Murder in Bollywood (12 page)

‘I want you to take photographs of the living room, including the broken coffee table, the shattered glass and the bloodstained front door. Also collect a sample of the dried blood from the handle, and call one, maybe two, officers, from the group that's outside to help you dust for fingerprints. But don't call anyone else inside, because too many men walking in and out of this place is going to contaminate the crime scene. If it begins to get too dark to work in here, tell the officers to arrange for a couple of flashlights for themselves, but I want all the evidence collected from this place today itself. In the meantime, I am going to have a look around the house to see if we have missed anything,' Hoshiyar turned to Zagde and said, then moved towards the staircase leading to the first storey to begin his recce of the place.

As he was about to ascend the staircase, some sort of a mark, a damage to the kitchen door, a few steps away to his right, caught his attention. As Hoshiyar went over and examined it, he realized that it was a deep indentation in the area between the door and its hinges, which was a little more than four feet off the ground, the sight of which, for some unknown reason, made Hoshiyar's eyes grow wide and blood run cold.

‘Oh, dear God, what evil! What a cold, calculating mind to come up with a plan like this!' Hoshiyar uttered, sounding afraid, then smiled to himself.

By ten o'clock the following morning, Rohan had regained consciousness, and by the time Hoshiyar got to the hospital, the boy had had a light breakfast and was ready to answer his questions.

‘I sneaked out of my house at around eleven o'clock without being seen by my security, and reached Priya Bungalow a little after midnight,' Rohan began sombrely. ‘I noticed that the main gate was wide open and there was no security guard in sight. But the thing that I found the most odd was the fact that all the lights of the house appeared switched off from the outside and the place itself appeared pretty much deserted. For a second I thought that I'd been punked. You know, like someone had played a prank on me. But then I thought I'd been chatting with Megan for around two weeks, and that's a hell of a long time to be pulling a prank on someone, so I decided to go inside the house and see what the hell was going on. As I turned the handle of the front door, I found it unlocked, so I pushed it open and peaked inside, then called out to Megan as I entered, announcing that I had arrived, even as the door slammed shut behind me on its own. The place was pitch-dark and deathly silent, as if I was the only one there and it felt funny, as if it had been shut for a long time and opened up just minutes before I arrived. By now, I had moved into the centre of the living room, or at least that's where I think I was, but I can't be sure, because I couldn't see anything. I was literally feeling my way forward groping for whatever furniture was around; it was all covered with cloth. By then I was scared and wanted to get out of there as fast as I could, but another part of me was curious, I guess, to figure out what I had gotten myself into, so I just stood there, trying to make sense of it all inside my head. Then came the moment that I'll never forget for as long as I am alive. As I stood there absolutely still in the darkness, I heard a low, incessant whispering a short distance behind me, so I turned around quickly to try and make out who it was, but I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, when suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the whispering stopped. Although I was really very unnerved by then, somewhere in my mind I began to get the feeling that my gang of friends had gotten together and pulled a fast one on me, to scare me out of my wits. Exactly at that moment, I heard a strange, almost effeminate giggle coming from behind me, and then I heard footsteps circling me round and round, like a bird of prey, even as that low, incessant whispering began once again. By then, many an icy shiver had run down my spine and I had broken into a cold sweat, for my heart was pounding at twice its speed; so I began calling out to my gang of friends by name, telling them that their little joke wasn't funny any more and they should, like, cut it out that very instant. And that's when it came, Inspector saheb, right out of the blue, that sharp, searing pain almost in the centre of my back, and then I remember staggering forward and falling on something that felt like a table, after which there was the sound of glass shattering all around me and then I remember running on to the road, although I can't recall how I got out of the house, but I remember telling myself that it felt like I was in a video game, or maybe it was some kind of a dream. Then I saw a building with the word Hospital written above it in red neon light, and I remember walking towards it in a total daze, with people dressed in white charging towards me, yelling, “Call the doctor, get him in quickly, it's an emergency.” And that's when I heard someone saying that I had a knife stuck in my back and that's when I realized what had happened to me. I am really sorry, Inspector saheb, that the details of the incident are not very clear in my mind. It's strange that I remember everything so clearly until the moment I was attacked. But everything that happened after that is like a blur and I can only recall fragments of it. In fact, it almost seems like some kind of a bad dream, but the fact that I am lying in a hospital bed with a four-inch-deep knife wound in my back, answering a whole lot of police questions, clearly means that it wasn't.' Rohan smiled wryly.

‘Don't blame yourself for not being able to remember the details. It's very natural in such cases for the brain to block out certain memories that it considers painful or traumatic. The important thing is that you managed to get out of there alive. But was there anything before the attack that you were able to notice? Maybe there was something that caught your eye?' Hoshiyar asked hopefully.

‘I am sorry, Inspector saheb, but I can't think of anything. It was almost as if I wasn't dealing with a man, but with a ghost, who could see me in the dark just fine, while I couldn't even get a look at his face. But the thing that confuses me the most is why did he come after me? I can understand him killing my foster parents, because they were horrible, two-faced folk, who harmed a lot of people during their time on earth. But I am just a regular teenager, who at best can be classified as mildly irritating, which surely isn't sufficient reason to kill.'

‘I can assure you, Rohan, that whoever this killer is doesn't want you dead because he finds you marginally irksome. It is my belief that he has chosen you as his next victim, because for some reason, he feels threatened by you,' Hoshiyar revealed.

‘The killer feels threatened by me? But that's ridiculous. How can I hurt him in any way?' Rohan asked incredulously.

‘Well, obviously, you know something important and the killer is afraid that you'll talk to the police. So if you thought that keeping quiet is going to keep you safe, you better rethink that strategy, because although silence is golden, there are some occasions when it can get you killed,' Hoshiyar explained patiently.

Rohan turned silent and looked away. His sudden change in demeanour a clear indication that Hoshiyar had driven home a valid point.

‘Where's the guarantee that if I tell you what I know, I will not be hunted down and killed? Do I have your word that the police will keep me safe?' Rohan spoke after some delay.

‘I give you my word that no harm will come to you. The Special Case Squad will personally look after your safety and rest assured, we will capture the person who attacked you and put him behind bars so that he cannot hurt anyone else,' Hoshiyar said solemnly.

‘All right, Inspector saheb, I will tell you whatever I know, but on the understanding that you will not reveal to anyone where you got this information from,' Rohan put forth his one and only condition, to which Hoshiyar readily agreed. Feeling reassured, Rohan took a deep breath and was about to begin, but exactly at that moment, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Come in,' Rohan called out, and two of his most favourite people entered the room, smiling from ear to ear, and carrying a neatly wrapped basket full of expensive fruit.

‘So finally my favourite uncle and aunty have found the time to see if I am dead or alive,' Rohan said playfully as the two went over to him and hugged him warmly. ‘Inspector saheb, I'd like you to meet the illustrious Dr Bimal Seth, the city's finest cosmetic surgeon, and his equally esteemed wife, Dr Rushali, who is not only one of the best child psychologists in the country, but also the founder of Bal Kalyan, a leading NGO for destitute children,' he introduced them cheerfully.

‘And this gentleman needs no introduction, as the exploits of Inspector Hoshiyar Khan are the stuff of legend. It is an honour to meet you, sir,' Dr Bimal exclaimed, shaking the good inspector's hand, who, although sufficiently embarrassed by the praise, still managed to notice the heavyset doctor's wrench-like grip around his fingers and palm, which surprised him greatly as he had expected the hands of a highly accomplished cosmetic surgeon like Dr Seth's to be supple and delicate, considering the intricate nature of his vocation. But the immaculately dressed gentleman with the salt-and-pepper hair who stood before him had big, strong hands, like those of a butcher's, which could snap any man's neck like a twig, making it a minor miracle in Hoshiyar's eyes that he was able to practise surgery, let alone do it brilliantly. But the person whose behaviour came across as strange was the elegant Dr Rushali, who when introduced to Hoshiyar by her husband, shook his hand not with warmth or even indifference, but with an odd manner of fear, which she tried her best to conceal behind a half-hearted smile; she then turned away, as if not wanting to have anything to do with the good inspector any further, and began talking to Rohan instead.

‘I'll have you know, young man, that your Bimal uncle and I rushed over here yesterday morning itself, the moment we got to know that you had been admitted, and waited outside the ICU till late evening, but you hadn't regained consciousness, so don't you dare go around telling everyone that we don't have the time for you, understand?' she laughed and said.

‘You got to know yesterday morning itself that Rohan was admitted? That's rather odd, considering the police themselves got to know about it yesterday afternoon,' Hoshiyar remarked.

‘There is a perfectly plausible explanation for this, Inspector saheb,' Dr Bimal replied on his wife's behalf. ‘You see, I was here in the ICU yesterday morning at around nine to check on a patient when I was shocked out of my mind to see Rohan lying unconscious on the bed right next to his. Naturally, I inquired of the doctors on duty what the matter was, then I called my wife. I didn't think it prudent to inform anyone else since Rohan wouldn't have been allowed visitors until he was shifted out of the ICU. I certainly hope you're not implying that Rushali and I had something to do with this attack,' he stated indignantly.

‘I am not implying anything, Dr Seth. I am simply doing my job, by following each and every available lead to its logical conclusion, and in the interest of Rohan's safety, I'd appreciate your full cooperation,' Hoshiyar replied calmly.

‘Of course, Inspector saheb, that goes without saying. We will help you in whatever way we can to put Rohan's attacker behind bars. Isn't that right, Bimal?' Dr Rushali said, looking at her husband nervously.

‘Yes, of course, we'll cooperate fully. You have our word, Inspector saheb,' Dr Bimal instantly echoed his wife's sentiments.

‘Bimal uncle, when do you think the doctors will shift me from the ICU into one of the regular rooms? I really hate this place,' Rohan complained.

‘Well, I had a word with Dr Joshi early this morning, and he said that they should be able to move you by late afternoon, depending on how you're feeling,' Dr Bimal replied.

‘Oh, wow! And did he say when I can go home?' Rohan asked.

‘You're going to be here for at least two more days, my friend,' Doctor Bimal informed him.

‘Oh, bummer!' Rohan exclaimed, making a face. ‘Is it at least possible for me to get a nice big room overlooking the beach, preferably with a balcony? It'll be cool to hang out there for a while in the evenings and have a cup of coffee or something.' Dr Bimal replied that that could be arranged.

‘Oh my God, look at the time! Guess I better get a move on,' Hoshiyar exclaimed glancing at his watch, then reached into his pocket for his visiting card and handed it to Rohan. ‘Call me when you're free so that we can finish our earlier conversation. In the meantime, I'll ask the hospital to provide you with a night nurse to go along with the two police officers that I am posting outside your door, who will check on you night and day, as long as you're in the hospital.'

‘But do you really think so much precaution is necessary? I mean, he is hardly going to come after me in the hospital,' Rohan reasoned.

‘My dear boy, the person who attacked you has also murdered your foster parents, a Mumbai-based private detective and Ram Prasad Tiwari, using methods both cunning and brutal. So with regard to this madman, I am not prepared to take any chances,' Hoshiyar explained and then bid Rohan goodbye. But just as he was about to exit the room, he stopped in his tracks and turned around, for he suddenly remembered that he had a few routine questions for Dr Bimal as well.

‘Tell me, Doctor saheb, do you know anything about Mallika's family or her past, because we've gone over her life with a fine-tooth comb, but have come up with nothing. It's almost as if she didn't exist until about twelve or thirteen years ago. I thought you might be able to tell us something since you and your wife were her closest friends,' Hoshiyar said.

‘Look, Inspector saheb, although it's true that Mallika was extremely close to us, we ourselves got to know her around the time she won the Miss India title thirteen years ago, so we don't know that much about her past. But what we do know is that her maiden name was Chaudhary and she was originally from Hyderabad. Her father passed away when she was just a baby and her mother died shortly before she turned eighteen, after which Mallika came to Mumbai in search of work, and because of her good looks, got a break in the modelling industry. From whatever she told us, it was evident that she was an only child and had no other relatives. I believe her childhood was difficult, because of which she didn't like talking about her past and that made her come across as an enigma to millions of people,' Dr Bimal explained.