‘I have other questions for you as well. Can you come to our office today?’
‘No.’
‘Then can I meet you somewhere?’
‘If you can make it here in half an hour, I am at Café Kalu.’
As I took directions, I was already pulling on my jeans and trying to tame my mane with a hairbrush. No time to make myself pretty. Half an hour later, when I got to the café, I saw a man tapping away on his tablet, sipping a cup of coffee. He was still very much the man from the courthouse picture, but he had lost the gaunt look and had an air of calm about him.
‘Madhav?’ I said.
He looked up and nodded. I pulled the chair across from him and sat down.
‘How is Kimaaya?’ he asked. His concern appeared genuine.
‘She is okay,’ I replied, reluctant to give this former – perhaps current? – stalker any fodder for fantasy, though apparently I had no compunctions in using his fixation to get information.
‘She needs my help?’
‘If you know anything about the murder, it might help us solve the case.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘How would I know anything about it? You think I am still following her, don’t you?’
‘I think there is a chance you may know more about her than most, and if your information might help catch a killer, I’d like to know.’
‘I haven’t got anywhere close to her since my release.’
‘Did you know Ashutosh Dhingre?’
‘No.’
I had to watch what I said next. I didn’t want to mention the paper with the dates found on Dhingre’s person to Madhav, but it was still possible that he had known about the marriage and divorce, and he had evidently guessed at her addiction. He could well be the source of the leak.
‘Have you ever spoken to anyone about the details of her life?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You must know things about her which not many others do.’
‘Why would I share our secrets with anyone?’ he said with a scowl.
My surprise at his pained words must have shown on my face.
‘You don’t understand, do you? No one does,’ he said.
‘I wish you would explain it to me.’
Madhav shook his head. ‘I was in love with Kimaaya Kapoor. Head-over-heels, ready-to-give-my-life-for-her, Yash Chopra in love. And in my mind, she loved me back,’ he said quietly. ‘It might seem unbelievable, but to me it was as real as you sitting in that chair right now. I’ve been told it’s called erotomania.’
I had read about the condition before, in college. It is a psychological disorder characterized by the belief that someone, usually of a higher status and often a celebrity, is in love with you. It is what fuels stalkers the world over, leading them at times to violent crime.
‘I stay away from Kimaaya now because I have to. My therapist is helping me through the worst of it, and I am getting better. It might surprise you, but I don’t want to feel this way. I want to lead a normal life. To have a job, to find a woman who really loves me. Start a family.’
I felt a sympathy I didn’t expect.
‘I am moving on, and part of that process has been to accept what I felt in the past and forgive myself for it. But now, as then, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Kimaaya. Not intentionally, not otherwise.’
He had exploded a bomb outside her building – an act I wouldn’t consider harmless, even though it hadn’t injured anyone. But it was true: Madhav had never caused Kimaaya any physical damage, though fear and intimidation were the consequences of his actions.
‘What if it was a question of protecting her?’
‘There was a time I might have tried to. But I know that the Kimaaya of my mind is not the true one. The real Kimaaya has done much to cause herself harm. I couldn’t protect her, not from herself. And from an outsider – I’ve grown beyond that, I hope.’
‘What about in the past? You may have shared something which may not have been something you’d ordinarily consider harmful,’ I said. ‘You may have known things that could be valuable to some – and in the wrong hands, dangerous.’
‘Of course I knew things about her. I knew about the men she surrounded herself with but I also knew her loneliness, which drove her to seek comfort in ways that were as damaging as my own obsession. But would I tell anyone? No. Part of the whole deal for me was that I had a secret life with Kimaaya. I didn’t talk to anyone about her at all. Maybe if I had, someone would have told me I was insane and I would have got help before I ended up in jail.’
His composure was remarkable. It seemed out of sync with the young man I had read about. His therapist must be pretty good.
‘Are you including all of this in your screenplay?’ I asked.
‘My characters are real. The facts are not. Writing about that episode has been cathartic for me. Is it too much to hope that something good comes out of the darkest chapter of my life?’
From a possible liar to a probable one – Afreen’s ex-pimp.
Was I in direct violation of a clear directive from Shayak? I told myself that this wasn’t necessarily the case. Insofar as Afreen was a witness in the murder of Ashutosh Dhingre, ascertaining her true identity was very much within the purview of solving the Maaya Island murder. What I did with the information I gathered was the key. She could still be the one to have stolen Viraat’s watch, in which case she may well be the one who drugged him. Determining that would possibly clear Viraat of murder – a significant step forward.
I had called Vinod to pick me up from the café, and he headed to the address Jay had given me last evening. This was no red-light area: I was at a nondescript office block in a commercial neighbourhood. Outside the building hung a sign pronouncing the presence of Vikram India Impex. What they were imp-ing or ex-ing wasn’t clear.
I pushed the door and let myself in. A young woman in salwar-kurta was seated behind a little wooden desk. ‘Yes?’
‘I am here to meet Bobby Gill.’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No.’
‘Your name?’
‘Reema Ray.’
She looked me up and down. Was she appraising my worth as an escort? I wasn’t sure what she concluded, but she picked up the phone and told her boss he had a visitor. It seemed like this was as an ask-no-questions sort of establishment. But I would still need an opening gambit.
She ushered me through the wooden door behind her, and there sat Bobby Gill, a big, heavy-set man with unusually pale skin and thick black hair. The air conditioner ran full blast and the room reeked of cigarette smoke.
Another appraising look, of a product that might make it to the market, an assessment of its viability and potential. No tinge of appreciation or otherwise. Either I wasn’t Bobby Gill’s type or his line of work had left him with no hunger of his own.
‘Hi,’ I said tentatively. I looked down, hoping to appear demure. Like I might be new to this.
‘What can I do for you?’ he said, neither warm nor brusque – purely businesslike.
I didn’t know how long I’d be able to carry on the charade, but I wanted to get his guard down before I threw Afreen’s name into the ring. By now, he might know she was dead, and be keen to disown her.
‘I would like to get some work.’
‘What sort of work?’
‘I think you must understand my meaning.’
‘Have you done this before?’
‘Once or twice, on my own.’
‘Why?’
‘I have been trying to get into films, and I need the money. Mumbai is an expensive place to live.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Calcutta.’
‘Do you know what it involves, doing this full time?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘There are many different sorts of clients.’
‘The film industry has prepared me for that, and given me nothing in return.’
It seemed as though this w
as a story Bobby Gill had heard before. ‘Still, this isn’t for everyone. You look like an educated girl. You could find other work, I am sure.’ He was using his words with care. At once saying what he needed to, without spelling it out.
‘I have looked. Entry-level jobs paying 7000-10,000 a month. I couldn’t live in a Mumbai slum on that.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘I will invest time and money in you. If you choose to give up in a few weeks, you leave me in the lurch.’
‘Is that what you said to Afreen?’
Gill’s expression turned stony. ‘I don’t know who that is.’
‘Your website suggests otherwise.’
‘Who are you?’
‘A friend of Afreen’s.’
‘From Calcutta?’
Was Afreen from Calcutta, then? I nodded.
‘Get out of my office.’
‘If you insist, but then I will have to go to the police with what I know. And you wouldn’t want me to do that, given that your star call girl is now dead.’
‘What do you know?’
Vagueness would be my saviour. ‘I work for an investigations firm. We are allied very closely with the police. Your best bet is cooperation with me.’
‘How do I know you are telling the truth?’
I gave him my card. ‘You can call DCP Ajay Shankaran to verify if you’d like.’
Gill cursed under his breath, and seemed to weigh his options. ‘This is just between us for now?’
‘For now.’
‘Afreen wanted out,’ he said at last.
‘So you killed her?’
‘Why would I do that? This is a commissions game. A dead whore is just as useless as one who doesn’t work for me. Plenty of clients requested Afreen for repeats. I was still hoping she’d come back to me. What did I have to gain from her death?’
‘You argued.’
‘She insisted we take her photos down from the site.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Half the escort sites in the city have pictures of women who have never even worked for them. Models, actresses, you name it. At least Afreen worked for me at some point. Why should I take down her pictures? If you think about it, she was the one who was threatening me!’
‘How?’
‘She said she had friends who would ensure I paid. She wasn’t talking about you, was she?’
‘I doubt it. Who else could she have meant?’
‘Who knows?’
Prowling through Afreen’s life, she seemed, if anything, a little friendless. But I still knew precious little about her.
‘Any of her regulars who could have done this?’
He shrugged. ‘Not that I know of. But these girls don’t exactly share their life histories with me. And she saw clients on her own, too. All the girls do. They think I don’t know.’
‘Have you heard of a man by the name of Viraat Khanna?’
‘No, but many clients use fake names.’
I gave Gill an address.
‘Doesn’t sound familiar.’
‘It doesn’t bother you that the girls see other men?’
‘Why should it? As long as they are generous with their time when I need it.’
‘What other kinds of generosity do you expect?’
‘Look, I have better things to do then go about banging whores. I am a family man.’
‘So there was no personal animosity between the two of you?’
‘Afreen wasn’t the only one to have left me. I am not running a brothel here, where women are forced to stay. They all work for me completely voluntarily.’
‘Then let me talk to some of the others, maybe someone who knew Afreen?’
‘We don’t exactly have weekly meetings in our line of work. They are all independent agents.’
He made it sound as though the women had all the power in the world. I knew it to be otherwise. ‘There must be someone.’
Gill thought for a minute. ‘Afreen worked with me for a couple of years, so it’s been a while. But if I remember correctly, there was a woman who had brought her in at the beginning. She left the game herself some time ago, but I think I have her old number. Not sure if it is still valid.’
He pulled out his phone and scribbled. ‘Here. Ask her whether I ever mistreated her or any of the girls. But please don’t go to the police.’
‘I won’t – unless I need to. But this is a murder investigation, so don’t be surprised if they follow the same leads I did and land up at your doorstep. I have one final question. Do you know Afreen’s last name?’
‘Nope. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t know her first name either.’
When I got back to office, I was summoned by a rather disgruntled-looking Adlakha.
‘I have just heard from Shayak’s secretary that he is indefinitely detained on some business,’ Adlakha said.
‘What about our investigation?’
‘We follow company policy. Play it by the book. Kimaaya Kapoor is our client. As lead investigator on that,’ he said with a sardonic smile, ‘you continue as you are. Keep me updated and remember not to meddle in the other murder.’
‘What sense does that make when the two cases are connected?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We don’t even know who Afreen really is. How are we ruling her out as a suspect in the murder of Ashutosh Dhingre?’
He glared me down and I sat there equally determined not to flinch, wondering what I had done to rub him up the wrong way so soon.
‘Do we have any evidence that points to her?’
‘No, but– ’
‘I think I said it once already: no buts. If one murder isn’t enough for you, or you are unable to handle the case you actually have been given, you could always turn your attention back to the Pratap Puri case.’
I went back to my desk. Almost as soon as I talked myself down from full-on confrontation with Adlakha, I received an e-mail from Shayak fanning the flames of my exasperation.
Reema,
You have full authority to proceed on the Dhingre matter. I hope to be back before long but in case I can’t, follow your leads and your instincts. Remember what I said about the other business. Caution is your best bet in this situation.
In the coming days, you may hear things that may surprise you. I trust you will be able to sort out fact from fiction. Be careful whom you rely on. Play it close to the chest and, whatever you do, don’t take on Ajay Shankaran. Do not mail me, call me or try to contact me unless it is an emergency. Vinod is at your disposal round the clock.
Best,
S
What the hell was going on? It made no sense. Why would he disappear so suddenly, just when this Kimaaya business was in full swing? No warning, no instructions, except for this strange e-mail. Why didn’t he tell me anything over dinner? Be careful whom I trust? Was he referring to the Titanium team as well? I didn’t have much of a choice except to rely on the resources I had at hand, and in Shayak’s absence, Adlakha was my boss, as he had just made clear. And why couldn’t I contact him? What did he expect me to do? It was only my first month on the job, and just last night he was telling me that he would have liked me to have more training!
Amidst all of this, I still didn’t have the answer to one long pending question – and one I was fast getting the feeling was critical to this whole business: Who really was Shayak Gupta?
Desperately in need of a friend, I picked up the phone and dialled Rishi’s extension.
‘Reema here,’ I said. ‘Wanna get that drink?’
I was pleasantly surprised by Rishi’s choice of bar – with beer front and centre, at least fifty kinds from all over the world, in a frill-free, hole-in-the-wall sort of setting just right for my mood. I ordered a Belgian tripel and leaned back.
‘You look tired for someone who has just started the job,’ said Rishi.
I shook my head and thought of the schedule I had been keeping for the past few days, one that I definitely could not speak abo
ut to anyone, particularly after Shayak’s most recent advisory. ‘Is it always this crazy around here?’
‘Ebb and flow. And not everyone works hard.’
‘Is slacking off allowed at Titanium?’
‘Not encouraged, but thriving nonetheless. Just like everywhere else.’
‘What about your schedule?’
‘I should probably lie to make myself seem less pathetic, but the truth is that I have the soul of a hacker. I’m always on the job whether I need to be or not.’
‘One of those, are you?’
‘I try to come up for air sometimes.’
‘How long have you been at Titanium?’
‘Going on two years now. Started straight out of college, a little guppy.’
‘Now you are the shark?’
He grinned. ‘Turns out there is a lot of hacking to be done at Titanium.’
Rishi explained what his department did: internal systems and security was a part of it, but they also aided Investigations when the need arose and were the first responders when clients came under cyber attack and wanted systems that were hack-proof, a term he used with much derision.
‘Of course, no system is hack-proof. But try explaining that to them.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Anything can be hacked. It just takes the right hacker.’
‘Or does that just mean guys like you aren’t doing a good enough job?’
‘Whether it is a household safe or a top-secret defence facility, if something is being guarded, someone will try to break in. They’ll find a way, even if it takes months or years to do so.’
‘You sound as though you approve.’
‘I understand the spirit. You can get all righteous and call some hackers ethical and others not, but it really is the same thing at the end of the day.’
‘What about electronic surveillance? You guys handle that too at Titanium?’ I asked, taking a sip of beer.
‘We handle the tech aspects, but the actual footage is Security’s baby.’
‘And the surveillance on employees? That must not go down well.’
Rishi’s eyes narrowed a fraction before he smiled. ‘You are staying in one of the company flats, then.’
I nodded.
‘I wouldn’t worry about that overly. We try to keep it as unobtrusive as possible. I doubt anyone even looks at all the footage. It is more of an insurance policy.’
Dead in a Mumbai Minute Page 16
