The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II (77 page)

Lalmohan Babu and I went for a walk in the evening by the sea. Heaven knew what lay in store for Mr Hingorani, but perhaps Nayan was safe for the moment. As a matter of fact, I thought, if Hingorani managed to produce just enough money to pay for his first show—that is, after he had paid Tiwari back—then everything would be all right. Once people had actually seen what Nayan was capable of, the money would come rolling in and Mr Hingorani would be able to manage quite well.

However, Lalmohan Babu was most annoyed when I told him my theory. ‘Tapesh, I am shocked!’ he said sternly. ‘That man is a criminal. He’s stolen a lot of money from his partner. How can you feel happy about the same man making use of Nayan?’

‘I am not happy about it, Lalmohan Babu. There is enough evidence against Hingorani to put him in prison right away. But if Tiwari is willing to forgive him, why should either you or I mind if he just gets on with his life?’

‘I mind because that man’s a gambler. I have no sympathy for gamblers.’

I said nothing more. A little later, Lalmohan Babu seemed to calm down and suggested we stop somewhere for a quick coffee. I was feeling thirsty, too; so we found a café near the beach and went in. It was fairly crowded, but we managed to find a table. ‘Two cold coffees, please,’ I said to the waiter. A minute later, two tall glasses with straws landed in front of us. Both of us bent our heads slightly to take a sip through the straw.

‘Did you speak to your snoopy friend?’ asked a voice. Lalmohan Babu choked. I raised my eyes quickly to find Mr Nandalal Basak standing by our table, dressed in a garish shirt. ‘Tell your friend, and Tarafdar,’ he added, when Lalmohan Babu stopped spluttering, ‘that Basak doesn’t let grass grow under his feet. He may well have his show on the 25th, but that wonder boy will never get the chance to appear on stage. I can guarantee that.’

Without waiting for a reply, Mr Basak walked out of the café and disappeared from sight. It was already dark outside, so I couldn’t see where he went. We paid for our coffee and took a taxi back to the hotel. We reached it in half an hour, to find the lobby absolutely packed with people. Right in the middle of the lobby was a huge pile of luggage. Obviously, several large groups of tourists had arrived
had arrived together.

We made our way to the lift as quickly as we could and pressed number 4. When we reached our room, we realized someone else was in the room already, for Feluda was speaking to him with a raised voice, sounding extremely cross.

He opened the door a few seconds after I rang the bell, and began shouting at us. ‘Where the hell have you two been? What’s the point in having you here, when I can’t ever find you when you’re needed?’

Rather embarrassed, we went into the room and found Mr Tarafdar sitting on the sofa, looking as though the world had come to an end.

‘What . . . what happened?’ Lalmohan Babu faltered.

‘Ask your magician.’

‘What is it, Sunil?’

Mr Tarafdar did not reply.

‘He’s bereft of speech,’ Feluda said, his voice sounding cold and hard, ‘so perhaps I should tell you what happened.’

He lit a Charminar and inhaled deeply. ‘Nayan’s gone. Been kidnapped. Can you believe that? How will anyone ever be able to trust me again? Didn’t I tell you he mustn’t step out of your room? Didn’t I say so a thousand times? But no, he had to go out with Shankar to the hotel bookshop, when the whole place is crawling with strangers.’

‘And then?’ I could hear my own heartbeats.

‘Go on, Tarafdar, tell them the rest. Or do I have to spend my life speaking on your behalf?’ I had very seldom seen Feluda so totally livid with rage.

Mr Tarafdar finally raised his face and spoke in a whisper. ‘Nayan was getting fed up of being couped up in the room. He kept badgering Shankar all day to take him out to buy a book. So Shankar went out with him in the evening, only as far as the hotel shopping arcade, and found the bookshop. Nayan chose two books, and passed them to the lady at the cash till. Shankar was watching her make the bill and wrap the books up, when she suddenly said, “That boy . . . where is that boy?” Shankar wheeled around to find Nayan had vanished. He looked for him everywhere. But . . . but there was no sign of him. There were so many people there, such a lot of pushing and jostling . . . who would have noticed a little boy of eight?’

‘When did this happen?’

‘That’s the beauty of it!’ Feluda shouted again. ‘All this happened an hour and a half ago. But Sunil decided to inform me barely ten minutes before you arrived.’

‘Basak,’ Lalmohan Babu said firmly. ‘Nandalal Basak did this. No doubt about it, Felu Babu. Absolutely none.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

I explained about our encounter with Mr Basak. Feluda’s frown deepened.

‘I see. This is what I had been afraid of. He must have spotted you in that café, soon after he had had Nayan removed from this hotel.’

‘Where is Shankar?’ Lalmohan Babu asked.

‘He’s gone to the police station,’ Mr Tarafdar replied.

‘But informing the police alone isn’t going to solve your problem, is it? You’ll have to tell your sponsor and Mr Reddy. Do you think they’ll still be prepared to go ahead with your show, even without Nayan? I doubt it!’

‘Well, then . . . who’s going to tell Hingorani?’ Lalmohan Babu asked.

‘Not our hypnotist here,’ Feluda said. ‘He hasn’t got the nerve. He’s already asked me to do it, since he’s afraid Hingorani will throttle him to death, on the spot.’

‘All right,’ Lalmohan Babu held up a hand, ‘neither of you need tell Hingorani. We will. Tapesh, are you ready?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Very well,’ Feluda said slowly, ‘You two can go and give him the bad news. Go at once. He’s in room 288.’

We took the staircase to go down to his room and rang the bell. Nothing happened. ‘These bells don’t work sometimes,’ Lalmohan Babu told me. ‘Press it hard.’ I did, three times in a row. No one opened the door. So we went down to the lobby once more and rang room 288 from a house telephone. The phone rang several times, but there was no answer. Puzzled, we went to the reception.

‘Mr Hingorani must be in the room for his key isn’t here,’ said the receptionist.

‘But . . .’ Lalmohan Babu grew agitated, ‘he may be sleeping, right? We need to check, see? Very important for us to see him. Now! No duplicate key?’ Something in the way he spoke must have impressed the receptionist. Without another word to us, he asked a bell-boy to take a duplicate key and come with us. This time, we took the lift to go up to the second floor. The bell-boy unlocked the
door and motioned us to go in.

‘Thank you,’ said Lalmohan Babu and pushed the door open. Then he took a few steps forward, only to spring back again and run straight into me.

‘H-h-h-h-ing!’ he cried, looking ashen.

By this time, I, too, had seen it. It made my heart jump into my mouth, and my limbs began to go numb.

Mr Hingorani was lying on his back, although his legs stretched out of the bed and touched the floor. His jacket was unbuttoned and, through the gap, I could see a red patch on his white shirt, from the middle of which rose the handle of a dagger.

Someone had left the TV on, but the sound had been switched off. People talked, laughed, cried, moved and jumped on the screen, in absolute silence. Strange bluish shadows, reflected from the TV screen, danced endlessly on Mr Hingorani’s dead face.

There seemed little doubt that Mr Hingorani had been killed by the man from Detecnique. The police surgeon put the time of death between 2.30 and 3.30 p.m. Our visitor had left our room at 2.45 and had told us that he would go straight to see Hingorani. It was obvious that Mr Hingorani had refused to return Tiwari’s money, and so Mr Detecnique had decided to kill him. The police found only sixty-five rupees in a drawer and a handful of coins. The only luggage in the room was a suitcase, partly filled with clothes. If indeed Mr Hingorani had carried lakhs of rupees with him, he’d have put it in a briefcase. There was no sign of a briefcase anywhere.

Feluda spoke to the police and gave them a description of the man from Detecnique. ‘I couldn’t tell you his name,’ he said, ‘but if he’s taken the money, he’ll pass it on to Devkinandan Tiwari of T H Syndicate in Calcutta. I think your colleagues there ought to be informed.’

Mr Reddy had heard of the double tragedy, and was now sitting in our room. I had expected him either to throw a fit, or have a heart attack. To my amazement, he remained quite calm and began to discuss how the magic show might still go ahead, even without Nayan.

‘Suppose you concentrate more on your hypnotism?’ he said to
Tarafdar. ‘I will get leading personalities—politicians, film stars, sportsmen—on the opening night. You can hypnotize each one of them. How about that?’

Mr Tarafdar shook his head sadly. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mr Reddy. But I can’t spend the rest of my life performing on your stage. I have to move on, but who will treat me with such kindness in other cities? The word has spread, everyone will expect Nayan on my show. Most theatre managers are ruthless businessmen. They wouldn’t dream of giving me a chance. I am finished, Mr Reddy.’

‘Did Hingorani pay you anything at all?’ Feluda asked.

‘Yes, he paid me a certain sum before I left Calcutta. It was enough to cover our travel and stay here. Tomorrow, he was supposed to pay me another instalment. You see, he believed in astrology. Tomorrow, he had told me, was an auspicious day.’

Mr Reddy looked sympathetically at Mr Tarafdar.

‘I can see what you’re going through. You can’t possibly perform in your present state of mind.’

‘It isn’t just me, Mr Reddy. My manager, Shankar, is so upset that he’s taken to his bed. I can’t manage without him, either.’

The police had left half an hour ago. A murder enquiry had been started. Every hotel and guest-house in the city was going to be asked if they had had a visitor in the recent past who fitted the description Feluda had given. Hingorani’s nephew, Mohan, had been contacted. He was expected to arrive the next day. The police had removed the body.

Feluda himself was going to make enquiries about Nayan and try to find him. ‘I am relying solely on you, Mr Mitter,’ Mr Reddy said, rising. ‘I can postpone the show for a couple of days. Find our Jyotishkam in these two days. Please!’

Mr Reddy left. A minute later, Mr Tarafdar said, ‘I think I’ll go back to my room. I’ll wait for two more days, as Mr Reddy suggested. If Nayan can’t be found, I’ll just pack my bags and go back to Calcutta. What else can I do? Will you stay on in Madras?’

‘Well, obviously I cannot stay here indefinitely. But I’m not going to go back without getting to the bottom of this business. Why should anyone pull the wool over our eyes and be allowed to get away with it?’

‘Very well,’ said Mr Tarafdar and went out. Feluda took a long puff at his Charminar, and then muttered a word I had heard him use before: ‘Doubts . . . doubts . . . doubts . . .’

‘What are you feeling doubtful about?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. ‘To start with, Hingorani had been told not to open his door to a stranger. How did Mr Detecnique manage to get in? Did Hingorani know him?’

‘He may have. Is that so surprising?’

‘Besides, Feluda, why are you thinking only of Hingorani’s murder? Isn’t finding Nayan more important?’

‘Yes, Topshe. I am trying to think of both Hingorani and Nayan . . . but somehow the two are getting entangled with each other in my mind.’

‘But that’s pure nonsense, Felu Babu! The two are totally separate incidents. Why are you allowing one to merge with the other?’

Feluda paid no attention to Lalmohan Babu. He shook his head a couple of times, and said softly, ‘No signs of struggle . . . absolutely no signs of struggle . . .’

‘Yes, that’s what the police said, didn’t they?’

‘Yet, it wasn’t as though the man had been murdered in his sleep.’

‘No, of course not. Have you ever heard of anyone going to bed fully dressed, without even taking off his socks and shoes?’

‘People do sometimes, if they are totally drunk.’

‘But this man hadn’t been drinking. At least, not in his room. He might have gone out, of course, and returned quite sozzled.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because the TV had been left on. And there was a half-finished cigarette in the ash-tray, which means someone had rung the bell while he was in the room, smoking and watching television. He stubbed his cigarette out, switched off the sound of his TV, and opened the door.’

‘But surely he’d have wanted to know who it was before opening the door?’

‘Yes, but if it was someone he knew, he would naturally have let him in.’

‘Then you must assume he knew this man from Detecnique. What he probably didn’t know was that Mr Detecnique was a merciless killer.’

‘That still doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t Hingorani resist him when he took out a large knife and attacked him?’

‘I don’t know, Felu Babu! You must find out the reason, mustn’t you? If you can’t, we’ll have to admit you’ve lost your touch and
Tapesh’s readers have every right to complain. Where is your earlier brilliance, sir? Where is that razor sharp—?’

‘Quiet.’

Lalmohan Babu had to stop in mid-sentence. Feluda was no longer looking at us. His eyes were fixed on the blank wall, his brows creased in a deep frown. Lalmohan Babu and I stared at him for a whole minute without uttering a single word. Then we heard him whisper, ‘Yes . . . yes . . . I see . . . I see. But why? Why? Why?’

‘Would you like to be left alone for a few minutes, Felu Babu?’ Lalmohan Babu asked gently.

‘Yes. Thank you, Mr Jatayu. Half an hour. Just leave me alone for half an hour.’

We came away quietly.

‘Shall we go down to the coffee shop?’ I suggested tentatively.

‘Hey, that’s exactly what I was going to suggest myself,’ Lalmohan Babu replied, looking pleased.

We found an empty table in the coffee shop. ‘We could have some sandwiches with a cup of tea,’ Lalmohan Babu observed. ‘That’ll help us kill more time.’

‘Two teas and two plates of chicken sandwiches, please,’ I told the waiter. I was hungry, but food didn’t seem all that important just now. Feluda had obviously seen the light. Whether it was only a glimmer, or whether he had solved the whole mystery, I didn’t know. But I began to feel elated.

Lalmohan Babu found another way of killing time. He started to tell me the story of his next book. As always, he had already decided on the name. ‘I am going to call it
The Manchurian Menace.
It will mean reading up on China and the Chinese way of life, although my book will have nothing to do with modern China. It will be set during the time of the Mandarins.’

Soon, we finished our tea and sandwiches. Lalmohan Babu finished his story, but even so we had about ten minutes to spare.

‘What should we do now?’ he asked as we came out in the lobby. ‘Let’s go to that bookshop,’ I said. ‘After all, it’s become a sort of historic place, hasn’t it, since that’s where Nayan was seen last?’

‘Yes, you’re right. Let’s go and have a look. Who knows, they
might even have displayed copies of my books!’

‘Er . . . I don’t think so, Lalmohan Babu.’

‘Well, no harm in asking, is there?’

There was only one lady in the shop, sitting behind a counter. She was both young and attractive.

‘Excuse me,’ said Lalmohan Babu, walking straight up to her. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Do you have crime novels for . . . for . . . youngsters?’

‘In which language?’

‘Bengali.’

‘No, sir, I’m afraid we don’t keep books written in Bengali. But we have lots of books for children in English.’

‘I know. Today—in fact, this afternoon—a friend of mine bought two books from this shop for a young boy.’

The lady gave him a puzzled glance. ‘No, sir,’ she said.

‘Eh? What do you mean?’

‘I would have remembered, sir, if someone had bought two children’s books today. I haven’t sold a single one over the last four days.’

‘What! But he said . . . maybe some other lady . . . ?’

‘No, sir. I handle the sales alone.’

Lalmohan Babu and I looked at each other. I looked at my watch and said, ‘Half-an-hour’s up!’ Lalmohan Babu grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, dragging me out with him. He paused for a second at the doorway, turned his head and threw a ‘Thank you, Miss!’ at the lady, then broke into a run to catch a lift.

‘How very odd!’ he exclaimed, pressing a button. I said nothing. for I simply didn’t feel like talking.

The few seconds it took us to reach our room seemed an eternity. ‘Feluda!’ I said, as we burst in.

‘Felu Babu!’ said Jatayu, simultaneously.

‘One at a time,’ Feluda replied sternly.

‘Let me speak,’ I went on breathlessly. ‘Shankar Babu did not go to the bookshop!’

‘That’s stale news, my boy. Do you have anything fresh to deliver?’

‘You mean you knew?’

‘I did not sit around doing nothing. I went to the bookshop nearly twenty minutes ago. I spoke to Miss Swaminathan there, and then went to find you to give you the news. But when I saw you were busy
gobbling sandwiches, I came away.’

‘But in that case—?’ I began. Feluda raised a hand to stop me. ‘Later, Topshe,’ he said, ‘I’ll hear you out later. Tarafdar rang me from his room just now. He sounded pretty agitated, so I told him to come straight here. Let’s see what he has to say.’

The bell rang. I let Mr Tarafdar in.

‘Mr Mitter!’ he gave an agonized cry. ‘Save me. Oh God, please save me!’

‘What’s happened now?’

‘Shankar. Now it’s Shankar! I went to his room a few minutes ago, and found him lying unconscious on the floor. I can’t believe any of this any more . . . is there going to be no end to my problems?’

The reply that came from Feluda was most unexpected. ‘No, Sunil,’ he said casually, ‘this is just the beginning.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Mr Tarafdar croaked.

‘My meaning is simple enough, I think. You’re still pretending to be totally innocent. You should stop the act now, Sunil. The game’s up.’

‘I do not understand you at all, Mr Mitter. You are insulting me!’

‘Insulting you? No, Sunil. All I’m doing is speaking the truth. In five minutes, I’m going to hand you over to the police. They’re on their way.’

‘But what did I do?’

‘I’ll tell you gladly. You are a murderer and a thief. That’s what I told the police.’

‘You have gone mad. You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘I am perfectly aware of what I’m saying. Mr Hingorani would never have opened his door to a stranger. He did not know that man from Detecnique; and that man didn’t know him, either, which was the reason why he had brought a photo of Hingorani with him, just to make sure he spoke to the right man. So we can safely assume that Hingorani did not let him get inside his room. But you, Sunil? He knew you well enough. There was no reason for him to keep you out, was there?’

‘You are forgetting one thing, Mr Mitter. Remember what the police said? There were no signs of struggle. If I took out a knife and tried to kill him, do you think he would have let me, without putting up a fight?’

‘Yes, he would, under a special circumstance.’

‘What might that be?’

‘It is your own area of specialization, Sunil Tarafdar. Hypnotism. You hypnotized Hingorani before you killed him.’

‘Do stop talking nonsense, Mr Mitter. Hingorani was my sponsor. Why should I bite the hand that fed me? Why should I destroy the only man who was prepared to support me? You . . . you make me laugh!’

‘All right then, Mr Tarafdar. Laugh while you can, for you’ll never get the chance to laugh again.’

‘Are you trying to imply that I lost my mind after Nayan was kidnapped? That a sudden attack of insanity made me—’

‘No. According to your own story, Nayan went missing in the evening. And Hingorani was killed between 2.30 and 3.30 p.m.’

‘You are still talking pure drivel. Try to calm down, Mr Mitter.’

‘I can assure you, Sunil Tarafdar, I have seldom felt more calm. Allow me now to give you a piece of news. I went to the hotel bookshop, and spoke to the lady there. She told me no one bought children’s books in the last four days, and most certainly no small boy was seen in the shop today.’

‘She . . . she lied to you!’

‘No, she didn’t—but you clearly did. You have been telling lies all day, as has your friend, Shankar Hublikar. He might come to his senses after being hit with a heavy porcelain ash-tray, but you . . .’

‘What! You hit Shankar with an ash-tray? Is that what knocked him unconscious?’

‘Yes.’

‘But why?’

‘He conspired with you. He helped you to hide your motive for murder.’

The bell rang again.

‘That will be Inspector Ramachandran. Bring him in, Topshe.’ Inspector Ramachandran walked in and looked enquiringly at Feluda. Mr Tarafdar turned to him before Feluda could open his mouth. ‘This man here says I killed Hingorani,’ shouted Mr Tarafdar, ‘but he cannot show a motive.’

‘It isn’t just murder,’ Feluda said icily, ‘you are also being accused of stealing. The five lakhs that Hingorani had brought with him is now in your own possession. You were going to support yourself with that money, weren’t you?’

‘Why? Why would I do that?’

‘Because,’ Feluda spoke slowly, ‘Hingorani refused to pay you
another paisa. There was no reason for him to continue to support you; not after he learnt what had happened to Nayan.’

‘Wh-what happened to Nayan?’

Feluda turned to me. ‘Topshe, open the bathroom door. Someone’s hiding in there.’

I opened the door, and to my complete bewilderment, found Nayan standing there. He came out slowly and stood by Feluda’s chair.

‘Shankar had had him locked in his bathroom. He wasn’t kidnapped at all. I went to Shankar’s room the minute I got the whole picture. He denied my allegations, of course, so I had to knock him out in order to rescue Nayan. Are you still going to harp on the motive for murder, Mr Tarafdar? Very well then, Nayan will tell you.’

Mr Tarafdar opened his mouth, but no words came. His hands trembled.

‘Nayan,’ said Feluda, ‘how many years do you think Mr Tarafdar will have to spend in prison?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why not? Why can’t you tell?’

‘I cannot see numbers any more.’

‘Not at all?’

‘No. I told you, didn’t I? Every single number disappeared this morning, when I woke up. They just didn’t come back again. So I told Mr Tarafdar and Shankar Babu, and then . . . then they locked me up.’

Mr Tarafdar sat very still. No one spoke. Only the inspector moved forward swiftly.