Dead in a Mumbai Minute (6 page)

‘There was some tension.’

‘What does that even mean?’

‘One kiss. Then he offered me the job.’

‘Against company policy, is it, to cavort with the help?’

I had to laugh. ‘It’s against my policy.’

‘Why?’

‘Our job is complicated enough without asking for more trouble.’

‘And it is easier to ignore something that is there?’

‘Sohana, drop it.’

‘Okay, okay. Anyone else on the horizon?’

‘Why is it that all my gal pals are determined to see me coupled?’

‘Why are you so determined to stay single? You’ve kicked Amit’s sorry ass in the best way possible. Now isn’t it time for you to move on?’

My cheating ex-boyfriend was in school with both of us. He had come back to me for help when his wife – the woman with whom he cheated on me and left me for – was kidnapped. It didn’t take me long to figure out that the whole business was a scam, though that did nothing to lessen my disgust with myself for being in love with a pathological liar for so long. ‘I was not hung up on him.’

‘Try selling that to someone who hasn’t known you for as long as I have.’

‘Well, in future I’m determined to not be hung up, if that is of any use.’

‘Music to my ears. I’ll have a list of eligible men for you by the morning.’ Though Mohit, the friend she and Dhruv had introduced me to, was a wash, she was not one to be foiled by a minor setback. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

Just then, Pratap saw someone he knew over by the bar, which was behind Sohana’s seat. He chatted with a young man for a few minutes. Then his eyes wandered to mine. I looked away immediately, but when my gaze strayed back, there he still stood, talking to this man but watching me, a smile at the corners of his mouth.

Sohana began to turn her head.

‘Don’t look,’ I hissed.

‘Geez, Reema. Is your mark standing there?’

‘You’ve been watching way too many crappy movies. He’s not my “mark”.’

‘Is he there or no?’

‘Yes.’

‘And, let me guess, he’s ogling you?’

I said nothing.

‘For someone who claims to hate fashion, you’ve bought a killer LBD.’

I looked down at the black dress, way out of my comfort zone with its plunging neck and sky-high hemline. ‘You think I picked this? It’s all because of that meddling Devika. Is it too much?’ I asked, mortified.

Sohana waved away my squeamishness. ‘This is Mumbai, Reema. Only stark naked would be too much.’

Pratap walked back to his table and we lingered till he and his friends finished their meal, before following them out. The car was already waiting outside the restaurant, and we got in and trailed Pratap to where he had parked a little further down the street. Then we followed him a few blocks, till he stopped at yet another upscale address, this time a nightclub of the sort the two of us would never visit, left to our own devices.

Sohana hadn’t even let me pick up her tab at the restaurant. ‘Just one drink,’ I said. ‘This one really is on me.’

The bouncer didn’t stop us. Single women were always welcome and, anyhow, the new number I had added to my cupboard was really very little, and Sohana was always dressed to stop traffic. We walked into the dimly lit club where it didn’t take me long to find Pratap. He was working the room like a pro, and just about everyone there seemed to know him.

Our eyes met again. A moment later he was walking over to us, and I cursed myself.

‘Damn,’ I said under my breath to Sohana.

‘What did you think would happen in a dress like that?’

Chalk it up to the Calcutta girl in me that I didn’t realize that even a man of Pratap Puri’s stature would have no airs about talking to a stranger. But it was too late to beat a retreat. I would have to tread carefully; whatever else happened here, this man was a client of Titanium, and no lies must be told.

‘Weren’t you ladies at El Diablo just now?’ he asked.

‘We were,’ I said.

‘Pratap,’ he said, holding out his right hand.

I took it. ‘Reema,’ I said. ‘And this is Sohana.’

‘Let me get the two of you some drinks.’

While Pratap headed off to the bar, Dhruv arrived, summoned there by Sohana’s text. He’d been stopped at the door and Sohana went out to get him.

‘What are we doing here?’ he asked, when they made it back. ‘And how did we get in? This place is impossible unless you know a member.’

Sohana grabbed him by the arm. ‘Why don’t we get lost? Reema is working, which apparently includes allowing herself to be picked up by a gorgeous gazillionaire.’

Dhruv raised an eyebrow in my direction. ‘You turned poor, lovestruck Mohit down for this sort of stunt?’

I attempted what I hoped was a fetching pout. ‘Reema Ray, crime-fighter by day, high-class escort by night. That sounds about right.’

They disappeared and, a moment later, Pratap reappeared with two glasses of wine. ‘Where did your friend go?’ he asked.

‘She met someone she knows. I think they are on the floor.’

‘I would have guessed that the two of you are new in town.’

‘You’re not far off. I’ve just got in, but Sohana’s lived here for a while. But how could you have possibly known that?’

‘That’s easy. Don’t get me wrong – I love Mumbai and everything about it,’ he said. ‘But you don’t have the dead-in-the-eye look that most women here have.’

‘What do you mean?’ I repeated.

‘Look around,’ he said, scanning the room. ‘Everyone has this glazed expression, like nothing interests them anymore or is worthy of their attention.’

‘And I am like a baby with a shiny new toy?’

He laughed. ‘Like the world still matters to you. That you might even care about the person next to you, even a stranger in an anonymous nightclub.’

It took me a while to spot it; this was nothing more than an elaboration of the ‘you’ve-got-gorgeous-eyes’ variety of pick-up line. For now, there was no harm in playing along.

‘And what about you? Do you care about the world and the people in it?’

‘Passionately.’ He raised his glass to his mouth and I noticed he wore no wedding band.

‘What do you do about it?’

Pratap flashed me a grin. ‘I could tell you, but it might take a while.’

At least about this, I knew he was not lying. I fiddled with my glass with one hand and, reaching into my handbag with the other, discreetly gave Sohana a missed call. I hoped she would interpret it for what it was: an SOS, for I knew what was coming next.

‘Why don’t you try me?’ I said.

‘I’d love to, but over dinner sometime, perhaps?’

If Pratap Puri had been the target of my investigation, he’d just have stepped into my honey trap. But unfortunately my real task was a fair bit harder to crack. ‘I’m travelling from tomorrow.’

‘When are you back?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s a work thing. Could take a while.’

‘What do you do?’

No big lies, I reminded myself.

‘It’s a new job, so quite honestly, I’m not really sure myself!’ I said with a laugh. Just then I spotted Sohana approaching me, Dhruv a discreet distance behind her.

‘There’s Sohana,’ I said. ‘Your wine is waiting for you.’

‘Thanks, but we really should be going,’ she said.

‘So soon?’ asked Pratap.

‘Meeting early in the AM,’ she said.

‘That’s a shame.’ He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to me. ‘Call me,’ he said.

I smiled and gratefully followed Sohana out of there.

THREE

T
he next morning, I headed for my new home. I had visited the flat as soon as I had arrived in town but since I hadn’t got my bearings yet, I had not been able to appreciate the rare wonder in Mumbai of a ten-minute commute. If the weather was good, I could walk to work on a daily basis.

The complex was relatively new and modern, with a gym and pool, everything pretty much on call. What you’d call luxury anywhere in the world, except that since it was Mumbai, the living space at my disposal was what most people would consider a walk-in closet.

But when I opened the door to the flat, I forgot all that. It had been remodelled since my last visit, and it was perfect. Or it would have been perfect, had I been the size of a Barbie doll.

What had been a one-bedroom apartment had been changed into a studio. The kitchen had become a kitchenette, the living and dining spaces merged into a bedroom, once tight enough to squeeze a bed and nothing else. Space had been created out of thin air and ingenuity.

A low, grey sectional sofa would be a snug fit for three, with a small black ottoman doubling as table and additional seat. At first, I couldn’t find the bed. Then I took a close look at the walls. Finally, I spotted it above the sofa, a tiny lever. I gave it a pull and was amazed at the ease with which a double bed descended, fitting over the sofa. All I would have to do was remove a couple of cushions. The sofa could also be moved for a guest with whom I wasn’t interested in co-sleeping. A short, thin sort of a guest. The beauty of it all made my minimalist heart sing.

The bathroom had a tiny shower stall, a tiny sink, a tiny window and, thankfully, a normal-sized toilet. It was a triumph of design, with sleek storage for toiletries hanging from the walls over the basin and in the shower area. If you had long arms, your elbows wouldn’t be happy by the looks of it, but it would be enough for me.

The kitchen was even more impressive. Tucked away in the corner was a narrow L-shaped counter with a basin at one end and a wall-mounted dish-drying rack. At a right angle was a slim table in dark brown wood, with two high stools. If I needed more prep space, which I would, the table would do nicely. There was a small fridge, and a limited amount of storage for pots, pans and provisions. Also mounted on the wall, above the counter, was a microwave oven and the most indispensable part of my kitchen arsenal: an oven. It was small but it would do, for a half batch of cupcakes or cookies, a small lasagna or grilled meat and fish. I opened the door and found a piece of paper inside. Thinking it must be the manual, I pulled it out. On it were just three words:

Welcome home.

Shayak

I began unpacking my possessions, discovering hidden nooks and crannies for storage tucked all over the apartment. Luckily I didn’t have much, so what I did have fit with room to spare in my spacious closet that I revelled at, hidden away beside the bathroom.

By 10.30 am, I was ready to head out when the doorbell rang. It took me a moment to recognize it as my own. When I answered it at last, there stood Shayak. A stubble – no, almost a beard – of black flecked with grey covered his face. In his eyes, deep and dark as ever, there was a hollow look.

‘Welcome to Mumbai,’ he said with a half smile.

‘It looks like I could say the same to you. Did you get lost in the woods somewhere?’

‘It feels like it. May I come in?’

‘Of course,’ I said, backing up. ‘I moved in just now.’

‘I know.’

‘Keeping tabs on me?’ I asked.

‘Something like that,’ he said with a smile.

‘You look like shit.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Could I get you some coffee?’

‘Screw that,’ he said, taking a step forward, blocking out my light as he put his arms around me.

I was surprised enough that I didn’t try to draw away though I had made it clear – to both Shayak and myself – that if we were to work together, involvement of a more personal nature was strictly off the table. But this was different from the last time I had been in that embrace; I could almost taste his exhaustion, his tenderness, his relief. Gone was the frenzy of longing and desire; there was only warmth, and a search for calm.

By the time Shayak released me, I didn’t need to be a detective to know that something very serious had happened between our last meeting a little over a month ago in Calcutta and now.

‘Sorry,’ he said, when he let go. ‘I know you have rules about such things.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Your stupid rules?’

I turned away and walked towards the kitchenette. ‘Coffee it is, then. What happened?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘Most of it, at least. And what I can tell you, I’d rather not right now.’

‘Well, that is helpful.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Something has obviously gone wrong.’

‘It always seems to – and at the most inopportune times.’

‘Why am I getting the feeling that there is much more to Titanium than I have been told?’

Shayak’s grim face warned me against pushing the point just yet. I put the coffee on, and turned around to find him with his feet up and head back on my sofa.

‘How have you been? Sorry I wasn’t here for your initiation.’

‘I haven’t had reason to complain.’

‘You might not have had quite so many unanswered questions.’

‘So there are some aspects of this agency that I might actually be privy to?’

‘Of course. You are on board, aren’t you?’

‘And since I have been cleared through about six layers of security, you know I am not a terrorist, a spy, mentally ill or a village idiot.’

‘I see Adlakha has got you started on your first round of background checks.’

‘You guessed it. It was fun.’

‘You had to have known that joining a company such as Titanium would have entailed a few intrusions into your private life.’

‘On the contrary, since you told me precious little before I joined, I am not sure I know what a “company such as Titanium” is.’ I had thought it was a private security agency. I knew it was high profile, and that its clients included the who’s who of Indian business, Bollywood and sport, but I was getting the sense that its roots went deeper into some part of the establishment that was well away from public gaze.

‘No one has filled you in since your arrival?’

‘If you mean Adlakha, the answer is no. He seems to believe that all I am good for is infidelity cases.’

‘Infidelity?’

‘The curious case of Mrs Pratap Puri.’

‘He passed that one on, did he?’

‘Yes.’

The only sign that Shayak was not pleased was a sigh – and I was certain the only reason he let that slip was because he was so tired. ‘I should have warned you about Adlakha. He can be a bit … prickly.’