Compass Box Killer (21 page)

Virkar sighed and looked up at the stars. He suddenly noticed that the Koli Queen had changed its course and was heading back to shore. Virkar had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not realized that the boat had swung around. But he was quite sure that they had not been out for more than a couple of hours. He called out to the head boatman, ‘Alfred mama, why’ve you turned back?’ From his position at the head of the boat, Alfred Koli turned around and fixed a disparaging eye on Virkar. ‘Because after eating so much of the jhinga, your brain has also turned into a jhinga.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Virkar, puzzled.

‘Arre melya, I just received a message on the boat’s wireless radio that your girl has been standing in the same position at the dock for the past two hours.’

The Koli Queen reached Ferry Wharf in under thirty minutes. But even before the boat could be docked, Virkar had leapt off its prow on to the wharf and wrapped his arms around the still-waiting Raashi.

A
live band struck up a tune from a corner of the upmarket nightclub. A beautiful female singer standing with the band picked up a mike and began to hum. A suave, well-groomed, young man wearing a finely tailored suit entered the nightclub. He walked with the assured gait of a predator through the maze of tables occupied by rich gentry. Some people seated at the tables nodded and smiled at him as he passed them and he smiled back in acknowledgement. At a corner table, two men wearing similarly expensive suits were deep in conversation about a big business deal. As he reached the table, they rose and shook his hand, asking him to join them. He flashed them a broad, winning smile and sat down. The female singer started to sing, ‘Smooth operator…smooooth operator…’

‘Huh!’ exclaimed Virkar as he sat up on the bed, panting. He was naked and sweating. The dream that had woken him up was still playing in front of his eyes. He looked around and saw Raashi lying next to him. Her bare skin was shining in the soft glow of the orange sunrays streaming through the window. Virkar gulped a mouthful of air as he tried to calm his mind and pinpoint what it was about his dream that had woken him up. As he sat rewinding it in his mind’s eye, Raashi stirred next to him. She propped herself up on one elbow and shot him a quizzical look. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

Virkar turned towards her. Looking straight into her bleary eyes, he said, ‘I’ve got it.’

Raashi stifled a yawn, trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. ‘Got what?’

‘The Smooth Operator is some sort of a rich businessman or industrialist with a sexual fetish.’

‘What?’ Raashi’s eyes popped wide open.

‘I couldn’t put my finger on it before, but thanks to you, it’s clear now.’

‘Thanks to me?’ she asked, confused.

‘Well, yes. Thanks to you.’

Raashi opened her mouth to ask Virkar more questions but suddenly became aware of her nakedness. In a belated display of modesty, she pulled at the bedcover below them and wrapped it round her. Then, looking at Virkar with questioning eyes, she said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Virkar continued. ‘Well, you told me about Sade’s video of her song,
Smooth Operator
, and in Khandala, Bhoir told me that someone strangled Tracy with his bare hands, and that she had just consensual sex before she died. I had thought then that there was a connection between the two, but couldn’t put my finger on it.’

Raashi rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘Sade… Bhoir… What am I missing? What’s the link?’

‘Erotic asphyxiation,’ Virkar said slowly, emphasizing each word.

‘Virkar, please speak plain English; it’s too early in the morning for this.’ Raashi couldn’t help but show her irritation.

‘It involves choking your sexual partner, thereby intentionally restricting oxygen to the brain, for sexual arousal,’ Virkar explained.

‘Have you totally lost it?’ Gone was the vulnerability of the previous night; she was on edge now.

Virkar continued, ‘It’s a documented fact that people have indulged in erotic asphyxiation with their partners since ancient times. The arteries on both sides of the neck carry oxygen-rich blood from the heart to the brain and when these are compressed—as in the case of strangulation—the sudden loss of oxygen in the brain can increase sexual pleasure to supremely heightened levels. The high is said to be as potent as the one you get by doing cocaine.’

Raashi looked at Virkar with amazed eyes. ‘Wow! And you figured all this out after a night with
me
.’

A blush rose to Virkar’s cheeks. ‘No, I learnt it in college. I’m a BA in psychology,’ he said, a bit self-consciously.

‘Hmm…you grow more and more interesting by the minute,’ said Raashi, breaking the tension with her trademark smile. ‘But I’m still unclear as to how you arrived at your conclusion.’

Virkar now launched into the details. ‘Sometime back, I checked out the original music video of Sade’s
Smooth Operator
and saw that the leading man was this rich, businessman type, fooling around with the singer. At one point he chases her up a building and attempts to strangle her with his bare hands. And then Bhoir told me that Tracy was strangled.’

Raashi cut in. ‘But the title “Smooth Operator” has been given by Hari, the Compass Box Killer.’

‘Exactly,’ said Virkar. ‘So I thought to myself, why would he use the title ‘Smooth Operator’ for the man? Why not not “Strangler” or “Choker” or something else? Was Hari into Sade’s music? Then I realized that it was more likely that the name was given by Tracy to someone she was in a relationship with—perhaps because of her lover’s sexual fetish.’

‘But that doesn’t make her lover a businessman or industrialist. He could just be some shady character,’ said Raashi.

‘Tracy, being the kind of woman she was, would not have got involved with a shady sort of man. She would be with someone suave and articulate like in the video—a businessman, a smooth operator.’ Virkar paused and took a deep breath.

Raashi wasn’t convinced. ‘But, this erotic asfixi…asiation—I don’t even know how to pronounce it! How does this come into the picture?’

‘I think Tracy died while indulging in erotic asphyxiation during sexual intercourse with the Smooth Operator. There’ve been many cases of accidental deaths due to it. Most of them are among rich people who have alternative lifestyles and look for new ways of getting high. They explore different techniques for sexual arousal, trying to reach the ultimate orgasm, and sometimes they don’t know when to stop,’ Virkar explained.

Raashi scrunched up her face. ‘I don’t know. Your theory seems flimsy to me. There is no actual proof to draw such a conclusion.’

Virkar did not back down. ‘The absence of proof does not mean that the hypothesis is wrong. It just means that the evidence needs to be found.’

‘You’ll be wasting your time proving your hypothesis while Hari Prasad kills another innocent man,’ said Raashi, as she flounced off towards the bathroom with the bedsheet wrapped around her. Sitting naked on the bed, Virkar watched her go till she slammed the door behind her. Then Virkar went back into his thoughts. Was she right this time? Was he getting too carried away with this far-fetched theory? Was his desperation to crack the case clouding his judgement?

L
ook among the contributors to Slum Baalak Suraksha. The message was pithy and the handwriting was unmistakable. It was the Compass Box Killer again. However, this time the note was not written in blood but with a cheap ballpoint pen.

Virkar had found it folded and stuffed under the main door of his tenement at the police quarters in Bhoiwada. Written on a sheet of plain white paper, the note had been waiting for him at his doorstep when he had walked into his flat that morning, returning home after four days. Virkar read the note again with a magnifying glass. Reconfirming that the handwriting was identical to the earlier notes found at the crime scenes, his first instinct was to call ACP Wagh and inform him. But he held himself in check after the recent humiliation suffered at Wagh’s hands.

But why did Hari Prasad send me this note? How do I find
all the contributors to the NGO? Is this some bizarre way to make
amends for all the atrocities he has committed? Or is he trying to
mislead me into making a wrong move?

Virkar paced about his tiny living quarters, his mind racing. His thoughts went back to the earlier cryptic note inside the compass box in Barkat Alitronics: Three down. Now you’ll have to work harder. Find the ‘Smooth Operator’ before I get to him.Virkar took a sharp breath. A sudden realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
Hari Prasad doesn’t know who the Smooth Operator
is. That’s why he hasn’t struck as yet after the last killing. But he
obviously knows that the man is one of the financial contributors
to Slum Baalak Suraksha. That’s why he went to Advocate Shah,
thinking that the NGO’s lawyer would have the information. And
now he wants me to help him out!

Virkar sat down heavily on a chair. ‘But as soon as he comes to know who the Smooth Operator is, he’ll strike,’ he muttered to himself.

He was still struggling with his theories when he reached the Crime Branch office that morning. He was torn between rushing off to investigate the clue in the note himself and sharing it with the new investigative team. But when he found that his name had not been included in the briefing note updating other officers on the Compass Box Killer case, all his doubts disappeared. This just made it easier on his conscience; Virkar now knew he was on his own.

Senior Inspector Sonavane, the new officer handling the case, obviously considered Virkar to be his rival—more so since Virkar had unearthed Hari Prasad’s identity on his own while Inspector Sonavane had been rounding up the usual suspects. Virkar laughed to himself, wondering what Sonavane would say if he knew that Virkar had now been directly contacted by Hari Prasad, the Compass Box Killer, and given a lead! But Virkar decided not to share any information or theories with anyone till he had concrete proof.

Virkar was now on a mission to unearth the identity of the Smooth Operator. If his hunch was correct, the man called ‘Smooth Operator’ was a suave, moneyed man of some social standing with a sexual fetish. Since he didn’t know how to begin looking for rich men into erotic fetishism, Virkar thought he’d begin by searching the Internet for businessmen and industrialists who might have been connected to Nigel Colasco.

Soon, however, Virkar discovered that Colasco had been a man about town when it came to his social connections. Search engines threw up photos of him with the city’s top businessmen and socialites at various functions, award shows and product launches. Realizing that a cursory search of the Internet wouldn’t turn up anything conclusive, he wondered whether he should pay Lourdes another visit. But he remembered that Lourdes’ patience had worn thin the last time he had met her. She had also threatened to go to the Archbishop of Mumbai and complain about police harassment. Since Virkar was in enough trouble already, he decided against approaching her.

Virkar logged off his office computer and rose from his chair. He decided to pay the Slum Baalak Suraksha office another ‘special’ visit later that evening. With some amount of reluctance, he called Raashi and cancelled their rendezvous scheduled at her place that evening, citing overdue paperwork. She was a little upset at his abrupt behaviour, but when he rescheduled for the next evening promising a surprise, she grudgingly agreed.

As night fell, Virkar rolled down Mumbai’s inky streets on his Bullet, making his way to Slum Baalak Suraksha’s office. The wizened chowkidar saluted Virkar and wordlessly opened the gate. They were well acquainted with each other by now. After Colasco’s death, when Virkar had surreptitiously visited his office the first time around, he had explained to the chowkidar that he was a friendly policeman on a secret personal mission to try and find Colasco’s murderer. Although the chowkidar had no love for policemen, he had adored Colasco. Appreciating Virkar’s earnestness, he had allowed him to enter the building to carry out his secret investigation in the hope that his erstwhile master may receive swift justice.

Within minutes, Virkar realized that he had been outsmarted by Inspector Sonavane’s investigative team. They had seized all the files and computers from the office that now wore a threadbare look. Virkar kicked himself. He would have done the exact thing had he still been in charge of the case. Why hadn’t he anticipated this in advance? Frustrated, he slammed the door behind him as he made his way out.

‘What is the problem, saheb? Can I help?’ the ever-eager chowkidar asked him as Virkar was leaving the premises.

Virkar managed a sarcastic laugh. ‘Only if you have a list of all the rich people who gave money to Slum Baalak Suraksha.’

The sarcasm was lost on the old man who remained as earnest as ever. ‘Where will a small person like me have such important information, saheb? But I’m sure Mr Gupte does.’

Virkar stopped in his tracks. ‘Mr Gupte?’

‘Our accountant, saheb,’ explained the chowkidar. ‘He was away at his native place in Bhandara for the past month and returned just this morning.’

Virkar was in two minds whether to go up to Gupte’s home right then or wait till the morning. Gupte was a family man, and families are known to get extremely disturbed when policemen knock on their doors late at night. But the chowkidar, who seemed to know a lot, informed him that Gupte’s wife and daughters were still away in Bhandara, and Gupte was busy at play. Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, he said, ‘Saheb, sometimes Gupte saheb goes to the Samrat Social Club in Kurla.’