Different Senses

by Ann Somerville

  He stopped struggling after a little bit.

  “You going to behave now, beto?”

  “Get off me.”

  “Not until you tell me if you’re going to behave and answer my questions.”

  “I don’t have to talk to you.”

  “True. But if you don’t talk to me, then I’m going to get in my auto and drive over to that nice Constable Girilal and tell him he should come chat to you about a few things. And by the time he’s done, the entire community will know something’s up, and since they know why I’ve been asking questions.... I bet these small places gossip, Lakshya. I bet it’s really uncomfortable when rumours get started. True or not.”

  “I didn’t kill her!”

  “Then tell me why you’re so upset. Even her husband didn’t carry on like this.”

  “Let me up.”

  “Will you behave?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “You’d better, because I’ve got a gun in my pocket and a stinking headache. I just want to know the truth about Sapna’s death. If you didn’t kill her, then you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

  He didn’t move. He was still angry, but not enraged. I figured I could risk it, but I kept my gun handy anyway.

  I stepped away and waited for him to get up, then I motioned him back inside the barn away from his damn noisy birds. He obeyed, expression sullen, but the fight had gone out of him. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who could force a woman to kill herself. Maybe he could strangle someone in a fit of passion, but not commit cold, deliberate murder.

  I sat on a straw bale. “Okay. Talk. What was your relationship with Sapna?”

  He plopped down on a storage box a little way from me. “We were just friends.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not!” I kept looking at him. “All right. Once. We slept together once, and once only. We both agreed it was wrong and we wouldn’t do it again.”

  “But you kept seeing her?”

  “To talk. We were friends. Good friends.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered.

  “And her baby...whose was it?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice became almost a wail. “She didn’t know. Didn’t matter. The child was hers and Nikhil’s. We agreed. She loved him. Nikhil, I mean. She loved us both. I didn’t want to hurt either of them.”

  I couldn’t detect anything that told me he was lying, but nothing either that explained the violence of his reaction. “So why did she call you before she killed herself? She didn’t even call her best friend. Why you?”

  He didn’t answer. I could wait. Wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be today, and this man held the key to the mystery. However long it took, I wasn’t leaving without the truth.

  “Lakshya, Sapna’s family are destroying themselves over her death. They’re convinced she was murdered. If you know anything which can help them understand what happened, you owe it out of pure humanity to help them.”

  “I know but....”

  “Just tell me,” I said quietly, “what happened, from the beginning. I’m not here to judge, and I’m not here to expose what doesn’t need to be exposed. I just want to help her parents and her brothers. Please.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to talk to them for so long, but I didn’t know how. I figured anything I could say would only make it worse.”

  “Right now, I don’t think that’s possible.”

  He rubbed his face and looked away. “I lied to Constable Girilal. About her and the baby. She didn’t give birth alone. I was with her when her labour started.”

  “Just talking?”

  “Yeah. I was,” he added defensively. “We often met at that place. She liked it and it was private. We used to talk about...the Spirit, and our faith. Nikhil...doesn’t share it.”

  “So you tried to help the child, I guess?”

  “I did, I really did.” His face contorted with anguish. “But it all happened so fast and the baby wasn’t breathing. The cord was wrapped so tight around his little neck. I cut it when he was out but he wouldn’t breathe. I tried and tried.” Tears dripped down his face. “If her mother had been there, the baby would have lived.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Yes, he would. It was my fault. Only she blamed herself, not me. She said she’d been punished for being unfaithful. I told her the Spirit doesn’t work like that but she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t talk to me any more after that. After she went home from the clinic, I mean. She wouldn’t answer my calls, and if she had a delivery for me, she just dropped it at the gate.”

  “She was grieving.”

  “Yeah. I knew she was. I wasn’t angry, I was worried. She wasn’t thinking straight.”

  All this fit with the known facts, and he told the truth, I was sure of it. “So she called you that morning...?”

  “To say goodbye. Only I didn’t hear the phone because I was with the birds.” My right eye twitched as the waves of his sorrow crashed against my talent. “She said she wanted to be with her baby, and be reborn together. I knew as soon as I heard it what she was going to do, and where. I ran down to the grove fast as I could, but it was too late. It was horrible. Seeing her like that...I wanted to puke. I couldn’t bear being there, seeing her, so I left. Couldn’t stand looking, and I couldn’t help her. I know it was wrong but...she was already dead, Sri Ythen. You have to believe me.”

  “I do. Lakshya...the one thing I can’t explain to her parents is that there wasn’t a note. Don’t suppose you can shed any light on that, can you?”

  He stiffened, and I put my hand on my gun again. “I need to go to the house. Will you wait for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Maybe he was going to fetch a weapon, or maybe call for help. I didn’t think so. I gambled on it being something else, and stayed where I was.

  Outside, the tus settled down, with only the occasional gun fire rattle coming to shake me out of my thoughts. I imagined a life spent looking after the huge birds, only seeing the same limited circle of people, nothing to look forward to in life but more of the same. The temptation to spend a few stolen minutes or hours with a pretty friend would be damn strong. Was he lying when he said they’d only slept together once? Did it matter? And what would I tell Sapna’s parents about their darling girl? They didn’t need to know this, nor did her husband. But I had to give them something or they’d gnaw themselves to death over a murder that never happened.

  I waited for nearly half an hour before he came back. He’d been weeping again, his face red and freshly washed.

  “Sorry, I.... Here.”

  He handed me two envelopes, one addressed to Sapna’s parents, the other to her husband. The handwriting wobbled across the paper. I imagined her crying her heart out as she wrote the words. I touched them, as if I could reach back across the days to that fateful one, tell her not to do it. But that wasn’t possible.

  I tucked them into my tunic pocket and waited for him to explain how he’d found them. He sat down on the box again. “There was an envelope pinned to her shirt. I wasn’t thinking as I took it. I kept looking at her face.... Anyway, I shoved the envelope into a pocket, ran home, threw up. I couldn’t do anything after that but sit and shake. I didn’t even remember the note until about an hour later. When I opened it, there were notes for her father and mother, Nikhil...and me. That’s when I realised I shouldn’t have touched it at all. Should have left the notes there, called the police. But it was too late by then. My wife called to tell me Sapna’s body had been found. I couldn’t put the notes back then.”

  He bit his lip. “I wanted to find a way to give them back but...I thought they’d find fingerprints. I was scared, Sri Ythen. I didn’t know what to do. But now I do. The Spirit sent you. Take the notes to her family.”

  “You haven’t read them?”

  He shook his head. “They weren’t for me.”

  “But what if she tells them abo
ut you? What if they go to the police?”

  He straightened. “Then so be it. I hurt them and I hurt her. I deserve what’s coming to me. I wish...I really wish it had been different.”

  “You and a lot of people. Lakshya, you’re not responsible for her death, or the baby’s. There’s a lot of sad people around at the moment and I don’t want to hear of anyone else killing themselves out of stupid guilt.” He jerked and blinked at me as if I slapped him. “I’m serious. No more suicides. Your wife doesn’t need to go through what Nikhil did, or your parents what hers did. You made a mistake, but that’s all it was. You panicked. No shame in that. Now it’s over, do you hear me? I’ll deliver these notes, and I’ll keep your name out of it. If Sapna mentions you, well, then that’s different. But you move on. Don’t make this a bigger tragedy.”

  “I don’t deserve to move on.”

  “Whether you do or you don’t, there are other people involved. Good people, people who don’t deserve to suffer. You want to make up for what you did? Then go on. Make the best life you can for your wife and the kids you’ll have. Be a friend to Nikhil because he surely needs one. And don’t you ever, ever tell anyone what you told me. They don’t need to know.”

  “The police?”

  “If I have to, I’ll square it with Girilal. There’s been no crime that needs prosecuting.”

  “I miss her,” he whispered. “She really was my best friend.”

  “Then help her husband for her sake, because he’s a decent man and she loved him. Will you do that?”

  He nodded. “We went to school together. We were friends, all three of us. I miss him as well.”

  “Then you know what to do.” I got to my feet. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah.” The fact surprised him a little, I felt. “I wanted to tell someone, but I couldn’t.”

  “Good. But that has to be enough. Don’t go pouring your heart out to your wife. Take it from me—that won’t go down well.”

  “I won’t. Uh...I guess I should thank you.”

  “No need. Good day, Lakshya. And good luck.”

  I left as fast as I decently could, but not to go back to Sapna’s home. Instead I drove back to the grove where she’d died. I needed time to think, to absorb what I’d heard. So much misery, and yet there had been no evil in any of the people involved. Just ordinary passion, and extraordinary bad luck.

  I stared at the killing tree, trying to imagine a young woman’s body hanging from it, but I couldn’t. I’d seen a lot of ugliness in my time on the force, but my mind refused to come up with this. Maybe just as well. The two men who’d seen it would be haunted for a long time by the image. I hoped some day they’d find peace with their ghosts.

  I called Jyoti and warned her I was on my way over, and that her aunt and uncle needed to let me speak to them. “I found her note,” I said.

  “Then they will see you.”

  She met me as I parked up. “Where was it?”

  “It’s...complicated. And for the sake of everyone, I’m going to have to tell a few small lies. I promise not to tell a large one.”

  Her blue eyes searched me, as no doubt her empathic talent did too. “Very well. But will you tell me the truth?”

  “As much as I can, but when we leave, okay? In private.”

  “I understand. Come inside.”

  The hostility in the dark little living room was thick enough to cut, and did nothing to improve my fast-worsening headache. The aunt didn’t invite me to sit this time.

  No point in wasting time, so I got right to it. “The note was found by someone who didn’t realise the significance of it until after Sapna’s body was discovered, and then they were afraid of being accused of wrongdoing. Before I give it to you, I must have your word you won’t try to find this person, and you won’t ask the police to. There’s been no crime. Sapna wasn’t murdered.”

  The parents stared at me unblinkingly, hating me. I motioned to Jyoti and she spoke again to them. After a pause, they answered. “They agree. Where is the note?”

  I handed the envelope over, and she passed it on. The mother took it and slowly tore the envelope open with shaking hands. Jyoti’s mother went to her brother’s side, and put her hand on his shoulder. All three of them read in silence, Sapna’s brothers standing back, watching me with miserable eyes.

  The mother began to sob quietly, wrist pressed against her mouth, her husband putting his arm around her. He said something, and Jyoti’s mother took the note and gave it to the brothers.

  “Is it okay?” I whispered to Jyoti.

  “I think so.” She said something to her uncle and he answered. “He says thank you, but could you leave for a little while? This is...family. Do you mind?”

  “No. There’s a note for her husband as well, so I’ll go see him. But Jyoti, they really mustn’t—”

  “I understand, Javen. I’ll call you when you should return.”

  If I couldn’t feel the emotions coming from everyone in the room, I’d have been a little miffed by the dismissal, but I was glad to get out of there. Poor Jyoti had to stay and endure it.

  I was in two minds about whether to give Nikhil’s note to him. On one hand, he was upset by not having one. On the other, Sapna might have said things that would make it so much worse for him, and I felt more conscience about Nikhil than I did about the parents because he was doing it alone. The poor bastard had suffered enough.

  In the end, I figured if Sapna loved him, she wouldn’t have told him about Lakshya. I supposed the argument also went if she loved him, she wouldn’t have killed herself, but I didn’t really have the right to interfere with someone’s last wishes. So I started the auto’s engine and drove over to Nikhil Kamlesh’s farm. But first, I swallowed a painkiller. Three of them. The way this empathy shit was going, I’d have to invest in a drug factory.

  The workshop was closed and for a few horrible seconds, I thought Nikhil might have done something stupid. But then I saw him in the yard of the house, tending to some straggly fruit trees. He waved when he saw me, and though I felt his lack of enthusiasm, he smiled. “Good morning, Sri Ythen.”

  “Javen, please. I, uh, have something for you. But I think you might want to sit down first.”

  “About...her?”

  “Yes. Come over here.”

  He laid the pruning tool down and joined me on the carved seat under the tree. I wondered if he’d made the chair for Sapna, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. “I found her note.”

  “Where? How could it have turned up now? It’s been such a long time.”

  “It was found, and the person who found it...didn’t know how to give it to you without getting into trouble.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s better you don’t ask. For them and for you. Do you want it?”

  He nodded jerkily and I handed it over. “Would you like me to leave?”

  “No. I think...I’d like you to stay. Can you?”

  “Of course.”

  He turned the envelope over and over as if unable to believe it was real. “Do you think I should read it?”

  “I think if you don’t, you’ll always wonder.” But I hoped Sapna had given some thought to what this would do to her husband.

  He opened the envelope and drew out the pale green paper. As he read, his eyes filled with tears. He kissed the letter, refolded it and put it back in the envelope, before sliding it into his shirt pocket. He covered his eyes with his hand, and wept. I put my hand on his shoulder, his pain my pain, but glad to be there to help.

  We sat like that for a long time, as the sun grew warmer, and the scrappy garden almost pretty. Would he ever share it with anyone else? Would he ever recover?

  Finally he blew his nose. “Thank you,” he croaked.

  “There was a note for her parents too. They know you didn’t do anything.”

  “They’ll still hate me. The person who found the note—”

  “Meant no harm. They panicked, that’s all. She meant you to
have it right away. What will you do now? Are you still going to leave?”

  He looked away, up at the tree, and the faded wood of his house. “I don’t know. My memories are here, good and bad. People have been unkind.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Maybe not everyone. I need to think some more. I’ll always miss her, wherever I am.”

  “A lot of people will. I’ve talked to a few of them. Maybe...they’d like to share their memories with you.”

  “Maybe.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I never thought I’d see this letter.”

  “Did it help?”

  “A little. To know I was in her thoughts after all.... But she’s still gone.”

  Wasn’t much I could say to that. “If Jyoti and her mother want to visit before we go back to Hegal, would you like to see them?”

  “Yes. I would, very much.”

  “Then I’ll bring them over, if they want to come.”

  “Yes.” He looked up as I stood. “I wonder if she sent you because her message didn’t get to me.”

  “Anything’s possible. I’m glad I could help. Be well, Nikhil. And be happy.”

  He gave me a tired smile, not believing in the possibility. I didn’t know if he could learn happiness again. But he was a young man with a lot of years ahead of him. I hoped he could.

  ~~~~~~~~

  The next visit I needed to pay was to Constable Girilal. He frowned when I told him the suicide notes had been found and delivered. “I should have seen them first, you know. For the file.”

  “Yes, I know. But they only confirmed what you already knew—that she killed herself. I didn’t think anything would be gained by exposing the family further.”

  “Not your call, Sri Ythen. And you won’t tell me how you came by them either?”

  “Afraid not. I was told in confidence. I suppose you could arrest me, but somehow I don’t think you will.”

  “You’re a smart arse. Even though you’re right, damn you, it’s not fair to play me like that.”