Different Senses (41 page)

Tushar nodded. “He said he’d
kill Lalit if he came around again. Lalit said he was terrifyingly
angry.”

I looked at Mahre, who cleared
his throat. “We’ve sent a patrol around there. There’s not
necessarily a connection. Unfortunately we don’t have a description
of the attacker, and so far Forensics—” His phone interrupted him.
“Excuse me,” he said, holding his finger up to us. “Mahre here.
Right. Okay, pick him up. I’ll come down to question him
myself.”

He closed the call. “Things
have moved on. We found a knife at Benay’s house with blood on it,
and when he arrived home, he became aggressive. That’s enough to
arrest him.”

“Will that mean I’m safe now?”
Tushar asked.

Ursemin, coming back into the
room, stood behind his client’s chair, the blanket in his hand,
waiting for Mahre’s answer. I took the blanket from him and draped
it over Tushar, winning a grateful smile. “I think it’s a little
early to say the police have caught the man who did this, right,
lieutenant?”

“Yes, agreed. So until we
charge this man or we find a better suspect, you will have to take
precautions, Sri Omanand.”

“My name is Tushar,
lieutenant.” An unexpected flash of steel behind his usually
smiling features. I guessed the pain had worn away the patience to
be tactful.

Mahre looked as surprised as if
a flower had bitten him on the nose. “My apologies, Sri Tushar,” he
said, bowing a little. “I need to get down to the station to
interview this man. I’ll leave the officers on guard here
overnight. We’ll review the situation in the morning.”

“I’ll show you out,” Ursemin
said.

As they left, Tushar pulled the
blanket more tightly around himself. “I’m so cold, and I can’t stop
shaking.”

“Shock, fright. It’s normal. Do
you drink alcohol? Is there anything in the house?”

“No, only chai.”

“Would you like some?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to
move. I feel safer with you being here.”

How did he manage to sound like
distilled sex while simultaneously being genuinely frightened and
shaken up? “I think it’s important you have someone in the house
tonight. Sri Ursemin lives here, right?”

“Yes, but I have an apartment
at the back. This was his parents’ house and they built an
extension for his grandmother. Normally it’s nice to have my own
space but....” He tucked himself down into the blanket. “How could
someone try to kill me? I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“It’s nothing to do with you.
Just what you represent in the attacker’s mind. It’s not your
fault.”

He nodded distractedly, then
winced as his injury caught. “It happened so fast. The police kept
asking me about it, but I couldn’t tell them anything. Just someone
big, masked, then this really fiery pain in my side. He knocked me
down and all I could think about was not being hurt worse. I didn’t
look at the man’s face. The police probably thought I was
lying.”

“No, they won’t. What you’ve
described is normal, and they know it. I know you have a low
opinion of them, and I don’t blame you, but they’ll do their
job.”

“Even for one of us?”

“Even for one of your people.”
No point in pretending what he’d seen with his own eyes wasn’t
real.

“I hope this man is the right
one. I don’t want to keep jumping at shadows.”

“Tushar—” But then I thought
better of it. The time to talk about other threats was when the kid
had a chance to calm down. “Chai would make you feel better.”

“Don’t care. You’re warm.” He
cuddled up next to me, and I put my arm around him. Well, what else
could I do? I’d have done the same for anyone who was hurt and
afraid.

Ursemin returned and blinked at
the way we were sitting. “Could I trouble you for some chai?” I
asked. “Sweetened, preferably. For him.”

“Of course. It’s very kind of
you to come over, Javen. How long can you stay?”

Tushar looked up at me with
liquid, pain-filled eyes. “All night?” he whispered. “It’s a lot to
ask...but please?”

“Uh...okay.” To Ursemin, I
said, “As long as you need. I really am sorry about this.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t
have confronted that man. All I said was ‘Do you know Tushar?’ and
he exploded. Never seen anything like it.”

That explained the guilt then.
“Then you didn’t cause it. No point in speculating either. If
Benay’s the perpetrator, then we’ll know more soon enough. If not,
then it’s not anything you did or didn’t do.”

He grunted. “True. I’ll fetch
the chai. I think there are some sweets in the kitchen. Tushar, do
you feel hungry?”

“No, but...Spirit, the show!
Lalit, I completely forgot! I should be at the theatre.” He tried
to sit up but cried out in pain.

I pushed him back. “You’re
going nowhere, right, Sri Ursemin?”

“Absolutely not. I cancelled
the show hours ago, Tushar. Your audience will understand.”

“But they’ve paid. I hate
letting people down.”

“
So you’ll do another
show at the end of the run. It’s not something for you to worry
about. That’s
my
job.”

Tushar sighed and closed his
eyes, and Ursemin left the room.

I took Tushar’s hand again.
“You can’t help this and if you were sick, the show would need to
be cancelled anyway. Once the cuts have had a chance to heal, the
doctor can put a synthaskin coating over them and you should be
able to perform...though maybe not dance. Not for a little
while.”

“You know a lot about it.”

“Well, you know, being a cop, I
picked up the odd injury. Did the doctor give you any
painkillers?”

“Um, maybe. Lalit will know.
The doctor made the skin numb around the cut but it’s wearing off.
It hurts every time I breathe.”

Rib cuts were like that, and
added to the shock of being attacked out of the blue, were as
unpleasant a minor injury as I could think of. “Lean into them.
Don’t put any stress. Here.” I manoeuvred him carefully so I
supported his injured side and he could lay his head on my
shoulder. “Perhaps you’d be better off in bed.”

“Only if you’re there,” he said
with a stubborn set to his mouth. “I don’t want to be alone. I keep
seeing the knife coming at me, over and over.”

“That’s normal too. It wears
off.” Only not very fast. Not the time to mention that either.
People reacted differently and time would tell if he’d need help to
overcome the memories.

I felt terrible for enjoying
this. I hadn’t been this close to an attractive man in years—not
unless I counted dancing with Shardul months ago, which I didn’t
dare. That Tushar seemed to be attracted to me and trusted me, was
all the encouragement my neglected and entirely self-centred libido
needed. I sternly told myself that Tushar was a client and
injured—two reasons to keep it in my pants. He was also more than
ten years younger than me, which was a third excellent
disincentive. He might be no kid, but I was a lot older, more
cynical, and worldly than him. Also, I was Kelon. I needed to be
sensible.

But sanity, he was
lovely. Extraordinary cheekbones, brilliant red hair, and eyes like
a newborn
dirno
, all big and long-lashed.
Even the stress lines of pain couldn’t mar his looks. Prachi had
talked of little else since she met him. I’d have done the same if
I hadn’t had a reputation for gruff manliness to
maintain.

He became heavy against me, and
I was careful not to disturb him, though he roused when his manager
returned with a tray. “I thought he would want the pills the doctor
left,” Ursemin whispered.

“Good idea. Tushar, you should
have some chai and the painkillers.”

“I’m falling asleep.”

“Yes, but you’ll sleep a lot
better for this. Come on.”

He groused a little but took
the mug and pills. “Not much fun for you,” he muttered.
“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine.”

“Here, Javen, have one of
these,” Ursemin said, offering me a plate of sweets. “If you’re
staying, I should arrange dinner for you.”

“I’ll be fine.” I planned to
wait until Tushar went to bed and fell asleep, and then go home to
avoid temptation I was by no means selfless enough to resist.

“Will your lover mind? You
being here, I mean,” Tushar asked after he took the pills. The chai
brought a little colour to his cheeks.

“I don’t have a lover, which
I’m sure you knew.”

“I didn’t. You’re so handsome,
I was sure you’d have someone.”

“I did. Now I don’t. I could
say the same thing about you.”

He lowered his eyes. “I had a
lover...back in the village. He wasn’t happy when I said I wanted
to take up Lalit’s offer. We had a huge fight. Haven’t spoken to
him since.”

“Perhaps he’ll change his
mind?”

“Even if he does, I don’t want
him back. I don’t want someone controlling me like that.”

“Fair enough.” I glanced at
Ursemin to see what he thought of this intimate conversation going
on in front of him. He was lost in thought, and my empathy could
detect nothing to show he was paying attention to what we were
saying.

Sooner than I expected, Tushar
grew heavy again, and there was no rousing him. I looked over at
Ursemin, and nodded at my charge. He grunted. “Doctor prescribed a
sedative as well. I think he needed it.”

“I agree, but now he needs to
rest in his own bed.”

“I’ll carry him. I’ve done it
before.”

That raised my mental eyebrows,
but the way the man carefully handled Tushar, dwarfed by Ursemin’s
huge size, proved the truth of his claim. I followed them down some
short stairs into a small apartment attached to the rear of the
house. All was neat, if rather bare except for Tushar’s instruments
and some clothes strewn on the sofa.

Ursemin laid Tushar on the bed
and covered him up. “I should go,” I whispered.

“You said you’d stay.”

“Yes, but—”

“You promised. If he wakes and
you’re not here, it’ll upset him. He places a good deal of trust in
you, Javen.”

“He barely knows me.”

Ursemin shrugged. “He’s like
that. Intense likes and dislikes, and when he likes someone, he
gives everything. I think it would be good if you could stay...if
it won’t cause you a problem. I can’t tell you how much this has
distressed him.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.
Okay, I’ll stay. Just need to make a call. Um...I don’t have—”

He held up his hand. “I have
some spare toiletries and a sleeping shirt you can use. Thank you,”
he said with a little bow. “This means a good deal to us.”

“No problem.” The relationship
between these two was definitely weird—more parental than anything
else. Still, couldn’t fault a man for having a younger, injured
person’s welfare at heart.

I called Yashi from the living
room. “The attack’s all over the news,” he said. “But I didn’t
realise you were caught up in it.”

“Only peripherally, and the
police may already know who did it. I’ll be back tomorrow. Didn’t
want you to worry.”

“Thanks. I hope Tushar will be
all right. What a horrible thing.”

“Yeah, nasty. See you
soon.”

Curious, I selected one
of the larger media channels on my reader to see what they were
saying. The arrest of a suspect had been leaked—no surprise for a
story this big. But I
was
surprised to see a recording
of a statement by Lalit Ursemin, apparently made outside the house.
It was short, and thanked people for their concern, saying Tushar
would make up any cancelled concerts and that he’d soon be back
good as new. Standard stuff, I guessed, but when the hell had
Ursemin had time and composure to make it?

Part of a manager’s job, I
supposed, having to think about this crap even when Tushar was
bleeding all over the sofa. The publicity would be good for future
ticket sales—but it would also encourage those of Benay’s bent. The
more famous Tushar became, the bigger the risk. I didn’t think he
or his manager had really grasped that yet.

Time for that later. Ursemin
returned with the shirt and a small bag of toiletries. “Would you
like supper? I was going to order something. I’m sorry, I haven’t
really had a chance to think about such things.”

“No, I’m okay. I had a late
lunch and I’m not really hungry. I can raid your cooler later if
I’m desperate.”

“Of course. If you need
anything, anything at all, just ask.”

I stripped and put the sleeping
shirt on. I had no intention of trying to sleep—it was hours and
hours before my usual bedtime—but I had reading I could do, and
still keep an eye on Tushar at the same time. He should sleep
through to morning, but it was hard to predict. If I’d had my
preference, I’d have been at the station where Benay was being
held, listening to the interrogation. The best I could hope for was
that Lieutenant Mahre would keep me in the loop out of professional
courtesy.

I climbed onto the bed and made
myself comfortable. Tushar’s face was screwed up a little with
pain, but he was solidly out. I made sure not to be in a position
to bump his bad side, and opened up my reader.

Tushar didn’t move for the next
four hours, and neither did I, except to command the reader to
change pages. By then, I felt hungry, tired enough to try sleeping,
and in need of a piss. I’d heard nothing from the main house for a
while, so I figured Ursemin had gone to bed himself. I used the
toilet, then wandered out into the darkened kitchen of the house. I
found a couple of cold samosas which I ate without reheating, and
returned to Tushar’s bedroom. He was mumbling in Nihani, and
sounded distressed. I climbed back onto the bed and touched him
gently on the shoulder. “Shhh. You’re safe, at home.”

“Who’s that? Lalit?”

“No, Javen. Remember? You asked
me to stay?” I touched on the side lamp, and found him staring at
me in confusion. “It’s Javen, Tushar.”