I wassoon at my table in my room, deep in thought. I honestly did nothave much faith in the lab test. Nor in the manner the DPO wascarrying on! It seemed he would like to implicate all ofus!
What if the lab results cameand the blood under the nails did not belong to any of us? What ifthere had been more than one assailant, but only one was scratched?What if she had scratched some other innocent person, just beforethe murderer came? So many what ifs. That was why I did not have much faith in thelab test.
I hadbeen privy to a similar case, in which someone was wrongfullyarrested because he had the same blood type as that under the nailsof the murdered person. As he also lived in the same house as themurder victim, it had been an open-and-shut case … until themurderer who did not even live in the vicinity, was compelled by aguilty conscience to come forward with a voluntaryconfession.
I had astrong feeling that Maria’s death was not unconnected with whateverhad been troubling her, that had made her come to seek my advice. Itried to recall all that she had said to me. Suddenly, I realisedwhat a fool I was!
“… I heard anoise in my room, like a rat scurrying around. It had disturbed me,all through the night. So, I decided to search for it. I went overto my chest of drawers …”
Ofcourse, the answer to the puzzle was in the chest of drawers in herroom! She had discovered whatever was troubling her, in there. Andit might still be there! What a blind fool I had been!
I satup, quite excited; that was when I heard the firstknock.
“Come in,” I said, trying tohide my excitement. The door handle turned and Nagoth came in. Iwas surprised to see him in my room. Even though he had thawedconsiderably towards me after my fall down the stairs, he had neverentered my room before.
“Hello, Nagoth,” I said. Helooked troubled, as he stood with the door still open.
“Can I have a word with you, Mr.Simpson?”
“Why, of course,” I replied.“Come in.”
Heentered and closed the door.
Iindicated that he could sit and he sat on the bed. I had a fewquestions I wanted to ask him about Maria, but I decided to hearwhat he had come to say first.
“I’m in trouble!” he saidsuddenly. Then, he held his head in his hands, his face filled withanguish.
“What kind of trouble is that,Nagoth?” I asked calmly.
“I didn’t kill Maria!” he said,desperately.
“Has anyone accused you ofkilling her?”
“Not yet,” he replied. “But thelab results, Mr. Simpson! It will prove that it is my blood andskin that was under her fingernails!”
I wastaken aback and I lost some of my composure.
“But how is that?” I asked.Nagoth rolled up his shirtsleeves and showed me his bare arms.Sharp nails had recently raked them.
“You had better explaineverything to me, Nagoth.” I said, with a serious expression on myface, as I took a seat.
CHAPTEREIGHT
NAGOTH TELLS HIS STORY
It is two months now after the accident. Ihave never felt so alone and confused in my life. The accidenttaught me a lot about human nature, especially the ugly side ofit.
Atfirst, it had been about my height and size. People had little orno respect for me, often taking me for granted or simply trying towalk all over me. You can imagine standing in front of a crowd ofpeople, in an eatery, and the attendant is asking some big fellowbehind you what he wants, completely ignoring you! Why do peoplethink short men are so aggressive? It is the only way we getnoticed. It is the only way we get the service and the respect thatwe deserve, just like anybody else.
People would makeannoyingcomments when they saw me, just because they thought they werefunny. But I had learnt to cope with them. It did not affect thequality of life I led, in any way. I was a successful artist bymany standards.
Did Isay standards? That word has taken on a new meaning for me. Afterthe accident, I realised even to a greater degree, that a lot ofhuman standards are parochial, unfair and unreasonable. People aregenerally intolerant of others who do not measure up to theirpersonal standards. This is the same whether those standards are ofeducation, religion, beauty, wealth, physical size, social statusand heaven knows what else. But most of these things are ephemeralor only skin deep. We fail to look at the core of the human being.We don't stop to look at things like integrity, dignity,discipline, honesty and love.
The most painful part of theexperience was Ruth Obayi! I had thought that she genuinely lovedme. If it came to it, I would willingly have died for her to live. But alas, Icould not find her when I needed her most.
I remember the first time shecame to the hospital after the accident. My head and hand werestill wrapped in bandage and she had seemed concerned and caringenough. She had even placed a ‘Get well soon card’ at the head ofmy bed. Then, the day came when the bandage on my hand had to be removed.It was like a nightmare to me. I never knew she would take it likethat. As soon as she took in the missing fingers on my right hand,her behaviour changed. Her beautiful face took on an irritated andshocked look. She became a total stranger. But I thought it wouldpass.
Wetalked for some time … or rather I talked and she just sat by thebed staring with that irritated look at my hand. I do not even knowwhy,
