A Murder Is Fixed

Forty minutes later, ten people and eleven chairs had been brought into the small first-floor seminar room of Dhobi Talao Police Station. It was now pitch-dark outside, but the room was well lit thanks to a large tube light above the door.

Vichare had just got Choksi out of the lock-up below, and the politician had placed himself like a sack in one corner. Dippy Wadhwa sat by his side, his eyes darting around the room shiftily. Diagonally opposite was Justice Shankar, who had been rushed from his flat to the station by Lobo. Lobo was standing to Shankar’s right, between the door and the room’s pull-down projector screen. Aziz Khan had arrived just before Shankar and had positioned himself as far from Choksi as he could. Next to him was Rishi Girhotra, dressed in a black jersey and shorts, chewing gum and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Jayesh Acharya was slouched in the fourth corner of the room, sweating profusely. Kajal Banerjee had arrived unexpectedly at his house a couple of hours before, insisting that they leave for the station immediately. She was sitting next to him. The room was nearly at capacity and quite warm even before Russi began speaking.

‘A young lady was killed in cold blood,’ he declared, the tuft of hair across his head doing a brief skip in its place. All eyes turned towards him instantly. Rishi stopped fidgeting, Wadhwa’s vision found focus. Lobo sat down.

‘A young lady with a connection to each one of you,’ continued Russi. ‘Wife, friend, colleague, lover to some of you. Cheat, threat, nemesis to others. Shreya Ved worked tirelessly over the last seventeen months to bring cricket’s corrupt match-fixers to justice. It was in the very same office where she uncovered the names of those sullying this beautiful game that her life was snuffed out last Sunday. Her brilliant investigative skills came to the fore during the enquiry … but as we now know, she also used methods that were questionable—illegal, even. Tapping without permission, leaking confidential information to her journalist friends. All to ensure the fixers were named and the Commission’s report submitted before the deadline that would bring an end to their investigation.’

Kajal Banerjee wriggled in her seat when Russi used the word ‘journalist’. Vichare chewed his moustache nervously—he was unsure where Russi was going with all this.

‘Shreya’s investigations into the MCL and the powerful names they were going to reveal in the Commission’s report were enough motive for some people to want her dead,’ said Russi. ‘For those running the thriving fixing industry, she was the proverbial thorn in their side. Am I not correct, Mr Brajesh Choksi?’

Choksi opened his mouth, but before he could unleash any ferocity, Wadhwa spoke.

‘I don’t know what you’re playing at here,’ said the lawyer, standing up as if to command attention towards his corner. ‘Vichare, there is no reason for my client to be here in the first place, much less listen to a remonstration from this Parsi fellow, whatever his name is.’

‘Russi Batliwala, Mr Wadhwa,’ replied the Parsi fellow. ‘I must humbly apologize for not introducing myself. I have had the good fortune of meeting everyone else here before, including your client, the Honourable Shri Brajesh Choksi. We spent a lovely twenty minutes together the other day in the Pavilion Club over tea. I’m sure you remember our Navsari connection? And my cousin Farrokh?’

Choksi said nothing, but his expression suggested he had now made the connection. The man in front of him, in clear command of the room, was a far cry from the doddering old fellow whose ramblings he had endured a few days before.

‘Everything you people are doing here is in breach of my client’s rights and this will not be without consequences and all,’ said Wadhwa.

‘Your client’s rights?’ said Russi forcefully. ‘Was it the right of your client to fix matches in connivance with Navika Mahadevia? Was it the right of your client to hire thugs like Vasu Langda to get his dirty work done? What else does your client have the right to do, Mr Wadhwa? Was it also his right to kill without mercy?’

‘Unless you have evidence and all to back your allegations, you should stop wasting everyone’s time,’ said Wadhwa.

‘Aha, evidence! Is there any saboot? A very important question,’ said Russi. ‘The good news is that’s exactly what Inspector Vichare and Constable Lobo have.’

Vichare offered a puzzled expression, but Lobo knew this was his time to swing into action. His laptop was connected to the screen and speakers, as Russi had previously asked of him, and he needed only a few seconds to locate and play the audio file in question.

A deep, phlegmy voice began speaking. It was the same exchange between Vasu and Choksi on Shreya that Aziz had sent to the police.

We need to finish them and their reputation.

Don’t worry, saheb. I have found a way. This will close her mouth forever.

‘The conversation you just heard between Brajesh Choksi and Vasu Langda took place a day before Shreya’s murder,’ said Russi.

Jayesh let out a gasp. Rishi wore a smirk on his face, even as the pace at which he was chewing gum increased. Kajal shot a steely glare at Choksi. The politician sat unmoved, though.

Aziz looked at Vichare and nodded. Vichare did nothing but cast him a sideways glance, grateful that Aziz had passed on this recording yet deeply suspicious of his motives.

It was Shankar who broke the silence. ‘Choksi, after all this, I marvel that you still have the gall to say you are innocent.’

‘I advise you not to say anything further, sir,’ interjected Wadhwa. He had lost count of how many times he had issued the same advice to his client that evening.

‘Choksi, as it happens, this recording was legitimately acquired,’ said Aziz. ‘We have permission to tap your office phone. It’s a line you rarely use—we’re pretty sure that you and Navika have some other secure channels. But you can thank Vasu Langda for us getting our hands on this conversation. He chose to call you on this number. You really should have been more careful.’

Choksi turned red in the face and seemed to expand in his chair like a blood-filled balloon. ‘Why would I even want to kill Shreya?’ he yelled. ‘You think I was scared of her?’

‘Scared you definitely were,’ said Russi. ‘You were so scared of what the Commission was bringing out against you that you went about covering all your bases. Dealing with Shreya was but one of them. Another was your blatant use of Navika Mahadevia’s media connections to defame the Commission before their report was even submitted. And how can we forget your hasty escape plan to Dubai after Vasu’s murder? Running away in the dark without even telling your long-time partner Navika. I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to know that you decided to flee the country all alone.’

Russi dabbed at the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead with his handkerchief.

‘Now the issue is that Choksi is not the only person who had an axe to grind with Shreya,’ said Russi. ‘He was, as they say, the known enemy. Unknown to her—unimaginable for her—were her friends who worked for the enemy.’

‘Russi, you’re talking in riddles now,’ intervened Shankar. ‘Who are you pointing to?’

‘I am referring to Shreya’s college friend, the person she trusted enough to share confidential findings of the report with,’ said Russi, turning to face Kajal. ‘Turns out that Kajal Banerjee works for none other than Choksi, tracking his blackmail targets to discover their secrets—in return for a hefty sum of money.’

Rishi stared directly at her, his jaw clenched, his left eyebrow raised ever so slightly.

‘I can explain,’ said Kajal faintly. ‘It was for a while, and I had reasons none of you will understand. But believe me, I had nothing to do with Shreya’s death.’

‘Believe you?’ asked Russi. ‘Now that is the trouble in this case. Whom to believe and whom not to? Should we believe that you had no link with Shreya’s murder when we know you were on Choksi’s payroll and coincidentally happened to be the last person here to see her alive? Should we also believe Shreya’s husband, who has lied to us at every opportunity? Or should we believe that the cricketer who turned up to meet the victim in disguise did so with no ill intent?’

Russi turned to Vichare. ‘Or should we believe Shreya’s colleague and recently dumped lover?’ he asked. ‘Aziz Khan, DSP from the CBI, who disappeared for two hours at the time of the murder—and tells us he was asleep in his car. Would you believe that Inspector saheb?’

Vichare smiled uncomfortably. ‘That is, umm, of course quite difficult to explain—’ he said.

‘Vichare, now what’s all this about?’ interjected Aziz. ‘Does the commissioner know that we have a retired umpire, who has no business being here, heading this investigation?’

‘Aziz Khan sir, I understand what you’re saying,’ said Vichare. ‘But Russiji is—’

‘Russiji truly has no business being involved with this case,’ said Russi. ‘It was a quirk of fate that I was at the Pavilion Club that evening having dinner with you and Justice Shankar when the ghastly crime we are all connected to was being committed just a few kilometres away. You do remember that, DSP Khan? Or did you forget it, just like you briefly lost memory of where you were for the two hours when Shreya Ved was being murdered?’

All eyes in the room turned to Aziz. Shankar cleared his throat. ‘Russi, Vichare,’ he started. ‘This is now getting serious. Quite frankly, it’s time for some proof. If there is any, please arrest the culprit. But one would expect better than to accuse one of the most upright officers in the system—especially when you have incriminating proof against the man with the clearest motive to kill.’

Choksi scoffed. ‘There you go again. You obviously have no idea about the CCTV outside my house.’

‘Hah, see I knew it!’ exclaimed Choksi. ‘This whole made-up story is based on Vasu going to your office to kill Shreya. Except that Vasu was also seen in the footage from outside my house at the same time. Magic! One man in two places at once!’

‘New evidence,’ said Vichare hesitatingly. ‘Just a few minutes before Vasu Langda was seen in the Shanti Chambers CCTV footage, he was also seen at Choksi’s bungalow at Malabar Hill. Both locations are at least twenty minutes away from each other, so it is a little bit confusing, you see.’

‘Well, we know he couldn’t have been,’ said Russi. ‘So the better question to ask is which one was Vasu Langda—and which one was an imposter?’

Lobo clicked a few buttons and pulled up clips from the two video recordings side by side on the big screen: one, the grainy recording from Shanti Chambers, and the other from outside Choksi’s house.

Kajal leaned forward in her chair. Shankar adjusted his spectacles. Aziz stood up to look closer.

‘Both look authentic, Russiji. So authentic that we just can’t say which is the real Vasu,’ said Vichare, shaking his head.

‘And guess what!’ said Russi dramatically. ‘Mr Jayesh Acharya—jilted husband of Shreya Ved—is exactly that. An actor.’

‘Me?’ said Jayesh, suddenly sitting bolt upright. ‘Yeah, I’m an actor. How does that automatically make me the guy dressed up as Vasu Langda in this video? That’s just nuts!’

‘One step at a time, Mr Acharya,’ said Russi sharply. ‘That you did not return home after your brief argument with Shreya at Shanti Chambers but instead went to Neeta Bar to meet Vasu Langda is a fact. We have witnesses to attest to that—thanks to the little argument you had with him at the bar. Haggling for more money than he was willing to give, eh?’

‘You provided screenshots from Shreya’s phone to Vasu,’ said Russi. ‘You literally sold her out to the match-fixers she was going to bring to justice. That is how much you detested your wife, Mr Acharya.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ said Aziz, his fists clenched. ‘You vile piece of—’

‘When Vasu offered you good money,’ Russi quickly continued, ‘it was a win-win—take revenge and get paid for it. But did the thought of going one step further strike you, Mr Acharya? Killing Shreya and framing Vasu for it. You had got a good look at him that evening—shabby, poorly fitting clothes, thick beard, cap, a massive limp. An easy target to copy, especially for someone who plays other characters for a living! After your rendezvous at the bar, did you then head right back to Shanti Chambers, dressed as Vasu, and kill your cheating wife?’

‘Hey, hey, stop,’ said Jayesh agitatedly. ‘Okay, so I traded screenshots from Shreya’s phone with Vasu for cash. But I had no idea whom he was working for and what he was going to do next.’ Jayesh turned to Kajal. ‘You said the cops called me here because Shreya’s killer had been found,’ he said angrily. ‘And now these guys are making up a fake story to implicate me?’

Vichare chimed in before Kajal could respond. ‘Forgive us for having some trust issues with you, Jayesh,’ he said. ‘But from the minute we met you, you’ve done nothing but lie to us.’

‘Instead of making up a case against me, why don’t you investigate Aziz Khan?’ retorted Jayesh. ‘No one has a clue where he was when Shreya was killed. How about finding answers to that?’

‘You betray her and then accuse me? Enough!’ yelled Aziz, standing up so quickly that his chair toppled backwards.

Lobo sprang to his feet and restrained Aziz before the CBI officer could advance towards his cowering target.

Aziz wriggled free of Lobo’s hold and, heaving the chair back up with one hand, sat down, breathing heavily.

‘What exactly are you trying to do, Aziz? Attack him inside a police station?’ asked Shankar sternly. ‘If what Russi says about him is true, the law will take its course.’

‘The law will indeed take its course, SS,’ said Russi. ‘For the murders of both Shreya Ved and Vasu Langda. Of course, it is also overdue for the crime of match-fixing.’

‘I must say, Russi, I still find it hard to get my head around this disguise theory,’ said Shankar. ‘Even if it’s true, it could also have been Vasu at the office and someone else at Choksi’s house.’

‘It could have been,’ said Russi. ‘But it wasn’t. Vasu Langda was at Choksi’s house that night, not at Shanti Chambers.’

The group’s attention, which had been temporarily diverted by Aziz’s near kerfuffle with Jayesh, was now firmly back on Russi.

Russi swiftly pulled out a maroon duffle bag from under the table. He then pointed at the bag on the screen that was seen being retrieved from the hedge at Choksi’s house. The two bags were identical.

‘It was exactly this bag that you see Vasu picking up in the video from his boss’s house. A bag filled with cash.’ Russi held up the duffle bag like a fisherman showing off a massive catch. ‘And it was exactly this bag and its contents that he gave to Jayesh Acharya. How do I know that? Because it is exactly this bag that was recovered from Jayesh’s house, barely two hours ago. I must thank you, Miss Banerjee, for picking it up for us.’

‘I left you in the living room for under a minute! You sneaked the bag out in that much time?’ Jayesh snapped at Kajal. ‘Are we even going to get to the part where we know who killed Shreya or is this whole thing a scam?’

‘No, no, Mr Acharya,’ said Russi. ‘We will definitely discover who the killer of your wife is. This matter of the disguise is not as far-fetched as one may think. In fact, we already know the identity of one person who was dressed up as someone else that night at Shanti Chambers.’ Russi looked directly into the eyes of the man sitting in front of him, vigorously chewing gum. ‘Don’t we, Mr Rishi Girhotra?’

‘We’ve been through that already. I told you Shreya called me to the office, so I went,’ said Rishi.

‘I told you, I don’t know. From whatever these guys have said’—Rishi gestured to Russi and Vichare—‘she was probably dead when I reached there. This limping guy had probably got to her.’

‘Yes, this is not the first time you have said that you don’t know how your meeting with Shreya came to be,’ said Russi. ‘And it’s not the first time, Rishi Girhotra, that you are lying to us.’

Rishi ran his fingers back through his hair as he took a deep breath in. His lips widened as if he were about to say something, but they came together just as fast, before any words were spoken.

‘You know precisely why she called you there, Rishi. Your visit was arranged after her phone call to Ishaan Raj earlier that day,’ said Russi.

‘Who is Ishaan Raj?’ asked Aziz. ‘And why did Shreya call this fixer, Rishi, to the office?’

‘“This fixer”,’ repeated Russi. ‘On the contrary, Shreya called Rishi to the office because she realized that he was not a fixer. That the evidence she thought she had against him was fake.’

‘Fake evidence? We had clear proof of Rishi selling out to this man,’ said Aziz, pointing at Choksi.

‘Did you really? Some more so-called evidence, which is actually just concocted nonsense,’ said Choksi, getting up to get himself a bottle of water.

‘Yes, concocted evidence,’ said Russi. ‘For once, Choksiji, you are correct.’

‘The recording that was supposed to be evidence of Rishi agreeing to fix matches is nothing but a fabricated clip,’ said Vichare. ‘It contains disconnected lines pieced together to make it seem that Rishi Girhotra had sold out to Choksi, not for money but for women. A good story, but a fake one.’

‘The clip was checked by Authics Labs in Bangalore,’ chimed in Lobo. ‘They found that it was doctored.’

‘Even more interesting is when they informed Shreya of their findings,’ said Russi. ‘It was in the afternoon. Merely a few hours before she was killed.’

‘That brings us to why Rishi Girhotra landed up at Shanti Chambers on Sunday evening,’ he said, ‘and your question, DSP Khan. Who is Ishaan Raj? In fact, why don’t we hear directly from the horse’s mouth.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Ishaan Raj,’ said Russi. ‘The man whom Rishi Girhotra refers to as his assistant—but who is actually his lover.’

Before the collective bewilderment of the audience could give way to any questions, a tall, slim man with striking features and a dusky complexion strode into the room. He had closely cropped hair and wore tight black pants. He hesitated momentarily when he saw the group before him, but then quickly seated himself on the eleventh and only unoccupied chair in the room.

Though Ishaan tried making eye contact with him, Rishi stared straight ahead of him, stony-faced.

‘Kajal, working for Choksi, had been covertly following Rishi for weeks, and it was during this operation that she discovered Rishi and Ishaan’s relationship. Just the kind of secret Choksi was itching for,’ said Russi.

‘And even before Kajal had sent him any definitive proof, Choksi had called Rishi … told him he wanted him to fix matches in return for keeping what he knew under wraps,’ added Vichare. ‘Rishi’s scared reaction confirmed to Choksi that he had information of value. The superstar cricketer with so many sponsors and endorsements didn’t want his sexual orientation known to the public.’

‘But Rishi refused to yield, and Choksi decided to turn up the heat, instructing Kajal to get him photographs of Rishi and Ishaan,’ said Russi. He paused to turn to Ishaan. ‘What Choksi didn’t know is that Rishi and Ishaan had decided to inform the Commission of the blackmail. Now tell us, Ishaan, how did Rishi end up at Shanti Chambers?’

‘All right,’ began Ishaan in a soft, self-assured voice. ‘After Choksi threatened Rishi, we decided that the only way out was to inform the Commission. There were already rumours that Rishi was going to be part of their report. I managed to get Shreya’s number and called her. She heard me out but couldn’t tell if I was being honest—I was an unknown guy randomly calling with some serious claims. She said she’d only trust what I said if she heard it directly from Rishi. I promised to get him to her office that evening itself. But I suppose that also got her wondering what my relationship with Rishi really was. Why was I representing him in this sensitive matter? How could I get him to agree to her demands so quickly? She must have guessed that Rishi and I were close.’

Rishi, who hadn’t said a word since Ishaan’s surprise appearance, finally spoke. ‘That’s why I went to her office a few hours after.’

‘Indeed,’ said Russi. ‘But much happened between Ishaan’s call and Rishi’s arrival. Shreya called Kajal to find out more about Rishi. Her old college friend and trusted source of information on the murky goings-on in the cricket world—who she had no idea was now working for Choksi. Kajal, you didn’t volunteer much information during that conversation. But when Shreya kept pressing on about Rishi, you told her your latest finding about him. That he’s gay.’

‘Shreya immediately decided that she needed to inform her team,’ continued Russi. ‘She had told Shankar previously that she wasn’t convinced of Rishi’s guilt—they had even exchanged emails about that. Should she tell him about the new evidence? Or should it instead be Aziz—her lover, or, should I say, ex-lover? She eventually decided to tell Aziz. That was why, DSP Aziz Khan, you received that urgent WhatsApp message during dinner at the Pavilion Club.’

‘And once you received it, you left for the office,’ continued Russi. ‘But you only reached there two hours later. How bizarre! Unless, of course, you did not reach there two hours later.’

‘Two hours was enough,’ interrupted Russi. ‘Plenty of time for you to disguise yourself as Vasu Langda, a man whose appearance and connection with Choksi were well-known to you. Once disguised, you would enter Shanti Chambers, kill Shreya, wipe the fingerprints clean in a most professional manner and then sneak out through the rear exit onto the lane with no CCTV. Only to reappear a few minutes later as Aziz Khan and discover her dead body.’

‘Completely ridiculous,’ said Aziz. ‘Why would I even want to hurt Shreya?’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time a discarded lover has killed the object of his affection,’ said Russi. ‘And in your case, you even made threats of revenge to Shreya just days before. Shall we go through those text messages again?’

‘Khan sir, you must please maintain calm,’ interrupted Vichare forcefully, his intervention surprising Aziz. ‘Getting angry and doing chillam-chilli time and again will not prove your innocence. The truth is that you vanished for two hours and came up a flimsy explanation. How can you not expect that to raise suspicions?’

‘But that is precisely the problem, Inspector saheb,’ said Russi. ‘That Aziz Khan vanished for two hours is true, providing him sufficient opportunity to commit the crime. But …’

‘But what?’ said Vichare. The ends of his moustache were dangerously close to coming into contact with his teeth, when Russi continued.

‘But why on earth would such a clever criminal mind not have a good alibi—or at least an invented excuse—for the unaccounted time?’ said Russi. ‘Why would such a well-crafted plan have such an obvious gaping hole?’

‘Mr Batliwala, this is getting really confusing,’ said Kajal. ‘Everyone seems to have a reason to kill Shreya and an opportunity to do it!’

‘Brajesh Choksi had the motive and, through Vasu, the means to kill Shreya. But Vasu wasn’t even at Shanti Chambers. Jayesh Acharya, the scorned husband, wanted revenge—and even got it by selling his wife out. But if he did kill Shreya, then why choose to do it at her office on that Sunday evening? And did he know of the backdoor exit? Aziz Khan, our hot-headed cop, was hurting at the break-up, and angry. We know that he had ample means to kill Shreya and was fully aware of the backdoor exit with no CCTV. But why would he decide to execute his plan in such an impulsive way, just after getting her message at the Pavilion Club? And why would he have no cover-up for his missing time?’

‘If your head is spinning, then so was mine … at a pace much faster than this ceiling fan,’ went on Russi, dabbing the sweat that had reappeared on his forehead. ‘But that is because we have been forgetting the other event of great importance, which will bring sense and clarity to all this.’

Lobo inched forward in his seat. He had no idea where the old umpire was headed.

‘What is that event, you all ask?’ said Russi. ‘It is the murder of Vasu Langda.’