Dead in a Mumbai Minute (2 page)

‘You want to go there now, sir?’

‘Just tell me what you know.’

‘It is not far from the old dock.’

‘By the construction site?’

‘Not very close to that either; it was on the other side. Around 300 metres away.’

‘None of the workers reported any disturbance?’

‘It was away from the quarter, sir. And there is reduced staff strength right now.’

‘The site manager found the body?’

‘Yes, this morning, at around 5.30. He came to the house and I spoke to you immediately after.’

‘Whom does that other boat belong to?’

‘I don’t know, sir, but a number of guests from last night’s party came on that.’

‘Party?’ Shayak shook his head. ‘How many people?’

‘Not many – I would say no more than eight.’

‘Are they all still here?’

‘Yes, sir. All except one who left last night itself.’

Shayak didn’t ask any further questions, and the guard volunteered no more information.

The island was lush – far more untouched than I had expected. I could see the house in the distance and, as we drew closer, there was more landscaping – a small waterbody, with a pagoda connected by a bridge, hedges of flowers and a curved driveway with a couple more carts parked on it.

We came up to the house – and I would call it that only loosely. It resembled a spa resort in Kerala or Bali more than a home the likes of me would know. Tapering wooden pillars held up a tiled roof with fluid lines. Flowing curtains and plants provided a veil from prying eyes – not that there could be many unaccounted-for peepers on a private island in the general scheme of things. But this was now the scene of a murder, and the openness of Kimaaya Kapoor’s home could only spell trouble for the security-minded.

Shayak turned to the guard as we disembarked. ‘I’ll sit with you and the other man on duty later.’

The guard gave a nervy salute.

I followed Shayak into the house. There was no door, and consequently no bell, and I found myself standing in a magical, welcoming foyer sort of space, with low seats and a sunken fish pond. There was a wooden divider separating it from the main living area, giving the impression of openness without leaving the inhabitants completely vulnerable.

We walked through to a living room where we found Kimaaya Kapoor, in a strappy top and yoga pants, talking to another woman. She turned to watch Shayak as we approached. The face I had till now only seen larger than life at the cinema seemed far more vulnerable and mobile before me. She was even more beautiful and delicate, the flirty, self-aware smile that had sold many a film ticket and tabloid was now replaced by a look of dismay.

‘Oh Shayak,’ she gushed, stepping towards him. ‘What a nightmare this is!’

He watched her with a curious mix of anger and exasperation.

‘What will we do?’

‘I will do what I always do, which is to pick up after you,’ he said. ‘You will do your best not to get in my way.’

Kimaaya didn’t seem to mind the cold words, except that they were uttered in the presence of a stranger. She turned her attention to me, starting at my feet, encased in black ballerinas, moving slowly up to take in my jeans and black top, before finally resting on my face with an icy smile.

‘Kimaaya,’ said Shayak, ‘this is Reema, my newest, brightest recruit. She’ll be lead on this case.’

I was as surprised as Kimaaya at this.

‘What do you mean? Where will you be?’ she asked.

‘Don’t worry, I’m here too. But it is critical I keep some amount of objective distance.’

‘But Shayak ...’

‘No buts. I don’t want to be seen too close to this business or they will be all over us like a swarm of locusts.’

‘Still afraid, I see.’

Shayak shook his head.

‘Don’t forget that this is my failing. We are here to investigate, but before that I need to find out how this happened, and ensure you aren’t left so exposed ever again, at any location.’

‘Hard on yourself, as usual.’ There was a softness to Kimaaya’s words, which left me wondering.

‘Don’t worry, I blame you equally for this mess.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You shouldn’t have been here, Kimaaya. You weren’t supposed to be here with such little security, and you just wouldn’t listen.’

‘But after my South Africa schedule got cancelled, what did you expect me to do? Hang about uselessly in Mumbai, waiting to become tabloid fodder?’

‘You could have given me time to clear the island of the construction staff and up the security to an acceptable level.’

‘Well, there’s no point blaming me now.’

‘You and me both.’

‘Either way! Tell me what’s happening.’

‘I’ll be here for now,’ continued Shayak, ‘for as long as I need to be. But after that you are in Reema’s hands. Give her what she needs. Be nice. Try not to suck her into your vortex.’

Kimaaya looked from me to him and seemed to decide it was time for her 500-watt smile. ‘Shayak,’ she said, stepping up, snaking her arms around him and planting a full kiss on his mouth, ‘only from you would I tolerate such talk on a day like today. It’s been horrid – just horrid! There is a dead body on my lawn that happens to be of someone quite important to me! And had you been there last night like you promised, I’m sure none of this would have happened!’

She buried her head in his chest. I could almost see Shayak counting to ten before he took a deep breath and looked at me.

‘Reema, meet Kimaaya Kapoor, my ex-wife.’

TWO

I
had hit the ground running from Day 1 in Mumbai, and had come up against a brick wall pretty damn fast.

If Titanium had been a mystery to me before I had joined, one month into working there it was even hazier. What did it do? Who were the clients? Who were the directors? What was I doing there? Questions, questions, questions which no one was willing to answer. Least of all, Shayak.

If I had been worried that it would be difficult to work alongside him after all manner of fireworks had gone off during the Calcutta investigations into Prakash Agarwal’s murder, it didn’t take long for me to come to the conclusion that I had been wasting my energy. Shayak was missing in action when I got to Mumbai, and I had barely even seen him.

On my first day of work, with so many butterflies in my stomach that I imagined them flying out of my mouth if I tried to talk, I hunted down the offices of Titanium Securities. I say ‘hunted down’ because the building was completely inconspicuous. Just off a busy Worli intersection, it was a seven-floor, simple whitewashed structure. There was no sign heralding it, nothing to advertise the nature of the activities inside.

It didn’t take me long to realize that there was a reason for its unremarkable looks: Titanium was hiding in plain sight. If you saw it from a distance, you might notice a large number of satellite dishes on top of the building. Close up, at street level, all of that was lost. But if you got
too
close, you’d be stopped by a guard who made sure you knew he was carrying a rifle and that you couldn’t get any further without good reason.

On my first day, my name had been given at the gate to let me in. The second day onwards, I had a swipe card to open the standard-issue wooden door, within which was a room that made the security check at the most thorough Indian airport seem like a breeze. Climate-lock containment, body scan, bag scan, quick swipe for suspicious particles – all without physical contact, thank you very much. Though I had some warning in the form of the mile-long confidentiality clauses in the contract sent to me which I had gone through with some degree of alarm, it was still a bit of a shock to the system knowing I would have to go through this rigmarole every day.

And it made me wonder even more what kind of world I had really stepped in to.

Once you made it inside, it was less intimidating. There was a refreshing amount of natural light and plants, common spaces and conference rooms. It was a different universe from my tiny, unpainted, ancient office in north Calcutta, where I had spent the past few years passing the time and waiting for my big break.

No, I definitely wasn’t in Calcutta anymore.

Beyond the no-nonsense exterior, I knew what to look for. It did not take me long to deduce that hanging on the mundane skeleton of the building, much was fake – ceilings, windows, doors, even floors. There were rooms within rooms and walls within walls.

There weren’t many people in the offices that you could see. Senior personnel were on the top floors. Plebs like me were on the first and second floors. Our access cards restricted us to those levels.

On my first day, I was greeted by Archana, the HR manager who was in her late thirties, smartly outfitted in white shirt, grey trousers, black heels and a veil of efficiency. She walked me through the formalities, handing me my key card and laptop. Finally, she took me to my department and introduced me to the man in the glass cubicle, presumably my boss, Pranav Adlakha.

‘Shayak is out of town and expected to return in about a fortnight. Till then, you can speak to Pranav or me about anything you might need,’ said Archana with a smile before departing.

I felt bereft. I had expected to see Shayak today, had looked forward to it. Instead, my welcome committee was a forty-something investigator, who was apparently all there was to the department I had been recruited into. The rest of the desks were empty.

‘Good morning,’ I said.

‘Hello,’ he replied, giving me only the most cursory of glances. And then, when he realized I wasn’t going away, he shot me a look from above his thick, black-rimmed rectangular frames.

‘Settle in. We’ll talk in an hour or so. Have a look around, then go up to the second floor to the tech department and get your user ID, etc. sorted out. Without all that, you are useless to me.’

I headed to my workstation. It was an open office setting, but my desk was roomy, with partitions high enough to give me some semblance of privacy even if there were people occupying the other spots. It was a far cry from my grey-walled hole in Calcutta that I had been forced to abandon. But then, that had been my own.

I resisted the urge to roam the halls on my way to find the tech team, which turned out to be a bunch of guys who looked like they were barely out of high school. I was directed to Rishi, who was typing so fast that his fingers were almost a blur. He was very pale, with black spiky hair, an earring, jeans and tee, and canvas shoes.

He was engrossed in whatever it was on his screen, and I stood there for a minute before he finally looked up at me, his light brown eyes lingering on my face before he spoke.

If at Titanium I had entered a man’s world, in these cubicles where technology ruled, I had infringed on its sanctum sanctorum.

‘I’m Reema,’ I began, surprising myself with my nerves. ‘I’ve just joined Investigations and Mr Adlakha asked me to speak to you.’

‘Take a seat,’ he said, pointing to the chair across the table. ‘I received a note from Archana a couple of days ago, and as far as I know, it’s all been set up.’

Rishi made a call and scribbled on a piece of paper, thrusting it in my direction. ‘Your username and password for the Intranet and your office e-mail ID. Both are active. First thing you must do is log in and change the passwords. Have you ever used an Intranet before?’

‘In college,’ I said.

‘Chances are, it wouldn’t have been anything like this. When you have some time, come across and I’ll show you around. It’s a great system.’

I thanked him and walked out. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, but the sound of his fingers dancing across the keyboard didn’t falter.

Back at my desk, I turned on my laptop and logged into the Titanium system for the first time. There was an e-mail waiting for me. It was from Shayak.

Dear Reema,

Welcome to Titanium.

I am sorry that I can’t be there to introduce you to the team and take you through the formalities, but I hope your first days on board are pleasant. You must have met Archana and Pranav Adlakha by now. Archana is your go-to person for all personnel and HR matters. I have had a word with Pranav and he will take you through some current cases, brief you about how the department functions and get you started.

I hope to be back before long, after which there will be a more complete briefing on the company, and your role within it.

Archana will also inform you as soon as your accommodation is ready. Once again, apologies for the delay on that front. As you know, the guesthouse is available for you at any time you may require it.

Feel free to contact me over e-mail if you have any questions.

Best,

Shayak

I was surprised at the formality of his tone. We had been in touch now and then since he left Calcutta; it had always been brief and work-related but still friendly. Was this my introduction to Shayak’s formal boss persona? Did my refusal to be involved with him mean that we wouldn’t even be friends?

I looked around the empty office, and the sudden stab of loneliness that I felt surprised me. I dismissed it with a reminder to myself that, for years, I had been treading time in the solitary confinement of my private practice, and had not been bothered by isolation then. In fact, I had revelled in it. There was no reason why now, surrounded by so many people, it should be a problem; no matter how small a fry I was in this very large pond.

I would feel more settled once I had my own place, I told myself. There had been a temporary glitch when it came to the accommodation that was part of my package: the flat Titanium was providing me had only just been vacated by the previous occupant, and it was currently being spruced up. I had gone to see it once, and was happily surprised. By Mumbai standards, it was palatial: a large, stylish one-bedroom apartment on the twenty-second floor, with nothing separating it from the sea. Large windows made the small space seem roomier than it was. I had been asked if I had any preferences when it came to paint colour, and I told them to strip the walls of the strange lavender they currently were, in favour of pristine white. In the meanwhile, I was staying with one of my friends from school, Sohana, and her boyfriend, Dhruv.