A Cut-Like Wound (39 page)

Where are u?

???

Gowda looked at his phone thoughtfully.

He sipped his drink. He walked to the edge of the veranda and plucked a jasmine. He held it to his nose and inhaled the fragrance.

First the call to Urmila. He heard out her tirade patiently. There was little he could say to defend himself except that he was in the middle of a case.

‘You always are, Borei.’ She sounded cross. ‘Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with a bank clerk? Someone who finishes
work at half past five and isn’t preoccupied with work even when he is with me.’

Gowda frowned. There it was. The L-word again. He twirled the jasmine by its stalk. ‘You knew I am a policeman…’

‘Is there something I can do to help?’

‘Not really.’

‘Is it those murders?’ she asked. ‘You still don’t have a suspect?’

Gowda grunted.

‘My neighbour in Sussex, a behavioural psychologist, used to help the police there with criminal profiling. Do you want me to write to him? He could help you. The human mind must be the same, no matter where it is located,’ Urmila offered.

He could hear soft tinkly music playing in the background. He imagined her sitting in her living room, holding the phone in her hand, her legs elegantly crossed at the ankles. She would have the table lamps on and perhaps a glass of wine by the laptop on the table. What was he doing with a woman like her? Or, more accurately, what was she doing with a man like him!

‘What?’ Gowda asked.

Urmila told him again. ‘Give it a shot. You are groping in the dark as it is. He is very good, Borei,’ she added, her voice soft as satin in his ears.

‘How old is he?’ Gowda asked suddenly. Who was this doctor? What did he mean to her?

‘He must be sixty,’ Urmila murmured. ‘Why? How does it matter?’

‘I was just curious.’

‘I’ll write to him now and tell him you will be in touch,’ she said. ‘So when do I see you?’

‘Soon.’

Mamtha’s call had shaken him. Yet he was unwilling to let Urmila go. He didn’t want to lose her but didn’t know where to take their relationship. One of these days she would demand that he make a decision. What then?

‘Soon, Urmila,’ he said again. ‘Let me just catch my breath. Give me the doctor’s email id.’

One more call. Santosh. Gowda’s mind was a sodden sponge, heavy and incapable of absorbing anything more. He decided to ignore Santosh’s call. If it was truly urgent, Santosh would land up at his doorstep, he told himself.

The night was still. The breeze had stopped. A dog howled in the distance.

The couple upstairs had gone away for a week. To Goa for a holiday, they had said. The dog had been put into a boarding kennel for that period. Gowda made a face. He was actually missing its high-pitched bark and the sound of its scampering overhead.

Gowda finished his drink and went back in.

A solitary dinner, a dreamless night. That was all he wanted now.

FRIDAY, 26 AUGUST

Stanley was still at work when Pradeep came in. He looked up at his assistant, who stood hesitating by the door.

Pradeep touched the birthmark on his jaw. A brown birthmark that looked like the shape of India. ‘I have some bad news, sir.’

Stanley raised an eyebrow.

‘The man Ibrahim told us about…’

Stanley waited, and then asked, ‘Yes, what’s happened to him? Fled the place, has he?’

‘No, sir. He’s dead,’ Pradeep mumbled.

‘What?’ Stanley’s voice cracked.

‘We went to pick him up yesterday. But his roommate said he’d gone to Mysore and was expected this evening. So we went back. He had been hacked to death in his room.’

‘So, the corporator got to him,’ Stanley said grimly.

‘Sir, I don’t think the corporator had anything to do with it. Looks like he was also involved with the sand mafia in some way. You could make out that it was Nepali Ricki’s work.’

‘Kukri?’

‘Yes, thrust into the abdomen and turned. Triangle-shaped wounds. The intestines were hanging out and his signature: the right wrist chopped off. It was gruesome.’

‘I thought Nepali Ricki had retired,’ Stanley said, wiping his brow with his handkerchief.

‘Who knows with these fellows, sir?’ Pradeep ran his fingers through his hair, trying hard not to reveal his disappointment. All those days of work had come to naught. They would have to start all over again. ‘What about the surveillance, sir?’

‘We’ll keep it going for another forty-eight hours. And then we’ll see.’ Stanley began walking to the door. ‘Let’s go. I might as well see the crime spot.’

S
he stared at her phone again. Where was he? She messaged him again, but he wasn’t responding. Was he angry with her for not taking his calls on Wednesday night? But she had
explained it to him later that night, saying it wouldn’t be possible for them to go to the movie. And he had seemed to understand. They had arranged to meet on Friday night as usual.

‘You have to make up for my disappointment,’ he said.

‘I’ll buy you an ice-cream.’ She smiled.

‘I am not six years old to be appeased by an ice-cream or a balloon,’ he whispered in her ear. She shivered.

‘What else can I give you? I don’t have too much money … maybe when I get my salary!’

‘You can give me something. It won’t cost you anything, but will mean everything to me,’ he murmured.

‘What is that?’

‘A kiss…’

‘Oh Sanju … you shouldn’t talk to me like this,’ she protested.

‘Well, that is the only thing that is going to make up for not going to the movie with me…’

It was quarter to eight. He hadn’t called all day. There had been an early morning text, but nothing after that.

What if he’d had an accident? He rode the bike too fast, she had told him. But he had said he was in control. ‘And I am careful, Bhuvana. Would I risk my life after having met someone like you?’

Or had he given up on her? Why bother with someone like her? Someone who seemed to have so many terms and conditions about how to manage their relationship when he could find himself a girl who was more compliant?

She sank her head in her palms. She couldn’t think of a life without him.

Where was he? When were they going to meet?

Akka stood at the door. ‘The girls want to go out.’

She stared at Akka wordlessly.

‘Are you still waiting for him to call?’ Akka asked.

She didn’t have to answer. Akka could read her face.

‘You should be more careful next time,’ Akka said, looking at her distraught face.

‘But Sanjay is a good man.’

‘Is that his name?’ Akka walked away.

Men, they were all the same. Akka was right. In the end she was left with nothing but the taste of ashes in her mouth. She wasn’t going to sit here waiting for him. He can go fuck himself, she told herself. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him either.

There were others who wanted her. A soft giggle escaped her mouth. In their arms, she would once again be Bhuvana, the beautiful one.

SATURDAY, 27 AUGUST

Chikka sipped his coffee and watched Anna. He had never seen him scour the newspapers so carefully. What was he looking for? The sheet crackled with his impatience as he flipped it. He saw Anna pause at each page. He saw him scrutinize the page carefully.

‘What is it?’ Chikka asked. The morning had dawned cool and grey. Almost every evening the clouds gathered into a grey mass and then the skies opened up. A stinging sheet of rain that filled up the drains, turned roads into streams and held up the traffic.

‘Here,’ Anna said, thrusting the newspaper towards him. ‘I can’t find it. You look for it. It’s a murder report involving Nepali Ricki.’

Chikka frowned. He knew better than to ask his brother questions.

‘I just need to make sure that Ibrahim kept his word,’ Anna said, yawning. ‘The fool got caught by the crime branch.’

Chikka’s eyes widened. ‘And…’

‘He had the good sense to give them a name. A new recruit. And so, to divert attention, the new boy had to be dealt with.’

Chikka scanned the newspaper carefully. The Kannada broadsheet his brother favoured had almost a quarter page, including a small photograph of the crime scene, devoted to the news item.

‘SAND MAFIA CLAIMS ONE MORE’

Staff Reporter

The police say the prime suspect, Nepali Ricki of Banaswadi, is absconding

Bangalore: Last evening a young man was found hacked to death in his lodge room in Banaswadi area. Senior police officials don’t rule out the possibility of the sand mafia’s role in the murder.

With the construction boom back in full swing in the city, sand suppliers have been doing brisk business over the last few months. The young man, Sanjay Patil, reportedly muscled into the sand mafia’s territory, which was being controlled by another career criminal, whom the police refused to name as it could be detrimental to their investigation.

Sanjay appears to have provoked the mafia when he began extracting hafta from sand suppliers, preliminary investigations have revealed.

The city police have formed
a special team to track down the suspects. The team comprises officials from Central Crime Branch (CCB) and several police stations from the east division.

‘So far no arrests have been made,’ said Assistant Commissioner of Police Stanley Sagayaraj (Crime).

‘We have sent our teams to neighbouring districts and also alerted our counterparts in neighbouring States,’ a CCB officer told this reporter.

The people staying near the scene of crime are feigning ignorance about the murder.