‘Uncle!’ Michelle cried.
Her eyes snapped to Abbas, who, seeing her gaze, paled and stepped back half a pace. His poker face crumbled as a look of horror took over it. Varadan’s piercing gaze was on Michelle’s face. Ganesh’s mouth fell open and his wife closed her eyes tightly. Her lovely face was marred by lines of terror. Richie was glaring at Athreya, his anger mounting.
‘Mr Fernandez has been killed?’ Varadan asked sharply, swinging his gaze around to Athreya.
For a moment, Athreya didn’t answer. He looked around at the ring of faces twice. Then he responded.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not Mr Fernandez. Someone else, but in his wheelchair.’
‘Who?’
Athreya was about to answer when Richie cut in.
‘Phillip!’ he said. ‘He is the only one missing other than the priest, who must have returned to his church.’
‘Is that right, Mr Athreya?’ Michelle asked, almost imploring him to agree. Relief seemed to be flooding her face.
‘Yes, Michelle.’ Athreya swept over the six faces with his eyes once again. ‘Phillip was found dead in your Uncle’s wheelchair. In the chapel, as I said.’
Abbas had a look of utter confusion on his still-ashen face. Ganesh’s witless face might have been that of a stone ogre. Jilsy’s frightened eyes had snapped open. Varadan was not amused–he seemed to have taken exception to Athreya’s chicanery in leading them to think that Bhaskar had been killed. Richie too had seen through the trickery and his face was flushed with anger.
Shifting his gaze, Athreya saw Murugan and Gopal standing halfway up the staircase leading to the first floor, listening intently. Gopal’s mouth was half open in morbid fascination. Murugan seemed stricken. As if he had just realized that the person who had locked him in was, in all probability, the murderer. Athreya wondered how much he had suspected. His thoughts were interrupted by Varadan’s hard voice.
‘If you knew it all the while,’ he asked drily, ‘why this drama, Mr Athreya? Why didn’t you tell us straight away that Phillip has been killed?’
‘I know!’ Richie snarled. ‘He thinks one of us killed Phillip.’
‘And he is probably right,’ rumbled a voice from the mouth of the art gallery. Bhaskar had emerged from his room, propelling his unmotorized wheelchair with his arms. His pallid face was deeply lined. Manu came behind him. ‘Sebastian has gone to fetch the police.’
10
‘We don’t know when the police will come,’ Athreya said, smoothly taking charge. ‘Meanwhile, every hour that passes takes us farther away from the time the murder was committed. We must find out as much as we can before time and the killer erase the evidence.’ He turned to Michelle. ‘Can you examine the body and estimate the time of death? Only a doctor can do that.’
‘I know … but I am just a general practitioner, not a coroner or a forensic pathologist. I don’t have much experience in this kind of a thing.’
‘I understand that, but with each passing hour, a coroner’s ability to accurately determine the time of death also reduces. We must do what we can with what we have. Your estimate will be better than mine or anyone else’s here.’
Michelle hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
‘Give me a moment to get my medical bag from my room.’
As she went away, up the staircase, Athreya turned to Manu.
‘We must search for the murder weapon,’ he said. ‘I have an inkling where it could be, but I am in no position to reach the place.’
‘Are you sure he would have thrown away the weapon?’ Manu asked.
‘Well, a sensible murderer wouldn’t run the risk of keeping it in his or her possession. He or she would do one of two things as soon as possible–get rid of it in a way that doesn’t lead back to them, or plant it on someone else.’
‘Plant it!’ Richie exclaimed brusquely. ‘You are not a very trusting soul, are you?’
‘Perhaps not.’ Athreya turned and looked Richie full in the face. ‘I see no reason to take the murderer at his or her word. Before you ask, let me also say this: I will not automatically believe what you or anyone else tells me. I will listen, but not necessarily believe. My friend, I may not be very trusting. But you will find me trustworthy, if you know what I mean.’
‘So,’ Richie sneered, ‘you hope to solve this murder, do you?’
‘Like to lay a wager, Richie? I hope to not only solve the murder, but I also intend to suss out smaller crimes and transgressions along the way.’
He turned away, seeming to dismiss Richie. He looked up the staircase impatiently. Michelle had not yet come down. Athreya turned to Manu.
‘You may want to bring along a couple of boys to help us,’ he said. ‘We need to search the stream. It is an ideal place to dispose a murder weapon. It’s right next to the crime scene, and the running water would erase fingerprints and any other telltale signs. I’ll join you as soon as Michelle finishes her bit.’
Fifteen minutes later, Athreya and Michelle stood inside the chapel, speaking softly. Michelle had examined the body and done the usual things as Athreya watched. She now looked calm and collected, having performed her professional chore.
‘Before I give you my estimate, I want to reiterate that I have very little experience in this sort of thing. I might be wrong.’
‘I understand,’ Athreya nodded. ‘What’s your best estimate?’
‘Death occurred between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m., give or take a little bit. If I had to pick a time, I’d say 2.30 a.m.’
Athreya nodded and led the way out of the chapel. He locked the door, and the two of them went behind the building. There they stood watching the brook from above. About a hundred feet to their left, Gopal and another boy had let down a ladder under Murugan’s directions. A small knot of people stood behind Murugan, watching the activity.
‘That’s where the stream bed is closest
