Banquet on the Dead (27 page)

‘And even if your son had seen you going up the path and returning, even if he did guess what it was for, he would, of course, not tell us.’ Hamid Pasha let the silence settle. Then he said, ‘Doctor saab.’

Koteshwar Rao, who was standing with his chin sunk into his chest all this time, lifted his head in acknowledgment. His hair now looked dishevelled to Nagarajan, and his eyes dull. ‘Yes?’

‘You were at your clinic all day that day, were you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘So it was your apparition, perhaps, that your compounders say left the clinic that afternoon for two hours?’ Hamid Pasha inclined his head at the doctor. ‘Curious, meddlesome people, compounders, no?’

Koteshwar Rao sighed. ‘I came here in the afternoon on—some business.’ Across the room Nagarajan saw Durga’s face pale.

‘Ah—and what business would that be?’ asked Hamid Pasha.

‘Nothing related to this, I assure you.’

‘Your dear cousin, Lakshman, told us that you and Praveen were the only people in the family who could scale the front compound wall. I must say, that is quite a feat, miyan.’

Koteshwar Rao sighed again. ‘No. You have got it wrong.’

‘You knew that your grandmother was going to be at the well at the time. You called her there. You came away from the clinic, telling people you had to step out just for a few minutes. You drove here and parked so that you were right in between the two working men. Neither could see you. You climbed the wall and jumped over the other side. You waited for your grandmother. A dispute ensued between you, and you pushed her over. And after your work was done you left the same way you had come.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No. That did not happen.’

‘It may have.’

‘It did not. I would not have come to you begging to investigate the case if I was the one who killed my grandmother.’

Hamid Pasha shrugged. ‘It was a bluff. You have no idea how many criminals think doing that will cast suspicion aside from them.’

‘But,’ Koteshwar Rao asked, aghast, ‘why
would
I kill my grandmother? She was—she was like a mother to me.’

‘You wanted to leave and set up your own practice. You needed money for that, did you not? You were getting sick of being a
slave
to your grandmother and uncles. You admitted to me that you were relieved that she was finally gone.’

‘Come on, Mr Pasha.’

‘And perhaps you held a grudge against your grandmother for the death of your sister. And that incident with your son and the punctured barrel; did you think your grandmother was behind that too?’

‘Sir! I told you many times that it was an accident.’

‘Ah, yes, of course,’ said Hamid Pasha in a resigned tone. ‘But who can be sure?’ He turned to face Praveen. ‘What about you, my boy? Do you still believe that your grandmother took her own life?’

‘Y-yes, isn’t that possible?’

‘It is. Anything is possible. It is also possible that on that afternoon, you left your office and came to the well and killed your grandmother in exactly the same way as I described just now, and then came back later to “find” her body. You know, in eighty per cent of murder cases it is the person who finds the body that is the killer.’

‘But that—that is impossible.’

‘Oh, but is it? Imagine: a life without your grandmother telling you what to do and what to wear and where to go; a life where you can marry your beloved and go to Hyderabad and live the life of an actor and an artiste—a life you have always dreamed of. And you would have money too. A major portion of the old lady’s wealth would be your father’s, and half of that would be yours.’

Nagarajan said, ‘But if that is the case, why did he try to kill himself?’

‘Remorse,’ said Hamid Pasha. ‘The boy loved his grandmother in spite of all those things. Did Lakshman not tell us once, that the kind of man Praveen is—it is those who most need support that most resent getting it. And once it is gone, they realise they cannot live without it.’

Nagarajan looked at Praveen’s quivering lip, shaking hands, bumbling words, and wondered if it couldn’t be true.

‘And when he was found out, of course, he concocted a story that he was trying to kill himself because he thought his grandmother committed suicide on
his
account.’

‘It is—it is not true!’

Hamid Pasha shrugged again. Doing an about-turn he faced the women. He spoke to Durga. ‘And you, madam, you were at the well with Gauri that afternoon.’

‘It was after the fact, sir,’ she replied calmly.

‘That may be so, but none of us know when you actually went up to the well. You were only seen
coming back
.’

‘Well, sir,’ Durga said, ‘since everyone in your theories is walking up and down to the well without being seen, I guess I did too.’

‘And you did it around one in the afternoon.’

She held his glance for a second. Then she cocked her head. ‘So be it.’

‘Kauveramma knew your secret, and you knew that she knew. She had talked to you once or twice before it— you had been overheard by Ellayya by the well on two of his drunken nights. Yes, drunk people overhear so much, do they not? So the well was your designated meeting spot, then?’

‘Mine and grandmother’s? We have met there a couple of times, yes.’

‘It is nice and secluded there, is it not? You could speak your mind without being heard.’

‘Yes, that is true.’

‘And who was the organiser of the appointment on that day?’

‘We had no appointment.’

‘And yet you were there?’

‘
You
are saying I was there.’

‘You were
seen
there, memsaab.’

‘I was seen there at half-past-two, sir, not at one.’

‘So you admit returning from the well at half-past-two?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the purpose of
that
appointment?’

‘Nothing related to the death of our grandmother, sir, I assure you.’

Hamid Pasha’s lips tightened. ‘Memsaab,’ he said grimly, ‘you went to the well much before half-past-two. You went there even before Kauveramma did. You waited for her there. She may have called you there because she wanted to talk to you about something. Is it possible that she saw something she should not have?’

‘You are only theorising, sir, and I don’t think any of us have time for this sort of wild talk.’

‘And Gauri too was seen coming back from the well right behind you, memsaab. What was she doing there?’

‘As I said, sir, it was nothing concerning the matter at hand.’ For just the smallest fraction of a second, Nagarajan thought he saw her glance flicker to her husband and back. Then she said, softly, ‘I promise you that. I promise you I never wished for anything but the longest life for our grandmother. I swear.’

‘She bribed her,’ Ellayya said. ‘She bribed her!’

‘Yes, Ellayya?’

‘Ellayya wrenched himself apart from his wife and got on his fours, then propped himself up on his knees and held something shiny up to Hamid Pasha. ‘She gave her this—to keep quiet.’

‘Ah!’ Hamid Pasha took it into his hand and gazed upon it. ‘Such beautiful craftsmanship. Must be expensive.’

‘It is not what you think,’ she said, and again her eyes went, pleading, to her husband.

Hamid Pasha returned the jewel. ‘Be that so,’ he said, and clamped his hands behind his back. ‘Be that so. And what of you, gentlemen?’ He looked at Raja, sprawled on the floor, and Swami, sitting erect on the edge of the bed with his hands laid out on his thighs. ‘What of you, gentlemen?’

In Raja’s laugh Nagarajan felt he heard some nervousness. ‘Of me, sir? Well, I was not here. And what could I have done even if I were? It would take me an age to get to the well.’

‘But you were not at the movie, Raja saab,’ said Hamid Pasha, smiling mirthlessly. ‘You could have left the house “to see a movie” and then returned before the required time, even before Nagesh took his place near the main gate, and snuck away to the well. You do move fast on your crutches, do you not?’

Raja’s smile faded. His eyes became little sharp rectangles. ‘I do.’

‘Then it would not have been a hard thing for you to manage. There was a risk that you would be seen, of course, but then that is the risk anyone would have had to take.’

‘And I suppose you would say I killed her so that I could have some more cigarette and movie money every month.’

‘I have not said anything,’ Hamid Pasha said. ‘But is that true?’

Raja looked around the room in a single sweep and stopped when he came to Swami. His eyes narrowed even further. Then he turned his head and spat in the direction of Hamid Pasha. ‘You know nothing,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Nothing!’

‘I think I know a little more than nothing, Raja saab.’ Hamid Pasha turned to Swami now. ‘And you, Swami saab? You were sleeping the whole morning in your room, were you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Gauri was at your door from eleven-thirty to two. Is that right, Gauri?’

‘Yes, babu,’ Gauri said from the window.

‘But you were with your mother in the morning, were you not? You took her breakfast, and afterward you took her some water to wash her hands in.’

‘Yes.’

‘Gauri told us that the water was bloody after your mother had washed her hands in it.’ Hamid Pasha leaned forward. ‘Is that true, miyan?’

‘Bloody? No, sir. It was early in the morning. It was dark. I doubt that we can trust what she saw in the morning gloom.’

‘Ah,’ said Hamid Pasha. ‘Of course.’ He strolled back to the centre of the room and raised his voice so that everyone could hear. ‘From the very start I have wondered about the evidence of the two workers at the house. One—that their evidence is
auditory
, and two, why were they even there in the first place?’

‘But there was a scream,’ said Nagarajan.

‘Yes,’ said Hamid Pasha, nodding, ‘and a splash. And people saw the old lady walk up the path to the well around half an hour before the two were reported. The splash and the scream happened at one, and the old lady was seen, was she not, at twelve-thirty? So that should have settled it; except it did not—no, something did not seem right about it all.

‘I told you, miyan, that day—it all seemed upside down, somehow. The old lady going to the well, which she was terrified of; the presence of the workers on the same day, as though the killer had deliberately chosen the day the workers were present. I think you even said it once, did you not, that the killer must have liked showing off because he knew people would hear the old lady scream.’

‘Oh, sir, please, don’t say things like that.’ Prameela spoke for the first time that afternoon, and shuddered.

Hamid Pasha ignored her and went on: ‘Yes, that was a very good thought of yours. What if the killer had deliberately chosen the day the workers were present? I added my own modification to it. What if, I asked, if the killer had deliberately asked the workers to come and work by the well
on that day
?’

He threw a sharp look at Swami as he said that, to which the old man did not respond.

Hamid Pasha continued, ‘Perhaps the workers were meant to hear what they did. The splash and the scream— but it was not really a full-throated scream, was it, miyan? What did Ashok call it? A
hesitant
scream; as though she was wondering whether to scream out loud or not, he said. Ah, but perhaps she did. Perhaps she was conscious of being heard over at the house.’

‘What rubbish this is, Mr Pasha,’ said Koteshwar Rao, visibly bristling. ‘You are wasting all our time with this empty theorising. When Inspector Nagarajan here told me that he held your abilities in high regard, I thought I would be getting more than a—than a street performer.’

Hamid Pasha said, ‘Patience, doctor saab. You can only peel an onion layer by layer, can you not? This case is very much the same. It is important to explore all the dead ends before you find the path of the truth.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, so where was I? Yes, I was saying maybe the old lady was hesitant in screaming out loud when she was pushed into the well. Maybe she was careful not to let anyone in the house hear her; only to let her two witnesses hear her.

‘But while she was at the well, she also snuck behind the brick wall for a period of time. I found a lock of her hair stuck to the touch-me-not plants there. Why? Who was she hiding from? Was she surprised by whom she saw walk in on the path? And did she come out and break up an exchange of words—if there really was an exchange—before she got pushed into the well? If there was conversation of any kind, why did we not hear of it from Nagesh, who must have heard at least some of it?’

‘You are asking more questions, Mr Pasha, when what we need are answers.’

‘Right,’ said Hamid Pasha, ‘then I will give you some answers too. Answer number one: The scream that Ashok and Nagesh heard that day was not Kauveramma’s.’ He looked around him and raised a hand. ‘Answer number two! The splash they heard was not of the old woman hitting the water.’

For a long time no one spoke. There was a snort of derision from Karuna, but apart from that the gathering kept their silence. Then Inspector Nagarajan found his voice and said, ‘That is impossible, Hamid bhai. The two men swore that it was the woman’s voice, and—’

‘Did the gentleman here not tell us, miyan, that everything is possible? And yet you tell me that that what actually happened is not possible? If it is not, then how did it happen, hain? You talk of the woman’s voice, but have we not been told that all the women in the house have identical voices? Did Lakshman not tell us that when they heard them talk upstairs, they had to identify who said what by the
words
they used, and not their
voices
?’

‘And the splash—’

‘When there is a weight missing around a well in which a splash was heard, and when the well is equipped with a pulley system and two quite long crowbars, it is rather easy, is it not, to put two and two together?’ Hamid Pasha frowned at Nagarajan. ‘Perhaps not for everyone.’

‘My diving stone,’ the doctor said in a whisper.

‘Yes, miyan. Where do you think it went? I would bet my beard that it is now lying at the bottom of that well.’

‘But if—if my grandmother did not die at one o’clock, you are saying she must have been killed afterward, by somebody who came to the well?’