Dead in a Mumbai Minute (16 page)

Sandhya and Shiv instantly perked up. ‘Can we go back with you?’ asked Shiv.

‘Sure. My yacht will be here first thing, and I need to be out of here by 8 am.’

‘Have you run this by Ajay?’ asked Shayak.

‘He had made a request that we stay, Shayak. That’s it. He can hardly expect us to give up our lives for this. I have millions on the line.’

‘Just keep him posted is all I am saying. Pissing him off is in no one’s interest.’

After lunch, the group broke up and wandered off towards their pursuits of choice. Afreen hung back, looking rather lost. It didn’t seem as though she was in any particular hurry to go, though the only one who had paid her much attention since Viraat’s departure was Pratap, and now he seemed keen to leave too.

‘Have you heard from Viraat?’ I asked her.

‘I tried calling, but the police have his phone.’

‘He’s okay,’ I said. ‘We met him at the hospital.’

She smiled a little, as though she was happy to hear it but didn’t really care very much.

‘What are your plans now?’ I asked.

‘To do whatever the police want me to do. I am not important like the others here. I can’t afford any trouble.’

‘You must be impatient to get back home.’

‘A little.’

‘Are you working on any films now?’

‘One. I haven’t done any shooting yet so I’d rather not say.’ Her pretty features were clouded by something more than uncertainty – it felt like fear.

‘How did you meet Viraat?’

‘Oh, you know, common friends,’ she said with a shrug. Afreen appeared to be an old hand at evasion.

‘What did you think of that bottle of wine he came up with?’

‘I don’t usually drink wine,’ she said. ‘I only knew it was a big deal because he said so.’

‘Do you know what prompted him to bring it out?’

‘Who knows with these people?’

‘These people?’

‘Sometimes I think it is unfair how much they have and how little they appreciate it.’ She had me pegged as closer to her own social standing than the others at Maaya Island – and she was right.

‘You must have some recollection of what happened, now that some time has passed.’

Once again that flash of panic. ‘I don’t think Viraat and Pratap like each other,’ she said, speaking a little too fast. ‘They were both showing off, trying to get the most attention. Pratap cooked, flirted and dove like a dolphin into the pool. Viraat talked about his boat, his watch, how much money he had just spent on this bottle of wine.’

‘Did he mention that it was meant for a client?’

‘Not that I heard. In the middle of it all, that fitness instructor came in and had a conversation with Kimaaya. He didn’t look very pleased, though Kimaaya didn’t pay him much attention.’

This was the first I had heard of it. ‘Do you know what time this was?’

‘It was after we ate. Around 1 am, maybe? Viraat knows him too, so he went over for a chat.’

‘And you went to bed at what time?’

‘Around 3 am.’

‘When you went up to the room, was Viraat still wearing his watch?’

She frowned. ‘I don’t think I noticed. Why do you ask?’

‘It’s missing.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you see him take anything? A pill, perhaps?’

‘No, why?’

‘He had drugs in his system. As the last person to see him conscious, I thought you may have noticed something.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

‘You aren’t used to circles such as this.’

‘Hanging with A-list Bollywood stars? Yes, that’s new for me. And look where it’s left me.’

‘Do you find it intimidating?’

‘Only the women,’ she said with a wry smile.

‘And the men?’

‘They don’t judge. They are easier to handle.’

‘And with intimate access to them, you can get what you want.’

‘If you think I took Viraat’s watch, you should come out and say it.’

‘I can’t ignore the possibility, since you were sharing a room.’

She shook her head. ‘I thought you’d be different. But you are just as quick to jump to conclusions as the rest.’

‘I’m only asking the obvious question. It has nothing to do with who you are and everything to do with opportunity.’

‘Whatever,’ she mumbled, walking out of the room.

I left in search of Shayak. I found him on the phone, and angry.

‘Where is the hold-up?’ he said. ‘I expect it by the end of the day, no matter how late.’ He turned to see me standing there.

‘The forensics report is not yet ready,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘We need clearance from the state lab before we move on. They will tally our findings with their own, append the autopsy results and release them officially. Adlakha hasn’t managed to get it done.’

‘Nothing unofficial we can use?’

‘The footprints at the old pier have been confirmed as Dhingre’s.’

I nodded. ‘How the hell did he get to the island?’

Shayak shook his head. ‘A mystery.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, but it will have to wait.’

I was surprised just how by-the-book Shayak wanted to play this. Surely the Titanium lab could send us the results to help us get moving before the official report came through?

‘Why don’t you question the staff at the house? I’ll head down to the construction site,’ Shayak said.

I was puzzled and annoyed. Cooperation with official actors was supposed to speed things up, not slow them down. Without timelines and specifics, our questions would be speculative and sloppy at best.

I walked away, distracted by my thoughts, quite surprised to find myself missing being my own boss quite so soon. I turned the corner towards the staff quarters, when I was assailed by the loud blare of a TV. The informal sitting room was separated from where I stood by a thicket of bamboo and curtains. Then I heard voices: female, hushed, angry.

‘You haven’t been taking his calls. He isn’t happy.’

‘What does he expect?’

‘Your loyalty. He wanted me to tell you to remember what he’s taught you. And to find your own way to the truth.’

‘I have nothing to say.’

‘That’s convenient. Are you forgetting what he’s done for you so soon?’

‘No one told me that there were these kinds of strings attached.’

A laugh. ‘There always are, sweetheart. You should consider yourself lucky.’

Then an ad came on and the TV blared even louder, leaving me straining to hear the rest. Before I could walk down the path to the room to try to get a glimpse of the speakers, Mrs Pereira appeared.

‘Shayak sir sent me to help you with your staff interviews,’ she said. If she had seen me eavesdropping, she didn’t show it.

‘Yes, thank you,’ I said, tearing myself away from the voices.

EIGHT

A
fter an hour spent with the household staff during which time I learnt nothing of note, I went in search of Raj Rathore.

I found him in the gym, in the middle of what appeared to be an intense circuit. I was getting ready to retreat so I could return at a less sweaty time, but he held up two fingers to tell me to wait.

The gym was equipped with just about every piece of heavy machinery a top-notch city establishment would have. Living on Maaya Island would not leave your pecs wanting, which made sense as Kimaaya had one of the most toned, athletic bodies in Bollywood, even though she was positively geriatric by the standards set for a leading lady.

‘Are you here for a workout?’ asked Raj, mopping his face with a towel.

‘Uh, not now,’ I said. ‘I actually had a few questions for you.’

‘I told the police what I know. You were there.’

‘I have some additional queries.’

‘As I said, it was my day off and was with friends in Mumbai. The police have their names and have called them already to check,’ he said, stepping on to the treadmill.

‘Thanks Raj, but I am more interested in knowing what happened once you returned.’

‘Went to my room, poured a drink for myself, finished it, went to bed.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Not that I remember.’

‘You don’t remember joining the party?’

‘No, because I didn’t.’

‘We’ve heard that you stopped by to speak to Kimaaya during the course of the evening.’

Raj seemed stumped at first, before realization struck. ‘Oh, that. I was there for all of two minutes. Wouldn’t exactly call that joining the party. I needed to speak to Kimaaya.’

‘What about?’

‘I wanted some time off. She wasn’t supposed to be in town now – she was supposed to be away for months on location and then shooting in the city – and I had a bunch of things lined up. She’s not my only client, you know. Suddenly she shows up and needs me back on the island, like, indefinitely? What’s that about? It really put me in a spot, having to cancel everything else at the last moment.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That it wasn’t the time or the place to talk, and that she’d see me tomorrow.’

‘You were angry.’

‘Annoyed, more like it.’

‘She must pay you quite generously to be here.’

‘I don’t complain about the money.’

‘You also had a brief chat with Viraat and Afreen.’

‘Don’t remember.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Yes,’ he said shortly.

‘Did you hear or see anything else?’

‘No, but I am stuck out there in the servants’ quarters, which is quite far from all the action.’ He seemed resentful about his living situation, though the service block was hardly shabby.

‘Have you considered leaving?’

‘Not till recently.’

‘What’s changed?’

‘Kimaaya’s not exactly at the top of her game anymore, is she? How much longer is she going to keep me around?’

‘She seems to have a few good years yet.’

‘Then why was she dropped from SRT’s last film? Why did they take Priyanka Chawta instead? She’s over the hill, man!’

‘Why does that make a difference as long as you keep getting paid?’

‘Because I either need another long-term gig or I need to open up my own place. I don’t want to work for some two-bit star or some gym chain where my talent won’t be recognized.’

‘Coming back to last night, your quarters are not far from where Viraat was found. You didn’t hear or see anything?’

‘I went back to my room and fell asleep.’ He turned up the speed of the treadmill, brisk walk becoming a flat-out run, making further conversation impossible.

I found Mrs Pereira tending the garden – rows of greens of different kinds, broccoli, cabbage, onions, tomatoes and peppers. She was on her haunches, giving instructions to the gardener as she filled her basket with produce.

I waited till she had finished and spotted me. She stood up and straightened her dress.

‘Ma’am, how can I help you?’

‘Please, call me Reema. It’s a beautiful garden you’ve got here.’

Mrs Pereira smiled. ‘It’s the work of many years.’

‘What happens to it when you are in the city?’

‘The gardener lives here. The staff here eats much of the produce, and some is sent back to the city when people come and go for maintenance, which is fairly frequently. If there is anything left, I send it to my church for their charitable meal service. Nothing goes to waste. We compost the scraps here, and we generate enough to tend to most of the garden and landscaping. Everything here is 100 per cent organic,’ she said proudly.

‘You are very fond of these grounds?’

‘I’ve spent all my life in Mumbai. I think you can see why a place so open and so beautiful would be precious to me.’

‘How long have you been with Kimaaya?’

‘I was hired by her father a month after her mother died. That was around twenty-five years ago.’

‘Then you must have known Mr Dhingre.’

‘Yes, I did. It is a sad thing. He was a good man. Not like many people in the industry.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He had a notion of what it was to be a gentleman. He didn’t try to use Kookie the way I see all the young men and women around her doing nowadays. He was respectful, punctual and had an old-fashioned way of doing things.’

‘They worked together for a long time – and then he was fired. There must have been problems.’

‘It’s not my place to say.’

‘Mrs Pereira, your discretion is admirable and I am sure Kimaaya really appreciates it, but this is a murder investigation. Anything you tell us might help us learn what Mr Dhingre was doing here and get to the bottom of his death.’

Mrs Pereira proceeded with reluctance. ‘I don’t think they had problems as such. Kookie just wanted a different sort of person as her aide.’

‘In what way?’

‘The industry has changed. Mr Dhingre was, as I said, a little old-fashioned, a little cautious in his ways.’

‘Nimisha is definitely younger,’ I said. She also seemed to have media savvy, and was possibly easier to push around. ‘But I think there is more to it than that.’

Mrs Pereira closed her eyes, letting out a sigh that told of a deep struggle. ‘They argued.’

‘When?’

‘Back then – before Mr Dhingre left. But don’t ask me what it was about because I can assure you I don’t know!’

‘Thank you, Mrs Pereira. These are questions that have to be asked, unfortunately.’