That broke the spell. With a soft whimper, Jilsy buried her face in her hands and began sobbing silently. Her shoulders shook and her hair fell forward over her hands and face, hiding them.
‘Let me tell you a story, Jilsy,’ Athreya said in an avuncular manner. ‘You don’t need to look up at me. Just listen to what I say. It’s a story about a young, vivacious city girl; a girl who loved being with people, enjoyed being in the midst of things. She had a large circle of friends in Pune, and spent much of her time with them. She loved parties, travelling, shopping … everything that a lively young girl of her kind liked.
‘After she got married, she continued to enjoy herself. As an army wife, there was endless socializing to do, if she desired it. And she did. Life was a lovely, merry party.
‘But when she moved homes and settled in a place that was the back of beyond, life changed abruptly. There were no friends to speak of, no girls of her age or disposition. There was nowhere to go. No shops, no movies, no concerts, no gatherings, no malls … in short, no city. She got bored out of her skull, living day in and day out in this monotonous place.’
Jilsy had stopped sobbing, and was listening with her face still buried in her hands and her long tresses covering both.
‘Then one day, out of sheer boredom, she grew venturesome. She broke the rules of marriage. She did something imprudent, risky. Something she would never have done had it not been for the boredom. She repented it immediately and was mortified. “Never again”, she told herself.
‘But boredom is a powerful thing. It is relentless. It slowly, but surely, crushes you. There came a time when she was tempted again. She succumbed, and broke the rules of marriage once more.
‘Again, she felt embarrassed, but this time it didn’t last for as long. She succumbed to temptation for a third time. It was becoming easier. Thrice she had broken the rules, and thrice, she had not been caught.
‘Alas, she took refuge from the unrelenting boredom in her little escapades, convincing herself that they were only temporary. She could stop it any time she wished, she told herself, and things would go back to how they were. But she was wrong.’
Jilsy lifted her face an inch or two from her hands, but did not look up. Her eyes looked downwards even as her ears took in every word Athreya said.
‘What she hadn’t realized was that people talk loosely. The ones she thought were her confidants were anything but. Soon, the valley knew about her escapades, and rumours of her dalliances spread to the nearby town too.’
Athreya fell silent. He rose and went to the window. He remained there, looking out, with his back to Jilsy. A minute passed. Jilsy stayed bent forward. Another minute passed. Slowly, she lifted her face. Athreya stayed where he was, with his back to her, not wanting to embarrass her by looking at her.
She must be feeling wretched, humiliated beyond measure. Her secret had been blown open by a stranger … a man. The only saving grace, if any, was Athreya’s age.
‘If you are thinking that this is none of my business, you are partially right,’ he said softly. ‘Had it not been for this murder, I wouldn’t have intruded. But, as fate would have it, your activities are closely tied with those of the murderer. I hope you will understand. I hope you will forgive me. Your secret is safer with me than with those who betrayed your confidence.’
Athreya fell silent for another minute. Jilsy was sitting up now, wiping her face.
‘It was Richie, wasn’t it?’ Athreya asked eventually. ‘I need to know because I must eliminate possibilities. Only then can I catch the murderer.’
‘Yes,’ said a low, broken voice from behind him.
‘Behind the altar?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes … How did you know?’
‘The mats behind the altar had shifted under the weight of bodies. And your blue nightgown caught and ripped on one of the benches, leaving a scrap of cloth behind.’
‘Oh, God! What have I done!’
‘Another question, Jilsy … Did you enter through the chapel door or the window?’
‘Window. You know so much!’
‘What time was the rendezvous?’
‘1.10 … 1.15.’
‘And when did you leave the chapel?’
‘About 1.45.’
‘Through the window?’
‘Yes … I didn’t want to risk using the door … It’s visible from the mansion.’
‘You were there from 1.15 to 1.45 a.m. … Didn’t you see Phillip’s body in the corner?’
‘No! You must believe me … I didn’t!’
‘I believe you, Jilsy. That’s why you threw up, I know. You were disgusted at the thought of the body lying there all the time when you …’
‘Please, don’t go into that! I beg you!’
‘I won’t, but the next question is important. During that half hour, did anyone come in?’
‘No! Thankfully … no.’
‘And when you left … did you hear or see anything?’
‘No.’
‘And Richie left immediately afterwards?’
‘I guess so.’
‘The candles on the altar … Did you see how they were placed?’
‘No … no. It was too dark.
‘Thank you. I’m sorry that I had to put you through this. Now, take your time and compose yourself. I won’t turn from the window until you leave the room. I have embarrassed you enough. I’m sorry.’
The room fell silent for another two minutes. Athreya kept his word and stared steadfastly out of the window. Then to his surprise, Jilsy spoke.
‘Mr Athreya?’ she said softly.
‘Yes, Jilsy?’
‘Turn around … please.’
Athreya blinked in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I am.’ Jilsy’s voice was steady. ‘I want to see your face.’
Athreya slowly turned to see Jilsy standing in the middle of the room, looking at him through pensive eyes. Her face had been rubbed clean of make-up. She looked lonely, vulnerable.
‘You have been far more decent than you needed to be,’ she said. ‘You didn’t call me out for what I am.’
‘You are nothing but an unfortunate young lady
