‘New evidence has emerged that suggests what Daanish knew might be the key to understanding his death.’
She frowned. ‘Didn’t that terrorist group claim responsibility?’
‘Yes. But there might be a link to more recent crimes – murders – which has caused us to relook at the case.’
‘I don’t understand – why wasn’t something done earlier in that case?’
‘As you know, Faiza, there never was a formal investigation into Daanish’s death, because it was deemed an accident. Now we feel he may have been the target of the explosion.’
‘Not the drugs they stole?’
‘In addition to that.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do we – not really. That’s why we are starting from scratch. I want to know what Daanish was working on before the explosion. Anything that might point to a motive. We wanted to know if you remember something – anything at all – that might be of use.’
Faiza shrugged. ‘Daanish never discussed his work with me.’
‘Not even something big? What if he was in danger?’
‘Especially then he’d keep it quiet.’
‘Why?’
She paused. ‘Daanish and I, we had problems.’
‘Could I ask about what?’ I had never seen Shayak being this gentle, as though Faiza might break with one loud noise.
‘I don’t see how it can possibly matter.’
‘Maybe it doesn’t. But knowing all the facts can only help us at this point.’
She sighed. ‘A couple of years after we were married, Daanish went on a raid of some sort. He was shot. The stress of that caused me to miscarry. He blamed himself, and I went through a long period of depression afterwards. We never quite recovered from that; it caused a rift that we could never quite repair.’
‘But you stayed together?’
‘Only, I think, because Daanish felt too guilty to ask for a divorce.’ There was no bitterness in her voice, only a sadness that she wore like a veil.
‘Was there anyone else he may have confided in?’
‘A lover, you mean? Believe me, I have asked myself that question a million times, have gone through every inch of our house, but have found no evidence of it.’
‘What about a friend?’
‘Sometimes I think he didn’t have any. He had become increasingly isolated, as though he had no interest in our life together, or his old life, old connections.’
‘Was he travelling in the months before his death?’
Faiza squinted a little, trying to remember. ‘Yes, I do believe he had been.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘Oh, I don’t remember. Well, I think … no. He was never gone for more than three–four days at a time. There were two, maybe three trips?’
‘Have you ever seen this?’ I asked, holding up the keychain.
She took a long look at it. ‘No,’ she said, but there was a somewhat puzzled look on her face.
‘You look like there is something you want to add,’ I said.
‘It’s just that – the shell, it looks like something I had given to Daanish once.’
‘The key chain, you mean?’
‘No, just the shell. It looks like the one I found on the beach just after we were married.’
‘Take a closer look,’ I said, sliding it across the table.
‘It really does look like the same one. It’s so unusual, isn’t it – that whorl of black against that spotless white.’
‘Maybe it is the same one.’
‘I don’t see how it could be.’
Shayak took the key chain, inspecting it. ‘It wouldn’t have been hard to attach the chain.’
Faiza still looked sceptical. ‘Daanish wasn’t particularly given to sentiment. It is not like him to put so much effort into that stupid shell.’
‘Maybe it feels like that now,’ I said. ‘But when you were first married, perhaps he was infected by a little romance?’
She smiled. ‘Maybe.’ I could see a flicker of light in her eyes, and I was filled with renewed regret at having to drag all of this up.
‘What about the key?’ asked Shayak.
‘I don’t know – it could belong to anything.’
‘Are you missing any keys at home?’
‘No.’
‘It looks like it might belong to an old cupboard.’
‘We had many.’
‘Do you mind if we come over to take a look around?’
‘Why?’
‘It is the only thing that is unexplained amongst his belongings.’
Faiza shrugged. ‘You are welcome to. I have moved back to my parents’ home, but I brought all of our things with me. My only request is that you come when my father is out.’
The Bollywood Affair: Reema Ray Mysteries Page 30
