The Case of the Deadly Butter Chicken (40 page)

'Tell him the Maharani of Alwar's Golkonda Diamond is to be looted and he should revert urgently!' shouted Puri.

'Yes, sir, I'll pass it on,' replied the concierge, nonchalant.

Half an hour later, they pulled up in front of the Durbar. The front doors were unmanned. Puri found Mummy's assistant manager friend, Rajneesh, on duty and asked him about the whereabouts of the doorman.

'He's having his khana, sir. Something is wrong?'

'Could be his moustache is not his own,' explained the detective.

'Pardon?'

'He looted it.'

'Sorry, sir, I'm not sure I understand. You're saying he stole his moustache?'

'Could be.'

Rajneesh looked faintly amused. 'Sir, Shanti Balwa has worked here for some years. He's always had a moustache.'

'It is my understanding he took leaves not long back.'

'That's true, sir. He had some medical issues.'

'Cancer,' said Puri.

'I believe so.'

'He underwent chemotherapy. Thus his hair fell out, moustache included, and he required a new one. It explains the white blotches on his skin, also. At first I thought they had to do with being a barber. Then just this evening, only, I remembered one client from years back. He also underwent cancer treatment and came out in blotches.'

'Right, sir.'

'The Golkonda Diamond is quite secure?' asked Puri.

'Special security is in place. There's no risk.'

Puri thought for a moment. 'Let us clear up this matter once and for all,' he said.

It took Gopal Ragi forty minutes to reach the Durbar. As per Puri's instructions, he alighted from his car across the road from the hotel. Inspector Thakur was also on hand. They both listened to the detective's plan.

'We two, myself and you, sir' - he meant Ragi - 'will proceed to the front door, where I will ask this Shanti Balwa fellow for the honour of posing for a snap with his good self. You, sir' - he meant Ragi again - 'using your portable will play the role of photographer and thus be able to inspect his . . . sorry, the moustache in question. From there we'll proceed into the hotel in an orderly fashion. Assuming Balwa is the one, then, only, I will give one call to you, sir' - he meant Thakur this time - 'and you will make the arrest forthwith.'

'What if he recognises me?' asked Ragi.

'He won't - not without your moustache.'

'Agreed.'

'Tip top.'

Puri and Ragi climbed into the Ambassador and Handbrake drove in through the hotel's gates. Shanti Balwa was standing in front of the doors in his blazing uniform - tall and turbaned and sporting a fine bushy moustache.

It would have been a sharp-eyed aficionado indeed who could have spotted that the handlebar was not home-grown. He had shortened its length yet retained the muttonchops. They framed his beaming smile.

'Welcome to the Durbar,' he said, opening Puri's door and giving a courtly bow.

The detective got out and said, 'That's a wonderful moustache. Mind if my friend takes one snap?'

'A pleasure, sir.'

But the moment the Ambassador pulled away, the plan fell apart. Recognising his own facial hair, Ragi shouted, 'That's it! That's my moustache!' And before Puri could stop him, he'd thrown himself at the doorman.

'Bastard! Give it back!'

Shanti Balwa was knocked to the ground and Ragi tried to tear the moustache from his face. Guests looked on aghast as the two fought and the doorman cursed in the choicest Punjabi. Hotel security came running. The managers came running. Inspector Thakur and his jawans came running.

Bloody and bruised, the two men were separated and the doorman was handcuffed and led away.

Puri caught up with Shanti Balwa a few minutes later. By then he was sitting in the back of Inspector Thakur's jeep weeping like a child. The moustache hung half off his upper lip.

'I wasn't after any jewels,' he protested in Hindi when Puri accused him of planning to rob the Maharani of Alwar. 'I just wanted to keep my job. Without a moustache I was finished. I've never stolen anything before in my life. I just thought those men could grow new ones, unlike me, so what was the harm?'

'And the ransom demand?'

'I had nothing to do with that! Someone else must have got the idea of making some money.'

An opportunist. It made sense.

'Please understand, sir. When I got cancer and had to have the treatment, all my hair fell out. If the hotel had found out, they wouldn't have taken me back. They don't care about us, sir. They don't give us any job security or insurance.'

He started to sob again. 'This job is everything to me, sir. I plan to pass it on to my son when he's old enough. He's growing his own moustache these days. Please help me, sir. Make the police understand.'

The detective left him sitting there and went and found Thakur. He'd impounded Balwa's scooter; the number plate ended in a goose and two snakes.

'This one is no arch-criminal,' Puri told him.

'He did breaking and entering - kidnapping and assault, also.'

'Correct, Inspector, and it is only right and proper he should face punishment. But some compassion should be there. This man underwent treatment for cancer. Then he lost his hair and his job, also. What with inflation and all, such people are getting desperate, no? Such jobs are few and far between. And what with inflation, the cost of living is on the up and up. I believe we would be seeing more crime not less in the coming days and years.'

'A thief is a thief whether he steals a diamond or a cucumber,' said Thakur. 'Now, I had better get this one to the station.'

Puri noticed a couple of TV crews racing towards them, microphones held at the ready. He groaned. 'Typical,' he said under his breath. 'The one case I don't wish to be associated with and . . .'

'Mr Vish Puri, saar!' called out a reporter. 'Is it true you tracked down the moustache thief?'

The detective straightened up, adjusted his Sandown cap and faced the lights.

'It is my honour to report the following only: this evening Dilli citizens sporting long moustaches can rest easy thanks to Vish Puri,' he stated.

Rumpi had prepared kadhi chawal. As they ate together in the kitchen, he told her about his experiences in Pakistan and how he'd come to see the country and its people sympathetically; about the invaluable role her father, Brigadier Mattu, had played in solving the case; and about Mummy's extraordinary past and how, after all these years, she'd finally spoken about the death of her brother.

It was late and the food long gone by the time Rumpi broached the subject of a break. The weather was beginning to improve and soon the mountain passes would be open. They should make the pilgrimage to Vaishno Devi, she suggested.

'It's been so long since we went away, Chubby. And you're looking so tired. I worry about you.'

'You are right, my dear. So much work has been there, actually. The pilgrimage would be just the ticket.'

Rumpi made tea and they sat together in the living room for a while watching TV. The news was dominated by the arrest of Satish Bhatia. Graphics pulsated and flashed, excited newsreaders and reporters verbally climaxed, and pundits pontificated.

An Action News! anchorwoman said she could 'reveal' that two 'unidentified' players were facing 'possible' match-fixing charges. An umpire was also 'said' to be involved.

'An umpire?' asked Rumpi.

'Australian one,' answered Puri.

'Did Daddy figure that out?'

'That was my doing, actually. This Australian fellow was giving signals to the batsman with his feet. Right foot pointing out meant no ball and so forth. Seems he was on the payroll. Now you know what will happen to him, my dear?'

'No, Chubby, what?'

Puri smiled, raising both hands in the air simultan-eously as he prepared to deliver his punchline. 'He will most definitely be going down under!'

Rumpi burst out laughing. 'Not g'day, mate, but goodbye, mate,' she added in a poor excuse for an Aussie accent.

They watched one of the many Indian soap operas for a while before turning in.

'By the way, Chubby, Dr Mohan called today checking on your progress,' she said as they reached the top of the stairs. 'We haven't weighed you in over a week. I'll get out the scales now.'

Puri felt his heart skip a beat. He'd meant to come upstairs and take care of the scales the moment he returned home, but the smell of the cooking had distracted him.

'Surely it can wait until tomorrow, my dear,' he said. 'So tired I am.'

'Knowing you, Chubby, you'll be off tomorrow on another case and I won't see you for days. Now come. Stand here so I can see.'

Puri looked down at the scales, hoping for the best. He put one foot on the pressure pad, then the other.

The needle reached 90 and held. Rumpi peered down at the dial.

'No change,' she said.

There came a creak, followed by a twang as the peg shot out of the mechanism across the floor.

She picked it up, examined it, and looked back down at the dial. It now registered 91.5 kilos.

Her eyes narrowed and then a shrill cry carried through the house and, no doubt, across half the neighbourhood.

'Chuuu-bbyyyyyyy!'

GLOSSARY

aachar - pickle. Most commonly made of carrot, lime, garlic, cauliflower, chilli or unripe mango cooked in mustard oil and spices.

aam admi - Hindi for 'common man'.

aarti - Hindu fire ritual, often performed daily, in which a plate holding a flame and offerings is circled in front of a deity or guru while devotional songs are sung.

aloo - potato.

aloo tikki - fried, spicy potato patties.

amla oil - oil made from gooseberries, considered extremely good for the health of the scalp and hair.

Angrezi - adjective; Hindi for 'English' or 'British'. 'Angrez' is the noun form.

arrey - a Hindi expression of surprise, like 'hey!'

bacha - boy child, bachi for girl.

baraat - wedding procession that leads the groom to his marriage venue. These days it is usually composed of a out-of-tune brass band, electric torches connected to a noisy generator on wheels, and the groom's family and friends dancing in front of the highly decorated horse carrying him.

barfi - sweetmeat made from condensed milk and sugar.

BC - modern Indian slang for 'bad character'.

bedmi aloo - a Rajasthani dish consisting of a spicy, crunchy, lentil-filled fried bread served with a potato curry.

bhai - brother, often used as a polite or familiar term for a male acquaintance.

bhel puri - a puffed rice street snack mixed with various vegetables and a tangy tamarind sauce.

bidi - Indian cigarette made of strong tobacco hand-rolled in a leaf from the ebony tree.

bilkul - 'of course', 'certainly'.

bindaas - slang word originating in Mumbai meaning carefree, independent, cool.

chacha - paternal uncle.

chai vai - informal colloquialism in which the first word is followed by a nonsense rhyming word, so literally 'tea, shmea'.

challo - Hindi for 'let's go'.

channa batura - a dish of spicy chickpeas served with a soft, fluffy deep-fried white bread, very fattening.

charpai - literally 'four feet'. A charpai is a woven string bed used throughout northern India and Pakistan.

chicken karahi - a spicy, wok-fried chicken dish.

chikungunya - mosquito-borne viral disease characterised by high fever and extremely painful joints.

chunni - Punjabi word for a long scarf worn by South Asian women. Dupatta in Hindi.

daal - spiced lentils.

desi sharab - Indian-made liquor, usually cheaper and of lower quality than imported or foreign liquor.

dhaba - Indian roadside restaurant, popular in northern India, playing loud music and serving spicy Punjabi food.