The COMPLETE Siya Rajput Crime Thrillers (Books 1 to 4)

by UD Yasha

  ‘You can trust me.’

  ‘I should be the one determining that.’

  Silence.

  I said, ‘Why did you select Natasha Gill for the final round despite her low score?’

  Manohar raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re better than I thought.’

  ‘Maybe now you can trust me.’

  ‘She has a great story. It pays to have people from different backgrounds learning under the same roof.

  I interrupted him. ‘Cut the fluff. She’s missing, along with her mother.’

  ‘This seems like a dangerous season.’

  ‘What do you know about them?’

  ‘Only that they applied to Ad Astra.’

  ‘Is this one of the things that you claim you don't know but then will determine my integrity before telling me?'

  Silence.

  ‘Who are you afraid of?’

  Silence.

  ‘Did the same people take Rucha?’

  Silence.

  ‘Did they also take Natasha and Sumeira?’

  Manohar turned his gaze to me. His eyes were narrow and determined.

  ‘Sumeira Gill,’ Manohar said.

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I want to see if I can trust you. Find out what happened to her husband.’

  ‘He died of a heart attack.’

  ‘I thought you were better than that,’ Manohar said and licked his lower lip again.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I said.

  Manohar got up and went to the window again.

  ‘Reach out to me when you find out what happened to her husband. I’ll tell you everything I know once you tell me.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  For the next fifteen minutes, the ACP and Rathod read out the charges filed against Manohar. They offered him a plea bargain. Manohar rejected it outright. The ACP offered an even more lucrative deal. I was surprised that a judge had agreed to it. But I was glad as it was the right thing to do if it could save an innocent life. Even the second offer was rejected by Manohar. The court was going to need some time to issue the warrant for his arrest. The security guards at CID were thankful as taking Manohar out through the media circus was going to be a pain.

  After we walked out of the detention room, I gestured to Rathod to meet me in the parking lot. By the time he came down, I was standing by his car in the blind spot.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he said, opening the car.

  I got in and said, ‘Sumeira Gill was married to a man named Sachin. He died of a heart attack when Natasha was a few months old. Manohar asked me to find out how he died.’

  ‘Didn’t you just say it was a heart attack?’

  ‘Manohar thinks otherwise. I also now know he is afraid of divulging information. That’s why he has not been saying anything. Finding out about Sachin’s death is a test.’

  ‘I’m sorry to ask you this, but are you sure he’s not taking you for a ride?’

  ‘I was sure until you asked me. But I think I am. It's worth taking the shot anyway.'

  ‘I’ll run him through the system and see if anything comes up.’

  ‘About that. I don’t know what or who Manohar is afraid of. It could be someone higher up in the chain. That’s why he’s probably scared. We should tread on caution. We’ll keep this off the system. Don’t use your official email account or number to communicate with me. And be careful who you share this with.’

  ‘What about Mahesh Bhalerao?’

  ‘Will he take a bullet for you?’

  Rathod hesitated. ‘Probably.’

  ‘I’m not even saying metaphorically. Because in this case, he actually might have to put his own life in danger. Or report someone who’s so big or has connections so deep, that his career will be in jeopardy if he acts against them.’

  ‘It’s you and me then.’

  ‘I’ve got Rahul, Radha and Atharva with me. My mentor Santosh Hegde trusted a few professionals. I trust them as well by proxy. One of them is trying to retrieve data from Manohar’s phone.’

  ‘We’ll investigate this the old-fashioned way then.’

  ‘Yeah, I was planning to head to where the Gills used to stay earlier and ask around about them. Or maybe I'll call up their old neighbours. But that will just give me a feel for what kind of a family they were. I will still need solid proof. For that, I need access to Sachin Gill’s medical records.’

  ‘I can get you that.’

  ‘Keep it out of the system.’

  ‘I am assigned to this case so I’ll be flagged. I’ll get the warrant issued in someone else’s name who isn’t on this case.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be illegal?’

  ‘Like sharing this information with you isn't. Or all the other times we've discussed cases—'

  ‘I get your point. But keep it as low key as possible.'

  ‘I’ll get it to you in two hours.’

  ‘That must be one hell of a favour you owed.’

  ‘You’re better off not knowing about it,’ Rathod said with a grin. ‘I’ll call you.’

  I headed home with renewed vigour despite not being able to get through to Manohar. It took me ten minutes to get out of CID building because of the press presence. They sensed something big was coming down. More media vans had arrived since the last time I was here. It was six thirty and the sun’s intensity had gone down, providing a much needed relief to everyone.

  I called Radha and asked her to find out about Sumeira Gill's old house and get the names and contact details of her old neighbours. Their old address was also on Ad Astra's file. I reckoned Sumeira had mentioned it there to tell the school about her struggles.

  As I drove home, my eyes toggled between the road ahead and the rear-view mirror. A media van had been following me from CID office. It stopped right behind me at a traffic signal. It was close enough for me to read the name of the news channel. News India 24x7, a very creative name, I thought. It was a regional news channel. I noted its licence plate and then drove in a way that Santosh Hegde had taught me to lose a tail. I pulled over and then drove through various by-lanes instead of taking the usual route home. Within ten minutes, I was sure I had lost my tail.

  I reached home at almost seven. Everyone had settled indoors in my room where the air conditioner was blasting air on full blast. Rahul was still away but Atharva was back. I washed my face, drank a cup of coffee that Radha had kept ready for me.

  I joined everyone and told them about our new agenda. Everyone's focus shifted to finding out what happened to Sachin Gill.

  ‘I haven’t found a connection to Sachin in Malini’s medical records,’ Atharva said.

  I sipped the warm coffee, which was pure bliss in the cold room, especially after the kind of day I had. It felt so good that I did not feel the disappointment when Atharva told me he had not found anything. It was also partly because I was expecting it, more so after speaking to Manohar an hour back. This was about something completely different.

  Radha returned to the room in ten minutes with the contact details of three of Sumeira Gill’s old neighbours. The first person on the list was Sharman Jain. I dialled his number and he answered just before the call rang out.

  I introduced myself and said, ‘This is regarding your old neighbours Sachin and Sumeira Gill. Their daughter Natasha is missing. I would like to ask you some questions that may help us find her.’

  Sharman gasped, I could make out he was taken aback. Most people’s only understanding of crime, detectives and lawyers is based on TV shows, books or movies. They never really expect to get the call themselves in which they are asked for information or help by the police or a detective.

  ‘Please ask me. I’ll be happy to help you.’

  ‘What did you make of the Gills as a couple?’

  ‘They were…I don't know what to say. They fought a lot. We suspected Sachin was a drunkard. Someone might have complained once because the cops had come.'

  I was not expecting to hear that. ‘How was Sachin
as a person?’

  ‘I didn’t interact with him much. We’re both introverts. But what happened to him was tragic.’

  ‘Do you remember seeing them together?'

  ‘I don’t. It was a long time back. It must be about seven or eight years back, right? Things like neighbours fighting a lot…that’s what you remember. Not the good stuff.’

  I thanked him and moved to the next person. Praful Das. I got a similar reaction when I introduced myself. From his voice, I reckoned Mr. Das was on the older side.

  ‘What did you make of the Gills as a couple?’ I said.

  ‘Not much. I’m eighty-seven years old. Things don’t stick in my mind these days. Just yesterday my wife made fun of me while I was looking for my dentures. I searched for them for one whole hour. And then my wife taps my shoulder and tells me that I had them on the whole time! She had known all along.’

  I couldn't help but grin on hearing that. ‘You wife must be a remarkable woman, Mr. Das.'

  ‘She is indeed. We’ve been married for sixty-six years now!’

  ‘You must have a treasure trove of knowledge when it comes to relationships then.’

  ‘I don’t like to flaunt it. But my wife says I am a good lover.’

  My eyebrows went up in surprise. That was the last thing I was expecting to hear. I laughed again. ‘I’m sure it’s true if your wife says it. I need your help in getting to know the Gills better.’

  ‘I can tell you they weren’t the happiest though. I remember now. Even back then, just like every day now, I used to sit on our porch swing. I have always liked to observe things. And I noticed that they fought a lot. There was always a lot of noise coming out of that house. I never saw domestic violence or anything like that but only a fool would not realize that something was wrong with them.’

  ‘Why do you think so?’

  ‘I remember abuse being hurled all the time by the husband. The wife gave it back to him a few times but it almost always ended up with him screaming even more.’

  I got what I needed along with some enjoyable quips from the old man. I thanked him and moved on to the third and final name on the list. It was clear Sumeira and Sachin Gill were not happily married. Why had Manohar asked me to find out about Sachin’s death? Was there foul play involved? Had things gotten out of control to the point that Sumeira had killed her husband in self-defence? In that case, Sumeira was within her rights to defend herself. She also had a five-month-old baby to worry about.

  The third person on the list was a woman named Anamika Thorat. I dialled her up and once again went through with the entire process of introducing myself. I wondered if a woman’s perspective of the events would be different.

  ‘That lady,’ Anamika said. ‘She had problems.’

  I could not place her age but there was pity in her tone. I said, ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I remember Sumeira Gill very distinctly. Every evening her house would light up. Her husband and her would have some or the other argument.’

  ‘Were the two of you friends?’

  ‘No, but we spoke every now and then.’

  ‘Did she ever tell you about her marriage problems? Or anything about her husband?’

  ‘She had made me promise not to tell anyone.’

  I pressed my phone harder into my ear. ‘What was it? Sumeira and her daughter’s life could be in danger.’

  Silence.

  ‘Anamika?’ I said.

  ‘Okay, I'll tell you. I don't know if you'll get it because most people I have spoken to don't. Thank God you're a woman because most women tend to get it.'

  ‘I’m listening to you. Go ahead please.’

  Anamika whispered, ‘Her…her husband used to rape her.’

  A breath escaped my mouth. ‘I get it,' I said. Shockingly, marital rape was not illegal in India. A woman owed her husband sex and it was considered consensual every time, even when it was not. Women and children’s rights activists had fought for years to make it illegal and equivalent to rape outside of marriage. But their cries had not been heard.

  ‘Did she tell you this?’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  I sensed something more was coming.

  ‘Their daughter, Natasha, was born as a result of rape.’

  My heart went out to Sumeira. Thousands of women like her were stuck in abusive marriages. They were helpless. They could not do anything about it. The few who were brave enough to approach the police were turned away. Nothing illegal was happening according to the police. A lot of women were afraid to even ask for a divorce. They were stuck in a rotten cycle. A part of them died each day, and what sucked most was that they had to live through it as if everything was rosy.

  I thanked Anamika for her time and courage to tell me about it. As I hung up, I wondered. Had Sumeira killed her husband?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I found no reason why anyone would make up stories about someone’s bad marriage. Coupled with the two other takes on the Gills, I could safely conclude that they had a terrible marriage, one that I did not wish upon even my worst enemy.

  It was almost eight thirty, two hours since I had spoken to Rathod. He would get a warrant to access Sachin’s medical records any time now. I started to call him but put my phone away.

  I told everyone what I had learned. A stunned silence resounded.

  I dared to speak first. ‘However bad that is, it still doesn’t tell us why Manohar wanted me to find out about Sachin’s murder even if we assume that Sumeira had a role to play in her husband’s death.’

  ‘What if you tell this much to Manohar?’ Atharva said.

  ‘He wouldn’t accept it. He specifically asked me to find out the cause of Sachin’s death. Not why he was murdered. The medical records are key. Hopefully, they can give us something substantive,’ I said.

  I still had not heard from Salim Khan about Manohar’s mobile phone. Just as I thought about it, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text message from Salim.

  It’s going to take some more time. It’s heavily encrypted. The data was also wiped.

  I found both parts surprising. Encrypting the phone and then erasing its data were not precautions most school professors would usually take.

  ‘Here’s what we’re still waiting for,’ I said. ‘Number one, Sachin’s medical records. Two, whatever data that can be salvaged from Manohar’s phone. Three, Rahul’s particulate analysis of Manohar’s clothes and shoes. Four, the data from the burnt laptop that we found at Sumeira’s house. Five, financial records of Manohar, the Sinhas and the Gills.’

  I looked around the room at everyone. ‘There are multiple lines of investigation open. It’s better to recap everything. Manohar is the primary suspect in killing four people. All the evidence points towards him. He denies the charges but has a mysterious connection with the Sinha family. He also appears to know something about the Gill family that we don’t yet know. The two living Gills are missing. We are awaiting results from all the points I mentioned above. Manohar is afraid of something and wants to be sure he can trust me before he can tell me what it is. That’s why he has asked me to find out about the death of Sachin Gill. My reading of this situation is that he got to know something big and damning about the Gills when he met them at his school during Natasha’s admission. That also concerns the Sinha family.’

  ‘I asked Malini. She doesn’t know the Gills,’ Atharva said.

  ‘Do you think the daughters knew each other?’ Radha said. ‘After all, we think Manohar got involved in all of this after Natasha applied to Ad Astra.’

  ‘Possible. But they went to different schools. They also didn't have any classes in common outside school,' Atharva said.

  ‘What about friends of friends?’ I said.

  ‘I’ll look into it,’ Radha said.

  ‘Let’s not forget Manohar’s daughter is of a similar age.’

  ‘We haven’t been able to find a link between any of them.’

  A knock on the door drew our
attention to it. I was surprised to see who it was.

  ‘Can I come in?’ maa said, partially opening the door.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I got up and opened it fully.

  Maa was grinning. ‘I can’t help in any other way, so I thought I would make you some nice cold panha.’

  Panha was raw mango juice—and as the raw mangoes used to make it were plucked just before they had fully ripened, panha tasted both sweet and sour. I remember maa making a big jar full of raw mango pulp. I remember helping maa wash the raw mangoes in March before she made the pulp. This year, panha had been prepared at our house after sixteen years. We had many such Marathi traditions despite our surname being Rajput. My dad was originally from Rajasthan but he had lived all his life in Maharashtra where he had also met my mother, who was Marathi. So, Radha, Karan and I had a predominantly Marathi upbringing.

  I found myself grinning widely as I sipped the panha. Maa had never been one to sit out and miss all the action. I had not expected her to actively enter our control room. She winked at me when she caught me smiling. She always seemed to know what I was thinking.

  ‘I hope you all like it,’ she said, handing the glasses to everyone.

  We took a small break as we drank panha. It was always useful to think about something else, even if it was for a short time. My mind was refreshed. We got back to work in ten minutes.

  I stepped outside and entered maa’s bedroom that was just across the hallway. I sat on the bed, closed my eyes and began meditating. It had played a massive role in putting my life back on track. My guru had told me that the key to meditation was to make it a part of the routine and not use it only when you feel stressed. I was satisfied with how things had panned out since maa’s return. Her making and handing out panha to us was a huge step in her recovery, one that I could not wait to tell her psychiatrist, Dr. Pande.

  Before starting to meditate, I went downstairs. Maa was sitting on an armchair, knitting. She put away the needles when she saw me walking towards her.

  ‘I’m very proud,’ I said and hugged her tightly.