serious for one of them to suddenly turn up like this.
“Madam, I was very surprised to receive your call this morning,” she said in Hindi with a nervous giggle, replenishing their cups.
“The reason I came is because I believe you might be able to help us,” replied Rumpi.
“Of course, if there’s anything I can do…”
“We need some information,” said Mummy in Hindi. “It’s about one of your clients.”
“Uma, before we ask, I want you to understand that anything you tell us will remain” – here she used the English – “top secret,” added Rumpi. “We would never reveal you as our source of information. Please understand we don’t want to get you into trouble. You can trust us.”
“Our lips will remain totally sealed,” added Mummy in English.
By now, the beautician was looking extremely worried. “Did someone make a complaint about me?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” said Mummy with a reassuring smile. “Everyone is very satisfied with your work.”
Uma’s eyes widened as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Then it must be about
“Yes, but – ”
“Arti said that it seemed strange she had all that money in her handbag. Big wads of notes and all five hundreds.”
“Who?” asked Rumpi.
Before Uma could answer, there was a loud knock on the door and a man’s gruff voice said: “Open up! I’m hungry!”
“My husband,” Uma said apologetically, getting up from her stool. “He’s working as an overnight security guard. His shift finished at seven.”
The beautician opened the door a crack, explaining to him in a whisper that she had guests and telling him to go and have breakfast at the dhaba.
Rumpi caught a fleeting glimpse of his unshaven face and bleary eyes and then the door was closed.
“So sorry,” said Uma.
“There was really no need to send him away,” said Rumpi. “The poor man must be tired and needs his sleep.”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he got plenty last night.” Uma offered them the biscuits. “Now where were we?”
“You were saying you thought you knew who was behind the robbery,” said Mummy.
“Oh yes, Bansal Madam. So what’s going to happen to her? Are you going to call the police?”
“Uma, Mrs. Bansal was not behind the robbery.”
“You’re sure, madam?”
“Quite sure,” said Mummy in English.
The beautician looked disappointed. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Your share dealing,” answered Rumpi. “I think one of the ladies has been giving you stock market tips. Or perhaps you’ve overheard her talking on her portable device. Either way, you have done extremely well out of it. And who can blame you? Believe me, I would have done the same. But while you have been sensible and not gambled all your winnings, greed has got the better of your client. She owned stock in InfoSoft – must have been a considerable amount – and as you told me during my last treatment, the company recently crashed.”
Rumpi took a sip of tea. Uma could not decide where to look.
“The lady in question is married to a senior accountant – he audits a number of big corporations, including InfoSoft, as I confirmed earlier this morning,” continued Puri’s wife. “So, she’s getting her insider information from him – possibly without him realizing. Perhaps he leaves his papers lying around or talks in his sleep. Who knows? The point is that after this lady lost so much, she could not go to him and confess. She had to find a way to cover her losses but without letting anyone know.”
There was a brief silence.
“Now, Uma, I’m going to say this lady’s name, and if I’m right and she is the one who has been giving you tips, I would like you to nod your head.”
Rumpi named the woman in question, but the beautician neither confirmed nor denied her theory. She sat staring at the wall in stunned silence, as if something terrible had just occurred to her.
Twenty-Two
Puri reached the DIRE bungalow in Nizamuddin West at ten o’clock. It was the earliest he could expect Ms. Ruchi to come to work under the circumstances.
She answered his knock with a tear-stained face and a red nose.
Unlike her remarkable performance last Wednesday, her grief today was genuine.
“They’ve come?” asked the detective, who had broken the terrible news to her last night over the phone.
“Everyone is present,” she said in a sad, quiet voice.
It took the detective’s eyes a minute to adjust to the dimly lit interior.
In the reception area of the front room, he was pleased to find the three young men he had asked to be present waiting for him.
All in their early twenties, thin, gangly, plainly dressed and palpably earnest, they, too, bore the shock of their mentor’s murder in their eyes and the stains of their anguish on their cheeks.
The tallest of the trio was the first to speak. His name was Rupin, a philosophy student at Jawaharlal Nehru University.
“It was you who played the part of Kali, is it?” guessed Puri.
“Yes, sir, it was my honor,” he answered with obvious pride, standing respectfully with hands held in front of him.
“And one of you played the ice cream wallah?”
“That was my duty,” said the youngest, introducing himself as Peter. “Our colleague Samir was the backup person. He waited at a distance in case something went wrong.”
As Rupin went on to explain, they were DIRE volunteers and, during the past few years, had often traveled with Dr. Jha to towns and villages in rural India to participate in ‘awareness workshops’ aimed at educating the public about how so-called miracles were done. This had involved mastering a repertoire of magic tricks.
“I know how to eat lightbulbs and put my hands in boiling oil,” explained Peter.
“And I could show you how to drive a skewer through your cheek,” volunteered Samir.
Puri could see why Dr. Jha had chosen these idealistic young men to help perform the Kali illusion. They were bright, confident and fervently dedicated to the cause. Rationalism had become something of a religion to them. It provided purpose, structure and philosophy without all the bells and incense or blood turned to wine.
The detective asked them to resume their seats and pulled up a chair.
“We will have to save skewering cheeks for another time,” he said. “For now, it is vital you tell me everything that occurred that day, including how the miracle was performed. Some clue might be there that would help find the murderer.”
“Sir, we are ready to cooperate in any way,” Rupin said ardently.
“We would give our lives three times over to see the killer brought to justice!” added Peter.
“Very good,” said Puri. “Now first thing I want to know. When Dr. Jha was planning to let all and sundry know he was alive and well?”
“Today, only,” answered Rupin.
“Why he waited almost one week?”
“To maximize the media coverage.”
