by RV Raman
With his investigations temporarily stalled, Athreya decided to take stock. He sat and wrote down the timings at which various people had been outside the mansion on the night of the murder.
According to the autopsy, the murder had taken place sometime between 12:30 a.m. and 1 a.m. But experience had taught him that these estimates were not cast in stone. Coroners went by averages derived from empirical estimates, which were based on diverse studies. Case-specific variations had to be taken into account over and above that.
Some people digested food faster than others. If that had been true for Phillip, the murder could have taken place before 12:30 a.m., except that Varadan had seen Phillip at around 12:25 a.m. Similarly, if Phillip had been a slow digester, he might have been killed as late as 1:30 a.m.
This meant that Athreya had to operate with the time window of 12:25 a.m. to 1:30 a.m. With that in mind, he went down the list of people and their time logs.
Dora had returned to the mansion at 12:27 a.m., and had been seen by Varadan. Unless she had gone out subsequently, she seemed to be in the clear.
Varadan had gone out at 12:27 a.m., and then conversed with Michelle till about 12:50 a.m. Unless they were both were lying, they provided alibis for each other for that time window. But Varadan was alone after that and had the opportunity to kill Phillip.
Michelle had said that she had returned a little before 1 a.m., but there was no evidence to corroborate that. Dora hearing her door at 12:50 a.m. didn’t mean much. It could have been any door other than Michelle’s. Even if it had been Michelle’s door, it did not mean that she had entered and stayed in her room.
Richie had stepped out of his room at some time between 12:50 a.m. and 1 a.m. He too would have had the opportunity to kill Phillip. There was little doubt in Athreya’s mind that Richie had oiled the chapel door in anticipation of nocturnal activity. He was sure that Richie was one of the several people who had visited the chapel that night.
Abbas had ended his discussion with Michelle at 12:25 a.m. at Sunset Deck. Nothing was known about his movements after that, although Athreya did suspect him of meeting Murthy sometime later in the rock garden, where they had smoked together. So, Abbas too had the opportunity. Besides, his last admitted location—Sunset Deck—was close to the chapel.
Murthy had been skulking around Greybrooke Manor till about 2 a.m. He too had been in a position to kill Phillip.
Then there was the whole matter of the mongrel. He had been at the resort on the night of the murder, having returned to complete his aborted mission of killing Bhaskar. He would have conducted extensive reconnaissance of the estate, and would have known his way about in the fog. In fact, the fog would have aided him.
And, if Jilsy was right, he was already hand in glove with Abbas, Murthy and Phillip. The question that remained was whether the mongrel had killed Phillip by mistake, taking him to be Bhaskar.
That left Bhaskar, Manu, Sebastian, Ganesh, Father Tobias, Bahadur and Jilsy. None of them had alibis, and all of them, with the possible exception of Jilsy, could have slit a throat. Nothing could have stopped any of them from stepping out into the fog and killing Phillip.
Bhaskar and Manu had their own private French windows through which they could have passed unnoticed. So could have Sebastian, if Bhaskar was asleep. Ganesh and Father Tobias were in the annex, and would have been completely hidden by the fog. Nobody knew precisely where Bahadur was at any point in time.
The list of suspects was still too long. He had to find ways to eliminate some names from it.
With a start, he realized that his right hand had been sketching while his mind had been churning. It was a crude picture of Jesus on a cross, looking down upon a man in a wheelchair. Between the two of them was a broken altar.
* * *
The memorial service turned out to be a long, sombre affair that was attended by between thirty and forty people. Athreya hadn’t known that there were so many people in the vale. The chapel had been full. All the pews had been taken, and people were standing in the area behind the pews.
Bhaskar had asked Mrs. Carvallo to sit in the first row, with Dora beside her. The family had taken the first row on the right side, and invited guests had sat in the other rows in front. But Jilsy had refused to go anywhere near the spot where Phillip’s body had been found, preferring to take the last row on the right.
Athreya had stood in a corner at the back and watched Father Tobias conduct the service with grace and empathy. His tone was just right for the occasion, solemn but clear. He invited people to speak about Phillip, and was kind and encouraging to Mrs. Carvallo, who spoke wistfully between bursts of emotion.
Ganesh’s loud voice boomed through the chapel as he recalled his relationship with his neighbour. Michelle and Dora said short, quiet pieces, and Bhaskar finished it off with a brief, erudite speech.
Outside the chapel, the mist was gathering again, promising to be as dense as it had been on the day of the murder. At the end of the service, people melted away in groups, most of them going down the path towards the Misty Valley Resort. Not wanting him to risk passage in the thickening murk, Bhaskar asked Father Tobias to stay for the night.
When they sat down for dinner, it was a dozen of them—the same group as before, with the exception of Phillip. Bhaskar was back in his motorized wheelchair, which had been cleaned, with all its upholstery changed. It had been stripped down to its metal frame, and all the bloodied parts had been thrown away. All the replaceable sections—the seat, back and armrests—had been replaced with new ones.
‘How is your investigation coming along, Mr Athreya?’ Ganesh asked amidst a long, awkward silence, trying to spark conversation. ‘The revised estimate of the time of death has thrown a spanner in the works, hasn’t it?’
‘Not really,’ Athreya answered. ‘Earlier, nobody had an alibi. Now, with the revised time frame, some people seem to have one, at least on the face of it.’
‘Any idea of the motive yet? From what we heard at the service today, Phillip seemed to be a well-liked man.’
‘A case of mistaken identity may well have prompted the murder, Major. But, just as we have multiple suspects, we’re looking at a host of possible motives too, some quite esoteric. Did you know that Phillip spent many years in Austria as an artist, converting photographs to paintings and copying the works of others?’
‘Really?’
Several heads jerked up, as the diners transferred their gaze from their plates to Athreya’s face.
‘Austria?’ Manu asked. ‘Wow, I didn’t realize that he had lived overseas. Usually, that shows up in the way people speak and in their choice of words.’
‘He was a reserved man who spoke little,’ Dora said.
‘Taciturn, really. Maybe that’s why it didn’t show. In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I would have exchanged more than a few dozen sentences with him.’
‘That’s true, Dora. He was a quiet man. I wonder who would want to kill such a man. He kept largely to himself.’
‘It must have been someone from outside. I just can’t see anyone we know wanting to kill him.’
Father Tobias had been watching the exchange across the table as if he were watching a tennis match from the sidelines. His head turned this way and that, from one speaker to the other. With each utterance, he seemed to be getting more confused.
‘Pardon me,’ he interrupted, apologetically blinking his eyes. ‘I don’t understand. Why are we talking as if we don’t know who killed Phillip?’
‘What do you mean, Reverend?’ Bhaskar asked, his eyes drilling into the cleric’s. ‘Of course, we don’t know who killed Phillip. Do you?’
‘Oh dear.’ Father Tobias’s face flushed red. ‘I must have made a mistake then. I must have misheard the inspector.’
‘The inspector?’
By now, everyone at the table was staring at the priest, who was clearly feeling awkward under the combined scrutiny.
‘Tell us what you think you heard, Reverend.’
‘Well, Inspector Muthu was very pleased when he came to see me. He said that he had solved the case, and that he had done it without the help of any fancy specialist, whatever that meant.’
The meaning must have been obvious to everyone in the room other than Father Tobias.
‘Solved the case?’ Bhaskar echoed.
Father Tobias nodded vigorously and went on.
‘Apparently, he has already apprehended the man who had broken into this mansion three months ago and attacked you. The dagger that killed Phillip was his, too. And he had been hiding among the staff of the Misty Valley Resort the night Phillip was killed.’
As a stunned silence engulfed the room, Athreya glanced at Abbas. This time, the suave resort owner faltered. He had stopped eating, and his face had begun to blanch. Michelle and Richie also glanced at Abbas.
Into the shocked silence, Father Tobias threw another unwitting bomb.
‘Apparently, the arrested man is a well-known criminal, and has been recognized as the one who had tried to kill Bhaskar. He has a nickname. I believe he is called “the mongrel”.’
Michelle’s eyes flew wide open, and her head snapped to Athreya. By contrast, Jilsy, frightened out of her wits, shut her eyes and fists tightly, as if she wanted to cut out the world. A second later, Ganesh’s mouth dropped open.
‘The mongrel?’ he echoed. ‘Phillip was heard talking about the mongrel.’
‘What!’ Manu exclaimed. ‘Phillip knew the mongrel? Are your sure, Major?’
‘Very sure.’ Ganesh’s head bobbed up and down, even as Jilsy kept her eyes shut. ‘I heard him talk about the mongrel. Clearly.’
Suddenly, it dawned upon the major that he might have erred seriously. His despairing eyes sought out Athreya. But it was too late. Ganesh shut his mouth with a snap and picked up his glass of rum and Coke. Fortunately, nobody asked him whom Phillip had been talking to when he mentioned the mongrel, and how it was that he had overheard him.
Abbas had paled further, and was looking ashen. With an unsteady hand, he picked up his wine glass and brought it to his lips, keeping his eyes on the table the entire time. Michelle was staring at Abbas, her lips compressed and her nostrils flaring. Her eyes were glistening with moisture. An expression of incredulity came over Richie’s face. Dora, Sebastian and Varadan were also staring at the resort owner.
When Athreya took his eyes off Abbas, he found Bhaskar staring at him. Athreya returned the gaze unflinchingly and nodded slightly, telling Bhaskar that he had known about the mongrel’s association with Phillip.
‘So,’ Manu hissed. ‘Phillip had known the mongrel, eh?’ He looked uncharacteristically angry. ‘That answers a few questions, doesn’t it?’
‘What questions?’ Dora asked. She was still stunned at the sudden turn of events.
‘First, how did the mongrel get into the mansion that day, three months ago?’ Manu asked. ‘Murugan had locked up the house. He and Sebastian were in the storeroom, which is a part of the staff quarters. Only three people were in the main mansion: Dad, Phillip and me.
‘Dad had retired for the night, and his wheelchair had been plugged in for charging. I was in bed, reading. Phillip was in the room you are now staying in, Mr Athreya. All the doors and windows were locked, both Murugan and I had checked them just fifteen minutes previously. And, after the break-in, we checked each door and window again–none of them had been forced open.
‘So, you see what I am getting at? The mongrel couldn’t have got in…unless someone let him in!’
‘Jesus!’ Sebastian exclaimed. ‘Murugan and I were in the storeroom when we heard the gunshot. We had begun our stocktaking immediately after locking up the main house.’
‘Second question,’ Manu went on. ‘Who took the dagger from the drawer in the hall? Where did it go? Did Phillip take it? Did he return it to the mongrel?’
‘Third question,’ Sebastian cut in, his face intense with anger. ‘You remember the time when Mr Fernandez went to Coonoor, and the car’s brakes failed after we had visited the bank?’
‘What about it?’ Bhaskar growled.
‘Phillip had come with us on the outbound journey, but had decided to stay back and return later. He had no friends in Coonoor, and didn’t even bank there. All his purchases were made by others. Why then did he opt to stay back?’
‘Sebastian,’ Bhaskar said slowly. ‘Do you remember where you had parked the car that day in Coonoor? Some by lane, wasn’t it? Because you couldn’t get parking near the bank.’
‘Yes. You had to wait for five minutes for me to bring the car. It was three or four streets away on a side road.’
‘An ideal opportunity to tamper with the brakes!’ Manu finished. ‘Where was Phillip during that half hour we were at the bank?’
‘We don’t know. We didn’t know what he did or where he went.’
‘What do you think, Mr. Athreya?’ Manu asked, his face shining. ‘Could Phillip have been behind at least some of the attempts on Dad’s life?’
‘Possible, Manu,’ Varadan interjected before Athreya could respond. ‘But we must keep in mind that all this is circumstantial evidence.’
‘Mr. Varadan is right,’ Athreya said. ‘I would not jump to conclusions without further consideration.’ He turned to Bhaskar and asked, ‘You and Phillip talked a lot about paintings, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. That was possibly the only topic he was keen to talk about.’
‘Did he ever talk about stolen paintings?’
‘Stolen paintings,’ Manu cried. ‘What on earth?’ Athreya didn’t answer him, and kept his gaze on Bhaskar. The older man’s face had frozen. He seemed to be thinking, mentally going back in time. At length, he lifted his gaze and nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said haltingly. ‘When I talked about crime and read out some escapades to him from my books in the library, he asked if I had any stories—true or fictional—about crime in art. About stolen paintings. He wanted to know how easy or difficult it was to sell stolen art. I had a few books that I lent him. I also recommended a couple of stories in which priceless stolen paintings were concealed by painting over them with paint that was easily removable.
‘This was done in real life too during the Second World War, to hide precious art from the Nazis. The idea was to fool the Nazis into thinking that certain paintings were ordinary, so they wouldn’t steal or destroy them. Once the Nazi threat had receded, the top layer of paint would be removed to reveal the original painting.
‘There were also cases where a precious painting would be hidden behind the canvas of an ordinary painting. The two canvases would be mounted together such that the precious canvas was hidden behind the ordinary canvas. The only way to discover this was to weigh the mounted paintings or to use a curved outside calliper to measure the thickness of the canvas. If there were two canvases instead of one, it would show up.’
‘Dad!’ Manu cried. ‘An outside calliper…is that an instrument with two curved arms joined together at a pivot? Like the curved claws of a crab?’
‘Yes. And it has a knob and a scale at the pivot for measurement.’
‘Dad … Dad,’ said Manu, choking. He coughed a few times and recovered. ‘Dad … I’ve seen one with Phillip,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘I saw him measuring the thickness of some of the larger paintings in the gallery here. Even as recently as last week.’
‘The paintings he sold you, Mr. Fernandez,’ Athreya asked sharply. ‘Did he sell them to you as canvases or as mounted paintings?’
‘Mounted paintings,’ Bhaskar whispered. ‘Always mounted. He was very good at mounting them. He even mounted some of my other paintings.’
‘If Dad had died that day,’ Manu hissed fiercely, ‘the entire painting collection would have gone to Phillip. The undeserving betrayer!’
Chapter 17
<
br /> As they adjourned the drawing room after dinner, Bhaskar drew Athreya into the library. The discovery of Phillip’s treachery had shaken him, as it had affected the rest of the family. They had discussed their nasty discovery over dinner repeatedly, and had grown increasingly convinced of Phillip’s betrayal.
Three times could not have been a coincidence. And the first occasion—when the mongrel had been let in by somebody—brooked no other explanation. That Bhaskar had been kind to him, and had financially supported him by buying his paintings, only made it more difficult for them to accept the revelation.
‘The mongrel has made me an offer,’ Bhaskar said softly once they were alone in the library. ‘Varadan had been to town and had seen him at the police lock-up. The mongrel had asked to speak to my representative privately, which Muthu had allowed for five minutes. As you know, the mongrel’s conviction may well hinge on my identifying him as the intruder who had broken into my house and tried to kill me.
‘The mongrel’s offer is simple. If I agree to not identify him, he will tell me who commissioned him.’
‘Cunning,’ Athreya said. ‘He may look an ordinary ruffian, but he is no fool. I take it that Muthu got no whiff of this offer?’
‘None. He is playing it by the book. He insists that I should identify the mongrel only in a line-up, as mandated by law. That way, the identification will be watertight. He could easily have brought the mongrel here for me to identify, at least informally. But that might play into the hands of a smart defence lawyer.’
‘Muthu is playing his hand well. I wonder how convinced he is that the mongrel killed Phillip.’
‘You don’t think he did?’ Bhaskar countered, studying
