Banquet on the Dead (12 page)

‘So this death is a cause of sorrow to you?’

‘Of course it is!’ she said. Nagarajan detected the faint edge in her voice as she said that.

‘Please, madam,’ he said, ‘please tell us what happened on the day as closely as you can remember.’

‘It was a regular day, Inspector, nothing out of the ordinary happened. I woke up slightly later than I usually do because my son is on vacation from school. I cooked breakfast and we ate. Kotesh left for the clinic, and around ten-thirty I went back into the kitchen to make lunch.’

‘You did not meet any others in the family up until then?’

She shook her head. ‘No, sir. I could hear some sounds from downstairs—as usual. I think I heard Gauri and my mother-in-law in the kitchen.’

‘Did you hear voices?’

‘No, not voices, but I’d seen Gauri come from her house to ours early in the morning when I was making breakfast, so I knew she was downstairs. And my motherin-law usually does the cooking with Gauri, so I guessed it was both of them.’

Hamid Pasha looked past her into the kitchen. ‘So your kitchen window looks out onto the front of the house?’

Durga got up and invited them into the kitchen. She opened the window behind the sink and gestured towards it. ‘It opens onto the side of the house, sir. That is Ellayya’s house right there. Gauri sometimes comes along this path here and knocks on the back door. You see, Raja sleeps next to the front door, so Gauri prefers not to wake him up. My mother-in-law’s room is the one right next to the back door, so she only needs to tap on it to wake her up.’

Hamid Pasha nodded. ‘So you saw the now dead woman leave the house and walk all the way down the path towards the front gate.’

Durga started to nod, but then said, ‘I was in the middle of making breakfast, sir. I must have just looked up and seen her making her way to the back door. It couldn’t have been more than a casual glance.’

‘Of course,’ said Hamid Pasha. ‘Of course.’ He led the procession of three back to the dining table and sat down on his chair. ‘Please go on, memsaab. You were making lunch at ten-thirty, you said.’

‘Yes,’ said Durga. ‘I was making lunch and then Uday— my son—called me out to the hall to get his toy car out from under the television cabinet. I left curry on the stove and came down here’—she pointed to her right—’by this window. And I knelt and retrieved his car for him, but just when I stood up, I saw Grandmother walking along the path towards the well.’

Hamid Pasha murmured, ‘Not towards the gate?’

Durga frowned in thought. ‘No,’ she said decisively. ‘She had already passed the fork in the path and she was making her way to the well.’

‘And you did not wonder why?’

Durga said, ‘I did, but just then the whistle blew on my rice cooker and I had to rush back to the kitchen. And then I forgot all about it, sir, until that evening—’

‘Tell me something, madam,’ said Nagarajan. ‘When you saw Kaveramma walk towards the well, were her steps steady or unsteady?’

‘Pardon?’

Nagarajan said, ‘We think there is a possibility that the old woman may not have had her glasses on, and therefore she accidentally took the path to the well. From your memory of what you saw, do you think that was possible?’

Durga paused and twisted her mouth thoughtfully. At length she said, ‘I suppose it is possible. It would certainly explain why she went in that direction. But surely once she realised she was on the wrong path, she would have come back? She could not have just walked into the well directly.’

‘Yet, that is what everyone is suggesting—an accident.’

‘Accident or no,’ Durga said, her eyes serene, ‘she knew where she was going. She was going there to either meet somebody or to pick up something.’

‘Who do you think was waiting for her on the other side?’

The woman shrugged. ‘It could have been anyone, couldn’t it? It could so easily have been Lakshman, or his mother.’

‘Not his father?’ Nagarajan asked in a helpful voice.

‘His father? Oh, Venkatram
Mamayya
—no, I don’t— well, it
could
have been him too, I suppose.’ She trailed off, then picked up her train of thought again. ‘But in that case it could have been
anyone
. Swamannayya, my motherin-law, Raja...’

Hamid Pasha swayed forward. ‘Raja too?’

‘Oh, yes, for sure. It would have been hard for him to go all the way down to the well, but I’ve seen him move on his crutches, sir. He has got powerful hands, that man.’

Nagarajan and Hamid Pasha exchanged a second-long glance. Then the inspector said, ‘Who else?’

‘Ellayya—I’ve never trusted that old man. He tells everyone what they want to hear. Or even Gauri. It could have been any of those people.’

‘What about your husband?’ Nagarajan asked.

For a moment the woman held her glance. When she spoke her tone was icy. ‘My husband was at the clinic at the time, Inspector.’

Nagarajan shrugged and smiled good-naturedly. ‘The curse of being a policeman, madam. I have to suspect everyone until I get corroboration of their stories.’

‘You have my corroboration that he was at the clinic.’

Nagarajan said, still smiling, ‘With due respect, madam, you were not at the clinic with him, so you do not know for sure where he was.’

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But my husband had no reason to kill her, you understand? None whatsoever.’

‘The question is now not one of who killed the woman, madam. It is about who she went to meet at the well.’

Durga’s face changed momentarily, and a frown of curiosity appeared on her face. ‘You expect them to be different, then?’

‘Who knows? They might be different; they might be the same person. I am just thinking out loud, madam. Please, go on with your story.’

‘There is not much more to my story, sir. I was at home all afternoon until my mother-in-law came up and told me about what had happened.’

‘Your mother-in-law, madam,’ asked Nagarajan, ‘did she not spend the afternoon up here sleeping?’

Durga lapsed into thought. ‘She
may
have been. She was playing chess with Uday in the morning, but then he fell asleep, so she may have gone to sleep herself.’

‘You didn’t see her?’

‘No, sir, I had a bit to eat at lunch and went to sleep myself. I woke up only at two-thirty or so, when Gauri came up to do my clothes. By then my mother-in-law had left.’

‘When was the last time that afternoon that you actually
saw
her?’

‘When I was walking back to the kitchen after I saw Grandmother walk to the well. I peeped into the room they were playing chess in.’

‘You did not invite your mother-in-law to lunch?’

Durga shook her head. ‘No, sir, she does not eat during the day.’

‘So theoretically speaking, she could have stolen out of the house without you realising it.’

‘Oh yes, most definitely.’

‘But then,’ said Nagarajan, ‘maybe she was sleeping and you stole out’.

She took it with equanimity. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That is also possible.’

Nagarajan stood up and gave her a curt nod. ‘Thank you for your time, madam. You have been most helpful.’ And with Hamid Pasha limping in tow, he stalked out of the room.

10

T
HEY WALKED ALONG
the balcony to the other wing of the house, past the central landing, and Hamid Pasha said, ‘I wonder who that man was—do you not, miyan?’

‘Which man?’

‘Ah, so you did not notice. He was standing by the side gate when the lady was showing us her kitchen. I dare say the lady saw him too, and gestured to him to go away.’

‘I saw nothing.’

‘Of course, miyan. She was subtle. Did you not notice how quick she was in shutting the window of the kitchen? I managed to get a peek out of it just before she shut it.’

Nagarajan said, ‘Then why are we up here? We should be down there. He might still be around.’

Hamid Pasha shook his head impatiently. ‘No, miyan! You will only scare him off. Let us, for the moment, just observe. Let us keep in mind that the doctor’s wife may or may not be seeing a young man when her husband is away.’

‘What was he like, this man?’

‘Hain? He was too far away, but he was tall—and dark—and here we have come to Master Venkataramana’s part of the dwelling. Knock, will you, miyan?’

Nagarajan did. A schoolmasterly man opened the door. Thick, black, square glasses, a trimmed, well-taken-care-of moustache, a light kurta and pyjama, and an old, round, white watch. The only incongruities in a scholarly man lay on the man’s left hand, two fingers of which sported emeralds of slightly differing shades of green.

‘Oh,’ the man said, ‘please come in. Kamala was telling me you were here, but I did not think you would like to talk to us again.’

Hamid Pasha almost forced his way into the room ahead of the Inspector, and waved his arm towards a side door. ‘Your wife is in the kitchen, I see, miyan. Shall we use this room to talk in for a little while?’

‘O—of course. Of course.’

Hamid Pasha waited until the door had closed, and asked in a straightforward, even abrupt way, ‘Do you see a lot of strangers around the place, miyan?’

Venkataramana adjusted his glasses and lowered his head. ‘Well—I would not say “strangers”... ‘

‘People you do not know?’

‘Yes,’ said Venkataramana, looking around. ‘I am sorry there is nothing in this room for you to sit on—yes, I— well, it is a big family, you know.’

Hamid Pasha glanced at the computer desk, the solitary chair pushed in against it, and the shelves of legal books that lined the wall opposite. Nagarajan remembered Venkataramana’s younger son was a lawyer. This must be his room, then.

Hamid Pasha was saying, ‘So you do not mind seeing people you do not know in this area?’

Venkataramana looked distinctly inconvenienced. ‘Oh, sir, it is not as bad as you make it sound. We
know
the man. We see him drifting around the place every now and then. But he never comes into the house, I must give her that.’

‘
Her
, miyan?’

‘Oh—yes—yes—I meant Durga. She makes sure she goes out and meets him. He never comes past the gates—always stays outside. And there is only one other person that comes now and again—Gauri’s sister, I think it is.’

‘Ah?’

Venkataramana looked up to face Hamid Pasha. ‘She comes every now and then—I don’t know exactly when— but now and then I see her walking around with the broom in her hand—she looks a lot like Gauri—must be her twin or something.’

Hamid Pasha asked, ‘Has she ever come to work in your house, this sister of Gauri’s?’

‘Oh, no, she hasn’t. I have only seen her in the compound once or twice—let me see, yes, three times in all. She walks around the place, apparently on some errand or the other, and covers her head with her pallu like old-fashioned women do, you know? She is not harmful at all, that one; comes once every often to ease the burden on Gauri, I expect.’

‘Very interesting,’ Hamid Pasha observed.

‘Not very.’ Venkataramana broke into a nervous smile, and Nagarajan could now see a glimpse of the brotherhood this man shared with Swami. The way the cheekbones lifted, and the way lines appeared on his forehead when he smiled, brought to mind, if fleetingly, an image of Swami saab, smiling.

‘I bring my own friends here now and then,’ he said. ‘I suppose they seem like strangers to the rest of the people in my family.’

‘What I think is interesting, miyan, is that not one person has alluded to Gauri’s sister so far—none but you.’

‘Oh, she might be her sister, she might not be. I really don’t know. I am just guessing. I don’t really take much interest in what happens around the house, sir.’

‘Ah, indeed. Then what
do
you take an interest in?’

There was a pause, and a bit of fidgeting. ‘I have my land to take care of. It sometimes requires me to go away for days on end. I am not around much to notice anything, you know. My wife will be a much better reporter of what is going on here because she stays around the house, literally, all day, every day.’

‘You have land in which village, miyan?’

‘Er—It is called Puthoor, forty or so kilometres from here.’

‘And you cultivate it?’

Venkataramana nodded and said, ‘We are doing cotton this year.’

‘Ah, and how goes the cultivation? Do you get by well enough?’

‘Well enough, sir. I don’t make crores, but I do well enough to support my family.’ He looked around the room. ‘And since I don’t have to pay for my accommodation, it’s easier to save money.’

‘No doubt.’ Hamid Pasha paused, turned to Inspector Nagarajan, and inclined his head, as if to say, ‘All yours’.

Inspector Nagarajan said to Venkataramana, ‘Sir, we would like to hear more about what happened on the day your mother died—what you did, where you went, that sort of thing—as closely as you can remember.’

Venkataramana said in a hollow voice, ‘There is not much to remember. I—I was in my room the whole afternoon. I went to Puthoor in the morning, and I returned around lunchtime—saw the boy working on the compound wall—had lunch and retired to my room.’

‘Hai Allah,’ said Hamid Pasha, to no one in particular, ‘another sleeping man’.

‘Er—I was not sleeping, sir. I had some paperwork to attend to. There is some—er—complication with the land I own.’

‘And when did you go into your room, exactly?’ Nagarajan asked.

‘Must have been after twelve but before twelve-thirty. I returned home around noon, and I stopped at the gate for a little while to see how the boy was getting on.’

‘And how was he getting on?’ Hamid Pasha asked, smiling faintly.

Venkataramana shrugged. ‘He was doing okay, I suppose. It is not that hard a job, sir. I am not sure why my brother had to pay good money to get that wall repaired. Ellayya would have done it for an extra ten rupees or so. Why, even Lakshman or Praveen—hell, even I—could have done it quite easily.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Well—er—I suppose the important thing is getting the job done.’

‘So you came back home at noon,’ Nagarajan said, ‘and at what time were you up for lunch?’

‘Couldn’t have been much longer than fifteen minutes later, so, around twelve-fifteen. And lunch was served almost immediately. I could hear Gauri in the balcony washing clothes.’