Doosra (12 page)

'Good morning ma'am.'

'Good morning, Vikram,' Rita said as she climbed into Vikram's Gypsy. 'You still have a Maruti Gypsy?'

'I really like the vehicle, ma'am. It's just undergone a full rebuild, as I think the folks at Maruti aren't taking new orders. I have had to get special permission to keep it.'

'Good. If you really want something you should go that extra mile to get it.'

'Why don't we just go and arrest Honey Singh, ma'am?

'We arrest him. He pleads innocent. His lawyer gets him bail, as we have no evidence. When we take him to court his lawyer and the judge laugh at us. And if we're lucky he doesn't sue us for harassment or libel. You willing to bat with that?'

'Maybe.'

'Maybe. That's not considered an acceptable answer in any court across this country, when I last checked.' Rita smiled.

'No.'

'Well, you have your answer then. Motive has to be evidenced, means have to be evidenced, and opportunity has to be evidenced. In short you almost need a picture of the killer in action to prove to a judge. Or the defence will slaughter us.'

Police work was like mathematics. You might know the answer to the question, but you needed to be able to walk the journey between the question and answer.

'Yes ma'am.'

'Also, the moment he knows we have his scent he gets attentive — if he ever got complacent that is — so it is best to do some enquiries before we bring him in.'

The sun was now blinding. One needed sun visors the size of the windscreen to keep it out. Rita discussed her surmise — of Sishir Singh having an accomplice on the ground — with Vikram as he drove.

'That's a very valid point. Sishir Singh or Honey Singh couldn't have carried a gun from India. And what about the heavy safe he replaced in the hotel room? He could have bought that there, but to buy, break in, arrange a Glock, all in a day would be impossible.'

'So either he had an accomplice in Belgium or everything was immaculately planned in advance and delivered on time.'

'What's your gut feel, ma'am? Do you think he or they'll get away with this?'

'Devil is one lucky bastard, Vikram. If you took all the cases of significant crimes around the world into account I'd bet the criminals have escaped more times than the number of people police have ever caught. The statistics are always in favour of the Devil. Having said that, I think we have some good grasp now if we have identified Sishir Singh, and then a detective following him, who might, just
might
lead us somewhere.'

The car turned left into the Lokhandwala complex. Rita noted that the place had developed an identity of its own. Nothing stark or discernibly different from other suburbs, but subtle changes in buildings and shops were evident. Lokhandwala, in Andheri West looked like an adopted child of Bandra — the grandness was perceptible. Some shops were closed. Sunday. Shutters down. Dentist. Chemist. Dry cleaner. Hairdresser. Since when did hairdressers close on Sundays? The newsagent, the bakery, the grocery store and the
Paan-wallah
were open. A bland array of grey shutters, some of them with colourful graffiti; mostly obscene but it still broke the insipidity. Funny how bad could, on occasions, be good.

Vikram explained to Rita that Nene had called in a favour from one of his buddies in Andheri Police who had notified Mr Joginder Raja that there might be some personal work from someone higher up the police tree that needed carrying out surreptitiously, and they would visit him. 'He has been asked to wait at home for us.'

***

Always hungry for new business, and ever eager to oblige the police — life was always give and take, wasn't it? — Joginder Raja had cleared his office, bidden his wife to standby for coffees and samosas when the police-client arrived. He made an additional effort to dress up in an ironed shirt and trousers rather than his usual unkempt field attire. So a senior police officer had a not so honest spouse? He chuffed.

***

Joginder Raja lived in Trishul Apartments — a lot of Bollywood lived in Lokhandwala — so he wasn't doing too badly as a private investigator or he certainly had some other business to fund his lifestyle. Vikram showed his badge to the watchman who let them in without any questions. Rita took in the area. Sunday morning: there weren't many people outdoors, but the sound of the Gypsy engine did make a few people turn to see what seemed to be a couple in it. Nothing anyone should give a second thought to.

A chance thought hit Rita as she got out of the vehicle. Joginder Raja — a private investigator — shadowing Honey Singh meant someone knew something she and her team didn't. Not yet in any event. The predominant question was: who was that someone and what was that something?

Rita was already been apprised of the signature moustache, but the handlebar moustache Mr Joginder Raja carried on his extra-large frame was something no one could have prepared her enough for when he opened his apartment door on the fourth floor. It seemed the guy spent a lot of time and gel on the damn thing. Irrefutably, if one were to describe private investigator Joginder Raja in a word, it would be Handlebar. Funny, when a solitary feature dominates everything else. Wouldn't all the other features on his face feel deprived, Rita thought.

The guy beamed a wide smile, but it was scarcely visible from behind the hirsute curtain on his lips.

First impression: he looked like someone who had thrown the dice and the fucking dice itself had gone missing. And he waited for the dice to return. Talk about losers.
Should she, shouldn't she give her professional credentials to this man?

'I'm private investigator Joginder Raja.' He stretched his fat arm forward to Rita.

'DCP Rita Ferreira.' No point in hiding it.

'Senior Inspector Vikram Patil.'

Raja acknowledged the hierarchy with a deep swallow. His Adam's apple jerked up and skated down. Rita could picture his mental cogs moving.

'I've heard about you ma'am.' His voice betrayed the size.

Closet lush. Still single. Sleeps around. What had he heard?

'I don't acknowledge anything.'

Smile.

Rita had given up getting troubled by what people thought or said about her; what with an honorary degree in screwed up relationships?

'I followed the serial murder case in Mumbai. I never thought you'd need me.'

Rita just smiled.

'Oh, come in.' Raja realised his
clients
were still outside the house. 'I never had clients who were in the police, and to be honest, I'm a bit surprised...' he stopped mid-sentence as he gestured them in.

Rita and Vikram sat in the living room. The room was large, with a television, stereo, leather sofas, and some vague prints on the walls. Nothing of note. In the background Rita could see a dimly lit hallway and more than a couple of doors on each side that, most probably, led to the kitchen and bedrooms. There was a door at the rear that opened onto a small balcony that carried the potpourri of plants in pots. There was one family picture that showed a younger Mrs and Mr Raja and two boys. The quiet in the house probably suggested that the boys had moved out.

Good. Two smaller Handlebars were breathing and breeding somewhere else in the world.

'Would you want to come to the office or is this comfortable enough?'

So one of the doors in the hallway was the office.

'Your house your rules. Whatever is fine with you Mr Raja.'

'I think we should sit here, it's more spacious and, when I need to speak to one of you in solitude I'll take you to my office one by one.'

Oh no, he must think we are cheating on our respective spouses? Or our spouses are cheating on us!

'That won't be required, Mr Raja. We can sit here.' Rita didn't want to ask why they would be required to speak to him in solitude.

'Tea or coffee?'

'We are in no rush. Please sit down, let's talk and we'll ask for coffee when we need.'

The three sat down. Raja pulled out a note pad and a pen. The poor guy still seemed to believe he was getting new business.

'How may I help you two?'

'Are you a private detective, Mr Raja?' Rita started the conversation.

'Yes.'

'What current cases are you working on?'

'Is that required DCP
Sahiba?'

'I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't.'

'Nothing big, just a small enquiry.'

So Handlebar wasn't going to play easy.

'What was the last big case you had?'

'Mr Widhani's.'

'The
Mr Widhani's of Widhani Industries?'

Widhani Industries were one of the big business houses that produced and sold tyres. A national brand.

'Yes, DCP Ferreira.'

'And what did he want done?'

'His daughter's husband, now ex-husband... is that relevant?'

'Maybe. I can't say yes or no unless I hear what it was, can I?'

'It was the husband, I mean the ex-husband cheating on her and squandering Mr Widhani's money.'

'And you helped take pictures of him in compromising situations and facilitated the divorce.'

'So to speak.'

There were always a thousand distractions to digress from the case in hand. Discipline in a detective was mandatory.

'Are you sure you aren't working on any big case at the moment?'

'What is this? You want me to work on your case or not?' Raja sounded slightly agitated. 'I'm a private investigator. People trust me. I cannot tell you about any of the cases I'm currently working on. That would be wrong on my part.'

'Let's not get too sanctimonious, Mr Raja.'

'How would you feel if I asked you about what cases you're currently working on?'

'We're currently investigating a murder. See I told you.'

'Whose murder?'

'Mr Raja, I'm being polite. I could have called you to the Andheri Police station and asked the same questions.'

The guy was somewhere between a mediocre and a moron.

'I know enough people here to be scared about being questioned by the police. And, the police aren't above the law. I know all about the police, their faults and I even know a lot about you. What does that tell you?'

'One, that you have a lot of time, second you have access to the Internet and third, you know about Google. This is a homicide investigation, and non-cooperation in a police investigation is a crime. Mr Raja, I hope you comprehend that I could make your life so miserable that you can forget about your business, forget you'll ever get another call from any client. I'll wipe you and your business out from the city, and wherever you go next. If that's clear let's proceed.'

'You can't do that. You're just threatening for the sake of it.'

'You know, you disappoint me. I expected someone like you to have done his homework on me. I can do this. Did Google search not being up how crazy I am?'

The hubris melted. Handlebar appeared a tad frightened, though he made a manly effort to not show it. A bit of hostility emerged but disappeared immediately. But it had lasted long enough to be perceptible. Masculinity swallowed. Being rapped by a female? He merely turned out to be a poodle dressed up as a pit bull despite his size and demeanour. The eyes were not miles away from welling up. Pure fear. He shut up rather than letting his voice give away his fear.

'So, I request you to calm down and relax. Let's have a coffee and begin again.'

Raja walked to the hallway and called out his wife, told her to get three coffees. His voice cracked a bit; a typical consequence when the trachea dries up due to anxiety or intimidation or some other unpleasant emotion. He returned to the living room and sat down once again.

Mrs Raja was like Joginder's identical twin, minus the moustache, of course. She came in with the tray, said hello, left the coffees and quickly went back to wherever she had come from.

'What is this regarding?'

'Do you know someone called Sishir Singh?' Rita took a sip and began all over again.

'No. Should I?'

Rita and Vikram were both trained investigators. Trained investigators only believed something when the words matched the countenance of the person voicing them. Raja wasn't meandering, he was telling the truth.

'Never heard that name before?'

'No. Should I have? What am I missing? What are you not telling me?'

'Mr Joginder Raja, I'm the one asking questions here. A simple
yes
or
no
will be sufficient. I promise I'll answer your questions if you answer mine honestly.
Honestly
is the operative word here, remember.'

Raja nodded and took a noisy slurp from his cup.

'Who is Honey Singh?'

Raja looked deflated.

'Do I —'

'Yes, Mr Raja you do…' Rita cut in between before he could think of an annoying objection. 'Who is Honey Singh and why are you following him?'

'A client wants to know some things about him.'

'What kind of intelligence about Honey Singh have you been passing to your client?'

'What the subject does, where he goes, who he meets?'

'You've snooped into his office too?'

'I couldn't give myself away by going there.'

'Not even under the cover of the night?'

'Wouldn't it be locked?'

'Are you saying you never picked a lock?' Rita smiled.

Handlebar looked away. He didn't want to answer. Didn't want to lie. Didn't want the truth out either. Rita recognised his dilemma.

'No, I've never been into Honey Singh's office.'

'Why not?'

'Wasn't part of the brief. I don't think my client wants me to go that far. He seems happy with daily logs on Honey Singh.'

'Who is your client?'

'I don't know.'

Rita and Vikram exchanged glances.

'You don't know who your client is?' It was Vikram.

'That's what I said. I don't know.'

'So there is a client who's asked you to follow Honey Singh, provide him with details, but you have no inkling who he is?'

'That's correct.'

'You just said,
“He seemed happy with daily logs...” so
how do you know the client is a
he
and not a
she
if you don't know the client?'