Murder at Crescent Point (5 page)

Nikki asked, ‘Are there other studios in the town?’

The girl replied, ‘Yes, there are several. There are two down this road and then there are quite a few in the old town area.’

‘Thank you.’

In the next two studios Nikki drew a blank. She went to the old town by bus. The old town market was very congested. She went from shop to shop and finally in one small dingy studio the man at the counter said, ‘Yes, it bears our code. But it was developed some time back. What is it that you want?’

‘The girl whose face is marked in the picture was my best friend. She is no more. I want to get her picture enlarged leaving aside the others in the photograph.’

The shopkeeper looked at the picture and said, ‘The quality of the photograph is not good. It has been taken from a distance with a still camera when the objects were moving. I am not promising anything, but if you bring the negative then I could try.’

Nikki implored, ‘Sir, I have come from Sangalina Hills where both of us were studying. She had given me this photograph as a memento. I don’t know who has got the negatives. I would be grateful if you could check your records and let me know the name and address of the person who got this picture developed from your studio. I will go and get the negative from that person.’

The shopkeeper said, ‘This will take a lot of time. I am afraid I cannot do this now. This is a busy time.’

Nikki took out a hundred rupee note from her purse. Offering it to him she said, ‘This photograph has great sentimental value for me. I will pay you for your time. Please search your records and let me know the details.’

The currency note had a dramatic effect on the shopkeeper. He took it and said, ‘Well, if it is that important to you then I will search for it now. But it will take some time.’

‘Would you like to have a cup of tea, Miss?’ He had suddenly become very friendly!

‘No, thanks.’

The shopkeeper started looking at a register where date-wise entries had been made. After about half an hour, he announced, ‘Here it is. I have got it! Come, Miss, I will show you.’ Nikki went to the counter. He showed a name and address in the register. The name was Satish Kumar, House Number 44, Tooku Vela Street, Old Somabad. Nikki noted it down on a piece of paper. ‘Where is this place?’ she asked.

‘It is at the outskirts of the town. But Miss, it is not a nice locality.’

‘Thank you for your help.’

The shopkeeper beamed, ‘No problem. Please bring back the negative and I will get you an enlarged picture of your friend and also get it mounted.’

‘Thank you so much, and good bye,’ said Nikki smiling back, and left the shop.

Nikki saw a few cycle rickshaws standing at the street corner. She went there and asked, ‘I want to go to Tooku Vela Street.’ The rickshaw drivers looked at her. Two of them declined to go there. One young fellow agreed, ‘I can take you there but you will have to pay the return fare also because I will not get any passenger from that place.’ Nikki took out a fifty rupee note from her purse and said, ‘Take this and let’s go.’

The rickshaw took Nikki through a labyrinth of narrow congested streets to practically outside the town. From there he took another route and pointed to an isolated cluster of houses at some distance. ‘There is Tooku Vela locality.’ He stopped the rickshaw at the beginning of a narrow dirty street and said, ‘This is as far as the rickshaw can go.’

Nikki entered the street and looked for house number 44. The houses were not numbered. A few boys were playing in the street, Nikki asked one of them, ‘Where is house number 44?’ The boy said, ‘Who do you want to meet?’

‘Satish Kumar.’

‘Oh, that photographer. Come I will take you to his house.’ It was a corner house. When they reached the gate the boy said, ‘You stay here, I will call him.’ After a while a lean dark young man came to the door.

He said, ‘What do you want?’

Nikki replied, ‘I have been sent by Asha Sayal.’

‘I don’t know any person by that name,’ said Satish, shaking his head.

Nikki took out the photograph from her purse and asked, ‘Did you take this photograph?’

He looked at the photo carefully and said, ‘Yes, but what about it?’

‘I want to talk to you about this photograph. Can I come in?’

The man shrugged, ‘OK.’

Nikki followed him to a small open quadrangle. It led to two rooms. One was locked from outside, the man took her to the other one. It was a small room with a window opening to another street. It had a bed, a chair and table and a lot of photographs pasted on the walls. A number of photo albums were scattered all over the floor. He said, ‘This is my studio and also my bedroom. Please sit on the chair. I will be comfortable on the bed.’

When Nikki sat down she asked, ‘Where did you take this photograph?’

‘In the Central Park.’

‘Do you know the girls in the picture?’

‘No, I don’t know any of them. Someone in the park asked me to take a photograph of these girls and I took it.’

Nikki asked, ‘Who was that person?’

Satish replied, ‘I’m a freelancer. I frequent various parks with my camera. Usually couples or families ask me to take a photograph. In this case a man asked me to take this photograph without the girls knowing that they were being photographed. He paid me two hundred rupees in advance and promised another three hundred on delivery.’

‘Where did you deliver the photograph?’

‘He collected it in the same park on the following evening. But why are you asking all this?’

Nikki informed him, ‘Because the girl whose face has been marked in the photograph has been murdered by someone. Her mother was also found murdered along with her. I got this photograph from the belongings of her mother.’

Satish was shocked. He said, ‘Oh my god! Why would anyone want to kill her?’

Nikki sighed, ‘This girl was my best friend. I must find the man who asked you to take her photograph. He may have given the photograph to her mother and could perhaps provide some information about the killings.’

Satish thought for a while and then suddenly his face lit up. He got up from the bed excited, and said, ‘I’m also an artist. I could draw a pencil sketch of him. You have some time?’ he asked enthusiastically.

Nikki smiled. What a happy coincidence!

The sketch which he drew looked almost lifelike. It was a big round face with a moustache and a strange roguish twitch near the upper lips, which made the face distinctive. His eyes were alert and he had short hair standing erect on his head. Nikki exclaimed, ‘This is excellent. You are a good artist.’

Nikki took a hundred rupee note and extending it towards him said, ‘I must pay you for this sketch.’ Satish refused, saying, ‘I will not take any money for this. After what you have told me, if this sketch can help you in some way I will be more than happy.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Nikki appreciating his spirit. Satish came out with her to the end of the street and found her another rickshaw to go back to the town.

Having got the sketch she had now to find that man. Perhaps the best bet for getting information about him, she thought, would be the hotel where Asha Sayal was staying.

— CHAPTER SIX —

Evergreen Hotel

The next morning, she took out the receipt of Evergreen Hotel. There was no telephone number on it. She looked through the telephone directory and found that under the ‘Hotel’ listing there were several hotels with the name starting or ending with ‘Green’, ‘Green light’, ‘Green ways’, etc., but the name ‘Evergreen’ was not there. After a lot of search she found it in the residential listing under ‘E’. The address was ‘20/II, Bus Stand Road, Somabad’.

It was not difficult for her to reach Bus Stand Road, but locating the hotel took considerably long. When finally someone guided her to it, she noted that she had crossed the hotel a couple of times just a while ago without having realised it. It hardly looked like a hotel, and resembled one of the smaller travel lodges which are usually set up near the bus stands or railway stations for transit passengers. The entrance was like a passage to a house. The signboard which was hung on a branch of a tree had not been painted for ages. Nikki went in and saw a narrow counter on one side. A man was standing behind the counter in what appeared to be the reception.

Nikki took out the key and the receipt and said, ‘I have been sent by Asha Sayal who is staying in your hotel.’

‘But she is not here these days,’ said the man.

‘Yes I know. She is currently in Sangalina Hills. Since I was coming to Somabad she gave me the key to her room and asked me to get some woollen clothes as it is quite cold over there.’

The man looked suspicious. ‘Are you related to her?’ Nikki hesitated for a fraction of a second and said, ‘Yes, I am her niece.’

The man asked, ‘What do you do in Sangalina Hills?’ Nikki took out her ID card and showed it to him, ‘I am a student. I have come here for a few days with a friend and shall be going back soon.’

The ID card put the man at ease. He said, ‘You can go up. Her room number is 9, on the first floor.’

Nikki climbed a narrow dingy staircase which was surrounded by dirty walls. The stairs opened into a corridor. The rooms were on one side of the corridor, while the other side was an open balcony. Room number 9 was at the end of the corridor. She opened the door and went in, closing and bolting it from within. She looked around. It was a bare room with a bed, a chair, a side table with a lamp on it which had a dirty shade.

There was a wooden cupboard which was locked. At one corner a suitcase was lying on a raised platform. The bed was neatly made and apart from a plastic bottle with water and an empty glass, there was nothing else in the room. The room had a window at the far end. When she opened it, the whole cacophony of a bustling bus terminal swept in. She quickly closed it. She checked the suitcase. It was locked. She desperately wanted to find some more information about the woman. Perhaps she could find something useful in the suitcase. But how could she open it? The purse had only the room key. The key for the suitcase must be somewhere in the room, she thought to herself. She suddenly remembered Jyoti’s habit of putting things in the pillow case whenever she wanted to hide something from her. Nikki came back to the bed and put her hand in the pillow case. Sure enough the key was there. She opened the suitcase, and found clothes and some other personal belongings but nothing of much interest. She put her hand in the upper pocket of the suitcase. Something came into her hand. It was a brown envelope. When she opened it she saw a bank statement. She went through the statement. It had Asha Sayal’s name on the top and contained two entries. The first entry was a deposit of
500. The second entry was of a deposit of
10 lakhs. ‘
10 lakhs in the name of Asha Sayal!’ Nikki said aloud. This was beyond her wildest imagination. She read it twice and checked the date. Both the deposits had been made on