by UD Yasha
‘The strand gets even lighter,’ Rathod said.
‘Yes, it does. Because twelve months back, she was taken off Propofol.’
‘Does that mean she regained consciousness?’ I said.
‘After Zakkal’s arrest, I noticed she was taken off Propofol at least forty times for a bit. That is forty times in forty-eight months. The dosage varied. In the past year, she has been clean. No drugs. Even better nutrition. Plus, she started exercising.’
‘Can you tell us where she could have been kept?’
‘Till the last year, I suspect she was indoors. Or in an area where she got very little sunlight. However, it changed again during the past year. The uppermost band of her hair strand then was at its healthiest it has been during the past ten years.’
‘Does that mean she’s now in a different place?’
‘I can’t say that. That’s all the hair strand analysis told me.’
‘That’s still quite a lot,’ ACP Shukla said.
‘As I said, a strand of hair can be quite a great storyteller.’ Sonia turned to me. ‘I hope that was helpful.’
I said, ‘So, correct me if I’m wrong. But Zakkal’s preferred way was to lull her into a trance using heroin. The person who took over later preferred Propofol.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How easy is it to get Propofol without a prescription?’
‘If you know the right people, you’ll get it at a fifty per cent hike in the black market.’
‘What kind of expertise is needed to administer Propofol?’
‘Doctors will be able to give it without a problem. But it can be taught to a layperson as well. You just need to know the dosage and how to give an injection.'
‘For all you know Zakkal could’ve taught the Bedroom Strangler how to do it because he has advanced training in first aid,’ Shukla said.
‘One of Zakkal’s pen pals was a doctor,’ I said. ‘Is there anything you found that can be used to identify the person behind this?’
‘Nothing. With the analysis of hair, I can only tell you about the victim’s state. Unless of course there’s something incredibly unique in the hair that narrows a suspect pool.’
‘Is there anything else, Dr. Sonia?’ Shukla said.
‘No, that’s it. I’ll let you as soon as Dr. Barve gives me the report on the pollen grain.’
‘Thank you. If I don’t tell you enough, you always do an incredible job, Sonia.’
We dispersed. I pulled Rathod to one side.
‘We need to visit Hardik Karve—Zakkal’s lawyer,’ I said.
He referred to his watch. ‘It’s eight thirty now. He won’t be in his office till at least ten.’
‘I’ll pick you up from here at nine thirty. Be ready,’ I said. ‘We’ll speak to Dhruv Kataria’s family after that.’
Rathod nodded.
‘Also, one more thing. Can you get a warrant to get details of Kataria’s bank account?’
‘Yes, I’ll ask for it,’ he said and paused. ‘We found two people communicating with Zakkal who showed psychotic tendencies. Manoj Bedi and Shaam Pundlik. They’re both medical students.’
‘I know about Shaam.’
‘Even Manoj Bedi showed anger, hatred and frustration. Zakkal replied to him with varying degrees of enthusiasm. He wrote to Zakkal three years back about his fascination with dead bodies. He was a medical student then pursuing his MBBS. He spoke at length about how he gets a hard penis on cutting dead bodies. Especially those of women. He said he has fantasized about jerking off on a body.’
‘Even Shaam Pundlik showed the same tendencies.’ I said and looked away. In the past three years, I had forgotten how repulsive a few people’s actions or even thoughts could get.
Rathod continued. ‘Zakkal encouraged Bedi to break into his medical school at night and execute his fantasies. He even suggested three burial grounds where he could have sex with fresh bodies. Zakkal was also instructing him a way in which he would know which graves have the most recent bodies. My officers spoke with Bedi some time back. He is a weird character with no alibi for the murder. One of my officers will follow him for a couple of days. I’ve got one more who’ll be visiting Anil Verma. We can bring him in if he doesn’t cooperate.’
‘When did Bedi and Zakkal last communicate?’
‘Two months back. Bedi had written to Zakkal telling him he was getting bored while masturbating on dead bodies. Zakkal replied to it by telling Bedi to kill the ones who he thought would turn him on the most when they were dead.’
‘That’s just twisted.’
‘I know. We could use this against Karve when we speak to him later. All these letters he has sent could put Zakkal far away from any human being. We could even push for a death penalty.’
The first part I agreed with, not the second. Not yet. A death row required bodies. We had no new ones. We did not have proof that he was guilty of killing the women he had kidnapped. Not yet. He had only pleaded guilty to kidnapping them.
‘What about the other pen pal?’ I said. ‘Where is he?’
‘I’ve asked two officers to find Pundlik.’
‘Is he hiding?’
‘He’s not where he’s supposed to be at least.’
‘We tried his home and the hospital where he works. But he’s been away for the past week. No one knows where.’
Silence.
As we broke away and I turned for the staircase to go upstairs, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out. Dr. Sonia Joshi was quick. It was an email from her, containing the file on Dhruv Kataria. I walked up the stairs with only one thought in my mind. No matter what happens, I’m going to find out who gave the pollen to Dhruv Kataria.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shadow gave me a warm welcome when I went to the waiting room. He somehow always knew when to cheer me up. Radha and Rahul got up on seeing me. They offered me sandwiches seeing my state. I again used the drive to tell them about what Sonia had said. I kept the graphic details to myself. They need not know about them.
I went straight to the garage once we reached home. I needed some time to myself to figure out where this investigation was going. I closed my eyes and spoke to myself.
Here’s what I know. Zakkal knows the Bedroom Strangler. For some reason, he trusts him a lot as he let him in on the location of where he kept the women he had abducted. Zakkal also trusts the Bedroom Strangler enough to allow him to take care of his victims when he went to prison. He knows more than he is revealing. The pollen grain is crucial to all of this. Zakkal would not have given it to me otherwise.
Which got me thinking about someone else. Dhruv Kataria.
I opened the file Sonia had sent me.
Kataria was forty-four years old. He had been jailed once before for robbery. This was his second time in jail. This time he was arrested for assault and battery. He had a drinking problem. He had got drunk a year back and had smashed a rock on his neighbour’s head. The neighbour had survived but had a concussion and nine stitches on his head. Kataria lived in a slum called Kelewadi. He had a wife and four children, three girls in their early teens and an eleven-year-old boy. He worked as an auto rickshaw driver. He’d had four more years to serve. I checked Kataria’s lawyer. He had been assigned a public defender.
Someone had gotten to Kataria. They might have promised him something. Or he could have been threatened. Or it could have just been a case of Zakkal making sure no trail was left behind. Kataria seemed too simple to be involved with someone like Zakkal.
Which got me thinking about the warrant I had asked Rathod to get.
All the families living in Kelewadi barely managed to make ends meet. In all probability, if indeed Kataria was paid money to take the pollen grain and give it to Zakkal, the chances of it being transferred in his bank account were slim. Firstly, it would leave a money trail. And secondly, someone of Kataria’s financial status would prefer cash. Though, in that case, I wondered how Kataria would have verified that the payment
was made.
I went to the list of people who had visited Kataria. It had two names only—his wife and his lawyer. His wife had visited him two days before he was attacked. She had also visited him ten days before and then two months before that. His lawyer’s last visit was three months before.
Ideally, I would have liked to visit his family to see if they knew Zakkal or had seen anything odd. Kataria's number and address were on the file. But a drive to Kothrud at nine in the morning would mean I would be late to meet Karve, Zakkal's lawyer. I could always call his wife instead of meeting her. Her two meetings with her husband right before he was killed had made me curious. I knew most of the women who stayed in Kelewadi worked as domestic help, washing dishes and cleaning houses. If I called her right now, I might catch her at the wrong time. But I did not have any other choice. I pulled my phone out and dialled her number.
‘Hello?’ a woman’s voice said in Marathi.
I responded back in Marathi. ‘Is this Sucheta Kataria?’
‘Yes, who’s this?’ There was a lot of noise behind her of running water and clinking utensils.
‘I'm Siya Rajput. I'm a private detective,' I said. The next words were going to be hard. ‘I'm investigating your husband's death and I wanted to ask a few questions.' I said, like ripping off a bandage.
‘Detective?’ Sucheta seemed taken aback.
‘Yes. I’m sorry to have called you like this but it’s important.’
‘Hold on.’ Sucheta might have walked away as the loud noises in the background reduced.
‘Do you know anyone by the name of Kishore Zakkal?’
‘Kishore Zakkal? I don’t know. Why? Did he kill my husband?’
‘We’re not sure yet. We’re trying to find out.’
‘Can you tell me why you visited your husband two times in the past ten days?’
‘I was…I wanted to see him. He’s my husband.’
‘But was there a specific reason to meet him?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Why?’
‘I said I can’t tell you.’
‘Did you give your husband anything when you met him? Did he tell you anything?’
‘No…no we spoke about normal stuff.’ Her voice was shaking.
‘Tell me the truth, Sucheta. I have a strong reason to believe those meetings were related to his murder.’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘I know.’
‘I can’t tell you. I’m afraid.’
‘I’m not the police. I wouldn’t trouble you. I’m looking for something else. The person who was responsible for your husband’s death is also responsible for other deaths. I need to catch him.’
Silence.
‘Sucheta?’ I said.
‘I can’t tell you over the phone.’
‘I'll come to meet you.'
‘I get off work at twelve.’
‘I know where you live. I’ll come there.’
‘No. Not to my house. Come to the metro station being constructed near More Vidyalaya. I’m wearing a yellow saree and a white blouse.’
‘I’ll meet you there at twelve.’
Just as I was going to hang up, Sucheta said, ‘Madam?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘Please don’t tell anyone I’m meeting you.’
‘I won’t. I’ll protect you. No one will know that we’re talking.’
I hung up and blew air from my mouth. I felt hopeful. My mind wandered to the Bedroom Strangler and his link to Zakkal. I put that thought in the back burner of my mind. I resumed organising my thoughts around the Bedroom Strangler.
Zakkal trusted the Bedroom Strangler with his deepest secrets. They most probably knew each other before Zakkal was caught. Therein was the problem. We knew so little about Zakkal's life. Because we had to save his next victim, we had no time to observe and gather more information on him. That he had not said anything else except to admit to kidnapping seven women had not helped. We did not know what motivated him to kill, how he picked his victims or what he did to do them after kidnapping them. Zakkal had told me yesterday in the prison that he killed his victims when they stopped being beautiful. But beauty is so subjective. Especially for a psychopath.
During Zakkal's trial, I had tried everything possible to learn more about his life. I was astounded there was so little. I knew his father had died when he was eight years old. The cause of his death was unknown. I had tried to find out but all I had come across was one medical record. It stated Madhavrao Zakkal was hit by a car. The death would have been suspicious but Madhavrao had a bad drinking problem. His blood-alcohol levels were extremely high on the day he had died.
Zakkal was eighteen when his mother had passed away from colon cancer. She had no chance to survive. She went to the doctor complaining of extreme nausea. Five days later, she was told she had less than six months to live.
Zakkal did not have any siblings. If the serial killer part was taken away, Zakkal's story was inspiring. He was one of the millions of kids in India who was born into a poor family. But he had worked hard and gotten good marks. He had a mechanical engineering degree from IIT Bombay and an MBA from Princeton University. Both were funded by full scholarships. He had topped his class till standard twelve but after that, he was a mid-level student. That meant there were not many eyeballs on him. His classmates and teachers described him as ‘kind but shy, smart and observant'. None of them believed he was capable of killing, which I found ironic because the same people also said they knew of Zakkal but never got to know him. He had met his wife at his job in India post his MBA.
Zakkal was teasing us now. But why? What was his end objective? From the start, I had a feeling that Supriya Kelkar's murder and the messages to me were part of a larger plan Zakkal had. I went to the whiteboard and wrote ‘Zakkal's Objective?' on it. I began thinking again.
I felt I had a new clue now to know more about Zakkal. The Bedroom Strangler. He knew Zakkal from before. Even from deep inside a prison cell, Zakkal was coming back to haunt the world. The Bedroom Strangler was helping him.
Just then, my mobile phone started vibrating. It was Rathod.
‘Yes, I’m leaving,’ I said.
‘No, it's not that,' Rathod said. ‘There has been another murder. A middle-aged woman, strangled in her own house.'
‘You think it’s the Bedroom Strangler?’
‘We’re heading there to find out.’
I bit my lip. There was no way I would be allowed on a crime scene. I was already testing the limits of ACP Shukla’s tolerance. ‘Let me know what you find. I’ll meet Karve myself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, you’ll take a couple of hours. The Bedroom Strangler is on the offensive now. We’ve little time,’ I said and hung up.
I stayed silent for a spell. I checked the time. It was nine. I still had half an hour before I had to leave to meet Karve. The more I tried to think about the link between the Bedroom Strangler and Zakkal, the more my mind seemed to clog. I kept going back to everyone who I had come across in my first investigation of Zakkal. Could it be one of his office colleagues? His own wife? I decided I would visit her after meeting Sucheta.
If not his wife or colleagues, who could tell me more about Zakkal? I had thought about that question for years. The answer could lie in his childhood. I had even spoken to his school teachers. He went to a municipality school. Back then, government schools kept records in yellowing registers. They were long gone by now.
I knew I needed to understand Zakkal better. I had taken assistance from various criminal psychologists the first time around. It was not helpful then as everyone assumed Zakkal killed those whom he kidnapped. But now, it was different. We knew he kept them alive, one of them at least. That had to say something about a person’s mind.
I decided I needed to speak to someone completely new so that what they knew would not cloud their vision. I knew a criminal psychiatrist in Mumbai. I had heard great things about h
im three years back just before I left my practice. I went to the desk and opened my laptop. One of my email accounts had an address book that had all my work-related contacts I had gathered over the years.
I found him.
Dr. Ranjit Kadam.
Three years back, he was a visiting professor at Mumbai University. He used to assist the police in some cases. I had heard whispers that he was also contracted by the government regarding matters of national security. He also travelled the country to conduct workshops for victims of trauma.
Just as I was going to call him, a shadow emerged from behind me and I turned around. Radha. She was leaning against the garage door.
‘Everything alright?’ she said.
‘Another woman was found dead just now. It could be the work of the Bedroom Strangler.’
‘Come on in,’ Radha said, her face giving away very little. ‘You should eat something before you go.’
I checked the time. Still fifteen minutes before I had to leave. I followed Radha inside. Rahul had again made an omelette. He had set it on the table for me with another cup of coffee. I had it in silence. My mind continued to think about the link between Zakkal and the Bedroom Strangler.
I finished eating in ten minutes. I went up and changed into a salwaar kameez, especially because I had to meet Sucheta later. If need be, I would prefer not to enter the slum in my usual pants and shirt. I went down to find Radha and Rahul ready.
Rahul took the wheel as I gave him directions. I dialled Dr. Ranjit Kadam’s number and put the phone to my ear and said, ‘I’m Siya Rajput. I’m a private detective. Am I speaking to Dr. Kadam? Is this a good time?’
‘Yes, and yes. Also, I know who you are,’ Dr. Kadam said.
My eyebrows went up in surprise.
‘I know you because of Kishore Zakkal’s case. I had studied it when he was caught. You’re quite a legend for catching him.’
Kishore Zakkal was one of India’s most researched killers. Still, ironically, no psychologist knew much about him when I last spoke to them. Dr. Kadam continued, ‘Also, please call me Ranjit.’
