The Benefit Season Page 18

  ‘Was I?’

  ‘How would I know? I asked you!’

  ‘But why would you ask?’

  ‘ How would I know?’

  ‘Then who would know?’

  ‘You tell me- you’re the Sherlock Holmes’.

  ‘I’m Kadian not Homes’.

  ‘Well Kadian, I’m Aarti’, she replied absent-mindedly, losing interest in the mindless banter, but remaining polite out of force of habit.

  ‘Hello. How do you do?’

  ‘I’m good. And you?’

  ‘ I’m fine. Nice weather’.

  Krishnamala looked at the homunculus in exasperation. She motioned him to take the baby and handover the phone.

  ‘Hello Aarti, this is DSP Krishnamala from the Crime Branch’.

  ‘Nice meeting you too’, Aarti said.

  ‘Nice… we want to speak to Arjun. His boss Monal has gone missing and we are just talking to everyone in their office’.

  ‘Monal is missing…what are you saying? I thought you were looking for Arjun!’

  ‘You’re right – we are looking for Arjun- to help us find Monal. There - so simple’.

  ‘But I don’t know where Arjun is!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean he’s missing. And we’ve filed a police complaint in Delhi. I thought you were investigating into his disappearance?’

  ‘What! Arjun is missing too?’

  ‘Is Monal missing too?’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘I don’t know since when Monal is missing’.

  ‘No, I am asking you about Arjun’.

  ‘He disappeared from our engagement!’

  ‘So you’re not engaged?’

  ‘No’.

  ‘When was this, what time?’

  ‘On the evening of 3rd Jan- just before the ceremony. He vanished from the hotel, before all the guests’.

  ‘Strange! Monal went missing around the same time!’

  ‘Do you think…?’

  ‘Err…that’s what people would have me believe. But it’s too early to say. What do you think?’

  There was a long silence at the other end.

  ‘Hello…Aarti are you there? What do you think happened? Are the missing’s connected?’

  ‘He did say something about harassment at work. He had quit the job - he was so upset. He seemed unsure if he wanted to go through with the marriage at that point since he had no money or work’.

  ‘Really? Harassment of the … kind?’

  ‘I guess so’.

  ‘Hmm. Do you think Monal had anything to do with his going missing?’

  ‘I don’t know…I don’t know anything’, she started sniffing.

  ‘Don’t you worry, lady. We might as well come over and discuss this. Where can we see you?’

  ‘I stay with my aunt. I’ll SMS the address. Come around by six’.

  ‘Fine’, said Krishnamala and hung up.

  The agents and the baby reached the aunt’s house by six and after meeting Aarti and her aunt they decided that the best thing would be to go to Delhi to unravel the missing’s.

  It was clear the two were still very much in love and Aarti’s faith in Arjun was unshakeable. She believed he would never have hurt her or his mother or embarrass them in front of family and friends on purpose. She had known him since they were toddlers and were apparently inseparable. Then where could Arjun have gone? And where was Monal? Though finding Arjun was not on Krishnamala’s brief at the moment, the two going missing at the same time was too much of a coincidence.

  Yet, the clues were too obvious, and the suggestion that they may have eloped too simple and contrived. The people they had spoken to at the office seemed convinced that Arjun’s meteoric rise was due to Monal having taken a strong fancy to this simple, straight boy from out of town. Lele and Lily, his ex-roommates were sure that Aarti was too snobbish and cold for the warm and generous Arjun. They weren’t surprised that Arjun had walked away from the marriage in the nick of time. On many occasions they said Aarti herself had been uncomfortable with Monal touching Arjun a tad too inappropriately for a married woman. Shikhandi was convinced Monal had walked out of a BDSM arrangement gone awry. Kinky or not, it was not difficult to see that any woman- when pushed- would have walked out of marriage with a man like Vishal- cold, heartless, adulterous- and most probably on drugs too.

  That there were sparks between Monal and Arjun- was undeniable too. Then there was the matter of the showdown between Arjun and Vishal at Diu, and Monal being caught semi-naked in Arjun’s room.

  Could Monal- victim of domestic violence or fed up of a libertine husband, or bored of kinky sex- have been driven into the welcoming arms of Arjun- handsome, desirable, bachelor, eager to impress, vulnerable and an impressionable young man looking for an early promotion? Could Arjun tire of a lifelong affair and seek novelty in a dangerous, forbidden liaison with a married, classy woman with more tricks up her sleeve than he would ever have known? But then he’d resigned, hadn’t he, so he couldn’t have cared enough for materialistic gains. And something would have driven him to quit the company- remorse, guilt, or harassment perhaps? His resignation had not been accepted by the way; he seemed to be a highly valued employee in the company- Tom- the Asian head, seemed especially fond of this boy. Could Vishal have put Arjun out of the way, out of jealousy, and Monal as well, to punish her? But he didn’t seem the possessive type, or the type to waste much time over a woman less in his life. Her place had been promptly filled in. Would it suit him to suggest that the two had gone missing together, on purpose, after planning? Why? How? How was he able to afford such a lavish penthouse on his salary? What was it between him and the Arab girl? The man was definitely up to some mischief. He would certainly have to be watched.

  Meanwhile there were the department’s procedures to be followed, reports to be filed, and the guys in Delhi to be contacted to link up the two cases. Back at the branch, she called in the P.I. (Police Inspector) Investigation and asked him to send out Hue and Cry notices for both the missing persons. On second thoughts she also put up an office note to announce a small reward for any information in the case. She told the P.I. to tap Vishal’s office and home for any ransom calls, although she really didn’t expect any. She was sure Vishal wouldn’t pay up! She also tossed their snaps on the desk and asked him to check if either of them had travelled by air on the night of 3rd or 4th January or thereabouts.

  ‘What next’, Agent 9 asked, pouring a few drops from the baby’s milk bottle on the back of his hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot to drink.

  ‘We wait’, Krishnamala said, propping her feet up on her desk and rocking in her standard-issue cane chair. Looking out the iron windows in her turquoise-painted government office at the Arabian Sea beyond, she tried to search for a motive but could find none, and soon fell asleep while Agent 9 hummed a ditty to soothe the hungry baby.

  ϖ

  It was late evening when the bell to the Nagrath house chimed.

  There were no birds in chorus this time as after a hard day of chasing wayward worms and warbling sweet ditties they had pulled up warm leaves and burrowed their heads into their feathers and settled for the night. Vishal, who had just pulled up a pouf and propped up his feet on it and taken a sip of the Jack Daniels on the rocks, and was not expecting any visitors at this hour, and was settling for the night, muttered irritatedly to no one in particular, ‘who could it be?’

  In the dimly lit lounge, Ruby, his bare foot Moroccan girlfriend, wearing a sexy satin blouse with low open back, a flowing skirt, jingling anklets and bangles, and a hip scarf with tiny bells and coins, was belly-dancing languorously for his pleasure alone, as he smacked his lips and looked on appreciatively. Sonorous Arabic music with strong repetitive base played in the background. With her long arms raised at a 90° angle, a beatific smile quivering at her lips, her long eyelashes fluttering, she was shimmying her belly and drawing 8’s in the air with her full hips, as if in a trance befor
e her personal djinn at Kaaba.

  He cursed as the bell rang again, this time adamantly. He rose, wrapped his silk gown around his bare, muscular torso, and walked to the door, mumbling under his breath about camel-milk drinking desert bandits robbing decent folks of their peace at odd hours.

  Two thugs in black stood glowering at his doorway.

  ‘They let you into this building, did they?’ he said, recognizing them as messengers of Chotta Shameel, his friend and bookie.

  ‘Is this how you welcome your guests’, Shamim, the taller of the two visitors asked.

  ‘Guests my foot! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Boss was remembering you. He said you had something that belonged to him and he wants you to bring it in’.

  ‘Now? Don’t be silly. I don’t keep that shit at home. I have it somewhere safe, tell him not to worry. I’ll bring it around some time, okay? Bye then’, Vishal said, beginning to sweat a little, shutting the door on them.

  Shamim wedged his foot in the door and shoved it in- the door hit Vishal on his forehead.

  ‘Ouch!’ Vishal said, grimacing, ‘take it easy’!

  ‘Boss doesn’t like doors being shut in his boys’ faces’, Shamim said, and the men walked in and kicked the door shut. They walked into the lounge and halted on seeing Ruby, who was completely oblivious to her surroundings now with her half-shut eyes, and carrying on with the swatting of the imaginary flies with her quivering hips.

  ‘Friend of yours’, Chotta Rahim, the other visitor asked, leering at the skimpily dressed, voluptuous foreign beauty.

  ‘What do you want? I told you I don’t have it here. I’ll bring it to him later’, Vishal pleaded, standing before them.

  ‘Come and tell him yourself then’, Shamim replied.

  ‘You can see I have a guest- I can’t come now. We’re friends- don’t treat me like this!’

  ‘If you don’t come along, he said to bring a body part. And you can always bring her along- we all could do with a break’, Rahim said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  ‘What!’ Vishal’s drink shook in his hand.

  ‘What do you say, madam?’ Rahim turned to Ruby, annoyed at not getting her attention. He switched off the music and said,’ want to do that on my lap?’

  Ruby finally stopped circling her hips. She lowered her arms, wiped off her smile, and after fluttering her eyelashes, looked coolly at him. ‘Listen vomit-bag, don’t you madam me! You want to take your boy out for a walk, go walk him. But stop polluting the air around me, okay?’ She walked across to the deck and switched the music on again and continued her dance.

  ‘Who’s she’, Shamim turned cautiously to Vishal, not daring to take it further with the unruffled girl. Crooks have a way of knowing when they can’t push someone.

  ‘Let her be- she’s not in your league’, Vishal said.

  Shamim shrugged his shoulders and raised his brows; ‘am is supposed to care a fuck?’

  ‘She’s the sheik’s daughter- the guy who owns the yacht on which you were sweeping up your boss’s vomit. You remember now?’

  ‘But that guy was from the UAE’.

  ‘So? Can’t he produce children in Africa, or here in Mumbai? For all you know he might be your pop!’

  Shamim moved menacingly toward him and swung a fist. Vishal stepped back, let him lose balance and then punched him in the ribs, taking his air out. When the gangsta turned, Vishal socked him on the side of his jaw, knocking him flat to the wooden floor. ‘Any time pal, you’re welcome’.

  Rahim moved in quickly between the two and pulled out a snub-nosed automatic. ’Enough, you two’, he shouted,’ time to go home’. He helped Shamim to his feet and nudging Vishal out, he followed them out of the house.

  ‘Don’t you spoil his pretty face’, Ruby shouted after the men as they waited in the corridor for the lift, and laughed as she banged the door.

  The men reached Chotta Shameel’s sprawling seaside mansion an hour later. It had been a surly ride; one man massaging his hurting jaw, and another worrying for what lay before him. Chotta Shameel enjoyed a nasty reputation for torture when cheated or betrayed, but Vishal was his friend, and friends didn’t do such things to each other. Normally he put a rat on your stomach and then covered it with a metal container. Then he raised the temperature of the container by heating it with a flame, making the rat uncomfortable and desperate to escape. And it escaped by burrowing through your stomach to the shortest way out. But Vishal was confident of smooth-talking his way back to the house in under a couple of minutes, or perhaps a couple of drinks later, and get back to carrying on with the private screening of Ruby’s belly dance where they’d abruptly and rudely been interrupted.

  Shameel welcomed him with open arms and the usual warm embrace. After serving him a Gold Label on the rocks, they settled down on the plush Italian sofa. A man in flowing robes brought them piping hot mutton kebabs, and then disappeared after they’d helped themselves liberally. Shameel waited as a hungry Vishal finished the delicious snacks clean off his plate.

  ‘I see my friend has come with an empty stomach- and empty hands’, he said, offering Vishal a goldthread bordered large napkin.

  ‘I wish you’d given me notice, my dear brother’, Vishal said, settling comfortably.

  ‘Death and destiny don’t come with a notice dear friend’.

  ‘I…I kept it at a safe place’, he said, wishing away the beads of sweat forming at his temples.

  ‘Here’, Shameel said, reaching across and offering him another napkin,’ this room is too hot for my friend? Aren’t you safe already? Even with my blessings? I am hurt! What could possibly worry you?’

  ‘Nothing…it’s a huge sum. One never knows who walks into your home and starts looking around’.

  ‘You are talking in riddles now. Who would walk into your home- that colony is protected by us!’

  ‘Just making sure…keeping the trust of one’s friends’.

  ‘Hmm. Where is it?’

  ‘Err…I’ll bring it around tomorrow- I swear.’

  ‘Why are you swearing? Tell me where it is’.

  ‘At a friend’s place- where no one will expect it’.

  ‘Friend’s place? Friend of friends? Do I know this friend?’

  ‘Err…not really’.

  ‘If not, do you think I would like to have my money kept with strangers?’

  ‘No…sorry… I meant…’ his voice trailed off and the sweat began to trickle off the edge of his jaw.

  ‘Let’s go’, Chotta Shameel said, offering his hand to Vishal. Vishal cowered in his seat, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his drink.

  ‘Where is my money, Vishal, all 27 crores of it? My bet money- I want it right now punter’, he said, his voice soft, but a scowl spreading on his battle-lined face. ‘The money I told you, asked you, with folded hands, to keep safe at your house, at the safe house whose mortgage I pay. Where is it.’

  ‘It’s gone’, Vishal whimpered. Keeping his glass on the table, he fell on his knees and grasped the gangster’s hands and wrapped them around his teary face. ‘Please, I beg of you, I’ll get it back, all of it’.

  ‘Gone! Where? Gone as in vanished, disappeared?’

  ‘Yes yes! Gone! All of it! The bitch took off with it!’ he cried.

  ‘When we say bitch, is it a dog or a metaphor that we speak of?

  ‘It’s Monal- the bitch! She’s run off with that big cock Arjun in her office, and taken all the money!’

  ‘Just replay that- slowly’.

  ‘Monal was having an affair with that new recruit- Arjun- the broad guy you were introduced to on that yacht. I even caught them red-handed at that hotel in Diu- you can ask anyone. She ran off with this guy on the night of our anniversary and took all the money with her’.

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’

  ‘Look- I even filed a police complaint. Even the cops visited me- some rustic broad with swollen, dripping boobs, a wee baby and a wee bit manservant; crazy it
sounds but they were there- asking questions’.

  Shameel consulted his cronies. ‘That’s not a manservant. He’s a Secret Agent and her husband. She’s the most feared detective on the force- has cracked nearly every case that came her way. And don’t underestimate that midget- he packs the meanest bone in ‘em trousers. They say this female saw him spraying the poppies on a trip in the hills in Mussourie and decided then and there that she wanted to ride him- for life. Anyway, when did Monal vanish?’

  ‘A couple of days ago’.

  ‘And you didn’t tell me? You’re telling me now? And who’s this Arabic wench you got in your house? Doesn’t look like you’re grieving not being able to keep the trust much, eh?’

  ‘Look boss, I’ve been tripping on coke all these days, to keep myself from going to pieces- it’s driving me nuts! I couldn’t bring myself to face you! I was hoping these cops will find out where these two are hiding and I’ll bring your money back, with these same hands that are folded before you now’.

  The gangster gaped for a moment at him and then burst out laughing. The two runners standing discreetly in a corner also began to laugh. The laughter grew noisier, and Vishal, on seeing the general mirth around him, also bounded in and began to laugh, slowly at first and then with wind at his back, bellowed full sail ahead.

  Suddenly Chotta Shameel, the heavily set brute dreaded from Dongri to Dubai, lashed out a savage kick in the kneeling Vishal’s face, sending him sprawling several feet away, his blood spattering on the knotted-pile soft-pastel colored antique Anatolia rug.

  ‘Look what you’ve done’, the man screamed, and kicked Vishal till he nearly passed out.

  ‘He’s lying- show him the path to truth- and remember- truth is pitiless, for black cannot turn grey out of pity’.

  The two cronies dragged a sobbing Vishal out, leaving a trail of his blood on the ruined priceless Oriental rug, the raving gangster kicking the nearly lifeless body in their wake.

  They put him in the bathtub and filled it with cold water. Then they brought out an old army field telephone, the one with the hand crank powered generator. They attached its terminals to his nipples and testicles and then cranked the phone sending a shooting current up his privates- the electric charge enhanced by the cold water.