Seduced by Murder (19 page)

I mumbled a dehydrated hello.

It was a woman’s voice.

“Good morning. This is Anjali. We met yesterday. “

“Morning. Do you know what time it is?”

“It is five in the morning. Were you sleeping?” she asked amiably.

I tried to think of a sarcastic answer, but all my grey cells were asleep.

I sighed and said, “Yes, I was sleeping.”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk about the article”

“What?”

“You know, the article I was writing.”

“What about it?”

“I wanted you to read and review it. It is being published today. Front page!”

“Your article? Now?”

“Yes, if it is not too much of a bother. I have been a nervous wreck since last night. Couldn’t sleep. I thought I should discuss it with you.”

“Lady, the only articles I want to review now are
a
,
an
, and
the
.
A
good sleep is
an
extremely important ingredient for
the
sanity of a man.”

“Ha ha. I see you are up. Please! I know you are interested in the case. I want to see your expression when you read it.”

I stifled a yawn.

“It is being published today?”

“Yes, in our mid-morning edition. It should hit the news-stands soon.”

“Do you want to read it to me on the phone?”

“No. I was hoping we could meet at the Orchid. They have a twenty-four-hour coffee shop that serves the most amazing English breakfast. My treat.”

I could use a hot cup of coffee. “Sure.”

I woke Pranay up, and told him to keep vigil until I returned. Abhijit had stayed indoors the entire night and received no visitors. It had been dark in the parking lot of the club, but the bag Abhijit had tossed into Reena’s car, looked very similar to the one I had found in Leo’s apartment. If someone was trying to hide thirty crores in cash, they would’ve probably bought a new set of bags, from the same shop, at the same time, and probably the same kind. It was a long shot, but worth twenty-five lakhs if I hit the target.

Half an hour later I was entering the lobby of the Orchid. The doorman gave me a cold stare, and opened the door. I caught my reflection in the mirror – a crumpled T-shirt, shorts, floaters, dishevelled hair, messy stubble, and bloodshot eyes from too much booze and too little sleep. The immaculately
dressed lady at the reception stared at me nervously, as though she expected me to take out an AK-47 any moment, and start shooting in the lobby.

I walked on the shiny marble floor, across sophisticated rooms with natural lighting, dark wood, and white sofas that invited me to take a nap. Anjali was waiting in the cafe, looking quite pretty in some shade of pink.

“Thanks for coming. You are a kind man.”

“I know.”

She took my hand and led me to a table in the corner.

A waiter showed up, and she ordered promptly on my behalf. “Two English breakfasts.” She smiled at me and added, “You will love it.”

“What would be your choice of beverage, ma’am? Coffee, tea, or juice?”

“We will have tea. Earl Grey,” she commanded.

I signalled to the waiter to cancel the order. “Careful,” I said to her with a smile. “I think you are very close to being dominating, as your dad says.”

I looked at the waiter. “Make that one English breakfast for the lady, and one tea. I will have only coffee. Black.”

She said disapprovingly, “You don’t have breakfast, huh? Do you know it is the most important meal of the day?”

“Oh, I do have breakfast. I just like to keep a two-hour gap between dinner and breakfast. Now are we going to discuss my dietary habits, or are we going to discuss your article?”

She immediately cheered up, and took out two neatly folded printouts from her handbag. She pushed the sheets towards me.

“Give me your frank opinion.”

I glanced through the sheets. Screaming out at me was the headline,
Anil Kapoor Murder: The Real Story!

And below that, looking smug, the byline,
By Anjali Singh
. A picture of her smiling stood right beside the byline. She waited for me to finish reading the article, and nibbled at a fingernail. She had managed to get the data right. The article started with describing the suspicious circumstances in which the corpse was found. It mentioned a police officer, who wished to remain anonymous, but acknowledged that the main suspect was a member of the Kapoor family. The article then covered the financial problems plaguing the Kapoors, and the possibility of the government reclaiming the land originally allotted for their flagship mall, due to delays in starting the construction. Towards the end, the article subtly mentioned that in all such crimes inheritance was a major motivation. The article ended by promising a sensational breakthrough in the subsequent article.

I looked at her and nodded in approval. “It is cheap, sensational, fictitious, and devoid of any character – very well suited for your target segment. It will sell very well.”

She looked crestfallen and asked me earnestly, “What about the writing style? Is it good?”

I laughed out loud, appreciating her sense of humour and self-deprecation. The article was written in Hemingway’s style, with the vocabulary of a teenage rock ’n’ roll artist.

Her expression looked pained, and I realised that it had not been a rhetorical question. I made a futile attempt to disguise my laugh as an unexpected cough. It was too late. She looked devastated.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Sadness loomed up in her eyes.

“No, no, please don’t take my feedback seriously. I have always been a careless reader.”

She blushed. “Oh, is that true? Yes, you were in fact reading it too quickly. You couldn’t possibly have paid attention to the finer nuances.”

“Yes, I was always too fast. My English teacher used to call me a premature ejaculator when it came to reading comprehension.”

She threw her head back and laughed freely, once again her cheerful self.

I asked nonchalantly, “So, what is this sensational article that will follow?”

She leaned forward. “Remember I told you about … uh … how do I put it…about some sexual issue concerning someone from the Kapoor family?”

I nodded.

“My informant has given me some mind-blowing dope! It will shock the public.”

It struck me then that she was overreacting to Anil’s homosexuality. The public would probably be amused, rather than be shocked about this facet of the deceased’s life —unless I was wrong in my assumption, and it had never been about Anil at all.

“So who is this source of yours?” I enquired.

She brought a finger to her lip. “Oh no, Mister! That is strictly private stuff. Reporter-source confidentiality. I can’t tell you his name.”

I noted that she had addressed the source using the masculine-gender pronoun.

“And I came here at five in the morning for you,” I said in a complaining voice.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I could have been a victim of my own presumptions. If Leo was the informant, he was not likely to speak about Anil’s sexual life, as it would embroil him in the entire scandal too.

She misread my silence and pleaded, “Oh ho, don’t be moody now.”

She leaned forward.

“All right. A small titbit, and then you are not supposed to ask me anything. My source is going to give me some visual evidence tonight. A CD. At a party. Once I get the proof tonight, oh boy, what a story!” Her eyes were gleaming and she continued, “The story I am covering tonight is going to make to the front page on Sunday. I will reveal my source’s identity to you on Saturday. Okay? Please!”

The waiter laid out an elaborate English breakfast before her, and poured out some coffee for me.

“How well do you know Leo?”

She swallowed a partially masticated toast in one gulp. Shock was evident on her face. She laughed nervously, and tried to camouflage her surprise by reaching for the teapot. She upset the teapot, which upset the cup in front of me. The cup of coffee tumbled and fell off the table. Molten lava permeated my shorts, scathing the sleepy and unsuspecting Junior.

“Hell!” I screamed involuntarily, jumping up and trying to get the hot liquid off my shorts.

“Oh my God!” she screamed even louder, and rushed towards me.

She picked up some tissues, and started wiping the coffee off my crotch. With the initial shock wearing off, I became aware of her attempts to cool Junior by blowing air, and gently
caressing him with the tissues. Junior immediately identified her as an ally and declared peace.

The waiter was staring at us in amusement. I lifted her chin, smiled, and gestured with my hands signalling that everything was fine. She suddenly realised her position and turned red.

“Dog,” she whispered as she sat on her chair. In her own way, she was adorable.

I started laughing.

“Listen, you have made me give you classified information about my boss, woke me up at five in the morning, and almost castrated me. I think I am entitled to know if my guess is correct.”

She looked at me guiltily.

“I promised him that I would preserve the client-informant confidentiality. How did you know it was Leo?”

“Not important. How do you know him?”

“I can get into serious trouble if you tell anyone. Leo keeps reminding me that he is a dangerous man. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. See, I am still alive. I want to know everything that he has told you till now.”

She sighed. “He called the office two days ago. The call was transferred to me. He demanded to talk to the person in charge of the Kapoor story. I took the call, posing as my boss.”

“This was on Monday evening, after six?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Because I was in his apartment with the police till around six on Monday. He must have called you after we left his flat.”

“Oh! Does that tell you anything?”

“Yes. He had resisted divulging any information when we confronted him. Yet, when we left, he chose to call the press. He must have realised something in that short time.”

“What?”

“I think I can guess. How much were you supposed to pay Leo?”

“He demanded five lakhs for the information.”

“Five lakhs? That’s it?”

“Hello! Five lakhs! It’s more money than I can dream of!”

“Not for Leo, it’s not. Anyway, what did you do?”

“I told him to go to hell. I get one of these calls every week. I told him not to waste my time, and was going to disconnect, when he mentioned that he had evidence that the murderer was from the family. That stumped me! Anil Kapoor being murdered on the farmhouse was a hell of a story. If the murderer happened to be an insider, it would have rocked the nation. I requested him for a meeting. He disconnected saying that he would call back. I tried tracing the number, but he had called from a public booth.”

“Then?”

“I decided to give it a day before telling my boss. The bastard would have done the story himself, to score brownie points with the promoters. The next day I was going to inform my boss about the lead, when Leo called again.”

“That was yesterday?”

“Yes. I asked him for some proof to support what he claimed. He said that that the police had found some clues, and he directed me to Inspector Babu to confirm this.”

“Okay. Then?”

“I met Leo yesterday morning, before I met you. I took all my savings, borrowed from my roommate, and was able
to come up with fifty thousand. I offered the money to Leo when we met. He was furious.”

“Hmm …”

“Then I started crying, telling him how difficult it was to survive, and how much this story meant to me. An amazing thing happened. He agreed! He took the fifty thousand, and hinted at…uh…certain things. It was mind-blowing information. I could see us selling ten lakh copies in a day! He is supposed to show me the proof tonight – the CD.”

“Hmm…so this mind-blowing stuff that Leo will give you proof for, doesn’t have anything to with Anil’s homosexuality, does it?”

“Of course not! The entire town knows about that. How old fashioned are you?” She winked at me.

“Leo agreed to fifty thousand after demanding five lakhs? In one meeting?”

“Yes! My boss was proud of my negotiation skills.”

I asked her incredulously, “You didn’t find anything strange in that?”

“No. Why?”

“Anjali, the guy lives in a one-crore apartment. He returned jewellery to Anil that would probably be priced at a figure double our combined assets. Don’t you find it remotely strange that a measly amount like fifty thousand excited him?”

She looked confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“He doesn’t give two hoots about your money. He is using you as bait for something else. He wants someone to know that he has access to the press.”

“Don’t be silly. What kind of bait could I be?” she asked me in disbelief.

“Has he given you any evidence about this mind-blowing stuff he has been telling you about?”

“Well, he has offered to give me the CD tonight.” She remembered something and said nervously, “Although there was one request that I found strange. He insisted that our publication print the first article today, but that the information he would give us today should not feature on or before Thursday. That is why we are doing the story on Saturday. Any guesses why he wants the story after Thursday?”

“Yes. Because he plans to leave the country on Thursday. He wants time, to be safely far away, when the story is published.”

“But why on earth would he want to use me, or the publication, as bait?”

I realised that there was only one explanation possible. Leo was obviously using Anjali as the bait to get someone’s attention. Yet, he wanted her to hold back publishing whatever he was about to tell her, until he had exited the country. He was blackmailing someone!

“I am coming with you to the party tonight.”

“I can’t take you! He will freak out if he sees you with me.”

“This is non-negotiable. I will hide somewhere. It is too dangerous for you to go alone.”

“Well … you can come if you promise to hide, but only if you bring your car. The party is at Kandhari hills. It’s a private farmhouse, and it’s a long drive. My laptop will get wet if it rains.”