‘So, what do you make of it?’ Aditya asked Meera the next day. They were having a cup of coffee after lunch.
‘Can she plead insanity after committing a murder?’ Meera asked.
‘She could, given her current condition. But, wait a minute, are you saying Tanvi is acting ... that she wants to get Rohit out of the way for some reason?’
‘I would not rule that out.’
Improbable though Meera’s theory sounded at first, Aditya was impressed with her reasoning. It is possible, he conceded.
‘But what could be her motive?’
‘We will need to figure that out.’
In Aditya’s head, the case suddenly assumed a completely new dimension. The possibility that Tanvi was putting up an act became an idea he simply could not get out of his head. He went over everything that had transpired in the case and its investigation—all the incidents, every single conversation and discussion— over and over again, but he found nothing to confirm or refute the theory. But whether Tanvi was acting or not, one fact could not be denied: Rohit’s life was in danger. And Aditya decided to do something about it. He was not going to let another innocent life be destroyed, not on his watch.
That evening, after dropping Meera at her place, Aditya drove to Paradise. He was about to ring the bell when he saw that the door was partly open. Aditya stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. ‘Rohit,’ he called out. There was no answer. He looked in the kitchen; it was empty. ‘Rohit,’ he called again, a bit louder this time. Again, no answer.
He ran up the stairs and paused at the door to Tanvi’s room, his hand on the cold steel knob. Not a sound. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. There was no one in the room. Although the sun had almost set, it was still bright enough for him to see clearly without having to switch on the lights. Aditya closed the door behind him and, on an impulse, opened the cupboard beside the bed and started going through its contents. Clothes, mostly home-wear, three white hospital gowns, bed linen and two towels. The bottom drawer contained worn-out footwear. He quickly went over to the mirrored wall cabinet and opened it. The cabinet had two shelves, with an array of medicines neatly arranged on them: two unused syringes, lying atop a boxful of them, and some tablets and vials.
Next, Aditya examined the bed; the wrinkled bedsheet was warm. On a hunch, he lifted the pillow. There it was. A brown-handled kitchen knife, with six inches of cold steel.
He picked the knife up and turned to leave. Tanvi stood at the door, staring at him. Aditya froze, unable to take his eyes off her, not knowing what to do. He hid his right hand, which held the knife, behind his back.
Tanvi looked through him with glassy eyes as she walked in, right past him. Aditya heaved an inward sigh of relief as he stepped back, letting her pass. She lay down on the bed and turned on her side, facing him. Then she closed her eyes. When he was convinced that Tanvi was asleep, he quietly left the room. On his way down, Aditya’s thoughts returned to Rohit. Where was he?
Worried, he opened the front door and stepped out on the driveway, when he saw Rohit walk in through the gate. He was shabbily dressed in grey shorts and a loose polo-neck t-shirt, at least two sizes too big for him. Aditya wondered if it had fit him when he bought it.
Rohit waved to him. ‘I was at Sam’s,’ Rohit explained, seeing the anxious look on Aditya’s face.
‘Come, let’s take a walk,’ Aditya said. ‘Don’t worry, she’s still sleeping.’
He came straight to the point. ‘Rohit, the nature of my job demands that I investigate a case from all angles, evaluating every possibility.’
‘Yes, I get that. But what are you trying to say?’
‘I have a few questions, if you are fine with answering them.’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
‘I understand that Bakshi Pharma is valued at over two thousand crores. What is the ownership structure?’ ‘Well, it is a public limited company. Tanvi, Chauhan and I own 45 per cent of the shares—15 per cent each. The rest is owned by public shareholders.’
‘And if something were to happen to you, who gets your share?’
‘Tanvi, obviously. But ... wait a minute, what are you implying?’ Rohit was clearly agitated by the insinuation.
‘I am not implying anything. As I just mentioned, it is my job to consider all possibilities.’
‘Whatever you’re thinking, it is ridiculous. Absolute rubbish!’
‘Tell me one more thing. Before all this happened, who was Tanvi closest to?’
‘Tanvi is an only child. She was very attached to her father, right from her childhood. Her mother passed away when she was thirteen. Probably that was why the shock of losing him so suddenly was devastating.’ ‘And ... who else?’ Aditya asked.
‘Tanvi was ... is ... a very private person. She hardly has any friends. Apart from her father, she was closest to me. She also relied a great deal on Chauhan in business matters.’
‘And how was her personal equation with Chauhan?’ ‘Business aside, I don’t think she liked Chauhan very much as a person. I believe she felt Chauhan was trying to sideline her.’