Thinking of the ugly cuts Sakina’s beautiful dagger had made a few days earlier, Perveen swallowed hard. ‘If you wanted to make it look like an outsider had killed Faisal, why did you leave Razia-begum’s letter opener in the back of his neck?’
‘Razia shouldn’t have had the wakf.’ Each word was a bitter jab. ‘I did it to teach her that I could speak out and blame her at any moment. She understands that I’ve become the family’s head.’
Sakina’s style of vengeance revealed something about her. She was filled with emotion—not just the pain she felt at being betrayed by a boy who’d grown into a tyrant, but also resentment of the other two women who’d treated her like their middle sister. Perveen would work with this understanding. ‘Nobody knew how intelligent you were. In fact, it is likely that Mumtaz-begum doesn’t know this passage exists, because your husband didn’t use it to visit her. He stayed in her room all the time, didn’t he?’
‘Mumtaz doesn’t know about the passage.’ Sakina sounded contemptuous. ‘Of course, Razia knows it exists, but she will not say a word about it, lest she be accused of using it herself. Because Faisal tried to take Razia’s precious wakf, and then her daughter, anyone would think she’d be the one who killed him.’
‘I see. Did you go through the passage to surprise him in his room?’
‘Yes, as I had done many times before.’ Sakina sighed. ‘When I saw him, I began crying about how Razia controlled the wakf. He took me in his arms, never seeing what was in my hand.’
‘Did he fight?’ Perveen asked, remembering the many wounds.
‘He screamed, and he did try, but he was already too injured to do much. I didn’t enjoy it,’ she said, looking sadly at Perveen. ‘He wept as he died, as if he could not believe what I’d done. And I felt the same.’
The sight of Mr Mukri’s bloodied body would be in Perveen’s memory forever, like a curse. Trying not to let the image rattle her, she said, ‘But you didn’t confess.’
‘No, of course not! I needed to save our family. I took everything off and cleaned myself in his bath. I was afraid to bring the sari into my own room, so I left it in the passage. Nobody would have known if it hadn’t been for Amina.’
At the sound of her name, Amina shifted. Perveen gave the girl a warning pat, willing her not to move again. ‘Did Amina speak to you about it?’
‘No. I found her looking at my ruined sari. I did not know for certain if she’d guessed, but I told her that we would have a glass of falooda together in my room and she could ask me anything she liked, that I would just tell her, because she was cleverer and braver than anyone. After half a glass, she because unconscious. It was no trouble to pull her right back into the passageway.’
‘And then you took her belongings so it appeared she might have run away.’ Perveen spoke in a soothing tone. ‘Just as you made it look as if I were kidnapped by a common criminal. You had Mohsen grab me, didn’t you?.’
‘He was allowed to use the telephone from the station to speak to me.’ Sakina sounded defiant. ‘He said you were investigating everything. I told him to get rid of you; he said he had a key hidden at the docks to a place where nobody would ever find you.’
‘He did this all for you because you promised him a share of the sales of your jewellery,’ Perveen ventured. ‘Did he know what you were planning?’
‘Yes, but . . .’ Sakina paused. ‘He shouldn’t have told you about the jewellery. I’ll have to sack him.’
As Sakina spoke, Perveen thought she heard something. Had it been a turning doorknob? If Mohsen was coming into the passageway, both she and Amina were done for.
Now there were footsteps. In the moment that Sakina turned to look towards the corner, Perveen shot up from her kneeling position and flung herself at the small widow. As she knocked Sakina to the ground, the woman struggled against her. Silk tore as Perveen used her superior weight to hold Sakina down, all the while trying to keep track of where the dagger was.
‘You ruined everything!’ Sakina screamed. Perveen dug her nails hard into the woman’s right hand, and the knife finally clattered out.
With Alice leading them, Sub-inspector Singh and the constable came rapidly around the corner. Everyone stopped short at the sight of Perveen atop Sakina.
‘The knife,’ Perveen said. ‘Take it!’
Alice dragged a wrinkled handkerchief out of her pocket and used it to pick up the dagger while the sub-inspector and constable surrounded Sakina. Perveen could barely get past them in the narrow passage to reach Amina, who was trying to pull herself up but had flopped back down.
‘Am I dreaming still?’ Amina asked in a slurred voice. ‘I had such a bad dream. It was about Sakina-khala—’
‘Thank God she’s all right. How long has she been here?’ demanded Alice, who was still holding the knife.
‘Sakina-begum gave Amina morphine the evening of Mukri’s death. The child has been lying here with no food or water for more than three days!’ Perveen looked gratefully at her friend. ‘I’m so glad it was you.’
‘I knew you were going to explore the passage. When Sakina-begum went off and didn’t return, I became nervous. I asked Razia-begum if she knew about the passage. She said she didn’t, but when I showed her the architectural drawing, she admitted she had heard of it. She said that if I went inside there, I’d better bring the police.’
‘I’m glad you came,’ Perveen said to Sub-inspector Singh. ‘I’d also like to state that I am representing Razia-begum in this matter—not Sakina-begum.’
His head swivelled from Sakina to her. ‘So you will answer all my questions?’
‘I’d rather speak with you than Inspector Vaughan,’ Perveen said shortly. ‘But could we have the interview later? Amina must get to her mother, and then a doctor should be called. I don’t know what effect the morphine might have—’
‘Put your hands behind your back, Sakina-begum,’ Sub-inspector Singh said in formal Hindi. He was trying not to look into Sakina’s tear-stained face, as if the fact he had to arrest her was profoundly embarrassing. Perveen thought it unlikely he’d ever arrested a woman—let alone a purdahnashin.
‘But I am a respectable woman. You must not touch me,’ Sakina pleaded as the constable awkwardly fitted handcuffs around her wrists.
‘Gentlemen, just a moment.’ Perveen gently lifted the end of Sakina’s sari and let it fall so it covered her face. It was a small thing to do, but it preserved her dignity.
‘Thank you,’ Sakina whispered. ‘Tell them I will go to their prison. And to please not touch me again.’
33
A WANING LIFE
Bombay, March 1921
‘I believe I owe you an apology.’
From the depths of the plush armchair, Perveen regarded the man seated behind a highly polished mahogany desk. She’d come in expecting the worst, especially since Alice had been on the scene when the police apprehended Sakina. ‘But, Sir David, whatever for? You have been nothing but kind.’
‘I am speaking of your effort to work with those women in the house. The police would probably never have been able to gather the necessary evidence and confession that you could behind the curtain.’
Perveen felt herself stiffen. ‘I’m not trying to be the police’s helper. My concern has always been for the family’s safety. In the end that meant looking carefully at all three women, as well as others within the house.’
He nodded. ‘I accept that. How is the little girl doing?’
‘The doctor says she must continue treatment at Cama Hospital for a few more days, but she’s chattering happily. Her mother is with her every day, and you must know that Alice has been teaching geometry to Amina and accounting principles to Razia-begum.’
‘Speaking of my daughter, she has informed me that she has taken on a part-time consultancy at the law firm. I’d like to know more about that.’
Here was the reason for the conference. ‘My father and I both think the world of Alice. I know that helping us is not the
ideal career for an Oxford-trained mathematician. The thing is, Alice is not confident you’d approve of her becoming a lecturer at a local college.’
After a pause, Sir David said, ‘I’m not against it, as it would keep her in India at least.’
‘You should tell her,’ Perveen advised, thinking how much his support would mean to Alice. ‘And at least until she’s found a position, we would be grateful for her assistance. Her mathematical acumen can be put to use in calculating inheritances and other matters.’
‘As long as she’s not going about Bombay alone. But her mother is understandably anxious about the dangers that are inherent in this city.’
‘Is Lady Hobson-Jones relieved two suspects were caught and taken away?’
Sakina had spent one night in the ladies’ cell. She’d been released on bail into the care of her parents at their home in Poona. Her trials would take place in a few months’ time: the first for the murder of Faisal Mukri and the second for the attempted murder of Amina. Mohsen faced charges for the abduction of Perveen. He would not be allowed out of prison before the trial.
‘She’s not just relieved, but has now taken it upon herself to set up a fund for widows with young children. But tell me, what is the situation with the other two widows? I understand the house isn’t occupied.’
‘Razia is staying in my home, and we are engineering ways for her to spend the last few weeks of iddat without running into my father and brother,’ Perveen said. ‘Mumtaz has gone to stay at a maternity hospital, where she’s being pampered and feels much better. The two widows are thinking of selling the property, but that cannot be done until Sakina’s trial is over and Mumtaz’s baby is born.’
‘I imagine you’re waiting to see if it’s a boy or girl,’ he said.
Sinking a bit deeper in the overstuffed chair, Perveen said, ‘In either case, the child will inherit something.’
Studying her, Sir David said, ‘Muslim law is all about mathematical fractions. Alice will be a champion with such numbers. Is it true that Parsi estate law is even more complicated?’
Perveen chuckled. ‘While I feel there are still a few regrettable aspects of Parsi law, one of the best parts is the long-standing vast distribution of inheritance. A deceased’s wealth is shared with so many relatives that it’s allowed many in our community to become financially stable.’
Sir David gave her a wry half-smile. ‘And you Parsis have stabilized Bombay as well—building hospitals and schools, projects that my people overlooked.’
There were so many things she could say about what the British should do, starting with granting Indians self-rule. But she sensed she would have Sir David’s ear again. ‘Good thoughts, good words, good deeds is the Parsi credo; however, there is no monopoly on it.’
‘Goodbye, Miss Mistry,’ he said, putting a hand out to her. ‘Although I’m certain it’s not for long.’
Two days later, Perveen climbed into the Daimler with Gulnaz, reflecting on what Alice’s father had said about Parsi philanthropy. She was on her way to one of these laudable places that Parsis had built: the B.D. Petit Parsee General Hospital.
Gulnaz had checked with the hotel registrar and confirmed that a thirty-two-year-old man named Siyamak Azman Patel was staying in the ward for incurables. She had insisted on going along to help Perveen overcome any red tape.
The car rolled along, passing a young girl in a ragged sari picking through a small mountain of rubbish for pieces of glass. The ragged urchin made Perveen think of Fatima, whose fate might have brought her to the same place. But the widows had kept her and Zeid.
Perveen had visited Mr Farid’s bank and, using her legal authority, paid out every rupee of the mahr due to Razia and Mumtaz. Taiba-ayah’s and the cook’s salaries were once again being paid—with a bonus for the months they’d served without pay. With the widows and children away from the house, Fatima’s and Zeid’s duties had lightened, and the two were even able to attend a community school several half-days per week.
‘I looked up the meaning of the patient’s first and middle names in the Persian book of names,’ Gulnaz said, interrupting Perveen’s warm thoughts about Mohsen’s children.
Perveen turned to her. ‘What is it?’
‘Siyamak means “alone in the world”. And Azman means “infinite”. Quite mysterious, isn’t it?’
Cyrus had told her at Bandra how lonely he felt in his world. She was sure this was another message.
At the hospital, Gulnaz breezed through the reception and into the critical care ward. The head nurse, though, was not as accommodating as the receptionist. The nurse said they could not see the patient, who was too weak to see visitors.
‘But he asked for me.’ Perveen held out the letter that she’d had the foresight to bring.
The nurse’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah, very good. I posted the letter some days ago. We had almost given up hope.’
‘Is Mr Patel close to death?’ Perveen was suddenly anxious that she’d missed her chance to know the truth.
‘Time will tell. He can speak, although he suffers from confusion.’ As the two young women looked inquiringly at her, the nurse shook her head. ‘I am not at liberty to give information about his diagnosis, just as I cannot admit anyone to see him except for the solicitor he requested: Miss Perveen Mistry.’
‘At least let me stay outside the door,’ Gulnaz pleaded. ‘He could do something terrible.’
The nurse looked at Gulnaz as if she were insane. ‘Mr Patel is a very weak man. He needs your prayers, not your fear.’
Gulnaz took a seat in the hallway while Perveen followed the nurse into a patient room that smelt heavily of disinfectant. There were two beds in the room. One contained a teenaged boy and the other a hideous man speckled with red spots and lesions. ‘This is Mr Patel,’ the nurse murmured to Perveen. In a louder voice, she said, ‘Mr Patel, the lawyer you wrote for has come.’
A stranger bearing no resemblance to the man she’d loved. Perveen chided herself for assuming the letter writer had to be connected to what Mr Ghosh and her father had learnt about Cyrus. But because she’d shown up, he’d expect her to help with the will.
The head nurse drew a curtain between the two beds, giving Perveen and the spotted man privacy from the boy.
‘Miss Mistry is here,’ the nurse said quietly.
The man’s eyes fluttered and then opened fully. Perveen caught her breath, because now she saw the hazel eyes were just like those of Cyrus.
‘My wife.’ The man spoke between wheezes. ‘Perveen.’
Perveen felt blood pounding in her ears. The sick man had Cyrus’s voice, but she saw no trace of his former beauty: just a body covered in pockmarks.
Perveen shot a look at the nurse, who was gaping. ‘This is a lawyer–client meeting,’ Perveen said. ‘It requires privacy.’
The nurse’s expression was indignant. ‘But my patient—’
‘I shall call if he needs you.’
After the nurse had stiffly exited, Perveen asked, ‘Why are you calling yourself by another name?’
‘So you wouldn’t stay away,’ he rasped.
Softly, she said, ‘I should not write a will for you. I am still considered a family member; it would be a conflict of interest.’
‘So be it.’ He sighed. ‘I am glad to see you again. I wanted to see you one more time.’
‘Do your parents know you’re so ill?’
‘Yes. My father told me to stop work. They wished me to have treatment far from Calcutta, so people won’t know.’
‘Do you have smallpox?’ she ventured.
‘I’ve got syphilis. Do you know what that is?’
‘I do.’ It was the most terrible venereal disease. Swallowing hard, she asked, ‘Is there a treatment?’
‘First, I was injected with malarial blood. But the fever I had didn’t kill the disease. Now they are giving me medicine with arsenic.’
Cyrus fell into a coughing spell. Noticing a pitcher and glass on the bedside tab
le, Perveen poured a glass of water.
After drinking a small amount, he gave her back the glass and spoke in a stronger voice. ‘The doctors say the arsenic may cure me; but it could also fail.’
‘Imagine yourself becoming well, and the strength will pull you through.’ She was stunned to hear herself saying words of encouragement. She’d spent so many years thinking of him as a threat—when the only one he’d harmed in the end was himself.
‘Maybe the medicine will work, but what is the point? All my life, I have run after false gold. You were the only treasure I ever had, and then I lost you.’
Perveen was startled to hear him sound as sentimental as in their courting days. ‘How long have you been following me?’
‘Last October, my cousin sent me the Bombay Samachar article about you. It wasn’t till this year that I fell very ill. And then I came here. I only wrote about the will to get you to the hospital. I want you to help me.’
‘How so?’ she asked apprehensively. If he asked her to come back to nurse him, she would refuse. No matter how selfish it would be, she couldn’t bear to go back. Or perhaps he thought the Mistrys should take him into their home. There was no end to the responsibilities a wife owed a dying husband.
‘Help me,’ he croaked, interrupting her panicked thoughts. ‘Just a bit more medicine, and I will sleep forever.’
Perveen felt relieved by the simplicity of his request. ‘I shouldn’t give you medicine; I don’t know the dosing. I’ll call for your nurse.’
‘No. I want you to give me all the medicine in the bottle right now. When I die, it will make you free.’
As the meaning of his request hit, Perveen felt faint. ‘You wish me to poison you with arsenic?’
‘Please,’ he said in a wheedling tone. ‘If I could reach from the bed to where the nurse has put the bottle, I would do it myself.’
A Murder on Malabar Hill Page 36
