even louder, leaving me straining to hear the rest. Before I could walk down the path to the room to try to get a glimpse of the speakers, Mrs Pereira appeared.

  ‘Shayak sir sent me to help you with your staff interviews,’ she said. If she had seen me eavesdropping, she didn’t show it.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, tearing myself away from the voices.

  ten

  After an hour spent with the household staff during which time I learnt nothing of note, I went in search of Raj Rathore.

  I found him in the gym, in the middle of what appeared to be an intense circuit. I was getting ready to retreat so I could return at a less sweaty time, but he held up two fingers to tell me to wait.

  The gym was equipped with just about every piece of heavy machinery a top-notch city establishment would have. Living on Maaya Island would not leave your pecs wanting, which made sense as Kimaaya had one of the most toned, athletic bodies in Bollywood, even though she was positively geriatric by the standards set for a leading lady.

  ‘Are you here for a workout?’ asked Raj, mopping his face with a towel.

  ‘Uh, not now,’ I said. ‘I actually had a few questions for you.’

  ‘I told the police what I know. You were there.’

  ‘I have some additional queries.’

  ‘As I said, it was my day off and was with friends in Mumbai. The police have their names and have called them already to check,’ he said, stepping on to the treadmill.

  ‘Thanks Raj, but I am more interested in knowing what happened once you returned.’

  ‘Went to my room, poured a drink for myself, finished it, went to bed.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Not that I remember.’

  ‘You don’t remember joining the party?’

  ‘No, because I didn’t.’

  ‘We’ve heard that you stopped by to speak to Kimaaya during the course of the evening.’

  Raj seemed stumped at first, before realization struck. ‘Oh, that. I was there for all of two minutes. Wouldn’t exactly call that joining the party. I needed to speak to Kimaaya.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I wanted some time off. She wasn’t supposed to be in town now – she was supposed to be away for months on location and then shooting in the city – and I had a bunch of things lined up. She’s not my only client, you know. Suddenly she shows up and needs me back on the island, like, indefinitely? What’s that about? It really put me in a spot, having to cancel everything
else at the last moment.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘That it wasn’t the time or the place to talk, and that she’d see me tomorrow.’

  ‘You were angry.’

  ‘Annoyed, more like it.’

  ‘She must pay you quite generously to be here.’

  ‘I don’t complain about the money.’

  ‘You also had a brief chat with Viraat and Afreen.’

  ‘Don’t remember.’

  ‘Sure about that?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘Did you hear or see anything else?’

  ‘No, but I am stuck out there in the servants’ quarters, which is quite far from all the action.’

  He seemed resentful about his living situation, though the service block was hardly shabby.

  ‘Have you considered leaving?’

  ‘Not till recently.’

  ‘What’s changed?’

  ‘Kimaaya’s not exactly at the top of her game anymore, is she? How much longer is she going to keep me around?’

  ‘She seems to have a few good years yet.’

  ‘Then why was she dropped from SRT’s last film? Why did they take Priyanka Chawta instead? She’s over the hill, man!’

  ‘Why does that make a difference as long as you keep getting paid?’

  ‘Because I either need another long-term gig or I need to open up my own place. I don’t want to work for some two-bit star or some gym chain where my talent won’t be recognized.’

  ‘Coming back to last night, your quarters are not far from where Viraat was found. You didn’t hear or see anything?’

  ‘I went back to my room and fell asleep.’ He turned up the speed of the treadmill, brisk walk becoming a flat-out run, making further conversation impossible.

  I found Mrs Pereira tending the garden – rows of greens of different kinds, broccoli, cabbage, onions, tomatoes and peppers. She was on her haunches, giving instructions to the gardener as she filled her basket with produce.

  I waited till she had finished and spotted me. She stood up and straightened her dress. ‘Ma’am, how can I help you?’

  ‘Please, call me Reema. It’s a beautiful garden you’ve got here.’

  Mrs Pereira smiled. ‘It’s the work of many years.’

  ‘What happens to it when you are in the city?’