Dead in a Mumbai Minute (9 page)

‘Could you ask them to come here?’

‘All of them?’

‘Let’s start with Viraat’s girlfriend,’ said Ajay.

‘Sure,’ said Kimaaya, leaving the room.

Shayak turned to Ajay. ‘There are between twenty and thirty people on this island at the moment, apart from the guests.’

‘So many?’

‘At least ten of them are attached to the house: cooks, maids, gardeners, the housekeeper. There are two Titanium security guards. And then there is construction going on at the southern part of the island, so there are a number of workers there.’

‘What construction is this?’

‘A luxury resort.’

‘I thought this was a private island.’

‘It is. The project is Kimaaya’s. And I think I should mention that I am an investor and Titanium is in charge of the construction.’

‘Really?’ asked Ajay. ‘You are now in the hotel business, too?’

‘We have a number of investments that aren’t a part of our core business. I can have a list of all the staff sent to you.’

‘Fair enough.’

Afreen entered with Kimaaya. She was about the same height as the star, but less slender. She wore a skirt and halter top and, though they looked pricey, she carried them in a way that made clear she was not used to gatherings such as this. She had a pretty face, but one I would not remember in a crowd.

Ajay seemed almost not to notice her at first. ‘Ms Kapoor, I need a list of all the household staff with their addresses, years of service and what they do here,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ she replied, sitting down on the sofa, taking out her phone.

Ajay gave her a long look. Was he going to ask her to leave? He should have, given that he was questioning a possible suspect. But such was the effect of Kimaaya’s status that even the unsmiling officer let it pass, turning his attention instead to Afreen.

‘What is your relation to Viraat Khanna?’ asked Ajay.

‘He is a friend.’

‘Friend or boyfriend?’

‘Whatever. Does it matter?’ she said.

‘Ms Afreen, this is a murder investigation. Everything matters.’

‘Fine. Boyfriend.’

‘How long have you known each other?’

‘A couple of weeks, maybe?’

‘And what is your occupation?’

‘Actress.’

I caught a glance of Kimaaya’s face – I knew she had the acting chops to conceal her disdain better than she did. She just didn’t feel it was necessary.

‘Tell us what happened last night.’

‘We were at the house, having dinner and drinks by the pool.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. We went to bed at around 2.30 am. We slept.’

‘When did you realize Viraat had left the room?’

‘I didn’t – not till the housekeeper woke me this morning.’

‘You expect me to believe that? You were sharing a bed, I presume.’

‘It’s the truth. It was late – I totally passed out. We had been drinking, man.’ She looked away with the insouciance of a spoiled child. The deadness in her eyes never lifted. I thought of Pratap Puri’s words to me in the bar, that Mumbai did that to you over time. But it was not an attitude that sat easy with Afreen.

Ajay looked at Kimaaya for confirmation. She just shrugged.

‘Do you have any idea when he could have left the room?’

‘Viraat got into bed first. It was another fifteen to twenty minutes till I was changed and joined him. He was fast asleep by then, and it took me a while to doze off, so I would say the earliest he could have got up would have been 3 am. I woke up at 7.30 am and found him gone.’

‘That was before he was discovered on the grounds. Why didn’t you alert anyone?’

‘I had gone downstairs in search of him. The housekeeper told me there had been a murder. I thought he must be out and about, finding out what had happened.’

The flat-on-his-back Viraat I had met hadn’t struck me as a man of action, but it wasn’t an implausible explanation.

‘You weren’t concerned?’

‘Not really. Why should I have been?’

‘There had been a murder and your boyfriend was missing.’

‘As I have said, I didn’t think he was missing. He could have been doing anything. He could have been in the gym, or in the bathroom taking a dump for all I knew.’

‘You don’t seem overly bothered, even now.’

‘I don’t know him that well.’

‘You slept together last night.’

‘So?’

‘Yet you don’t think you know him well?’

Afreen shrugged. Ajay stared her down for a while but when she didn’t betray any emotion, she was dismissed.

Ajay turned to Kimaaya. ‘Is there anyone else – perhaps a member of staff, a security guard – who may have seen Viraat’s activities, or what happened on the grounds?’

‘I really don’t know who was awake at that time.’

‘The service quarters and guards’ rooms are not far from where we found him this morning,’ said Shayak. ‘One of the guards on duty told me that neither he nor his colleague had heard anything. But I am yet to speak to them at length. And there is still the video footage.’

‘I’d like a copy of that.’

‘Of course.’

Kimaaya then summoned some of her key staff members: an elderly lady, a younger woman and a man.

‘That’s Nimisha Shah, Kimaaya’s assistant,’ Shayak said to me softly, pointing to a pleasant-looking woman in her late thirties in skinny jeans and a red top. ‘The other lady is the housekeeper, Clementine Pereira.’ She was spotless, in a grey dress and white apron, like something you might expect to see in a 1950s movie. ‘The man,’ he continued, ‘is Raj Rathore, though it’s safe to assume that’s not his real name. Resident dietician and fitness instructor.’

It was clear from his tone what Shayak thought of Rathore, who was handsome in a lumpy, fair, B-movie sort of a way. He had taken great care with his hair though I noticed, as he ran a hand through it, that he didn’t spend as much time on his ragged nails. He might be an aspiring actor. So might Nimisha, for that matter: she was by no means unattractive but at her age, such aspirations must be a thing of memory.

Ajay started with Rathore. ‘Where were you at the time of the murder?’

‘What time would that be?’

‘How about you tell me everything you did last night instead of asking questions.’

‘It was my day off.’

‘But you were here on the island?’

‘Not till around midnight.’

‘How did you return?’

‘Speedboat.’

‘You have a speedboat?’

Kimaaya stepped in. ‘It is mine.’

‘You let the help use it? What do you do in case there is an emergency here?’

‘Like what?’

‘Say a medical emergency, or a murder.’

‘Really, DCP, it is not like dead bodies turn up every day. And I suppose I would call Shayak if they did.’ She turned her chin up – it seemed she was beginning to enjoy rubbing her closeness with Shayak in the policeman’s face at every opportunity she got. The edge between the two men was palpable, and she was happy to play on it.

‘He is the answer to everything around here?’ It was the first overt show of hostility, and Shayak was as surprised by it as I was.

‘When I agreed to sell my yacht a few months ago, one of the conditions was that he would lend me his whenever I wanted it. It’s part of our contract.’

‘Is it now?’

Ajay turned around to give Shayak a look.

‘That must be a little tedious.’

‘Not really,’ said Kimaaya. ‘I haven’t needed to be rescued so far. And it’s not like I spend all my time here. Only the longer breaks between shooting schedules; and often I come with friends who have their own yachts. The rest of the time I am in the city.’

I remembered the bhelpuri-wallah outside Pratap Puri’s house mentioning that Kimaaya was a famous resident of the vicinity, making those two neighbours as well as friends.

‘What about food? I’m sure there’s no local market here.’ I wondered if this sarcasm was a response to Kimaaya’s jibes about Shayak, or part of his method.

‘Are all these questions really necessary?’ asked Kimaaya.

‘Excuse me if I seem inquisitive, but murders aren’t committed on isolated islands every day. I need to know if anyone else comes and goes – vegetable-wallah, dhobi, electrician. No matter how irrelevant it seems to you.’

Mrs Pereira cleared her throat with a discreet cough. ‘Before we come to the island, I stock up on all the essentials. We also grow quite a lot of vegetables here.’

‘I am a vegetarian and only eat organic,’ said Kimaaya.

‘What about arrangements for the party?’

‘As I said, we are well stocked,’ said Mrs Pereira. If need be, trips are made back to the city by speedboat but on this occasion, for such a small group, we had everything we needed.’

Ajay turned his attention back to Raj. ‘What did you do when you got back?’

‘Went to my room and hit the sack.’

‘Alone?’

Raj scowled.

‘Answer the question.’

‘Yes, yes,’ he snapped. ‘Alone.’

‘Did anyone see you?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What about the guard?’

‘I don’t think he was near the jetty when I came in.’

‘Did you see or hear anything?’

‘I heard voices, laughter coming from the pool, but nothing that stands out.’

‘Were you acquainted with the deceased?’

‘No.’

Ajay seemed to have heard enough from Raj, and turned his attention to Mrs Pereira. She spoke with a quiet dignity that even the prickly Ajay did not feel the need to take on. Her monologue was delivered in an even, calm tone.

‘I started my working day in the garden, picking vegetables and herbs for the dinner that had been planned. There were meats to be marinated and vegetables to be grilled. We’ve had a particularly lovely season this year. I got the kitchen started out and then supervised the cleaning of the pool, which had not been used in some days. The rest of the house runs well usually but since we were expecting the first lot of houseguests on this trip, I ensured their rooms were ready, and then got busy with the floral arrangements. By the time the guests arrived, in the evening, the house was looking its best.’

‘And later on?’

‘I ensured that the salads and cold dishes were ready. Madam requested the meats to be left for her guests to barbecue. She mentioned that Mr Puri was handy at the grill. I knew it would be late when they ate, so once the starters had been served, I instructed the kitchen assistant Jana to be at hand to lay out the food and clear up, then I went to bed.’

‘Do you usually go to bed when there is a party on?’ asked Ajay. I saw Nimisha tap her red nails on the table. Impatience? Nerves?

‘There was a time, sir, when I would stay till the last guest had retired, but I am getting on in years and find late nights leave me struggling the morning after. I have been forced to delegate, with Madam’s permission.’

Finally, Ajay moved on to Nimisha. ‘Please tell me, ma’am,’ he said, sarcasm back. He had seen the tap-tap too, then, and didn’t look upon it kindly.

‘I’m sorry?’ said Nimisha.

‘You seem to be in a rush.’

‘Only because I have a number of calls to make. You do realize the press will be all over this as soon as the news is out.’

‘I am sure the news is already out, Ms Shah.’ For a change, Ajay seemed to sympathize.

‘Then you understand my worry.’

‘The quicker you can answer these questions the faster you can go about your business,’ said Shayak.

She gave a curt nod.

‘Dhingre was your predecessor in Ms Kapoor’s service?’ asked Ajay.

‘You could say that. Though he left a few months before I was hired.’

‘You never crossed paths?’

‘He was already gone by the time I joined. Dhingre was so far out of the scene that there was no way I could have met him otherwise. None of the producers, directors and stars Kimaaya now works with really has anything to do with him.’

‘Could you tell me why he is so out of favour?’ The question was addressed to Kimaaya as well as Nimisha, and the actress answered with a little shrug.

‘As I said, it has been years since we met. You should ask these questions to people who know him now.’

‘We are talking about a time when you did know him. Why was he so irrelevant?’

‘Speaking for myself,’ said Kimaaya, ‘as my career matured, I was working more and more with people who had become my friends. There simply was no need.’

‘But some young star trying to make a name should have been happy to hire him.’

‘My best guess is that fresh talent wouldn’t want to work with him because he was close to an old crop of filmmakers. With new blood coming in and more corporate houses, things have changed, grown more professional,’ said Nimisha. ‘But who knows?’

‘If you have nothing to do with him, as you claim, what was he doing on your island?’

‘That, DCP Shankaran, is what I was hoping you could tell me.’

After the interrogation, we split ways with Ajay. Shayak spoke to the guards and took stock at the construction site, instructing the exceedingly contrite supervisor Kaustav Arora – a Titanium employee – to make a list of all the workers. Once time of death was more specifically established, questioning would start.

Arora apologized for just about everything he could think of – for not preventing the murder, for not hearing anything, for not knowing where all the employees were in the dead of the night, though he was certain none of them had left the workers’ compound.