The Cosmic Clues (15 page)

“Another interesting detail was that Venus and Mars in Aarti's horoscope were so placed, they showed that this girl was going to be badly tricked. I kept running in circles, trying to decipher the workings of three loving hearts! And then I stumbled onto another star combination in Pradeep's horoscope. There were traits of a criminal mind and there was an extremely strong possibility that his first wife would die and only then could he lead a married life. Somehow, that set me thinking. What if Pradeep loved Meera and was aware of this troublesome hindrance in his horoscope? The idea took such a strong root, I thought I must investigate it. But there was a problem. Did I have the right to pursue a hunch, one based entirely on my astrological knowledge? I debated with myself and argued that I had no right to malign people by accusing them of criminal plans that might well be the product of my own imagination. But finally, the Investigator in me won. I knew that if there was even the remotest possibility of something fishy going on, I would be saving a life. It was a risk I had to take.

“So Jatin and I made some background checks. Jeevan Uncle, of course, went all out to help me. And sure enough, we found that Pradeep Gupte had been sentenced to three months in jail for a minor crime. He was also reported to have been seen with Meera in the coziest of joints. Some of his friends even expressed surprise that he was marrying Aarti instead of Meera. It was then that I knew that something was surely cooking. Aarti had spoken about Guruji, their family Astrologer, so I contacted him. He confirmed that he'd advised Pradeep against the marriage for the reason I'd detected—that their horoscopes were not suitably matched and that his wife could die. At that time, I called up Aarti and warned her to be on the alert.

“It was the afternoon before the wedding that Aarti came to the office with some real proof of her suspicions. That very day, she'd overheard Pradeep and Meera in the garden. The only words she heard were Meera's, who said, ‘This will be her last
prasaad
!' That set me thinking. Which
prasaad
was Meera talking about and which day would it be given? The most difficult part was to figure out when they would try to get rid of Aarti. After all, anything could happen anytime after the wedding! I tried to place myself in the shoes of Pradeep and Meera. If I were so passionately involved with Pradeep, would I allow him to get married and consummate that marriage? No—I would be too possessive to take such risks. But on the other hand, if Pradeep tried to kill Aarti away from home, it would draw suspicion to him. I realized that it had to be done in the public eye
after
the marriage had taken place but
before
it could be consummated!

“After that, it didn't take me long to figure out what their plan was. After the
Saptapadi,
Aarti would go to her room to change. Meera would take some God's
prasaad
to her—only this concoction would also have a generous amount of poison in it! Aarti would eat it and instantly fall dead. Then Meera would remove the telltale
prasaad
and stick the suicide note into Aarti's hand and declare that she had killed herself.”

Mohnish whistled. “That was some plan!”

“Yes, quite ingenious, but we decided to come up with a
better
plan, didn't we, Jatin?”

Jatin grinned. “You bet!”

“We decided to defuse their excellent trap and sponge a script of our own from their crooked scenario! Aarti was warned that if she was brought anything to eat, she wasn't to touch it. She had to send Meera out of the room, pass the food to Jatin through the window, then pretend to die. When Meera returned, she believed her murderous plan had succeeded. Hiding the empty
prasaad
utensil, she slipped the note into Aarti's hand as she and Pradeep had planned and raised a hue and cry that the poor girl had committed suicide. Jeevan Uncle was ready for action. He was waiting round the corner for just the right moment. Within minutes, the ‘dead' Aarti was bundled into a police car and taken away. Meera and Pradeep had no reason to believe that their scheme had not succeeded!”

“And was the
prasaad
tested for poison?”

“Yes, Jeevan Uncle spared no time in taking it to the Lab. It is positive evidence of their heinous intention!”

“Wonderful! But then you kept quiet about it. Why?” Mohnish demanded.

“Have you ever noticed what happens when you drive a two-wheeler very close behind a car? You never see the potholes the car is going over and you end up falling into those potholes. Even though we had the poisoned
prasaad
as proof, it wouldn't be sufficient evidence to incriminate Pradeep and Meera for attempted murder. I gave them plenty of space, allowing me to spot their potholes, so that I could circumvent them and lay another trap. Since the couple was entirely unaware that their plan had misfired, they were unguarded. And unaware that Jatin was keeping a close watch on their activities. Initially, they kept their distance from each other but eventually love outstripped decency. We had to await the right moment to spring our trap. Not too soon but also not too late, because it would've been difficult to retain the ‘body' for long under the pretext of ‘Post Mortem.' At some point, Pradeep would surely lay claim to his beloved wife's body. Besides, Aarti was in hiding at Inspector Divekar's house and was getting restless. When Jatin called up yesterday to say that Pradeep and Meera would be returning from a friend's place late that very night, we finally had the perfect opportunity to enact our little drama. Since we were prepared beforehand, everything went off smoothly. I thought Aarti was brilliant, wasn't she?” Sonia chuckled.

“I think
you're
brilliant, Boss!” Admiration shone in Jatin's eyes.

“Thanks, Jatin, that's sweet of you! And I thought you were good, too!”

“Hey, before this mutual admiration goes any further, I have one more question to ask,” Mohnish interrupted with a broad, dimpled smile. “What if the poison had been administered
before
Aarti went for a sari change?”

“That wasn't possible. The whole point of the plan was to get married, remember? Pradeep wouldn't dare kill Aarti before they got married. The sari change was the only time when Aarti would be alone with Meera after the wedding. Meera would definitely act then. The moment Meera arrived with the
prasaad,
Aarti had the courage to set
our
plan in motion.”

“Gutsy girl,” Mohnish applauded.

“And also perceptive. I almost got her killed, by disbelieving her,” Sonia admitted.

“Yes, what was all that about—the self-recrimination?” His brow knitted in a frown.

“That was just that—a brutal introspection! Residual Guilt. When you came to the office, I was engaged in a skirmish with myself. I couldn't stop reliving the horror of what would have happened if I hadn't read those horoscopes and trusted Aarti's and my instincts. The image of a dead Aarti kept hounding me. I was sore at myself because I'd almost goofed up the case, blathering about ethics and stuff when the paramount thing in life is—
life
! I'm sorry if I misled you, Mohnish—but if it's any consolation to you, I really and truly was mad at myself for being such an overconfident, pompous ass in the beginning. If I'd stuck to labeling it all as the proverbial marriage jitters, Aarti would be dead!”

“I understand.” Mohnish nodded sympathetically. “What about Aarti?”

“She's gone back to her school. I guess she'll need some time to decide about her future. She has some major decisions to take. Poor girl.” Sonia sighed. “This whole episode has really taught me a lesson.”

“We've all learnt a lesson,” Jatin added magnanimously.

Sonia turned to him and quirked an eyebrow.

“I better fetch us some
chai
,” Jatin mumbled, hastily beating a retreat.

Mohnish and Sonia laughed.

“He's incorrigible,” Mohnish told Sonia.

“But the best assistant I could have. And I
wouldn't
repeat that to him,” she said.

“You don't have to. I just heard it!” Jatin popped his head through the door and grinned from cheek to cheek. “Thanks!”

He was gone again in a flash.

Anand Gandhi trudged along the gravel path, engrossed in thought. He was perspiring freely, but that was the least of his worries. The late-afternoon sun cascaded gold over the glistening Mulshi lake as the hills converged straight ahead. The letter would have reached her today, he thought. It would've entertained him immensely to watch her reaction. But she would come, he was certain of that. He was looking forward to this evening's rendezvous, which, if he had any say in the matter, simply had to go well! Everything was planned to the last
t.

A sigh escaped him. He experienced an unusual wave of fatigue and loneliness. But he knew he couldn't feel either tired or lonely. Not now, when the end was so translucently close. He'd set out to achieve his goal, with a crystal-clear logic and mind. And he'd gone through a lot. He couldn't afford to succumb to meaningless protests of the body now! Besides, he had Maya, his wife, and his son, Swapnil, not to mention the entire Cotton Empire he'd worked so hard to raise to stupendous heights. No, he'd forsaken a lot for his end, which was now so within reach that he could almost touch it! All he needed was a little patience and then he would be free from all the entanglements of life! And he would most certainly have the last laugh. He smiled. Yes, he was going to enjoy himself very much.

Anand Gandhi straightened his broad shoulders, encased in an expensive
khadi
silk shirt, and headed towards the sprawling house ahead.

Reema frowned deeply as she observed Anand Gandhi's slow progression down the path. How tired he looked, she thought. He certainly didn't come anywhere close to resembling the successful, ruthless businessman that he was. The sun glinted on the pane and she stepped back from the window hastily. She couldn't risk being caught watching. This window had served her well these past few months. Not that her watch had yielded as much. Time was short and she had to be prepared. It could be any moment now.

All the anger and hate built up inside her was like a volcano, ready to erupt.
Today,
she was certain, it would be
today.

Reema turned from the window, as Anand Gandhi entered his study from the side door and vanished inside. Instinct told Reema to stay on her watchful post. It
had
to be today!

Swapnil Gandhi lounged about the terrace, watching his father move in the direction of his study. Such a dynamic man, so successful, so unscrupulous. Swapnil had so much to learn from him—if only they could interact like normal beings. But of late, it was getting more and more difficult to communicate with his father. Swapnil was sure that something was on his dad's mind. But it was unlike Anand Gandhi to confide in anybody—not even his wife. Specially not his son, whom he trusted no more than he would a stranger. This pained Swapnil. He'd tried very hard to please his father. But somehow, he always ended up making a mess of things. The reason was quite obvious. Basically, he and his father were different in principles and he was no match for Anand Gandhi's quick mind. And now, despite the interest Swapnil had displayed in the family business, Anand Gandhi took his own decisions—mostly financial ones. Especially after he had discovered his son's expensive habits. The uproar that followed immediately afterwards still rang painfully in Swapnil's mind.

Well, he had to have another talk with Anand quite soon—unpleasant though it would undoubtedly be. Swapnil winced at the prospect, but he had no choice. He must talk with his father—today!

Sonia attentively watched the live telecast of the
Gokul Ashtami
celebrations on the Cable News. Mohnish's voice drawled on effortlessly in the background with a steady flow of comments. The festival rejoiced at the birth of Lord Krishna at midnight, and the next day celebrated his childhood love for curd and butter in the form of a game for the public, called
Dahi Handi.
Usually an earthen pot of curd, decorated with strings of rupees, was tied about fifty feet high, in the centre of the street between two tall buildings. This time the pot contained a spectacular and lucrative prize amount for the winning team. The game took place in different parts of the city as the public—Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jains, and other communities—all gathered together to have a great time.

Boys formed a large circular chain, arms outstretched, holding each other by the shoulders. Lighter boys climbed on the shoulders of the first circle, forming another narrower circle on the top. Swarming crowds cheered encouragingly and
dhols
—large cylindrical drums—played loudly, as another group of boys climbed onto the second circle. Sonia watched the Television in fascination as the human pyramid grew amidst rhythmic cheering and drumming, narrowing on the top to allow one tiny boy to scramble upwards. On the top of the human tower, he reached out to grab the pot of money. But he was too short. He leaned farther up into the sky, and the group below him rocked. The crowd screamed wildly and Mohnish voiced his comments excitedly. The human pyramid swayed perilously, lost balance, then came crashing down. The boys toppled, one on top of the other, like the cards of a card-house.

“Oh no!” Jatin exclaimed. “They were so close!”

“One weak link and the whole pyramid topples,” Sonia observed.

“Here's the next team now.”

“Jatin, ten minutes, and you get down to work,” Sonia commanded gently.

Jatin grinned. “Right, Boss!”

Sonia returned to the inner office and immediately her attention was drawn to the lush bunch of roses there. The card read
Secret Admirer.
The bouquet had been delivered by the florist that morning. This was going too far. Who was sending these bouquets, week after week? Mohnish had flatly denied having anything to do with the roses. Who was her secret admirer and what did he want of her? Why didn't he reveal himself? It was really quite tough trying to solve the mysteries of the impenetrable and inexplicable human mind. With a sigh, Sonia turned to Nidhi and straightened her collar. The little cat truly did look quite royal, with her gleaming golden coat and black leather collar.

Absently, she took up the newspaper and once again read the brief news on the Owl. The police had finally found a trace to the thief's latest whereabouts. He was now reported to be in Mumbai. Mumbai, of all the places! So close. What could an international crook like the Owl want in Mumbai? she wondered. On the other hand, why not Mumbai? It was, after all, one of the most happening high spots in the world. But also so huge that it no doubt supplied hundreds of hiding places for crooks. Would the police ever be able to capture the Owl?

Jatin opened the door and walked into the inner office. “Boss?”

Sonia glanced up at him. “What happened? Has a team finally won?”

“No, Boss. TV is not the only thing on my mind!” he protested indignantly.

“Really?” Sonia raised an eyebrow expressively.

“Well, okay, I admit it's a good source of entertainment and information, but not when we have work to do,” he explained with dignity, holding up an envelope. Without another word, he set it on the table.

“What's this? Something interesting?” she queried.

“Very!” he replied.

Puzzled, Sonia dropped the newspaper and examined the contents of the envelope. The first page was a letter—a computer printout. It was short and addressed to her.
Dear Madam, I'm sending you two horoscopes. Two people plan to meet today, and I'm afraid something terrible is going to happen to one of them. Please come to the following address before night falls
—
if you think you can prevent it from happening. With due respect, Anand Gandhi.
The address printed below his name was a Mulshi one.

“Well?” Jatin ventured.

“Fascinating,” Sonia murmured as she took up the other two sheets of paper. Each contained a neatly drawn horoscope.

“I thought so, too. But does it
mean
anything? Like a real client? Should we treat it as a joke?” Jatin persisted. “It does seem as if someone's trying to pull our legs!”

“Yes, it does seem so,” Sonia admitted. She stared thoughtfully at the horoscopes, then glanced at the envelope. No stamp. “This arrived by courier?”

“Yes, just now.”

She looked at her wristwatch. “It's five just now. If we leave straightaway, we could reach Mulshi, which is about thirty kilometers from here, by seven.”

“You don't plan to take this note seriously, Boss, do you?” Jatin asked incredulously. “It's obvious that something isn't right here!”

“I know that. But doesn't the name Anand Gandhi ring a bell?” There was a meditative expression on Sonia's face. “Isn't he the guy who brought the best cotton designs along with the cheapest rates in the market, but who's still the most private public figure around?”

“The Cotton King!” Jatin gasped. “You mean, this is
that
Anand Gandhi?”

Sonia nodded. “Unless this whole thing is a sham—which we'll discover soon enough—I believe this is from the same Anand Gandhi. As far as I remember, he lives in Mulshi.”

“So you think this is serious business?”

“Not only is it serious, it's a challenge! Can't you detect that ‘if you dare' tone in the letter? Anand Gandhi may be just playing a game or he may sincerely intend it to be a challenge. I don't know which it is—a game or a challenge, the what or why—yet! But
I
intend to find out!” Sonia said, with grim determination. “Because if this is a deliberate, malicious stab at my respectable profession and practice, I'll return it with full justice and vigor. And if this is indeed a harbinger for a crime about to be committed, then I must do my best to prevent it!”

“But what I don't understand is, why doesn't he come out with it straight? I mean, if this guy knows something, why not just speak up and tell you what he knows? Why be so
odd
about it?”

“To arouse our curiosity, for one, and to ensure that we accept his invitation.”

“We?”
Jatin raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to come along?”

Sonia smiled. “Of course. And don't forget to carry an overnight bag, in case we have to stay over.”

“But your parents, if they object . . .”

“My parents have given me a free hand to do as I please. And Jatin—I do the worrying here,
you
follow orders!”

Jatin grimaced. “I know. But once in a while . . . I should show some sense, shouldn't I? I can't always allow you to just pick up your bags and go off somewhere! I feel responsible for you!”

“Thank you, but I don't need you as a chaperon. I need you as an assistant,” Sonia reminded pointedly, amused at the gallant, protective role young Jatin had taken up.

“Besides,” he continued, ignoring her, “what would Mohnish say?”

“What would
who
say?” Her eyes narrowed.

Jatin shrugged. “Mohnish. He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Mohnish! And since when did he start giving you orders?”

Jatin grinned, unabashed. “He cares for you, Boss. It's only right that he should make such a request!”

“Hold it, hold it! I don't need anyone ladling out advises to me, certainly not you, and most certainly not Mohnish!” Sonia raised a hand. “And anyway, this conversation is going way out of control. No more discussions. I want you back here in half an hour, ready to leave.”

Jatin shrugged again, realizing belatedly that he'd gone too far. But he was only trying to do his duty. His boss ought to have taken it in the right spirit. Sometimes he simply couldn't understand the woman.

Sonia was fuming. How dare Mohnish say such things to her assistant! He'd no right to meddle with her professional life. She'd take it out with him when she got back, she decided, still bristling with resentment. Right now, she had to think about the case in hand.

She picked up the two horoscopes again. There was something about them, something she ought to recognize. But what was it? One horoscope had Gemini as its ascendant and the other had Cancer. But the rest of the planetary positions were quite similar. No names or birth details were mentioned with the rectangular diagrams. If she could find out which year they belonged to, she would get the precise age of the two people and a general description of their looks.

For the next half an hour, Sonia studied several almanacs, looking for different combinations. She was so engrossed in the job that she barely noticed Jatin performing his duty, albeit a little belatedly. He entered the room quietly, slipped a CD into the player, and melodious strains of flute loudly filled the air. At the door, he glanced back and observed with satisfaction that his boss seemed less agitated and more concentrated on the horoscopes.