Tuesday Late Morning
While Tim and Acharya were presented with interesting pieces of information at the police station in Ramsar, JBS was bobbing excitedly on his seat at the office of Almora’s computer expert, Rajesh Nautiyal.
‘We’ve been able to retrieve quite a lot of data from the hard disk. It’s a mountain of information,’ the techie informed the DSP. ‘Ramola stored scanned copies of various documents to support her writing. She had built up dossiers on the characters who figure in her memoir. There are telephone numbers of her physician, beautician, personal assistant, co-stars, producers, directors, laundry man, grocery man, lawyer; everyone she needed for a comfortable existence. The hard disk contained scanned copies of her medical records, bank statements, movie contracts, property details and a huge collection of photographs. Quite a meticulous recording, if I may say so.’
‘Can you give us printouts of the data?’ asked JBS, peering over Nautiyal’s shoulder to look at the computer.
‘Not at this moment, no. I won’t be able to give you the entire thing. We’re still compiling and segregating the data and it will take some more time. However, I can give you a printout of the memoir. The telephone numbers have also been retrieved and we have taken a printout of it.’
‘Get me two copies of whatever you’ve retrieved,’ JBS’s face was radiant with excitement. ‘Well done, my boy, we are going to crack the case within the next twenty-four hours.’
Forty kilometres away, the inspector’s optimism was echoed at the tiny Ramsar police station as Tim and Acharya sat staring at a jubilant police constable.
‘Saab, murderer kaun hai pataa chal gaya hai,’ gushed Sharad Pant (dubbed Shirt-Pant by locals and colleagues).
‘Who? And who did you find this out?’
‘Sir, I found someone who has seen the murderer,’ the constable lowered his voice into a stage whisper, his chest swelling with self importance.
‘What?’ Tim raised his voice. His eyes registered disbelief. Everyone at Ramsar knew about the constable’s exaggerations. ‘Who is this witness?’
‘He’s in the lockup.’
‘You’ve locked up someone without my permission?’ asked Tim, pacing the floor. ‘You never fail to amaze me, Sharad.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. I wanted to inform you, but there was no time. What if he escaped while I talked to you? He has important information about the murderer.’ The constable said sheepishly.
‘Alright, Sharad,’ sighed Tim. ‘Bring him here.’
‘What’s all this?’ Acharya asked, bewildered at the extraordinary happenings. ‘Has he caught the murderer?’
‘I doubt it. Shirt-Pant is an idiot. He might have caught a petty thief. His tall claims are to be taken with a pinch of salt.’
Even as they were debating the constable’s announcement, he dragged a bedraggled figure towards them.
‘Not again!’ exclaimed Tim, slapping his forehead. ‘How many times have you been inside the lockup this month, Bhuvan?’
Turning to Acharya, he explained, ‘This guy is always in and out of the lockup. This is his second home. Theft, brawl, shoplifting are his specialty. This is the third time this month, if I remember right.’
‘Saab, he was in Charmood kattage on the night of the murder,’ Shirt-Pant updated them. ‘I caught him bragging about his deeds.’
‘What were you doing there? And how did you get in?’ Tim asked the man.
‘Saab, I got in through the back door, which leads from the servant quarters to the kitchen,’ Bhuvan confessed. The bruise marks on his face indicated that Shirt-Pant had roughed him up somewhat.
‘Was the door open?’ Acharya asked.
‘The entire town knows that the door is always unlocked. Dinesh, Durgabai and Ganesh use that door and they always forget to lock it at night. I entered the kattage and went up to the bedroom.’
‘You wanted to rob madam?’
‘No, saab, I’ve never robbed madam. I heard about the rich guests from Mumbai …’
‘And so you robbed the guests?’
‘I took just one wallet, saab.’
‘Where is the wallet?’
The constable handed over a leather wallet. ‘Where is the money?’
‘Saab, I’ve spent some money but the rest is here. Shirt-Pant caught me before I could spend everything.’
‘This guy was eating mutton and roti at Krishna’s dhaba and he paid in cash. Krishna called to inform me about this guy’s sudden prosperity. I realized Bhuvan must have stolen money from someone, so I nabbed him and he confessed to his crime,’ said Shirt-Pant, placidly.
‘He punched me in the face, saab,’ complained the burglar bitterly.
‘He wouldn’t have confessed if I didn’t soften him a bit,’ justified the constable.
‘I think this is Ahuja’s missing wallet,’ said Tim, ignoring the squabble. Turning to Bhuvan he asked, ‘Where are the credit cards and driving licence?’
‘They are in the bushes near the dhaba.’
‘You threw them in the bushes?’ Shirt-Pant directed a threatening look at the cowering man, who hung his head shamefacedly.
‘Sharad, go and search the bushes. I want those documents.’ Tim ordered. ‘Take somebody to help you.’
‘Saab, can I go now? I’ve returned the wallet and I promise not to steal again,’ pleaded Bhuvan.
‘Where is the cigarette lighter?’ asked Tim.
‘How do you know about the lighter, saab?’ the thief appeared puzzled.
‘Saab knows everything, idiot,’ Shirt-Pant poked him in the ribs. ‘Come on, out with the lighter.’
‘It’s true, saab. I also stole a golden cigarette lighter. But I’ve already sold it to the bania for two hundred rupees. I’ll get it back from him as soon as you release me. Please let me go, saab.’ Bhuvan hung his head in remorse. ‘I promise I’ll never steal again.’
‘Not so soon, dear chap. You’ve been promising not to steal for the last ten years,’ Shirt-Pant smiled evilly, his hand itching to deliver a few more blows to the burglar. ‘How can we let you go without compensating you for the theft? Anyway, you don’t have much to do outside the jail, so enjoy our hospitality for a few more days.’
‘That’s enough for now, constable,’ Tim put an end to his gloating. ‘There’s no need to bully him. You said you know who murdered madam.’
‘I don’t know who it is, sir. It’s Bhuvan who saw the murderer. Tell saab what you saw or I’ll beat the daylights out of you,’ threatened Shirt-Pant, shoving the offender towards Tim.
‘Will you let me go if I tell you?’ the burglar asked.
‘We’ll see about that. First let’s hear your story,’ Tim replied. ‘Let me warn you, Bhuvan, if this is another one of your cock-and-bull stories, I’ll lock you up forever.’
‘This guy has a wild imagination,’ he explained, turning to the colonel. ‘He often comes up with some story just for fun.’
‘Saab, I picked up the wallet from one bedroom and was slipping out of the house when I noticed that the door of the adjoining room was ajar. A golden cigarette lighter on the bedside table caught my eye and I couldn’t resist picking it up. Slipping the lighter in my pocket, I stole towards the next room to check for some more stuff, but I heard a muffled noise. I had no intention of getting caught so I ran down the stairs and slipped out of the backdoor. I was almost near the outhouse when I saw a window being opened. It was very cold so I wondered why someone would want to open a window. Curious, I slunk into the shadow and watched. Someone threw a knife from the window before shutting it again.’
‘How do you know it was a knife?’
‘I crept closer to check the object.’
‘You didn’t touch it?’
‘No, saab. It was caught in the bush, and I left it there.’
‘Did you see the person who threw the knife?’
‘It was a woman, that’s all I can say. She was standing in the shadow, so I couldn’t see her clearly.’
‘What?’ both Acharya and Tim looked disbelievingly at the thief. ‘There are three women in the cottage – Ramola, Durgabai and Tia. Ramola is dead, so it has to be Durgabai.’
‘No, saab. Durgabai is fat,’ Bhuvan shook his head. ‘The woman I saw at the window was certainly not fat.’
‘Was it Tia? The slender, young girl, who stays in the cottage?’ Acharya asked.
‘No,’ the thief shook his head. ‘It was someone taller than the girl.’
‘Will you be able to recognize the person if you saw her again?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Bhuvan shook his head doubtfully. ‘I only had a fleeting glimpse of the person in the shadows.’
‘How much daaru did you chadao that night?’ Tim asked, belligerently.
‘Maa kasam, saab, I don’t touch daaru,’ swore Bhuvan.
‘Shut up,’ threatened Shirt-Pant. ‘We all know about your kasam. You’re a liar and a sot.’
‘Take him back to the cell,’ ordered Tim.
‘Saab, let me go. I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve also returned the wallet,’ cried the thief. ‘Shirt-Pant will kill me.’
‘Don’t worry, he won’t kill you,’ Tim reassured the chap. ‘We’ll need you again and I don’t want you dead.’
Smiling wickedly, the constable led the protesting man away.
‘Sometimes, I wonder if Shirt-Pant enjoys terrifying the fellows in the lockup,’ said Tim. ‘I’ve ordered him not to thrash anyone but he doesn’t pass up a single opportunity to do so.’
‘Power is a heady thing. It can cause aggressiveness in some people. To be fair, the constable manages to extract information.’
‘So he does,’ agreed Tim.
‘Oh my God,’ exclaimed Acharya, glancing at the wall clock. ‘I had forgotten that the doc must be waiting for me at his clinic.’
‘Let’s go now,’ said Tim, picking up his keys. ‘It won’t take us more than five minutes to reach his clinic. I’ll come with you.’
The doc was busy with a patient when the duo reached. While they waited in the outer room, Tim brought up Bhuvan’s confession. ‘Do you think he is telling us the truth?’
‘I can’t imagine him spinning a yarn like that just to grab attention. Shirt-Pant will actually kill him if he did that.’ Acharya gave his opinion. ‘If it wasn’t Durgabai or Tia, who could it be?
‘I wonder if he will be able to identify the person who threw the knife into the bushes.’
‘I’ve been thinking of the same thing,’ said the colonel. ‘But I wonder whether his statement can be taken seriously. He said it was dark and he didn’t really get a good look at the person. Besides, he might have been high on the local brew.’
‘He said it was a woman.’
‘He might have assumed it was a woman. Knowing that Ramola had her bedroom on the upper floor, he might have concluded that she was the person who had thrown the knife out of the window. Let’s not forget that Bhuvan only saw a silhouette at the window.’
‘It could be Tia he saw,’ suggested Tim.
‘Let’s not rule out the possibility of the silhouette being that of a man.’ Acharya stroked his chin, thoughtfully. ‘It’s …’
‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ interrupted the doc, popping out of his room.
He ushered them in and shut the door after instructing his assistant not to disturb them.
‘Have you seen the newspapers this morning?’ he asked, handing Tim and the colonel the local newspaper along with a late edition of the national daily. ‘It seems as though the reporters have gone berserk. Everyone is breaking news about the star’s murder in a remote place called Ramsar.’
Acharya, who was skimming through the newspaper, noted the details given by the press. Mumbai filmdom seemed struck by a spate of rumours.
‘Every correspondent suddenly has a story to tell. Till they find more details about the murder, the newshound will continue exhuming the corpses from Ramola’s past,’ he said.
‘Newspapers will do anything for business. It’s disgusting,’ Tim threw the papers on the table.
‘It’s nothing compared to the dirt raked up by the 24×7 channels,’ chuckled the doc. ‘I wanted to meet you for a different reason. Do you remember I had a look at the gash on the politician’s cheek?’
‘Of course, I remember. He was in a hurry and I wanted you to examine the wound.’
‘It was just a scratch.’
‘Well, I wanted a DNA match done.’
‘I knew that, so I took a swab of tissue. Is he the prime suspect?’
‘Not really, but we’re leaving nothing to chance. I’ve instructed Dinesh to collect a razor from everyone’s bathroom so that their DNA typing can be done.’
‘Was he able to get the razors?’
‘Oh yes, that guy is keen for us find the murderer so …’
‘…so that his uncle is released from the lockup,’ Tim completed the colonel’s statement before asking, ‘Isn’t it illegal to take DNA samples on the sly?’
‘In my opinion, solving the murder is more important and sometimes one has to resort to minor deviations to do so. In any case, do you think any of them will consent to give their samples, especially if they’re guilty of murder?’ asked Acharya.
‘Well, I risked the politician’s wrath by taking a swab of his tissues.’ The doc rolled his eyes.
‘In any case, Sammy was in such a hurry to leave that he didn’t even realize you were collecting his DNA,’ chuckled the colonel.
‘Here’s the latest. The swab has been examined by the forensic laboratory and I’ve received the report,’ informed the doctor. ‘The DNA match results have come.’
‘Where did you get the report from?’
‘I have friends at the right places,’ the doc smiled mysteriously. ‘The result has come informally, but it is reliable.’
‘Don’t create suspense, Rawat. Out with it.’ The colonel demanded impatiently.
‘You will be shocked to hear that the politician’s sample did not match the scab of tissues under Ramola’s nails ‘
‘Damn! Tim let out an oath. ‘I was quite sure it was the politician.’
‘What about the razors you collected?’ the doc asked. ‘Did you get the DNA test done on them?’
‘The razors have also been sent to the forensic lab,’ confirmed Tim. ‘They’ve also been asked to carry out the DNA typing and match them with the tissues found under the victim’s nails.’
‘Have you received those reports?’ asked the doc.
‘Not yet. I’ll check on them since I am heading to headquarters,’ said Tim. ‘But first I have to report the day’s findings to the boss.’
‘Would that mean reporting about what Bhuvan told us?’
‘Do you think it’s wise to pass on such information to JBS? He’ll give the guy the third-degree to extract more information. Frankly speaking, I think Bhuvan saw nothing,’ remarked the colonel.
‘While that may be true, JBS will be furious if he learns that I withheld information. I have to tell him about Bhuvan’s statement.’
‘I guess you have to do your duty,’ Acharya sighed. ‘I can imagine the DSP’s reaction to your report. I am going to Charmwood for the long overdue chat with Tia.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Tim offered.