The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing

“Please don’t kill me! I was just trying to see Swami-ji again. I swear!”

Facecream had put on a look of exaggerated terror.

“He said that when I was, like, ready, I should come to him and then I heard his voice calling to me in my dream… I know I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away.”

Vivek Swaroop, still holding his revolver on her, said in a camp Indian accent: “I suppose in this dream of yours Swami-ji told you where to find this trapdoor and how to get into his chambers, did he?”

“That’s right!” she replied, sounding relieved. “He told me exactly where to come! That’s how I knew! You see, I – ”

“Enough!” he snapped angrily. “You can drop all the spiritual bullshit. I’m immune. I want to know what you were doing down in the tunnels and up in the private residence.”

“But I just told you!” said Facecream, all innocence. “Swami-ji promised to cleanse my chakras.”

“If that’s the case, then what are you doing with this?” He stepped forward and snatched the om pendant from around her neck. “I’ve got the exact same one. They sell them at the airport.”

Gripping one end between his teeth, he pulled it apart to reveal the USB data key inside.

“Somehow I doubt Swami-ji gave you this.”

Swaroop dropped both sections of the pendant on the stage and crushed them beneath the heel of his shoe. Then, with his revolver pressed against Facecream’s temple, he frisked her and found the tapes.

“I’ve warned him before about these falling into the wrong hands,” he said, stomping on them as well. “But he doesn’t listen. That’s the trouble with Godmen. They come to believe they’re infallible, like they actually have supernatural powers.”

He cocked the pistol.

“Now, madam,” he continued. “I’m going to ask you one last time: What’s your game?”

Facecream’s eyes narrowed and she regarded him with contempt.

“I’m an officer with the CBI,” she said.

“Oh, please!” Swaroop’s voice was half-mocking. “The CBI wouldn’t dare set foot in here. Besides, their agents don’t play James Bond. They come knocking on the door with warrants.”

“I work for a special section,” she said. “It’s covert, just been set up. We’re investigating corrupt Godmen. You wouldn’t have heard of us.”

Swaroop regarded Facecream askance.

“My colleagues know exactly where I am,” she added in a calm, even voice. “They’re outside. And if you don’t want kidnapping added to the charges of rape, money laundering and murder you’re facing, then you’d better let me go now.”

A slow grin suffused his features. “You’re really very good, do you know that? For a moment you actually had me going – ”

“I’m telling you the truth.” Facecream looked him straight in the eye. “Our office address is first floor, block number four, CGO complex, Lodhi Road, Delhi, area code 110003. My boss is R.K. Narendra. If you shoot me I guarantee you’ll hang for it later.”

Swaroop turned his head to the right, keeping one eye on her.

“What do you think?” he asked over his shoulder.

Maharaj Swami stepped out of the shadow at the back of the stage. His eyes were cold, his face expressionless.

“Take her to the river,” was all he said before descending down through the trapdoor.

Swaroop smiled. “You heard the Godman. Let’s go.” He motioned with the pistol toward the front of the stage. “Keep your hands up where I can see them.”

Soon they were outside, where it was still dark. In slow procession, they walked to the back of the grounds and passed through the gate that led to the path along the river.

“Shooting me isn’t going to solve anything,” said Facecream.

“Shooting wasn’t what I had in mind – although don’t get me wrong, I’ll shoot you if I have to,” said Swaroop. “With a bullet there’s always so much explaining to do. Whereas someone slipping off a cliff in the dark – well, that happens from time to time, doesn’t it? Especially around here. Very narrow and treacherous, the pathway up ahead. Someone really should put up a sign warning people.”

“Is this what happened to Manika Gill?” asked Facecream. “She met with one of your accidents?”

“Manika Gill, Manika Gill,” said Swaroop, mulling over the name. “Oh, her! Don’t tell me that’s what you’re investigating.” He sounded disappointed.

“Aman seduced her, didn’t he? She told her parents, so you murdered her.”

“Just keep moving.”

“Aman only chooses the ones whose parents are die-hard devotees, doesn’t he? He must really get off on that. Knowing that his victims are terrified of telling their parents. What a sense of power it must give him.”

Swaroop gave her a shove. Facecream stumbled forward. “Did you bring Manika down here yourself and hold her under the water?” she asked, recovering her balance.

“Didn’t have to. Poor little Manika was so scared that she came and jumped in all on her own.” He let out a short, psychotic chuckle. “I don’t suppose you’d be prepared to save me the bother and do the same? A suicide note would come in very handy as well. ‘Farewell, cruel world!’”

Facecream walked on in silence. They reached the cliff edge. Below the waters of the Ganges crashed and swirled around rocks and boulders. She turned to face him.

“Last chance,” he said, brandishing the revolver. “Tell me who you work for.”

“All right, all right, you win!” she said, glancing back at the precipice. Facecream sounded frightened for the first time. “I work for a private detective. We’re investigating the murder of Dr. Sureshjha.”

“So that’s it!” Swaroop shook his head as if in pity. “I should have known. And what’s the name of this private detective you work for?”

Facecream didn’t answer.

He took a step forward. “Well?”

Just then a twig snapped behind him.

In the second that Swaroop was distracted, Facecream struck, delivering a swift kick to his wrist and then another to his left kneecap.

He stumbled and fell back on the ground, firing off a shot into the air.

“Bitch!”

Facecream sidestepped him and hurled herself toward Flush, who had been trying to sneak up on Swaroop.

“Run!” she shouted.

Together the two operatives sprinted up the path.

Three rounds whizzed over their heads. The sounds echoed and re-echoed off the cliffs, half drowning out their pursuer’s curses.

“Get back here! I’m going to kill you, you bitch!”

They turned a bend in the path and Facecream stopped. Picking up a branch, she motioned for Flush to hide behind a bush and readied herself.

Her baseball-style swing could not have been better timed. It caught Swaroop square in the face, sending him reeling backward, bloody and unconscious.

“That was incredible!” marveled Flush as Facecream kicked the revolver into the undergrowth.

“Save the congratulations. Let’s go.”

As they reached the gate and reentered the ashram grounds, the sun was coming up and the devotees were beginning to make their way in silence to the gazebo. The two operatives returned their nods and smiles, walking slowly past the darshan hall.

Out of the corner of her eye, Facecream spotted Maharaj Swami emerging from the main reception building.

Spotting her at the same time, he turned to the senior devotees accompanying him and pointed in their direction.