Different Senses (44 page)

He looked away. “I never did
anything to him.”

Outside, a police auto had
pulled up, and two officers approached. “Sri Benay, the police are
here. You’re going to go with them without causing any trouble, or
you’ll go back to jail. Do you understand?”

“You have to tell them I didn’t
do it! I didn’t!”

“I’ll speak to them, but only
if you cooperate. Start being violent, start yelling again, and
I’ll do nothing. You keep away from this office and my people. This
isn’t their concern. Do you understand me?”

“But—”

I slapped the desk
between us. “Do you
understand
me?”

“Yes,” he said sullenly. “But I
never did it.”

The two cops entered the
office. “Sri Ythen, Sri Dhruv,” Constable Satol said, nodding to us
both. “Having a bit of a problem, I see.”

I put my weapon away. “Sri
Benay came to...discuss the charges against him, regarding Sri
Tushar. I’ve told him I don’t want him to return here, and that if
he does, his bail may be withdrawn.”

A smart woman, Constable Satol
didn’t need more of a hint than that. “Indeed. Sri Benay, come with
us, please.”

“I won’t go back to jail!”

“No, we just want to have a
little chat and then we’ll take you home. Sri Ythen wants you to
leave.”

Benay hunched over in the
chair. “I didn’t do it.”

“I believe you,” I said.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

He blinked up at me, his slow
mind taking it in. “Will you help me?”

“If you go quietly, yes.”

He stood. “I didn’t hurt them,”
he said to Satol.

“I can see that, sir. Come
along now.”

Once they cleared the office, I
locked the door behind them, and exhaled noisily. “Sainted
reason.”

“Yeah,” Madan said, holstering
his weapon and falling onto a chair. “What in the name of the
Spirit was that all about? Of course he’s the one who attacked
Tushar. They found the knife.”

“No prints. Madan, he was
telling the truth. He didn’t do it. At least he believes he
didn’t.”

“Delusional?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he was set up,
just like he thought.”

Madan lifted his eyebrows.
“Your empathy’s not admissible.”

“No, but I can hardly stand by
and let an innocent man go to prison.”

“He’s not innocent. He did send
threats.”

“It’s been a while since I was
on the force, but I seem to remember something...oh what was it?
Oh, that’s right. Innocent until proven guilty?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, grinning
reluctantly. “What will you do?”

“Have a chat with Lieutenant
Mahre for a start. And warn Tushar and Sri Ursemin the real
attacker is on the loose.”

“
May
be on the loose. Personally, my money’s on Benay
being out of his mind.”

“He’s still on the loose. I
didn’t know he’d made bail.”

“No fingerprints on the knife,
circumstantial evidence, you know that’s S.O.P. if there’s no
confession.”

“And the victim’s
indigenous.”

“I don’t think the lieutenant
would let that influence him,” Madan said. “Strikes me as a fair
sort.”

“Might not have been up to
him.” I wiped my face. “Devraj? It’s over. Come on out.”

The lad emerged, but headed
straight to the door. “I’m not putting up with this kind of thing,
Sri Ythen. I’ll let the agency know you need someone else. I’m
sorry.” He tugged on the door, and panicked when he found it
locked. I stepped up and unlocked it, and he bolted before I could
wish him luck.

“Terrific. At least Vik and
Prachi missed it.”

Madan grinned. “You know, I
think they’ll be disappointed. They don’t scare easily.”

I jerked my thumb in the
direction of the departing Devraj. “Not that easily, anyway. Damn
it. Another temp or do we muddle through until the end of the
week?”

“Muddle. Breaking another one
will be too much work.”

“
You mean,
‘breaking
in
’, surely.”

“Oh, didn’t I say that?”

I shook my head at him. “Come
on, if we’re going to be short a clerk, you’ll have to help me with
the files.”

But once I’d shovelled a
healthy pile of work Madan’s way, I made two calls. One to
Lieutenant Mahre, asking for a meeting, and the other to Lalit
Ursemin, saying I needed to speak to the two of them. “Come for
late supper at my house,” he suggested. “After Tushar’s show.”

“You still have reporters?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Only a
couple but they’re persistent.”

“Then I’ll meet you at the
concert hall. You can smuggle me into the house.”

He laughed. “Oh, Tushar will
love that. See you at nine, Javen.”

I mentally considered the
logistics of what I’d arranged, and what disguises I could quickly
assemble, but then my thoughts turned back to Phanindra Benay. I
realised now the slight nagging doubt that the real attacker had
been found wasn’t just general paranoia, but because the story
didn’t fit. The knife with Tushar’s blood had been found in a
refuse bin at the front of Benay’s property—accessible to any
passerby. Logic said Benay was the most likely person to have put
it there—but the knife had either been wiped clean of prints, or
the attacker had worn gloves. So why would Benay then drop the
knife, along with the incriminating blood, into a bin at his own
home? The man wasn’t very bright or particularly devious. That he
would have thought of fingerprints at all, had surprised me at the
time. If he hadn’t done it, the lack of prints made more sense.

But that also meant someone
wanted Benay to take the blame. It also meant someone knew Benay
was the one sending threats to Tushar. This case was suddenly a lot
more complicated than I thought.

This fact didn’t brighten
Lieutenant Mahre’s day when I shared my observations and thoughts
with him that afternoon. “Empathy’s not admissible,” he said, right
on cue.

I rolled my eyes.
“Lieutenant....”

“Okay, you know that. But give
me something, sergeant. I can’t drop the charges based on evidence
I can’t present.”

“If his lawyer’s doing his job,
he’ll tear your case apart over the knife anyway. I’m just telling
you that if he does, maybe you shouldn’t fight too hard—and that
you still have an attacker to find.”

He groaned. “The trail’s
cold.”

“Not quite. Someone knew about
Benay’s little obsession. There can’t be many people who did. But
you have another problem—Benay’s resentment’s likely to explode
again, and I wouldn’t like to be the one in the path of it this
time.”

He wrinkled his nose in
irritation. “Any more good news you want to drop on me,
sergeant?”

“No, that’s it. I’ll warn
Tushar. The rest, I leave with you. Keep Benay away from me and my
client.”

“Do my best. Sanity, the
prosecutor will have my head for this.”

I shrugged in sympathy. “Better
than an innocent man being punished.”

“If he’s innocent. I want a
psychiatric review before I do anything.”

I left it with him. Honestly, I
didn’t know if Benay had blanked out the attack, but if I had to
make a bet, I’d say he hadn’t. The knife didn’t fit. Mahre was a
good cop, and now I’d pointed out the anomaly, he’d be no more able
to rest until he resolved it than I would have been. Only now it
was his job, not mine.

The events of the day
left me snarly and unsettled but the prospect of seeing Tushar,
even to give him bad news, was a bright spot to aim for. I guess
I’d already decided before I set out for the theatre that I’d spend
the night with him, Shardul’s objections be damned. That was why I
didn’t tell Shardul about Benay. After all, there wasn’t anything
he could do that he wasn’t already doing to keep Tushar safe, and
more than that, wasn’t any of his bloody business. If Shardul
wasn’t interested in my Kelon arse, then he could keep his opinion
about who
was
interested to himself.

Why was I even justifying
myself to myself?

“
Javen, you look like
you’ve just eaten
girkel
fruit without
honey.”

I looked over at Madan,
regarding me with his usual wry smile. “I wish that was all it was.
Just to let you know, I plan to let Tushar have his wicked way with
me tonight if he chooses.”

He held his hands up. “Do not
want to know, partner. You’re the ethics expert.”

“
And Tushar’s not my
client any more. Ursemin is, if anyone still is, and I’m not
planning to sleep with
him
.”

“Please, stop with the
disturbing images. That man frightens me.”

I snorted at the idea of Madan
being frightened by anything. “He’s not my type for sure. I wanted
to give you a head’s up in case the press get wind of it. Which
they won’t, if I’m careful.”

“Please be careful then. My
wife’s been quite rude about the repeated images of my fleeing back
she sees on the news channels.”

Yashi and Tara hadn’t
commented, but then both of them had become used to the occasional
unwanted eruptions of press interest because of Dad. But thinking
of them reminded me that I needed to get on with finding other
accommodation. Should I speak to Shardul’s cousin or not? Right now
I didn’t think it such a good idea to have him so closely
associated with my arrangements, but I’d get over it, probably, and
he’d spoken very highly of his cousin’s abilities. After the
weekend, I thought. I’d look for land, and then speak to his cousin
next week.
There
. A decision
and
procrastination. Something to suit the whole
family.

I deemed a wig and
moustache sufficient disguise to deter the press if any reporters
were hanging about the theatre, but there weren’t any I could see.
Not that this meant there
weren’t
any, so I kept up the
changed walk and other slight alterations in my manner until I was
safe inside and being taken to Tushar’s dressing room to wait for
the end of the show.

The ubiquitous mirrors
reflected my disguised features, which I found mildly disturbing. I
avoided them, looking at the clutter on the table instead. Among
the pots of makeup and feathers, a discarded pass for one of the
media recording studios, and a letter inviting Tushar to visit a
certain well-known cloth merchant’s store in Haeve Street. I shook
my head at the idea of Sri Gerjan, scourge of loitering Nihani
youth, inviting another of that race to help him promote his wares.
I’d wager it was the first time Sri Gerjan had
ever
asked any
indigenous individual across his store’s threshold. I wondered if
Tushar would accept, and which other Kelon merchants would set
aside their prejudices to earn more dolar.

Tushar burst through the door,
but stopped dead. “Javen? What are you wearing?”

“My costume,” I said, getting
to my feet.

He put a hand on his hip to
assess me, making his dozens of bracelets and beads jangle merrily.
“Hmmm. A moustache. Never kissed a man with a moustache before. Can
I?”

He didn’t wait for me to say
yes. He rushed over, grabbed me in a surprisingly strong hug, and
kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in a year. I had to bend a little
to help him out, and feeling mischievous, picked him up so he was
at my level. He squeaked a little, but my antics didn’t make him
break contact with my mouth for a nanosecond.

Ursemin cleared his throat at
the door, so I put Tushar down. He pouted. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Manners, brat.” I touched my
upper lip. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Inferior glue,” he said,
utterly unabashed. “Want me to fix it?”

I ripped the thing off and
stuffed it in my pocket. “Nah. Itches.”

“I think you’re better without
it. Though a real one would tickle, don’t you think?”

I shifted to ease the strain
down below, and Ursemin made another throat-clearing sound.
“Tushar, we should hurry. Javen has things he wants to talk to us
about.”

“
I
am
hurrying.”

Tushar started to strip off all
his bangles and chains, dropping them onto display stands. I helped
him out of his glittering waistcoat, which won me a flutter of his
fake eyelashes. A white bandage covered his wound. “I thought you
had synthaskin over it now.”

“I do. Um....”

“After all the fuss about the
attack, I thought people would be expecting some visible sign of
his injury,” Ursemin said. “And it meant Tushar not dancing
wouldn’t upset people.”

“Ah. More costume,” I said.

“Yes. I really am injured. You
know that.”

“Of course.” I kissed the back
of his neck in apology and he smiled at me in the mirror, pausing
as he wiped makeup off his face. “Take your time. Bad news can
wait.”

“Bad news? Oh no. Tell us now.
Get it over and done with.”

Ursemin’s reflection nodded at
me over the top of Tushar’s head. “Okay. It’s straightforward
enough. Sri Benay’s out on bail, and it looks as if he may not be
our attacker after all.”

Tushar went very still. Ursemin
blasted me with worry. “But they found a knife,” he said.

“Yes, but no fingerprints. It
might have been planted, so the police will investigate further.”
I’d never mentioned my empathy to either of them. Given Tushar’s
special state, I’d hoped not to. Refreshing not to have it taint
this relationship, at least. “You shouldn’t worry unduly. You
already know the threat didn’t disappear with his arrest. I
understand the indigenous community are mounting surveillance where
you might be vulnerable, and so long as you take sensible
precautions, particular here at the theatre, you’ll be fine.”