Murders With Venom

And then Vaibhav held Shalini’s hand more firmly. She could feel that his hand was quivering.

They watched on that bitter winter evening outside the socialite Geeta Manchanda's bungalow in the posh locality of the North City’s Kunj Vihar.

The bungalow in D-block was located next to a large, unfenced open plot on which bushes and weeds were abundant. On this ground, at the northern end, Shalini and Vaibhav stood behind a large bush overlooking a wide bedroom window covered by lace curtains. The light at the far back of the room was adequate for them to see the inside clearly.

They were witnessing an intimate scene between a man and a woman. This would have been of no consequence to them but because the man was Samudradev Wadia, the well-known industrialist and, more importantly, Vaibhav’s father.

They could see that Samudradev was in a romantic mood with Geeta Manchanda. Her loose hair partially concealed both their faces, but nothing much was left to the imagination. A little later, when their passion seemed to reach a crescendo, she stopped him, looked at the open window, went towards it, and pulled a heavy curtain across it. The view of the room was blocked.

Shalini looked at her watch, and the time was 7.35 p.m.

As Shalini Grewal and Vaibhav Wadia turned away to go, she tried to see his face in the semi-darkness and noticed that it looked shrunken, and his lips seemed to be set in a straight line. He was attempting to contain his anger with a great effort. She was afraid that he would do something dangerous!

“Take hold of yourself, Vaibhav; I can understand your feelings,” she whispered.

He nodded wordlessly, and they navigated their way out of the plot and came on the road in front of the bungalow.

The area was deserted, with two lamp posts quite far apart on the other side of the road, throwing eerie yellow light. There was a hint of fog in the atmosphere. A few cars were parked nearby on both sides.

His father’s Volkswagen was parked in front of the bungalow’s gate; there was no driver.

As they turned left to walk away, they saw a man of medium height, his head covered with a woollen muffler and wearing an overcoat, standing not far from the nearest lamppost. Since he was looking away, they could not see his face.

As they started moving briskly, they were concerned. Have they had that man seen them watching the bungalow's window?

A minute or so later, they saw another man striding ahead. He was short, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, a cap on his head, and a mobile phone against his right ear.

Was it possible that he had crossed them while they were navigating out from the plot and had seen them?

Their whereabouts in that area were not as unnoticeable as they had hoped.

On their return, at about 8:40 p.m., Shalini opened her one-room apartment. They got in and sat on the bed wearily, thinking.

It had all begun when Vaibhav wanted to understand why his father’s behaviour towards him had become erratic and nasty in recent months. His father's frequent visits to Geeta Manchanda’s bungalow during this period were also a sore point. This was not acceptable and was quite disheartening.

During his frequent conversations with Shalini, with whom he always shared all his joys and sorrows, he began to understand that perhaps that woman was emotionally manipulating his father. Nonetheless, they were unsure whether she could transform him in this manner.

Then, Shalini suggested they go to Kunj Vihar to secretly check upon one of his father’s many visits to Geeta Manchanda. They were unclear on how any specific purpose would be served, but they did not anticipate seeing such explicit scenes.

Sitting in the apartment that evening, Vaibhav said ferociously, “This cannot be tolerated! That divorced woman is a nymphomaniac; she has a horrendous reputation in society; she is my father’s mistress and destroying him!”

“Do not jump to conclusions, Vaibhav; take a hold on yourself,” Shalini said soothingly.

“No, no, I do not agree with you; we have to do something …”

That night, they discussed at length the influence of these developments on their future and marriage. Vaibhav’s emotions were getting out of control, and Shalini had difficulty pacifying him.

Vaibhav left around 10:00 p.m. after he and Shalini had eaten dinner, which they had cooked together.

When he returned and entered his room, it was close to 1.15 a.m., past midnight. He had already noticed that his father had returned from Geeta Manchanda’s bungalow.

The following morning, Shalini and Vaibhav finished their morning classes at the city college and were in the cafeteria. She was checking the newsfeed on her mobile phone when she saw the ‘crime news page.’

Turning to Vaibhav, she exclaimed, “Oh my God, there is a piece of breaking news … Geeta Manchanda was murdered brutally in her bungalow last night. Her abdomen had been ripped open, exposing the entrails with blood splattered all over the room. A very sharp instrument was used, and according to the police spokesperson, she died around 11.00 p.m.”

As Vaibhav stared at her, speechless, she continued, “We saw her alive last night with your father in her bungalow around 7.35 p.m. The murder happened much after we left that place. We do not know when he left. I only hope the police do not suspect him.”

Shalini stopped and remained a few minutes, thinking, “It was wise that, in anger, you did not do anything foolish at that time. Now, what? Should we go to the police and tell them that we were at the spot a few hours before the murder?”

They sat there, trying to figure it out. While they believed it was dangerous and pointless, they also felt it was their duty to help the police in their investigation. Ultimately, they could not decide, but feeling restless, they did not feel like attending the upcoming classes in the afternoon.

While returning, she said, “Do not worry, Vaibhav, everything will be all right. By the way, after we cooked dinner last night and you left, I searched for the kitchen knife. Did you keep it somewhere? I usually do not lose my things.”

He could not recollect having seen that knife.

Around noon, Detective Inspector Samsher Brahma of the Homicide squad and Sub-Inspector Ahmedi, after a detailed reconnaissance of the crime scene, came out of Geeta Manchanda’s bungalow and went to the police Gypsy vehicle, parked at the other end of the road.

A man of medium height, clean-shaven and wearing a driver's uniform, stood beside an Audi car parked near the gate. Next to him was a short man with thinning hair and a skeletal frame who seemed to be making a move to walk away. He held a light blue raincoat with dirty patches and a shabby suitcase. Seeing them, the inspector beckoned, and the uniformed man came forward.

“Are you Geeta Manchanda’s driver? And who is that man?” The inspector asked, pointing.

“Yes sir, I am Raghu Parmar, ma’am’s driver; he is Saka Gir, her ex-driver.”

“Is he going somewhere?”

“He was staying in ma’am’s servants’ quarter a few weeks ago but did not take away all his things when he left at that time.”

“I see. We are investigating her murder. Give your mobile phone number and his mobile phone number to Sub-Inspector Ahmedi here; he will call you both for questions.”

“Yes, sir! We are sorry to know about her murder!”

The inspector was at Samudradev Wadia’s villa the following day.

Samudradev was a man of average height with a French beard and a receding hairline. He was fair-skinned and had bushy eyebrows above penetrating light blue eyes.

At that moment, sitting in front of the inspector, he was looking down at his hands, frowning slightly. It did not appear that he was sad or agitated at the tragedy.

“We know you were seen in Geeta Manchanda’s bungalow last evening. What have you to say about her murder?” The inspector asked.

Samudradev met the inspector’s eyes and said, “You are right. I was there, but when I left her bungalow around 9.45 p.m., she was hale and hearty, and I had no clue that she would meet such a gruesome death within the next couple of hours. While I was with her, everything was perfectly normal.”

“Is it true that you used to visit Geeta Manchanda often and had a relationship with her, if I may be permitted to ask?”

“None of your business Inspector!”

“Have you written any Will and Testament or a gift deed or plan to do so?”

“No comments! Now, please leave me.”

The lawyer sitting with him gave the inspector a signal to go.

The inspector nodded and got up. Ahmedi, too, followed.

“Before you go, can you tell me who has given you the information about my going to the bungalow? Or is that against your police procedure?” Samudradev asked curtly.

“We had a patrolling policeman moving around in that area who informed us, and we also have our sources.”

As they walked out, Ahmedi said, “A thoroughly unpleasant personality, sir. He did not clearly deny his relationship with her.”

“Yes, this may be an important factor in our investigation.”

Back at the police station, the inspector was thinking aloud; Ahmedi was sitting before him.

“Samudradev's visit to Geeta Manchanda that evening was not isolated; he had previously been there several times. He is open about his relationship with her. But did she reciprocate? Even if she did, she might have been doing it for some personal benefit; she had a bad reputation; we are not sure.”

“Could there be some motive for Samudradev committing the murder; perhaps she was cheating him or trying to usurp his estate?” Ahmedi asked.

“Every person involved in this case can be a suspect. I was told that Samudradev’s wife, Smriddhi, had died many years ago, and there is no other family member except a college-going son. Let us call the son here for interrogation.”

As Vaibhav walked into the police station with Shalini, they had already decided to reveal all they knew.

Sitting before the inspector, he introduced Shalini as his classmate and narrated their experience of that night.

The inspector silently listened and said, “So, as I understand, you knew about the relationship and went to Geeta Manchanda’s house to check. But why did you go on that particular night?”

Shalini replied, “Sir since Vaibhav’s father is involved, how can we remain aloof for so long? We are also miserable. Trust us, our presence that night was purely unplanned.”

“Granted,” the inspector stated, “but what was your reaction?” He turned towards Vaibhav.

“We were not able to think properly,” he answered agitatedly.

“Did you not feel extreme anger and frustration and want to fix matters right?”

“Sir, what can I do on this sensitive issue? After all, he is my father!” Unshed tears glistened in Vaibhav’s eyes, and his face turned red.

Shalini held his hand and said, “I try to calm him down… always.”

“Any idea who could have committed the murder?” The inspector asked.

“No, sir.”

“Do you have any suggestion who those two men could be when you were leaving the area that night?”

Both shook their heads.

“Was one of them, Geeta Manchanda’s driver, Raghu, waiting for her to use the car?” Ahmedi asked.

Shalini said, “This is the first time we hear about Raghu. Anyway, we could not see the faces of both those men, so we are sorry we cannot help you.”

The inspector stared at Shalini for some moments, then asked, “How are you involved with Vaibhav; can I hear from you?”

“As Vaibhav has told you, we study in the same class in the city college and are also friends.” She blushed a little.

“Wonderful friends, I will say,” Ahmedi retorted.

Vaibhav interjected, “We love and care for each other and will marry after we graduate.”

“Congratulations!” The inspector smiled. “Have your fathers been told, and have they agreed?”

“My father will agree soon. Sadly, my mother is not alive.” Shalini said.

Vaibhav frowned and looked in the other direction.

“Is there a problem, Vaibhav?"

“Sir,” Vaibhav said, “I have told my father about this, and although he has not directly forbidden me to marry her, he is furious because she is the daughter of his personal assistant, his P.A.”

“I see. Go on,” the inspector said.

“My father is very class-conscious. Being an industrialist, he thinks that he is the master and superior to any employee –more so a P.A., who is, after all, an inferior servant. Just a few days ago, he threatened to disown me if I marry Shalini; thus, indirectly, he is trying to stop me.”

“How will you manage then?”

“We will marry, even if my father throws me out of his house, disinherits me, dispossesses me of all his estates, his business… makes me a non-entity and a pauper!” Vaibhav muttered grimly.

The inspector glanced at Ahmedi and asked Shalini, “What is your father’s name?”

“Sir, he is Mr. Diwanian Grewal. A long-standing and loyal employee of Vaibhav’s father.”

The inspector then said to Vaibhav, “I appreciate why you are agitated. But do you seriously think that your father has already written a Will or, by a gift deed, given away all or most of his estates and business to any person, thereby depriving you totally?”

“It is not for me to answer … you can ask my father,” Vaibhav replied in a low pitch.

After they had left, the inspector said, “Vaibhav can be another suspect. Let us prepare for further investigations.”

As Ahmedi was about to leave, he stopped and asked, “Have you called the driver, Raghu and the ex-driver, Saka?” Seeing his negative response, the inspector continued, “Find out what they thought of their employer, Geeta Manchanda. Ask other servants in that bungalow about her behaviour with them.

“Besides, there are some angles.

“Check if Samudradev had already written any Will or a gift deed favouring Geeta Manchanda. Or did he plan to do that? We will need to talk to his lawyers. We should also keep in mind that he is a widower, and she was a divorcee; he could very well have thought of marrying her and making her very wealthy. There may have been strong objections from various persons and possible motives for crimes.

“Next, I am sure you are already checking the call records and obtaining fingerprints as usual. And when do I get the CCTV camera recordings?”

A day later, after lunch hours, the inspector saw the arrival of Diwanian as he walked up to his desk. He had been called to the police station.

An overweight man with a dark complexion, grey hair, short height, and black-rimmed eyeglasses looked at the inspector gravely.

“What have you to say about the murder of Geeta Manchanda?” was the inspector’s first question.

“I read something about it in the newspapers. Do not know her or anything about her murder.” Diwanian’s voice was pleasant enough.

“I am sure you know that your employer, Samudradev Wadia, used to go often to her house,” the inspector said, “their relationship is common knowledge.”

Diwanian remained silent.

“By the way, I believe you are aware of another affair between your daughter, Shalini and your employer’s son, Vaibhav.”

He glared, “Who told you about this?”

“Your daughter and the son.”

“They want to get married, and I agree. Do you have any problem?” Diwanian retorted.

“No. However, Vaibhav tells me that Samudradev has an objection. What do you think?”

Now, there was a flash of anger in Diwanian’s eyes. “I know him; he will never accept this marriage, ever.”

“And if they marry without his consent, what do you think he will do?”

“Mr Samudradev will throw his son out of the villa; he will not give him a single paisa out of his estates and business. He is quite capable of that misbehaviour, and for that, he may suffer.”

Diwanian’s resentment was quite palpable.

“I think this marriage will also hurt your daughter along with Vaibhav,” the inspector replied.

Diwanian kept stoically quiet for some moments and said, “I want to protect my daughter.”

“Has Samudradev written any Will or a gift deed? Or does he plan so? Has he consulted any lawyer recently?”

“I believe so. But you should ask him this question.”

With that, Diwanian took his leave.

And then one more murder occurred in the space of two days, and the victim was Samudradev Wadia!

His sudden death in his villa did not come as a surprise to the inspector. “Somehow, I was getting a premonition that the murder of Geeta Manchanda had wider ramifications and more complex than what met our eyes.” He had told Ahmedi.

That day, Inspector Samsher Brahma silently surveyed the crime scene inside the villa's office.

The lifeless body of Samudradev was in the chair placed before the ornate glass writing table, and his head and body’s upper region were bent down on it with his face resting sideways. His right arm was flung on its top, and his left arm hung loosely at his side. With his eyes partially closed, a trickle of whitish foam coming out from his half-open mouth, and his face contorted, he was not a pretty sight. The body had an abnormal tinge, and it appeared that death had come painfully.

The writing table had two pens, a packet of pins, and four envelopes ready for use. A perforated sheet with ten postage stamps of ten rupees each was placed for easy access, with three loose stamps almost hidden under his upturned right palm. A sponge damper pad, a blank writing notepad, and a plugged-in table lamp were all functional and ready for use in the extreme left corner.

Looking at the body, the inspector said under his breath to Ahmedi, “This sure is murder by poisoning. The results of the post-mortem will have to confirm it, reveal the nature of the poison and the estimated time of death.”

The police photographer did his job, lifted fingerprints, and performed other routines.

The inspector ordered the body to be taken away.

Then, he looked around the room, searching for clues—any tell-tale signs that could shed light on this murder.

Diwanian, who lived in the same villa, stood near the doorway.

Their eyes met.

The inspector asked, “What have you to say about this death?”

“I know nothing about this. Last night, Mr Samudradev ate his dinner at the usual time, around 8.30 p.m. and retired to his bedroom. I completed some pending paperwork, closed his office room, and went to bed. It was about 9.50 p.m. I did not hear or see anything unusual during the night. When I came into his room at 7.35 a.m. this morning, I saw this tragedy and informed you immediately,” Diwanian replied.

“Did anyone come last night or early this morning?”

Diwanian thought for some seconds, “Yes, his sister, Ryma Devi, visited him after dinner and went to his bedroom. She left later at night; I do not know the exact time. Mr. Samudradev would have seen her off and closed the main door, which he usually did whenever she came.”

After Diwanian left, the inspector looked again at the writing table. He picked up the pens and the perforated sheet of postage stamps with his gloves on. He also scrutinised the envelopes and the loose stamps. As he picked up the sponge damper pad, he found it to be bone dry. He knew it used to moisten glues on envelope flaps and postage stamps with wet fingers. He frowned. Did that mean Samudradev had no option but to use his tongue to moisten the reverse of the loose postage stamps found under his upturned right palm? This needed special attention!

Asking Ahmedi to take all the contents into his possession and carry them to the police station in a plastic bag, he carefully gave the room a once-over.

Other servants were questioned separately, a report of which he would receive soon. They were to be confined to the villa until further orders.

On his return to the police station, he told Ahmedi, “Ryma Devi has to be questioned. I am getting a hunch that this case and the murder of Geeta Manchanda are linked. We have to investigate both these crimes together.”

Ryma Devi was a widow with a distinctive personality. She was fair, medium height, had dyed brown hair, and had an overweight physique. At that time, she gazed solemnly at the inspector through her gold-rimmed spectacles.

Her voice was husky and melodic, and she had a tinge of sadness when she spoke.

“Yes, inspector, it has been a great shock to me. I cannot believe that this has happened to my brother. Who will want to harm him?”

“Ma’am, that is what we are trying to find out. We need cooperation from you,” the inspector replied.

 She blinked away her tears and waited for him to continue.

“Diwanian told us that you had visited him last night after dinner. Did you discuss anything which could have a bearing on his murder? Did anything happen?”

She remained quiet for many moments, then said, “I was unhappy that he was trying to disinherit his son, Vaibhav, from all his estates and business. He was thinking of writing a Will favouring a charitable trust with a dubious reputation. Basically, I objected that Vaibhav should not be deprived like this just because he wanted to marry Diwanian’s daughter.”

“And what was his reaction?”

“We had a heated argument. He disagreed.”

“Then?”

“I warned him, but I should not have done that.”

“Why should you warn him about a matter between a father and his son?”

“Because it was a grave injustice that had to be removed, which he repeatedly refused.”

“So, what did you plan on doing?”

“Nothing.”

Nevertheless, her body language showed her dismay and feeling strongly about it.

The inspector stared at her, realising that she was not revealing everything to him, and then decided that more investigation was required.

That day late afternoon, the inspector was in deep thought. The post-mortem report of Samudradev had come, and death by a potent poison had been confirmed.

It was ‘Strychnine’ and found coated on the reverse of the postage stamps, due to which death had occurred from asphyxiation and resulting in severe convulsions. This poison's effect was practically instantaneous, and death had occurred between 5.00 a.m. to 7.00 a.m. that fateful morning.

“That meant Samudradev was poisoned while sitting at his writing table, and the end had come so fast that he could not get up from there,” he told Ahmedi.

During this time, Ahmedi reported that Samudradev could not write his Will or any gift deed due to his sudden death. This aspect was highly critical.

A couple of days ago, Ahmedi had already procured a recording of the rear door of Geeta Manchanda’s bungalow; the CCTV camera above it had malfunctioned earlier but was repaired and working that fateful night of her murder. This was no less vital for a comprehensive picture of the crimes.

Under the inspector's instructions, all the individuals concerned were kept under tight surveillance so they did not leave the city.

Three days later, on Tuesday, the inspector called at the police station: Vaibhav, Shalini, Diwanian, Ryma Devi, and drivers Raghu and Saka.

By then, they had been aware of their criminal law rights and duties.

The inspector was standing in front of them, seated on a bench. He had a stern look on his face.

“We begin with the uninhibited relationship between Samudradev Wadia and Geeta Manchanda, which is the base of their deaths and the mindset of various persons.

“Vaibhav was agitated by his father’s relationship with a disagreeable woman. He knew that if he married Shalini, he would be thrown out of the villa and disinherited from his father’s estates and business.

“Shalini was unhappy about the unfair treatment Vaibhav, her fiancé, received from his father.

“Ryma Devi was dismayed that her brother, Samudradev, was unfair to Vaibhav.

“Diwanian was annoyed knowing that if his daughter, Shalini, married Vaibhav, his future son-in-law would be thrown out and disinherited by his employer, Samudradev.

“Geeta Manchanda, a ruthless lady, used to misbehave with her servants grossly; especially, she was cruel to Saka, who was upset and shared his feelings with his friend, Raghu.”

The inspector then paused to pour and drink a glass of natural spring water.

When he began, each member of the group sitting in front of him displayed varying emotions, from indifference to expectancy to anxiety and apprehension.

Ignoring them, he continued, “With these backgrounds, the motives arose, and the murders were perpetrated, supported by opportunities.

“I will first explain the murder of Samudradev Wadia, who I feel was responsible for the entire sequence of the crimes.

“We deal with a variety of poisoning murders, but it was a unique case. The killer knew that Samudradev always wrote his letters, put them in envelopes, affixed postage stamps, and handed them to his servants for posting. He generally used to work at his writing table.

“During the fateful morning, he tried to follow his routine and met his death instantaneously and painfully by a very potent poison called ‘Strychnine.’ The question arose: how was it administered?

“On examining various stationery items on that table, we found poison coated on the reverse of the postage stamps. So, when Samudradev picked them up and licked them to moisten the gum and affix them on envelopes, as is typically done by people, he unknowingly consumed that poison.

“It was worth noting that a sponge damper pad on the writing table was totally dry. Samudradev would have used it to moisten the gum directly and perhaps survived if it were wet. Anyway, the killer had noticed the dry damper pad, which was suitable for his purpose, and proceeded with the crime.

“Incidentally, we also noticed that his writing notepad on the table was blank. So, before writing any letter, his attempt to affix postage stamps on the envelopes was a twist of fate. Of course, the result would have been the same even if he had written a letter and then tried to affix the stamps after licking them.

“Ultimately, the queries which begged answers were: who had the motive, the opportunity and who actually killed Samudradev?”

At that juncture, the inspector stopped, and the group looked at each other wordlessly.

He then turned towards Ryma Devi and spoke in a mild but firm voice, “I charge you, ma’am Ryma Devi, for the premeditated killing of your brother, Samudradev Wadia.”

“What rot are you suggesting, Inspector?” she countered immediately.

“I know what I am saying, ma’am. I got reliable information that you had, through your servant, bought ‘Strychnine’ from the local market. It was simple since this poison is used mainly as a pesticide, especially to kill rats. Not only that, but you also bought rubber gloves so that you could safely apply this white, odourless, bitter crystalline powder on the reverse of the stamps.”

Ryma Devi frowned, “So, what? Buying these items proves nothing! And why should I kill my brother? Absurd!”

The inspector watched her for a few seconds.

“Your motive is evident from the very beginning. Vaibhav is your late husband’s illegitimate child through your brother’s late wife, Smriddhi. You knew this appalling fact and understood that Samudradev wanted to disinherit Vaibhav due to this reason.

“Unfortunately, he also wanted to continue to support Geeta Manchanda, his mistress, although she was dead, by leaving his wealth, worth crores, by a Will or a gift deed to her dubious charitable trust. He was to write that Will or the gift deed very shortly. This was totally unacceptable to you.

“The only way to stop Samudradev from writing that damning Will or a gift deed was to silence him permanently. Without any Will or that deed, Vaibhav, as his son, will benefit from the legal process of succession, and all unfairness would fade away.

“Therefore, you planned to murder Samudradev that fateful night if he did not listen to you. You did try, but he refused to accept your advice. So, while leaving, you went to his office room, wore your gloves, and coated ‘Strychnine’ on the reverse of the postage stamps kept on the writing table. You knew that, as per routine, he would write and stamp his letters in the morning, and that would bring his end.”

Hearing him, Ryma Devi cried out, “Absolutely wrong conclusion! The actual killer is sitting right here … he is Diwanian!” She pointed towards him; her hands were trembling, and her voice was intensifying. “You investigate him too! He wanted Samudradev dead!”

It was a ploy to deflect her culpability!

Hearing her, Diwanian jumped up from his seat and thundered, “Is that so, ma’am? Wrong! I saw you coating poison on postage stamps that night when you thought that nobody was looking. The inspector is right; you are a murderess; I can testify before a court. This will also show that I am innocent.”

Ryma Devi stared at him, horrified, then held her head with both hands. The entire ploy of blaming Diwanian had boomeranged instantly and inadvertently confirmed her guilt.

After that, she started sobbing mildly, muttering, “Oh my God! How I hated my brother? I never liked him. During these years, he wanted to have sex with me, too, when he found that my husband was sexually active with his wife. That swine deserved to die, and I have no regret removing him for good!”

Two policewomen took her away.

The inspector sat down at his desk and started his narrative again. The matter was still unfinished.

“Now we come to the murder of Geeta Manchanda, which happened first. Her murder was gruesome; the killer used a large, sharp knife to chop her to death. Now, what were the motive and the opportunity, and who killed her?

“In this case, the murder was because of vengeance, and it was an inside job.”

All present in the room watched the inspector unblinkingly as he paused. He then abruptly swerved towards Saka.

“You are her killer, Saka Gir, and I charge you for this crime. You murdered Geeta Manchanda because you wanted to take revenge for your wife’s death due to your employer's total callous attitude. And Raghu helped you in this dastardly crime.”

Saka instantaneously stood up awkwardly and spoke in a trembling voice; his legs buckled.

“Sir, I have not killed her. I swear to God!” He cried out.

“Do not tell lies, Saka,” the inspector snapped. “A CCTV camera above Geeta Manchanda’s rear door of her bungalow clearly showed that you entered through it at 11.00 p.m. with a knife and exited at 11.08 p.m. with that knife which was blood-soaked and visible in your hand. You were wearing a light blue raincoat, the front of which was splattered with her blood. The next day at noon, we saw that raincoat in your hands when you stood outside her bungalow; it was poorly cleaned by then.”

Now, Saka was quivering in fright. He remembered that the CCTV camera was non-functional when he visited the security monitor room, which was totally unanticipated.

The inspector went on, “You have also been foolish to have allowed yourself to be provoked to commit the murder. Your repeated mobile calls to a person, seven times before the murder and twice after the murder that night, revealed with whom you were in regular touch and who had guided you.

“And that person is Diwanian Grewal!”

While listening to the inspector, Saka kneeled down on the floor with folded hands, smitten with guilt.

At that time, Diwanian leaned forward and scowled at Saka malevolently.

Saka began crying bitterly.

“Sir, you are right,” he said in a hoarse voice, “the murder was not my thought! I was grieving my wife’s death and lost my job when a Diwanian sahib unexpectedly contacted and consoled me. Later, I was so thankful for his backing and a job, but I was troubled by what he suggested. He said that if I murdered Geeta memsahib, that would give peace to my wife’s soul and do justice for all the wrongs memsahib had done to me. Sadly, I agreed; as a sucker, I committed the murder mercilessly in the heat of the moment like a mad animal! I totally lost control… God help me!”

There was a sudden movement. Diwanian leapt like a bolt of lightning and kicked Saka ruthlessly and repeatedly and screamed, “You ungrateful bastard, how can you blame me like that...”

Ahmedi stepped forward quickly and shoved him away so roughly that Diwanian had to save himself from tumbling down. Breathing heavily, he said, “It is a lie, Inspector! This man does not know what he speaks … do not believe him… I have not murdered anybody!”

The inspector said slowly and distinctly, “Diwanian Grewal, I know you did not murder with your own hands, but you are the architect in this crime; you had criminally instigated Saka to kill. You are no less than a killer, and the law will also hold you responsible!”

As Diwanian sputtered in anger, trying to reply, the inspector continued, turning towards Raghu, “We have Raghu here who will confirm what Saka has just stated. Is it not, Raghu? You can assist us so that we can suggest taking a lenient view of your guilt; you know that you are an accomplice to this murder.”

“Yes, Raghu knows everything…,” Saka intervened and tried to clutch at whatever straw he could hold.

Raghu, who had also stood up, was profusely sweating. He nodded, “Whatever I can do, I will do, Inspector. I have committed a great mistake by helping Saka.”

Listening to all these, Diwanian knew that his game was up. But refusing to give up, he demanded vociferously for a lawyer. Soon, he was led out of the room, and Saka and Raghu were also taken away.

The law would take its course.

The room became silent as the cases concluded, but before long, Shalini’s sobs and Vaibhav’s assuring words were audible.

With a cup of steaming Tulsi Moringa tea on his desk, Inspector Samsher Brahma was talking to Sub-Inspector Mubarak, who had come to meet him about another case; he had a cup of coffee in his hand.

Ahmedi had gone out for an hour or so.

“Solving both these murders was quite a challenge to us, and this was how I analysed the individuals involved in these cases.” The inspector started.

“Geeta Manchanda was a cruel employer. On one occasion, when her ex-driver, Saka, wanted her help asking for a loan to take care of his dying wife in the hospital, she not only refused any assistance but later on, when he showed his annoyance after his wife’s death, she sacked him unceremoniously. Therefore, he was angry and upset and wanted retaliation. Many servants in the bungalow told this. But her current driver, Raghu, denied this knowledge, although it was well known that he and Saka were dearest friends.

“Next was Vaibhav, who, on seeing his father’s sexual escapades with Geeta Manchanda in her bungalow, was naturally very agitated. Later during the night, he was again found in that area and seen departing around 10.45 p.m., just before the murder. A patrolling policeman had spotted him. Vaibhav neither informed us nor, I think, Shalini knew about this.

“Here, I believed that Vaibhav had no guts to commit any murder, although he had homicidal thoughts about Geeta Manchanda. To her credit, Shalini also calmed him down from time to time. Considering everything, he was not a serious suspect.

“Even Shalini was not really doubted, more so because a man committed Geeta Manchanda’s vicious stomach-ripping murder. Next, coming to the murder of Samudradev, Shalini’s killing of her future father-in-law made no sense when the son himself was not inclined to take any extreme step against his father.

“Eventually, I was correct about the innocence of these two lovers.”

The inspector paused to sip his tea.

“We then examined Diwanian. He was outraged that Vaibhav, his future son-in-law, would be disinherited by Samudradev because Vaibhav insisted on marrying Shalini. He had to protect his daughter by shielding her husband-to-be.

“To add salt to the wound, what incensed Diwanian was that Samudradev wanted to favour Geeta Manchanda, his mistress of an awful reputation, by writing a Will or a gift deed in her name.

“Confronted with these bitter truths, he had enough motive to murder Geeta Manchanda and Samudradev.

“After Saka killed Geeta Manchanda through Diwanian’s instigation and manipulation, Samudradev became his next target.

“We found from the lawyers that Samudradev did not want to make a gift deed but wanted only to write a Will favouring Geeta Manchanda. But even after her sudden death, he persisted, and a Will would have been written in the name of her dubious charitable trust. Hence, the shadow of Geeta Manchanda never seemed to go!

“This, I instinctively felt, Diwanian wanted to stop at any cost; however, he was pre-empted by Ryma Devi with her motive to murder.

“As far as she was concerned, I was fortunate during my investigation that I got hold of her family secret from some of her close friends. She knew Vaibhav was her late husband’s illegitimate child born out of Samudradev’s late wife, Smriddhi.

“Pertinently, Samudradev’s recent erratic behaviour towards Vaibhav showed that he, too, suspected this and was about to disinherit him.

“In the end, for reasons best known to her, perhaps complex and emotional, Ryma Devi was totally in favour of Vaibhav and wanted to protect him.

“To me, all these embarrassments pointed to a sordid ground for killing, which crime she did uniquely. She was also smart enough to wear gloves to leave no fingerprints on her brother's ornate glass writing table.”

Sub-Inspector Mubarak nodded in understanding.

At this time, Sub-Inspector Ahmedi came in, sat down in front of the inspector, and ventured to clear his doubts.

“Sir, one or two questions persist in my mind.”

“Go ahead, Ahmedi.”

“Who were those two men outside the bungalow of Geeta Manchanda that fateful night?”

“Perfectly simple, Ahmedi,” the inspector replied, “they were Saka and Raghu, waiting for the right opportunity. They saw Vaibhav and Shalini keeping a watch outside the bungalow; therefore, they waited for them to go and for Samudradev to leave. They again noticed Vaibhav alone later, but he, too, left. Then, at 11.00 p.m., Saka went in to kill, and Raghu waited outside. I believe the murder was committed before 11.08 when Saka came out.”

“Sir, do you remember Vaibhav saying that one of those two men was talking on a mobile phone?”

“Yes, he was Saka and talking to Diwanian. We have the call records of that. As I had said, this also linked them up to the crime. Although our patrolling policeman missed Saka and Raghu in that area, luckily, that CCTV camera clinched the prosecution. Finally, you lose some, and you gain some!” Detective Inspector Samsher Brahma finished with a smile.