That Frequent Visitor: Every Face Has A Darker Side (The Ghost Whisperer Chronicles Book 1)

by John Harker

  ‘How can you be so sure about it?’ Pakhi interjected while Parosh looked on.

  ‘I am not suspecting it, I know it’s him.’ Varma’s words had a sense of finality. He rose from his sofa to retire.

  ‘I guess I can help you come out with the truth. You have the media’s support, at least I am on your side.’ Pakhi offered her sincere help.

  ‘Do you know that Gandhi and her men are already looking for any reason to defame me? This will highlight the prime ministerial candidate as a psycho. Now tell me, who will vote for a psycho? They’ll get this bit of information, will exaggerate the facts and serve it to the public and you know how mob mentality works, you are in the media, right?’

  ‘Trust me Mr. Varma, with due respect, I know what mob mentality can do. We serve them the news the way we want it. On so many occasions, we have presented truth as fake and they have bought it. This time will be different for the truth will be put forth as nothing else but truth, and they will buy it because every single soul in this dynasty driven nation has faith in you.’ Pakhi said confidently.

  The minister blessed the young reporter and started walking to his resting room silently. Not once did he turn back.

  Parosh looked at the man with awe and respect, and felt a little sorry for him.

  Then it struck him, the one thing that he noted.

  ‘Pakhi…’ He whispered into his sister’s ears.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Did you see that?’

  Pakhi shrugged her shoulders and asked, ‘What?’

  Parosh closed in and hissed, ‘The minister does not have a limp.’

  Chapter 43

  ‘Yes Sir, I am positive about the development. I am not going to reveal his location details but will go on air with the entire matter as soon as I get a solid lead to get to the root of it.’ Pakhi spoke to the editor of MANORMA 24X7her news channel.

  ‘You seem quite pumped up; I hope this is not based on some wild tip.’ The editor reconfirmed from the other end of the line.

  ‘It is not. If my investigation is successful, our channel will reveal one of the greatest political conspiracies of all time.’

  ‘Global?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘I am looking forward to that; I will be ready with a live exclusive as soon as you give me your word to go.’ The boss assured her.

  ‘Thank you, I will keep you updated. Good evening!’

  ‘Good luck!’

  Pakhi took a deep breath to relieve her of the stress that had enveloped her from all sides. Parosh embraced her from behind.

  ‘What did she say?’ Pakhi asked her brother as she leaned on his chest for comfort.

  ‘She has already left for the airport. Her flight makes two stops and she will land early in the morning tomorrow. If everything goes according to plan, we might pull it well by evening.’ He ensured.

  ‘Thanks Parosh. I know this is not what you expected to happen during your visit here.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? This is exactly what a writer wishes would happen!’

  The sister smiled and gave gingerly peck on her brother’s cheek and left. Parosh watched her fading into the distance. He pulled out another cigarette from his pocket. He would have been a complete disaster after his wife’s death had it not been for his sister’s constant efforts to bring him back on track. He dropped the cigarette on the muddy lawn and went inside the house.

  He walked to the drawing hall and sat on the sofa to go through the file on Jagannatha Varma again, just to make sure that he had not missed anything. While flipping through the reports his glance went beyond the upper circumference of the file and spotted something shiny lying in front of him on the sofa where the minister had been sitting fifteen minutes ago. He placed the file down and went to pick up the shiny thing. He called out for his sister loudly.

  Hell, you might even crack the code behind that pocket watch that he carries with himself everywhere.

  That was it, the pocket watch. Parosh picked it up, curious as a cat. The walls around him seemed to close in on him as he he snapped open the watch’s lid. The case opened and so did his eyes.

  ‘What happened dear?’ Shiuli inquired.

  He showed what he was holding in his hand to his sister and her eyes grew large as she saw what was inside. The confirmation of one detail could turn out to be the missing link to the entire case of the visitor. She took it from her brother carefully.

  Pakhi snapped the lid shut and quickly put the watch in her jeans’ pocket before anyone could see her doing it. She knew she had cracked the case, but it still needed an eyewitness to confirm the validity of the clue that Parosh discovered.

  She had the key to the visitor’s grail.

  Pakhi, you owe me your life now. Parosh thought in sheer excitement.

  Chapter 44

  The following evening

  28th December 2013

  The old woman swept her arm across the open window of the sedan, her wrinkled skin felt the breeze accelerated by the velocity of the moving vehicle. She had been there earlier, only that there had not been so many tall buildings or vehicles on the road the last time around. Gently she espoused her upper body towards the window and peeped out. The regimented breeze questioned her presence; however, she had little to donate there. Her white hair danced to the song of the breeze as her eyes gazed in wonderment at the concrete jungle that had found prominence on Tharaparambu Road.

  The sedan took a turn to the left and entered a bumpy pocket road that led to a kachcha road. The concrete giants had disappeared and once again, she smelled a familiar air as a strip of damp trees replaced them. Her head kept bumping onto the top of the window every time the sedan went over a boulder on the way. She saw dark clouds in the sky behind the trees, one after the other. She closed her outworn eyes and tried to trace the path to the mansion as she had seen it years ago. There was the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, and sparks of lightning curved in the horizon.

  The regimented breeze subsided into a smooth one as the car came to a halt. She pulled her head inside and with closed eyes, she opened the car’s door and stepped outside; right foot first. There was an impact as her foot touched the earth beneath, that of a child embracing her mother after a wait of ages. She took in a deep breath and placed the left foot on the ground as well. The air was not just familiar, rather the same as the one she had inside her heart. Slowly she started walking towards the mansion’s entrance door. Occasionally, she stepped on a big stone or a broken piece from a boulder. She moved forward slowly. The middle-aged man with glowing fair skin looked on at the woman related to him by law. She walked with few more faltering steps and stopped. She opened her eyes and there it stood, the mansion, like a majestic monster in front of her. She looked at the mansion in awe.

  She walked up the ramp and stopped right in front of the entrance door, which in itself was a beast made out of pure teak and coated with bronze. The double door was guarded by a pair of ivory tusks.

  She ran her eye from left to right and then lifted her right hand and pushed the right door with all her might…

  And the door opened to a gorgeous smiling face; the face of her great granddaughter.

  The face of Shiuli Dutta.

  ‘Shiuli, my baby, what are you doing here?’ The old woman asked in a tense tone.

  Parosh walked to the door, placed his right hand on the aged woman’s shoulder, and said, ‘That is exactly what we want to know from you.’

  Chapter 45

  The minister’s Innova swept across shaky metal railings of the Thopumpady Bridge at a steady acceleration against an increasingly regressive wind that came with the message of an incoming thunderstorm. The minister’s PA kept the front window open making it impossible for Pakhi, who was sitting in the middle section of the SUV, to keep her hair set. Maybe that was her intention in the first place. Despite his age, the minister was known to be virile and aggressive. He looked at Pakhi repeatedly; the silky hair of the glam
orous journalist flowing wildly and falling carelessly on her face and into her mouth lustrously gave his old body a run for its testosterone. Nissar, the minister’s PA, kept glancing at the sultry journalist in the rear view mirror.

  ‘I am sorry, is it my hair. Is it bothering you?’ Pakhi asked.

  ‘Not at all, in fact I am enjoying the show that they have put on.’ The minister winked. ‘By the way, where are you taking us, lady?’ he asked eagerly.

  The journalist smiled projecting her shapely thin lips highlighted by blood red lip-gloss. ‘I never really got a chance to get candid with you, I mean like a candid interview with you.’ She bit her lower lip and smiled diabolically. The next thing she did was to pull out a long woman’s cigarette and light it with a shiny zippo lighter. She was definitely trying to seduce the minister.

  ‘We could have used our room at the palace to serve your purpose.’ He postulated, a little suspicious at the journalist.

  ‘Oh, come on, Mr. Varma,’ she let out a puff of smoke on his face, ‘Be a sport! How long are you going to stay in that old body of yours.’ She patted the old man’s thigh with her left hand.

  ‘I don’t see any point in coming all this way to give you a candid interview.’ The minister put forth trying to masquerade the growing lust in his eyes.

  ‘Why should there always be a point. Every woman likes to adorn herself with the shiniest of stones,’ she paused to blink her eyes and added, ‘and you are one hell of a stone.’

  ‘I always admired women who think like you – forward and modern. Women who dare, who are not afraid. Women who can bring men down to their knees by the mere movement of a…’ he looked at the burning source of smoke in her right hand and said, ‘…cigarette. Young women who make wise moves to climb up the ladder. I understand and I do not oppose it, as long as the benefits are…’ he came closer to her and gently placed his left arm around her, and said, ‘…mutual…’ A cunning smile showed up on his face.

  Bastard, she thought.

  Nissar eyed her suspiciously in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘I hope you will like what you see.’ She hissed in Varma’s ear.

  The old man’s rusted heart raced, but cold was the stream of blood that rushed from his heart to the brain and cold was his hand that sent shivers down the journalist’s spine.

  Chapter 46

  Clifford Mansion

  The old woman felt weaker with every passing second. She looked around. It was the very same view, rusted now just like her memory. Her auxiliary veins gave up their duties and a sudden rush of emptiness gushed into her brain, blacking out her view for a moment. She swooned to the floor and the two men, Parosh and Iyer, caught hold of her before she could fall. They carried her by her shoulders and placed her on an old teakwood chair that was lying in the corner of the entrance hall. Shiuli sprinkled a handful of mineral water from her bottle on her great grandmother’s face. The old woman coughed back into consciousness.

  ‘Are you alright, Didima?’ Shiuli inquired with great concern for her great grandmother.

  ‘H… How… How did you know?’ The old woman questioned.

  Shiuli looked at her father who in turn produced an old photograph from his shirt’s pocket and held it out for the old woman to see.

  ‘Dear Lord!’ She burst into tears.

  ‘All of us have seen a photograph of the beautiful young woman in this picture in your closet. Pakhi had found the copy of the very same picture lying inside a dusty old hardbound novel here on that table…’ he pointed to the reading table and continued, ‘…inside this doomed mansion. This picture served as one of the missing links to our investigation. When Pakhi showed this picture to me I did not waste any time thinking. I instantly picked up the phone and asked Byom to send you here urgently.’ Parosh paused, took a deep breath, and closed in on the old woman.

  He spoke slowly, ‘We know it is very late, but your part of the story can still help at least one soul attain salvation. We need you to tell us exactly what happened that night, the last one you spent here, Sister Marie or should I say,’ he pronounced in an accusing manner, ‘Mrs. Lavanya Ghosh Baxter.’

  The atmosphere was charged with the sound of thunder and the front door opened again, somebody came in. Everyone on the inside looked at the incoming visitor.

  Chapter 47

  The minister nervously stepped inside the mansion. The reddish twilight outside faded into a lighter shade of yellow inside. Instantly, the air was fused with an effervescent odor of nostalgia. Nissar followed, while the gorgeous reporter dressed in black formals overtook the minister and introduced the minister, ‘Welcome home, Mr. Varma.’

  ‘What is going on, Ms. Dutta?’ Varma asked feigning an uneasy look of confidence.

  ‘I want you to meet a few people that you already know.’ She paved way and walked to the four people gathered at the corner of the entrance hall.

  All of them looked at Jagannatha Varma. While Shiuli, Parosh, and Iyer simply smiled mockingly at the minister, the fourth person seemed very troubled at the sight of the minister.

  ‘You have already met my brother, Parosh,’ the writer showed his sparkling teeth. ‘My lovely little niece, Shiuli,’ Shiuli followed protocol and bowed in front of the minister. Pakhi turned towards Iyer, ‘Oh you know this man, the caretaker of this house. Ramaprasad Iyer, an employee of yours, I believe.’ Iyer slammed his palms together in a namaskaara.

  Pakhi shifted her look towards the old woman who slowly got up from the chair,

  ‘This is Sister Marie, funny as it might sound, she is Shiuli’s great grandmother.’ Then Pakhi turned to the minister, ‘everybody this is the great Jagannatha Varma, a true leader, a visionary, a revolutionary.’

  Jagannatha forced a nervous smile at the remark.

  ‘Do you recognize this woman, Mr. Varma?’ asked Pakhi.

  Jagannatha Varma hesitated to reply and tried to look away.

  ‘Perhaps you will recognize this,’ Parosh added as he pushed his right hand into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a spectacular device wound by a shining chain. Parosh held the device loosely in front of the minister and let the chain unwind itself. The gold plated pocket watch’s case unwrapped itself and swung like a pendulum in front of the minister one side and the old woman on the other.

  ‘No?’ Parosh pretended, ‘maybe you will recognize this.’ He said and snapped open the case. Out fell a shiny silver coin on the floor, new as ever.

  The coin dropped and started spinning until it dropped on its head. Darkness loomed on its surface as the old woman moved forward to pick it up and cast her shadow on the mintage.

  ‘Shuvo mudro!’ she chanted recognizing the coin in her hand as the same one that she had given her husband six decades ago on the first night of their marriage as a token of good fortune. The doomed coin that only symbolized misfortune for the couple.

  The minister stepped back and yelled, ‘What kind of a joke is this?’ he asked Pakhi angrily, ‘Did you bring me here to waste my precious time?’

  ‘Oh, is that what you did here, back in the past?’ Pakhi asked threateningly.

  ‘What kind of a show are you putting on?’ He asked.

  ‘Be patient, the show has just began.’

  Nissar had been a silent witness but slowly began to move away. Parosh noted it and generously announced, ‘Mr. Varma, the box is slipping. How long do you plan to keep the cat in the there?’

  ‘Why are you talking senselessly?’

  ‘You still have time to confess and accept it before we go ahead with a legal accusation. Either way you will have the same sentence, that of death, but at least you can die with a little less shame.’ Pakhi offered.

  ‘This man killed my husband.’ A trembling voice accused. Everyone looked at the old woman. Her eyes filled, with tears spoke of fury, ‘He is the visitor who killed my husband.’

  ‘Enough! I have had enough of this. I am getting out of here and will make sure that all you maniacs find ideal places behind ba
rs.’ He turned around and began to leave.

  ‘We are on air, Mr. Varma.’ Parosh said, ‘not live, but definitely on air.’

  He turned back and looked at Pakhi who smiled and winked at the minister and mockingly air-kissed him. He quickly threw a sharp glance at Parosh.

  ‘Yes Sir, it is inclusive of your heroics in the car with my sister.’ Parosh said and chuckled, ‘It is time to reveal the real identity of the cat, Suryasena Varma.’

  The very name of the dreaded monster set the sea on a tidal depression. Even the bats in the room upstairs scurried out of the broken window in fear. Nissar thumped the minister’s back with his left hand and hid behind him. While the minister, Jagannatha Varma, sighed and looked down in embarrassment.

  ‘You little pests have figured out everything, haven’t you?’

  Smiles grew across the young faces of Pakhi, Parosh and Shiuli. Iyer was numb and so was Sister Marie, Shiuli’s great grandmother.

  ‘And now you want me to confess everything on camera, where is it by the way?’

  ‘It’s right there where you were staring at all the time.’ Pakhi mentioned pushing the third button on her shirt. It looked a little different from the rest of the set. Clearly, it housed the hidden camera.

  ‘Hmmm… very well then, I think I am left with no other option.’ Varma started moving around the group of youngsters, he looked at the carved ceiling of the mansion and chanted ceremoniously,

  ‘Such is the great nature of a man, it resides the true face beneath a glittering masquerade. The true face is always the darker one but the world loves the shining mask. Ever wondered how it felt growing up in a closed mansion with a psychotic father who preyed on prostitutes and desperate women, ripping them apart with shear brutality?’ He looked across the hall, then back at Shiuli, and started moving towards her. He continued, ‘I was a toddler, and my earliest memory of a father was a naked man drunk and urinating on a woman who was covered with blood.’