Different Senses (40 page)

“I'b nod sig.”

“Of course not. Shoo.”

Once Vik found phone numbers, I
had him and Prachi call on the pretext of carrying out a survey.
Prachi ran the recorded voices through an analyser, and one was a
clear match. Phanindra Benay, forty-three, employed as a cleaner,
with a record of minor public nuisance offences, and one citation
from the city council for having an unkempt and unhygienic
residence. He’d also been to three of Tushar’s shows.

“So this is him?” she said.

“He’s a strong candidate. We
could be right off the mark here, but I think we have enough to
investigate Sri Benay a little more closely. I want images,
handwriting, and recent movements. Vik, you handle the fieldwork.
Prachi’s a public health hazard.” He grinned while she screwed her
nose up at me. “Don’t approach him or contact him, okay? If we’re
wrong and he gets the slightest suspicion of what we’re up to,
he’ll sue the arse off me. We’ll leave co-workers and friends until
we have a stronger case.”

“Sure, boss.”

I left them to it, but my
thoughts turned to how best to handle this. Without hard proof or
an actual crime, the man could complain of harassment. He might
also ramp up the attacks in revenge. If I could somehow force a
confession out of him, even informally, a stiff letter from Shardul
might do the trick, and if not, then that would be enough to force
the police to take an interest. Such cases were tricky, when the
stalker had yet to break cover and there was no overt connection
between the suspect and the victim. Still, if Tushar had been a
wealthy Kelon, the police would have taken action, however nebulous
the threat.

I had other cases to work on,
and for the money I was charging, I couldn’t afford to spend too
much time on Tushar’s business. My assistants had it under control
and it was good experience for them—definitely not the kind of case
that came along every day, even if the detective work itself was
routine. Prachi and Vik were about to take their second round of
exams for their investigative methods and ethics course. They were
almost ready to handle a few cases on their own. This could be
their dry run.

By the end of the day, the two
of them had come up with enough that I felt I could present Benay
as a plausible candidate to Tushar and his manager. Prachi had
found a copy of Benay’s signature and the handwriting fit with what
we had, though it wasn’t conclusive. Vik had confirmed Benay had
posted items at the local post outlet, the same one from where
several messages had been sent. Not enough to convict him, but more
than enough to take it to the next stage. I called Ursemin and he
suggested I come over to the concert hall where Tushar was warming
up for the show.

Vik pretended he had no
interest in meeting Tushar, but he forgot about my empathy. Prachi
didn’t even try to be cool. I thought it was adorable, actually. My
assistants were the hardest-working, smartest kids I’d ever had the
pleasure of knowing, and seeing them this excited about something
so silly charmed the pants off me. Maybe I should turn in my grumpy
old curmudgeon badge. Didn’t seem to be getting a lot of use
lately.

Ursemin took us to a basement
dance rehearsal room. Tushar, half-naked, damp and delicious,
greeted the three of us like long-lost relatives. Prachi looked
about to die from happiness as he embraced her. “They’re not used
to clients hugging them,” I said, keeping a straight face.

Tushar chewed his lip. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You really haven’t. But
Prachi, Vik, maybe you’d like to give your report to Sri Tushar
before he has to get back to the show. They did the research for me
under my direction,” I added as Ursemin lifted his hairy eyebrows
at me.

My assistants managed to calm
down and presented the information as professionally as anyone
could ask. Tushar said nothing when they were finished, leaving his
manager to accept the report and our account. “So we can’t be sure
this is the man?”

“No, and any action you take or
we do on your behalf has to reflect that. In police terms, he’s a
‘person of interest’, and nothing more. If you barge in and accuse
him, you could end up sued, assaulted or worse. Since he’s Kelon
and Tushar’s not, it’s even more sensitive.”

Tushar shuddered. “I never want
to meet him.”

“I’d strongly advise against
it. Now either I could speak to him, sound him out, and deliver a
warning off if he confesses, or you could ask someone else to do
so. Our report makes it very clear that he’s been singled out based
on strong indicators, but no actual evidence other than the voice
match, which is far from definitive. If you choose to accuse him
directly, you can’t use what we’ve said as proof, and if you try,
I’ll make it clear you have none.”

“I understand. You don’t want
to be sued.”

“No. I also don’t want an
innocent man’s reputation stained.”

“I think we need to take some
time to think about things.”

“Take all the time you want,” I
agreed. “Has there been anything else? Any more messages?”

“No, thank goodness. They
distract Tushar from his work.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Tushar
clapped his hands together. “Do you want tickets for this evening,
Prachi? Vik? How about you, Javen?”

“I really can’t tonight, but if
you two want to, then take a taxi back and charge it to the office.
I think it would be good for research purposes.”

Vik affected a put-upon air.
“Oh, in that case.” I tried not to grin. Did he really think he was
fooling anyone?

“Lalit? Can you arrange it? And
please, give Javen two pairs to use. I mean, if you want them.”

“I’d love it,” I said as
Ursemin hesitated in handing over the tickets in his pocket. “My
brother and sister-in-law would like to come, and I want them to
see your show.”

“Great!” Tushar did a twirl and
a high kick, and Vik’s eyes nearly popped out of his head with
surprise. “Prachi, you’ll have the best seats in the house. Tell me
your favourite song so I can sing it for you.”

“Sing anything,” she gushed. “I
love everything you sing.”

I grinned. “Okay, I’ll leave
you to it. Vik, Prachi, Tushar needs to rehearse. Maybe you could
go get a quick meal before the show. Charge it to me too. Enjoy
yourselves.”

“Thanks, boss,” they chorused.
I left in the warm glow of satisfaction of a job well done.

At home, I spread a little more
joy, handing over both pairs of tickets to Tara. “You don’t want to
come?” she asked.

“If you haven’t anyone else to
ask, sure. But offer them to a friend first. They’ll thank
you.”

“You’re so kind.”

“Shardul made a suggestion
about the new house. He thinks I should build one.”

“Oh.” Her weak smile couldn't
disguise the distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Think it’s a bad idea?”

“Oh, no. I hadn’t really
thought about that option. I guess it makes sense. But Javen,
there’s no hurry.”

I pointed at her very slightly
rounded tummy. “Tell that to little miss in there.”

“It’s months and months
away.”

“Yes, but if I decide to build,
I should get cracking. I need to find land, and then decide on a
design, then arrange a builder, then there’s all the
decorating—”

She put her hand on her
forehead. “Stop, you’re making me tired just thinking about it.
This place was a spec build. Fortunately, it turned out to be
perfect for what we wanted.”

“It’s a lovely home, and I love
it and you in it. You’ll see me around plenty of times,” I said,
kissing her cheek.

“I hope so. We’re so used to
you being here. Makes me feel safe.”

“Yashi doesn’t?” She nudged me
in the ribs. “Ow.”

“Of course he does. But you’re
the police officer. And besides, the boys adore you. It’s brought
something special to their lives with you being here.”

“Stop, you’ll make me cry.” I
grinned. “I won’t be going far away, and just try to stop me
visiting.”

“I’d never do that.” She tucked
the tickets into her wallet. “My turn to cook.”

Yashi had bath duty, so all was
quiet downstairs temporarily. “Why don’t you relax and let me? I
can follow instructions.”

She fell onto a chair with a
groan. “You’re on. Just to sit down is pure luxury.”

When I moved out, I wouldn't be
able to do this. But I could always invite them over for a
home-cooked meal. I’d have to learn to cook better than I did,
though. Kirin had never managed to teach me, and living with a good
cook meant I let him do what he was best at. Another reason to move
out. About time I learned basic survival skills.

Prachi and Vik bubbled
over with enthusiasm the next day, finally driving Madan out of the
office to ‘see a client’. I let them go on as long as they wanted.
They’d done a nice job of the research on the case, and deserved to
enjoy their reward. But after that, all went quiet. I heard nothing
from Ursemin or Tushar. I messaged Shardul to say we’d identified a
possible candidate for the stalker, and all he said was
“Keep me informed.”

I didn’t have time to chase the
matter up. I figured Ursemin would get back to me once they’d
decided what to do. Between thinking about house designs, my
regular caseload, and a security assessment Roshni-ji wanted for
the nearly completed conference and lecture hall up at the
Institute, I had plenty to keep me occupied. Vik and Prachi went on
study leave to prepare for their exams, and their absence only
reinforced how essential they’d become to the business. Time to
think about a third trainee.

I was walking back to Yashi’s
house after work when my phone went. “Sri Ursemin, what can
I—?”

“Javen, Tushar’s been attacked!
Please, can you come to my house? The police are there and they
said they want to talk to you.”

Cursed
insanity.
“Of course. Tell the police I’m
on my way. Is he badly injured?”

“A knife wound. The doctor has
been and tended to it. But he’s in a terrible state.”

“Poor kid. I’ll be there in
ten.”

Quicker for me to call a taxi
to my location than go back to the house for my auto. While I
waited for my ride, I checked out the news channel. Reports of the
incident, which had happened outside the concert venue, were
headlining every minute. Details were few, but I learned Tushar had
been attacked by a masked man wielding a knife, who’d lunged at him
on the street, before running off when Ursemin came to Tushar’s
aid. This was the kind of escalation I’d been afraid of.

I called Shardul. “Have you
heard?”

“Yes. It’s all around the
community. You think it’s your stalker?”

“Possibly. It could be racially
motivated anyway.”

“True. You’ll assist the
police?”

“I’m on my way to Ursemin’s
house right now. The kid’s shaken up.”

“I’m sure. But, Javen, he’s
twenty-two. Not actually a kid.”

“Yeah, I know. He just seems so
young.”

“Not necessarily an endearing
trait in an adult. Good luck in finding this attacker.”

Now what did he mean by that?
Tushar was hardly childish. Innocent, more like. Probably because
he was new to the city. He’d lived a pretty isolated life before
Ursemin had discovered him. Anyway, how he acted was irrelevant to
the fact some bastard was running around this city attacking
innocent people. Time was when I’d have been one of the cops
chasing this down. Now I could only give them what I had.

Three police vehicles and
at least ten officers had closed off Ursemin’s house. Of
course
now
they took the threat seriously, when someone had been hurt.
I showed my investigator’s ID to the cop acting as gatekeeper.
“Javen Ythen for Lalitchandra Ursemin. I’m expected.”

He called it in on his
communicator. “Go on in, sir. Uh, are you carrying a weapon?”

“Yes. Licensed gun. I’m
reaching for it now.” I pulled it out slowly and showed him, and my
license. “Okay?”

“That’s fine. I’ll let the
lieutenant know.”

The house was one of the older
ones in the city, big without being distinguished, two storeys with
a garden that Shardul would have a word or two to say about its
lack of use. Another cop stood at the door, but let me in without
delay.

I found Tushar and Ursemin in
the living room, with two police officers who regarded me
suspiciously. “Javen Ythen, officers. Formerly Sergeant Ythen of
the Hegal force.”

The lieutenant relaxed. “Nice
to meet you, sergeant. Lieutenant Mahre, and this is Constable
Eadi.”

I nodded to the constable, then
came forward. “Tushar, I’m sorry to hear about this. How bad is
it?” He was shirtless with a dressing over one side, half-lying,
half-sitting on the couch. The way he moved and winced indicated he
was in some pain.

“It hurts. I’ve never been
attacked before.” His pale complexion was bloodless, his blue eyes
huge in his shocked expression. “Please sit. Here, by me.”

I did so, and took his icy
hand. “How bad is the cut?”

“The doctor stitched it. I
couldn’t look.” He shivered. “There was blood everywhere.”

I looked up at Ursemin. “A
blanket would be a good idea.”

The big man, radiating guilt
and worry, jumped to my request. “I’ll fetch it.”

While he tended to that, I
turned to Mahre. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, about this Phanindra
Benay you identified as a possible stalker. Do you have anything to
add to the report you gave Sri Ursemin?”

“No. We put everything in. You
think it’s him?”

“Lalit went to speak to him,”
Tushar murmured. “The man went crazy when Lalit mentioned my name.
We’re sure he’s the one sending the messages.”

Damn it, I’d told them to keep
away from Benay. “Oh. Was he angry at you?”