Second Lives (23 page)

‘Hello, Omar?’ I recognised the voice immediately.

‘The first time was random. The second time was coincidence,’ I teased. ‘What’s it this time?’

She gave her characteristic, husky laugh. ‘I didn’t call you by mistake, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘How are you?’

‘Bored. In your city.’

‘It’s your city too. You grew up here.’

‘Are you free this evening?’

I wasn’t but I didn’t want to let go the opportunity of meeting D. ‘There’s a party I’m invited to. It’s the annual bash of a media house.’ I paused. ‘Why don’t you come along with me? It’ll be fun.’

Her tone changed. ‘No, I don’t want to do that. You carry on then.’

I said quickly, ‘I can cancel, no problem. Where do you want to meet?’

‘Nowhere public. Why don’t you invite me to your place?’

I thought about my modest, two-bedroom apartment in Bandra. ‘You’re welcome to come over but I’m warning you that it’s the size of a matchbox compared to the houses you’re used to.’

‘I don’t take up much space,’ she said drily. ‘What’s the address?’

Two hours later, the bell rang. I opened the door and saw D standing there. She gave me a brief hug and walked inside. The smell of her freshly washed hair lingered in my senses.

She was wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a printed skirt ending just above the knee. A simple necklace of brightly coloured stones and a pair of red sandals completed the ensemble. She looked elegant and beautiful.

D sat on one of the leather recliners. Looking around the minimally furnished drawing room, she said, ‘A typical bachelor pad. I love it.’

I prepared a gin and tonic for her, and pulled out a beer for myself. ‘I hope you like Thai food. I’ve ordered in.’

She nodded. ‘That day in Goa, I was really rude. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve forgotten about that.’ I raised my glass. ‘Here’s to us.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Us?’

‘We can be friends, right?’

‘I don’t think so, Omar. My life’s too complicated right now.’

‘Anything I can help with?’

She gave me a strange look but didn’t reply.

The bell rang again and I went to the door. It was the food. I brought out the dumplings and chicken satay, and we began to eat.

‘This is pretty good,’ she said between mouthfuls. ‘It’s hard to find authentic Thai food in India.’

Neither of us spoke for the next few minutes. I watched D out of the corner of my eye. She ignored the cocktail forks I had set out, preferring to use her hands. She ate slowly, taking small bites, and there was a look of almost sensuous pleasure on her face.

I said, ‘D, I realised I don’t even know which city you live in.’

‘I’ve been a nomad for so many months now that sometimes I don’t know it myself.’

‘And your husband?’

A shadow passed over her face. ‘I told you last time, let’s not talk about him.’ She knocked back the remainder of her gin.

I went to get her another drink. When I handed it to her, she said, ‘Sit close to me.’ I perched myself on an arm of the recliner.

She rested her head against my shoulder. ‘I’ve told you so much about myself but I hardly know anything about you.’

‘Well, I started to tell you the other day but you didn’t let me finish.’

‘I know, I’m sorry again.’ She gave me a rueful smile. ‘Tell me now.’

I told her things only my closest friends knew. That I was abandoned as a baby and left outside a mosque. That I am phobic about dogs. That I was nearly killed in a train accident and now walk around with almost as much steel inside my legs as Iron Man. That I am ambidextrous and can write equally well with both hands.

I don’t know why but even with this brief acquaintance, I felt a stronger bond with D than I had with any other woman for as long as I could remember. In fact, my feelings for her reminded me of my closeness to…Rachel.

When I finished, D put her arm around me. She looked up at me and said, ‘Kiss me.’

I bent down and let my lips brush hers. Our tongues met. She closed her eyes. We kissed urgently for a few moments, almost hurting each other. Then I pulled away and knelt in front of her. I put my hands on her bare knees and let them move up slowly under the skirt. Her skin was soft but firm. I could feel the heat radiating from her body. She gave a small cry as I reached the brief triangle of satin fabric.

I carried her to my room. My bed has a special spring mattress, the kind you only get in fancy hotels. I figured we would be more comfortable on it. We made love unhurriedly, building up the rhythm gradually until neither of us could wait any more. It was very different from that first time in the Marriott.

‘You’re something else, D,’ I told her. She didn’t reply. I looked over and saw that her eyes were moist. ‘What happened?’

‘You…must be thinking I’m a real slut.’

‘Of course not.’ But I remembered with a pang of guilt that I did initially think she might be some kind of a high-end whore.

‘Don’t lie to me, Omar.’

‘It’s only human to let your libido rule your head once in a while. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that at all.’

‘I know that men look down on women who jump into bed too quickly with them. It’s like an easy conquest.’

I thought about that for a moment. ‘Generally speaking, you’re right, D. But I feel differently about you, I really do.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you think I’m a little too old to fall for that line?’

I replied, ‘Okay, you tell me. What do you feel about me?’

‘I…don’t know. I mean, I’m obviously attracted to you. But that night at the Marriott, I…really lost my head. I’ve never done something like that ever before. It was completely crazy.’

I said lightly, ‘What’s life without a little adventure?’

‘That’s the thing,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘This is not me at all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re the first man I’ve had sex with in two years.’

I didn’t say anything to that. It surprised me, for sure, and a part of me thought she might be lying. I wanted to ask the obvious question but refrained. I didn’t think she would want to talk about it.

D brought it up herself. ‘My husband doesn’t enjoy normal intercourse.’

‘You mean he’s gay?’

‘No, but he gets his kicks in a very different way.’ She paused. ‘He doesn’t know I know, or he would have killed me by now.’

58

Sara

Neel stared at the ceiling and said, ‘How the hell do we ever find Roy?’

We were lying next to each other. It was past midnight but neither of us could sleep. I extracted a cigarette from an old pack of Marlboro Lights, kept in my bedside drawer for occasions when I desperately want to smoke. I lit it and took a deep pull, feeling the nicotine enter my bloodstream.

‘Neel, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. We have no clue where he lives, what he does, whether he’s assumed a different name…’

‘Do you think he lives in Goa? Both Anna Grishin and Rachel were killed there.’

‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.’

‘Maybe we should go to our friend D’Mello with this. If Roy is in Goa, I’m sure the police will be able to find him.’

I didn’t think that was such a great idea.
‘Don’t you remember what D’Mello said? He hates the thought of anyone interfering with his investigation. If we tell him we know who Anna Grishin’s killer is, that too without concrete proof, the first thing he’ll do is put us behind bars!’

Neel chuckled.

I asked, ‘What’s so funny?’

‘I was imagining the expression on D’Mello’s face if we went and told him that the man he’s looking for is actually someone who died twelve years ago.’

I smiled. He would definitely burst a blood vessel or two! ‘We have to think of something else.’

‘You’re right.’ Neel was quiet for a moment. ‘There
is
another way to find Roy.’

‘What’s that?’

‘We make him come to us.’

‘But how?’

Neel sat up. His eyes were shining. ‘He knows we’ve been trying to find out what happened to Rachel. The deaths of Zoe, Grigor and his girlfriend prove that.’

‘Neel, we’ve discussed that before.’

‘He knows we’ve figured out that Rachel was doing a story on Anna Grishin and that her own death wasn’t a suicide.’

‘Obviously.’

‘And yet, why are we still alive? Why hasn’t he come after us?’

‘I’m not sure he hasn’t.’ I thought about the incidents in Goa. ‘Don’t you remember the SUV which tried to run Omar and me off the road? We could easily have been killed. And what about the two men who tried to assault me on the beach that evening? I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.’

‘I’m not denying that both were deliberate attacks on us, instigated by Roy in all probability…’

‘Probability? What do you mean, Neel?’ My voice rose several decibels. ‘I can’t believe that you still don’t get it. It is Roy! There is no probability about it. He killed Rachel, and he’s out to kill all of us as well. Unless we can do something to stop him!’

‘Calm down, Sara.’ Neel held my hand. ‘All I’m saying is that if Roy wanted to kill us, he would have succeeded by now. I think he was just trying to warn us off.’

‘He’s not shown any hesitation or remorse about taking lives so I don’t understand why he would start with us.’

‘What if he was worried that killing us would open up a Pandora’s box? If a number of people closely acquainted with each other were to be murdered suddenly, the police would start to look for connections—a common friend turned enemy perhaps. They would dig into the past and Roy would risk getting exposed.’

‘Then why did he kill Rachel?’

‘I think he had no option. She must have found out too much.’

My head began to hurt. ‘I don’t know where you’re going with this.’

Neel put his face close to mine. ‘I’m convinced Roy doesn’t know we’re on to him. That’s why we’re still alive!’

‘Wouldn’t he be worried that Rachel might have spoken to us?’

His expression darkened. ‘I can only guess that he made Rachel talk before she died. She must have convinced him that she hadn’t told us anything.’

That was almost true anyway.
Rachel didn’t tell us much, and we misunderstood what she tried to tell us about Roy.

Neel continued. ‘What I’m proposing is that we send Roy a message.’

‘A message?’

‘Yes. Telling him that we know he’s alive and responsible for multiple murders, including Rachel’s.’

‘But won’t that put us in great danger? You yourself said…’

Neel raised his hand. ‘Hear me out, Sara. He won’t know the message is coming from us. It will be from an anonymous sender, who will indicate that he’s ready to keep his silence for money.’

‘You mean blackmail?’

‘That’s what we’ll want Roy to believe.’

I was beginning to see the light.
‘So we try to get him to agree to a rendezvous?’

‘Exactly. We’ll just have to put enough information in the message to ensure he has no choice but to come.’

‘And once he arrives, what do we do?’

‘We kill him, Sara.’

59

Omar

I got a call from Kabir Ahmed that night. D was gone by then, and I had dozed off while watching a Hitchcock rerun on television.

‘Hello, Omar,’ he said. ‘Sorry to call you late.’

‘No problem. I was awake,’ I lied.

‘I remembered where I’ve seen your friend. The one who had disappeared.’

‘Roy?’ I was instantly alert. ‘Go on.’

‘It was around a year ago. A young girl was found dead inside a car parked on Woodhouse Road in Colaba. She had been slashed repeatedly with a very sharp knife, and some of her wounds were horrific. The owner of the car saw the body lying on the backseat only after he had started driving to work in the morning, and ended up crashing into the back of a bus. I can’t blame the poor fellow. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

‘The Crime Branch was called in quite quickly, for it was an unusual case. I was the lead detective. We interrogated the car owner, of course, but it was clear that he wasn’t the perpetrator. The man was a widower in his late fifties and a well-known resident of the area, having lived there for three decades. Why the killer had chosen his car to dump the body of the girl remained as much a mystery to him as for us. It had been done overnight but no one saw anything.’

I listened to Kabir intently. What he was telling me fitted the pattern of the killings perfectly. Anna, Sasha, Jo—young girls cut up with a knife. Here was undoubtedly another victim in the series. I had many questions but I didn’t want to interrupt him.

He continued. ‘Her name was Rafat. She had just turned twenty, and studied in a college in Churchgate. A bright, pretty girl with her whole life ahead of her, until some bastard just took it all away. She was found naked, wrapped in a plastic sheet, but there was no sign of rape. That surprised me, I can tell you.’

I asked, ‘Why?’

‘Well, in such cases, some form of sexual assault is almost always present. It also explains the motive. But this one was very different. We tried to probe if Rafat had enemies but there weren’t any. By all accounts, she was a quiet and inoffensive girl. She didn’t have a boyfriend either, coming as she did from a conservative Bohra family.

‘The man who had done this was a psychopath and a cold, calculating one at that. He had planned things very carefully. The fact that there was very little blood meant that Rafat had been killed elsewhere. There was hardly any physical evidence to go on. The car had been opened expertly, and then locked again after the body was placed inside. I could only assume that he chose that particular car because it was parked in one of the darkest spots on the road.’

‘But why a car in the first place? It would have increased the risk of being seen.’

Kabir sighed. ‘I initially thought he wanted to delay the discovery of the body but then I became convinced that he did it only to mock us. A strange twist which would leave the police scratching their heads and going off into different directions in their investigation.’

‘So I assume the case wasn’t eventually solved?’