by RV Raman
Back in his room, he opened his sketchbook and gazed at the second sketch he had made while listening in on the conversation between Michelle and Bhaskar. It was a sketch of a sari-clad woman carrying an engraved metal pot. He had no need to label the sketch, for he knew what exactly his mind’s eye had seen, and why.
The woman in the sketch was Draupadi from Indian mythology, and the vessel she was carrying was the Akshayapatram: Krishna’s gift to her, which provided a limitless supply of food, so that she could dole out meals to as many guests as required.
Not unlike Bhaskar, who was doling out money to his nieces and nephew. For a moment, Athreya wondered how Manu felt about his father’s generosity.
Chapter 8
When Athreya woke up the next morning, it was to a brighter day. Although wispy mist drifted past his window in the breeze now and then, it had thinned out from the previous night. The sun had just risen, making the hedges and bushes of the rose garden clearly visible. The upper half of the annex could also be seen from Athreya’s window, albeit not as clearly. The hilltops beyond were just being lit by the first rays of sunlight. It was a much better day for a morning walk.
Ten minutes later, Athreya was out on the walkway, just as he had been twenty-four hours earlier. Nobody was about, neither inside the mansion nor outside. Apart from Bhaskar, who had been the first to retire last night, Athreya must have been among the earliest to go to bed. But, curiously, the front door had not been locked. The two large bolts on the inside of the door, glistening faintly from recently applied lubrication, were drawn fully back.
A steady wind had sprung up, sweeping the shredded mist along the valley and rustling the tall eucalyptus trees. With visibility much better today, Athreya set out at a brisk pace along the walkway. When he passed the chapel, he saw its half-open door blow gently open in the wind. As he turned right and continued on his walk, the sound of a window banging in the wind reached his ears.
The intermittent sound continued to follow him as he walked around the inner lawn and the rose garden. By the time he had passed the silent annex and returned to finish one circuit, the sound was beginning to bother him. When he passed the chapel a second time, he noticed that one of its windows was open. That was the source of the noise. He retraced his steps and entered the chapel to secure the offending window.
He pushed the chapel door open and stopped uncertainly. Something had caught his subconscious attention. But he knew not what. He retreated from the chapel door, closed it, and opened it again. There it was…something gnawed at the back of his mind. He was expecting something that wasn’t quite there. After a fruitless mental search, not able to put a finger on what was bothering him, he went into the chapel and switched on the lights.
The chapel looked just as it had the previous day, still and empty. The aisle and the pews looked the same, as did the open space in front of the dais on which the altar stood. The doors at the left and right ends of the open space were in relative darkness, as the lights he had switched on were over the aisle and the dais. However, from where he stood, both the doors seemed shut. Only the window beside the door on the right was open. That was the one that was making the noise.
Athreya went down the aisle and turned right to latch the window, noting mechanically that it was unbarred. After latching it, he turned around to leave, but then stopped. Something definitely seemed different about the chapel. But what? He checked the door near him and found it bolted. Whoever or whatever had opened the window had not opened the door.
He swept the chapel with his gaze. Just like the spot he was standing in, the door at the far end of the open space across the breadth of the chapel was in darkness. As he looked around a second time, his gaze halted at the altar, and he realized what had changed. The candlesticks had been moved. When he had seen them yesterday, the five candlesticks had been distributed evenly along the length of the altar. Now, three of them were bunched together at the far end of the altar, the remaining two at the near end.
He approached the altar cautiously and studied it. The thin layer of dust that covered the altar stone had been disturbed in several places. There were long streaks on it where the dust had been removed, and a large patch that gleamed dustless. After inspecting this for a long moment, Athreya went around and climbed the three steps on to the dais on which the altar stood.
Behind the altar were more clues. Two large floor mats had been shifted from their original place and were lying askew. Something or somebody had been here. Either during the previous day, after Manu had shown him around the chapel, or sometime at night. Turning around slowly, he noticed a small scrap of cloth caught on one of the wooden benches that ran along the wall on either side of the mural portraying Jesus. He went down on his haunches and examined it.
Caught on an exposed splinter of wood was a small strip of cloth, perhaps half an inch long. Carefully, Athreya picked out the dark-blue scrap with his thumb and forefinger. It was of a thickish material, of the type used in apparel. Had somebody’s trousers caught on the splinter and ripped?
He rose and surveyed the rest of the dais, trying not to disturb the mats or touch anything. Having scrutinized the area behind the dais, he descended the three steps on the far end. As Athreya turned to check if the door at that end of the open space was bolted, he froze mid-stride.
In the dark corner beside the door, where the chapel wall met the dais, was Bhaskar’s wheelchair with its back to him. Slumped on it was a man with a grizzled mane and a salt-and-pepper beard. His hands rested limply on his lap. A large, reddish-brown patch had spread over much of his shirt’s right shoulder.
Taking care not to touch or disturb anything, Athreya went beside the wheelchair and peered at the man. Two seconds later, his fears were confirmed. The man’s throat had been slit.
Death had returned to Greybrooke Manor.
* * *
For a moment, Athreya contemplated rousing the household. No sooner had the thought risen in his mind that he dismissed it. The dead man was beyond all mortal help now, and had been so for hours. Nothing was to be gained by creating a ruckus. On the other hand, there was everything to be lost once people rushed into the chapel. Whatever little evidence there was would be trampled over and destroyed. It was best to examine the chapel before alerting the others.
The corner where the wheelchair stood was one of the two darkest spots in the chapel, the other being the corresponding corner near the door at the other end of the open space in front of the dais. The wheelchair was placed such that the dead man was facing the corner. It looked as if he had been wheeled there after being killed, perhaps to keep the murder from being discovered inconveniently early.
Using the light of his mobile phone, Athreya found the front of the victim’s shirt completely drenched maroon. Blood had flowed down to the hands that rested on his lap. The throat presented a gory sight—it was slit from ear to ear, and the cut seemed very deep.
Athreya retreated from the wheelchair and searched for the light switches. A minute later, all the lights in the chapel were blazing. He pulled out his mobile phone, and clicked dozens of pictures from different angles and shot videos of the entire chapel. Ten minutes later, when the battery of his overheated mobile phone was three-fourths gone, he put it away and studied the scene once again.
The floor in front of the altar was covered with rectangular floor mats that were about four feet by eight feet. They had been arranged neatly across the entire area, and all of them were of the same type and size. Similar mats were spread over the aisle and on the space for people to stand, behind the pews on either side of the chapel entrance. On the mat under the wheelchair were two round spots of blood about an inch across.
Athreya’s thoughts were disturbed by a thumping sound that seemed to be coming from a distance. It had been audible for perhaps half a minute, but, because his attention was focused inside the chapel, it had not registered. Now, as it intruded upon his consciousness, he looked up and co
cked his head to one side, listening. The sound seemed to be emanating from the mansion.
He hurried out of the chapel, frowning as he closed the door. The same subliminal feeling gnawed at him again. Dismissing it once more, he hurried to the source of the thumping, which was the rear of the mansion. As he approached the back door, it opened and Sebastian came out, looking groggy. Behind him was Manu, looking annoyed. Both men were still in their pyjamas.
For a moment, the three men stared uncomprehendingly at the closed door of the staff quarters. The thumping was coming from behind the door, which had been bolted from the outside. Someone had locked the staff in.
Before Athreya could stop him, Manu hurried down the steps and slid the bolt open. The door opened, and inside stood Murugan, a stout middle-aged lady whom Athreya took to be Bhuvana, and three young women.
‘What–’ Manu began, when Murugan interrupted him.
‘Somebody locked us in, sir,’ he said in Tamil. ‘I’m sorry to wake you up, but we had no other choice.’
‘Who?’ Manu demanded. ‘Who did this?
‘I don’t know, sir.’
Athreya stepped forward and took charge.
‘Murugan,’ he instructed briskly, ‘before you or anyone else comes out of the staff quarters, I want you to go back inside and make a list of everyone who is inside now. I need you and your wife to physically check if everyone is there, and tell me if anyone is missing. Don’t take anyone’s word for it. Check with your own eyes that each person is accounted for.’
‘What–’ Manu began again, but Athreya cut him off.
‘I’ll explain shortly.’
Three minutes later, Murugan and Bhuvana returned with six young people in tow, and the news that everyone was accounted for. Every member of the staff who was expected to be on the premises was inside the staff quarters.
‘Okay,’ said Athreya, nodding. ‘When did you discover that the door had been bolted from the outside?’
‘About fifteen or twenty minutes before you came, sir.’
‘But you began banging the door only five minutes ago. Why was that?’
‘I tried to get one of the boys to climb out though a ventilator, sir. So that he could open the door from outside. I didn’t want to wake up the household after the late party last night. But the ventilator was too small. We had no option but to call for help.’
‘Did you or anyone else hear the door being bolted?’
‘No, sir.’ Murugan glanced enquiringly at his wife, who shook her head.
‘Talk to the others later and find out if any of them heard anything—either during the night or early in the morning. I also want to know if they heard any unusual sounds.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Athreya pulled out his mobile phone and nodded at Murugan.
‘Ask the staff to come out one by one,’ he said. ‘Nobody is to stay inside. Once I have photographed them, you are free to go about your work.’
Athreya shot a video as Murugan, Bhuvana, three young women and three young men filed out of the staff quarters. He returned his mobile phone to his pocket, and gestured at Sebastian and Manu to follow him.
‘Try not to touch anything,’ he said softly as they approached the chapel.
‘What happened?’ Manu asked, now clearly alarmed.
‘Why are all the lights in the chapel switched on?’
Athreya did not reply. The feeling that had been bothering him was growing clearer. He strode towards the chapel door, and stretched out his hand to stop Manu and Sebastian as he reached it.
He stood by the closed door for a second and then opened it. It opened smoothly…too smoothly. He realized what had troubled him. The door had creaked when Manu had opened it the prior morning. Today, it opened soundlessly. He stepped up close to the door and studied its hinges. They were all shiny, and tiny rivulets of clear liquid flowed down from each of the six hinges.
They had been oiled. Less than twenty-four hours ago. Athreya stepped back and took a deep breath. He turned and looked at the two troubled men behind him, watching their expressions. Sebastian was clearly alarmed, and was trying to peer around Athreya into the chapel. Manu was restraining himself and was trying to be polite in the face of Athreya’s bewildering behaviour.
‘What is it?’ Manu asked. ‘Why are all the lights on?’
‘I switched them on,’ Athreya replied.
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Murder. Your father’s fears have materialized.’
‘Murder! Where?’
Athreya stepped back and pointed towards the corner where the wheelchair stood, now clearly visible as the full set of lights had been turned on.
‘There. In the wheelchair in the corner.’
‘Wheelchair?’ Manu gasped. A second later, he recognized the wheelchair and the grizzled mane of the bearded man in it.
‘Dad!’ It was a plaintive wail. ‘No! Dad!’ Manu pushed past Athreya and ran down the aisle.
‘Can’t be.’ Sebastian called after Manu, following him quickly. ‘Manu, your father was in his room when I came out. The sound of Murugan banging on the door had awakened him.’
‘Thank God.’ Manu paused and threw a look over his shoulder. Relief had flooded his face. Immediately, puzzlement followed and he resumed his sprint towards the wheelchair. ‘Then who?’ he asked to nobody in particular. ‘This is Dad’s wheelchair.’
A yard or two from it, he stopped and recoiled at the gory sight. His face had gone white.
‘It’s Phillip!’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘But how? Why?’
‘I must inform Mr. Fernandez,’ Sebastian said, turning towards the door. ‘He will be waiting for a report. The banging on the door had woken him up, too.’
‘In a few minutes, Sebastian,’ Athreya interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him. ‘Before we let more people tramp all over the chapel and destroy any evidence, please look around and tell me if anything is out of place. You both know the chapel well; I don’t. Let’s start with the dais and work our way toward the entrance.’
‘The candlesticks,’ Manu said immediately, as they climbed on to the dais. ‘They have been moved.’
‘And these floor mats,’ Sebastian added, pointing to the floor behind the altar where two mats were askew. ‘They were not like this last evening.’
‘Are you sure, Sebastian?’ Athreya asked.
‘Absolutely sure. Dora and I were here. The candlesticks were in their places too.’
‘What time were you here?’
‘About half an hour before the party began…or forty-five minutes. Dora wanted to check something in the storage cupboards.’ He gestured to the two large cupboards at both ends of the dais.
‘What were you wearing?’ Athreya asked.
‘Wearing?’ He looked perplexed. Athreya nodded. ‘Try to remember.’
‘Oh, I remember perfectly. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.’
‘Colour?’
Sebastian’s face grew more puzzled. ‘Khaki shorts,’ he said, nevertheless. ‘You could call it fawn, I suppose. And a red t-shirt.’
‘And Dora? What was she wearing?’
‘Her usual light-blue jeans and a woollen pullover. It was black. Why do you ask?’
‘Just curious,’ said Athreya. ‘Anything else out of place?’
‘The dust on the altar has been disturbed,’ Manu replied. ‘Someone has definitely been here, and has done more than just move the candlesticks.’ He looked up enquiringly at Athreya and asked, ‘What brought you to the chapel so early this morning?’
‘That window,’ Athreya said, pointing towards the one he had closed earlier, ‘was open and banging in the wind. And the front door was swaying too. I came here to latch the window.’
Frowning absently, Sebastian hurried to the window. He opened and closed it, and examined the floor below it. Not satisfied, he opened the door beside the window and inspected the g
round outside. Athreya noted that the door’s bolt was misaligned, and had been difficult to open. It had also creaked when opened, but the window had not. He ambled over to the window and looked at the hinges. They, too, had been oiled recently.
They shut the door and methodically went over the rest of the chapel. They found nothing between or under the pews. The aisle yielded nothing either. But when they reached the space behind the pews, Manu pointed to the floor at one end. It was bare.
‘Didn’t this area have mats too, Sebastian?’ he asked.
‘Two mats,’ Sebastian confirmed. ‘Four by eight feet in size—same as all the other mats.’
‘Were they there last evening?’ Athreya asked.
‘I can’t say for sure, we didn’t come over here. We went down the aisle to the dais and back to the door. I did glance around, but I didn’t see anything amiss. Mind you, it was already getting dark, and we had switched on the lights over the dais and aisle only.’
‘Is the chapel always left unlocked?’ Athreya asked. Sebastian shrugged. ‘Mr. Fernandez wanted the chapel to be available to everyone at any point in time. Sometimes, people make private visits here and pray alone, especially when their minds are in turmoil. Mr. Fernandez believes that they should be free to do so, without having to ask someone for a key.’
‘How often is the chapel cleaned?’
‘Every day, usually in the morning. One of the boys does it.’
‘Does he also oil the doors and windows?’
‘Whatever for?’ Sebastian threw a baffled glance at Athreya.
‘Is the front door of the mansion also kept unlocked?’ Athreya asked, switching tack.
‘No. Murugan usually locks up before retiring. But last night was different. With so many guests in the mansion and the annex, we left it unlocked. People were going in and out after dinner, and several of them were taking strolls in the garden till late. We wanted to let them have complete freedom to come and go as they wished.’
