‘I did not enjoy this any more than you or Jilsy did, Mr Varadan. ‘But I had to do this. My apologies for taking the liberty, Mr Fernandez,’ said Athreya as he turned to face Bhaskar, ‘but I have been charged with solving this crime.’
‘Then,’ Varadan retorted, ‘I suppose you have achieved something through this stage show?’
‘Yes. A part of the puzzle has fallen into place. As a lawyer, you will appreciate this, Mr Varadan … A lot more is at play here than just a straightforward murder. Unless I strip away the extraneous, I will not be able to see the core clearly.’
15
Half an hour later, Athreya was knocking on Michelle’s door. She had sent him a text message, asking him if he could come up to her room. Athreya had agreed, and had strolled up the stairway to the first floor. As soon as he knocked, the door opened, and Michelle asked him to come in and take a chair. Her face was streaked with tears and she was trembling.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Athreya,’ she sobbed. ‘I deceived you. I didn’t know what else to do; I am caught in a trap. But before that, I must thank you.’
‘Thank me?’ Athreya asked, genuinely surprised.
‘Yes, I’m grateful to you for not calling out my deception in the dining room in front of everyone. You could easily have accused me then and there, and I would not have had anything to say. That’s what the police inspector would have done.
‘But thanks to your kindness, they all think that it was an error on my part. They all heard what I had said yesterday–I am a GP and know little about estimating the time of death. So thank you, Mr Athreya, for preserving my dignity.’
Athreya opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it.
‘You knew I was lying, didn’t you?’ she asked.
‘Well … let’s just say that I thought it was a possibility.’
‘You had your own estimate of the time of death?’
‘A very rough one based on my own experience. I thought it was around 1 a.m. The time window you suggested seemed too late.’
Michelle nodded and wiped her face.
‘You know why I did it?’ she asked.
‘Your husband was here till almost 2 a.m. that night.’
She let out a gasp and sat down on the bed.
‘When I asked you to come with me to the chapel to estimate the time of death, you came up to your room to get your medical bag. But you took a very long time. I figured that you had called your husband.’
‘What else could I do, Mr Athreya? I couldn’t knowingly cast suspicion on him, could I?’
Athreya remained silent, watching her. She stood up, removed her jacket and draped it on the back of a chair. As she did, the loose, forearm-length sleeves of her shirt rode up to her elbows. On her forearms were bruises. Some old and some new. She realized it at once and pulled down her sleeves, but it was too late.
‘He can be a hard man sometimes, Mr Athreya. Especially when he is angry.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t buy that, Michelle. Anger is no excuse.’
‘Anyway, let that be. I wanted to talk to you to … to … ask your advice. I’m stuck, Mr Athreya, I’m stuck like a kitten in a pipe. I can’t go forward, and I can’t go back. I don’t know what to do. I see no way out.’
‘Tell me, Michelle, does the phrase “the mongrel” mean anything to you?’
‘Mongrel?’ she repeated, bewildered. ‘No. I mean, nothing beyond the English meaning of the word–a street dog.’
‘The mongrel?’ he asked again.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘Have you ever heard your husband use this phrase?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘How about Abbas?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure you have never heard it mentioned by Abbas or Murthy?’
‘No, never. What are you driving at?’
‘If you haven’t heard it, Michelle, you are better off not knowing. You’ll be safer. At any rate, don’t repeat this to Abbas or your husband.’
‘Safer? You’re frightening me, Mr Athreya.’
‘I’m sorry, but I had to ask. Tell me, do you believe that there were attempts on your uncle’s life recently?’
‘Yes!’ Michelle’s eyes went round. ‘The intruder even came into his room to kill him. Thankfully, Uncle had his automatic with him.’
‘Who do you think sent him, Michelle? And where do you think he hid after being shot in the leg? There aren’t many places around here to hide.’
Michelle’s eyes became even rounder. Her mouth opened to form an ‘O’. Slowly, she gathered her wits. Athreya watched her silently as emotions flashed across her face.
‘Tell me honestly, Mr Athreya,’ she whispered at length. ‘Do you think Abbas killed Phillip thinking that he was Uncle?’
‘I can’t answer that yet because I still don’t know.’
The emphasis on the last word was not lost on Michelle.
‘And Murthy?’ she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘Same answer, Michelle. I don’t know.’
‘Am I in for grief, Mr Athreya?’
‘Likely. Quite likely.’
‘Uncle says I should leave Murthy … divorce him,’ she blurted out, as though taken by a sudden urge to confide in him.
‘Does Murthy know that Mr Fernandez said that?’ Athreya asked softly.
Michelle nodded slowly, realization dawning on her.
‘Uncle is right,’ she said. ‘I’m a trusting fool. I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut.’
She looked up suddenly, fierce determination rising to her face. She squared her shoulders and stared straight at Athreya.
‘What do you think I should do?’ she demanded.
‘All I’ll say is this, Michelle. Know your husband for what he truly is. Know your friends for what they truly are. Let the scales fall from your eyes. Then make your decision. It’s yours, and only yours, to make.’
‘And as far as Phillip’s murder is concerned?’
‘Stick to the truth. Don’t lie on anyone’s behalf. Anyone’s. If you did not kill Phillip, you have nothing to fear.’
They were interrupted by a knock on
