‘Not even old or smudged prints?’
‘None. The handles have been wiped clean.’
‘If the handles have been wiped clean, it’s possible that they were handled by someone without gloves. Then, after the job was done, that person wiped the handles.’
‘Exactly!’
‘The hands that touched the altar wore gloves, but the ones that wheeled the wheelchair didn’t. That’s interesting.’
‘There’s more. Parts of the armrests have been wiped clean too. The armrest is full of Bhaskar’s prints, as can be expected. But there are some that belong to Phillip too. The parts that have been wiped clean are probably the ones someone would hold on to if they were moving the wheelchair.
‘The other interesting aspect is the prints on the console and the joystick assembly. What is intriguing is that here, there are no prints at all–not even Bhaskar’s. Again, zilch! Wiped clean, once again. I don’t think blood spilled on to the console and the joystick. Some traces would still be there if it had, especially in the natural cracks on the leather covering of the joystick.’
Holding his phone in his left hand, Athreya was listening intently. His right hand was drawing invisible figures and words with its index finger on the stone bench–a sign that the owner’s mind was working in high gear.
‘One of the staff members says she heard the whir of the wheelchair at night,’ Athreya said slowly. ‘If that is true, someone drove it. The console and the joystick were used, presumably just before the murder. But later, it was wheeled into the corner and rubbed down. There just may have been a pattern here.’
‘If there is a pattern, sir, I don’t see it,’ the fingerprinting man said.
‘Thanks for this,’ Athreya said. ‘It’s very useful. By the way, did you do the last piece of work I’d requested?’
‘Yes, sir. We’ll know the results tomorrow.’
After the call, Athreya sat still as stone at Sunset Deck. For fifteen minutes, he didn’t move. The only movement came from two fingers of his right hand as they furiously scribbled invisible words and phrases on the bench. Athreya’s erstwhile colleagues used to joke that they would have cracked most cases sooner had they known of a way to decipher the invisible shapes Athreya’s fingers made when his mind was working hard.
At length, he stirred. He had decided what he needed to do next. He had to spend some time alone in the chapel. Just as he rose, his phone rang for the third time. It was the police doctor. He had done the autopsy the previous night.
‘You were right, sir,’ he said. ‘The contents of the stomach show it clearly. The victim was killed between one and a half and two hours after his last meal. If dinner finished at 11 p.m., he was killed between 12.30 a.m. and 1 a.m.’
Athreya slowly pocketed his phone and made his way back to the mansion. The case had changed drastically. There were a number of people who had been up and about between 12.30 a.m. and 1 a.m. And his hunch had been right.
Michelle had lied about the time of death.
Athreya went early to the dining room, about ten minutes before breakfast was to start, and stood there for a moment looking around. He went to the near end of the long table and sat down on the chair there, surveying the other chairs around the table. After a brief moment, he rose and adjusted the position of some chairs that were set along the two long sides of the table, then returned to the chair on which he had just sat.
The head of the table was where Bhaskar always sat, and it was often one of the younger folk who sat at the other end. Today, Athreya wanted to sit at the tail end of the table for a reason. As he settled into the chair and began reading a newspaper, Manu walked in.
‘Good morning, Mr Athreya,’ he said as his glance lingered on Athreya and his choice of seat.
‘Morning, Manu,’ Athreya replied.
‘Trying a different seat today, sir?’ Manu asked with a smile.
Athreya shrugged and returned the smile.
‘Not a bad idea,’ Manu continued as he strolled over and took one of the chairs on the side of the table. ‘Who knows, it may give you a fresh perspective.’
Athreya blinked in surprise. Was it just a fluke, or was the younger man uncommonly perspicacious? Either way, he had got it right.
‘Always useful, isn’t it?’ Athreya replied. ‘A new perspective.’
‘Good morning, Mr Athreya,’ Dora’s voice sounded from behind as she walked in. ‘I was looking for you in the drawing room. I saw you jogging early. Hope you have worked up an appetite.’
‘Good morning, Mr Athreya,’ Sebastian echoed as he wheeled in Bhaskar in the unmotorized wheelchair.
‘Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t see you at this end of the table,’ Bhaskar apologized. ‘Thought it was someone else. Good morning.’
People began streaming in behind Bhaskar, and within a minute, everyone, including Richie, had come in. They all looked a little more relaxed today than they had been at dinner the previous night. They seemed to be coming to terms with the new reality, and perhaps with the shadow of suspicion hanging over them. Conversation was more natural than the previous night’s, and there was a sprinkling of laughter as well.
Athreya ate quickly as he kept an eye on the progress of the others. He had to make his move when everyone was at the table and, hopefully, concentrating on their breakfast. He didn’t want someone like Richie, who ate quickly and didn’t have the courtesy to wait for others to finish before leaving the room.
When most people were a little more than halfway through breakfast, he adjusted his position slightly so he could see all the faces around the table.
‘I have a piece of news,’ he said casually as he
