‘Okay,’ said Athreya. ‘So where do I fit in? Why did you bring me to Greybrooke and tell me all this?’
‘You see, Mr. Athreya, I am not entirely convinced that my two will trick can work. There is a chance that I may have miscalculated. In the event that I do die unnaturally, I want you to investigate my death.’
‘Is that the commission you wanted to offer me?’
Bhaskar nodded and allowed himself a wry grin. ‘A posthumous commission, if you will. I wonder if you have ever been offered such a thing. But seriously, Manu and Varadan have instructions to appoint you if something nasty happens to me or anyone else here.’
Chapter 6
The previous night after dinner, Michelle had offered to show Athreya around the vale. They now set off together, going up the path that led to the cemetery and the vale beyond. They stopped briefly to admire the rock garden in the outer lawn. It was a circular arrangement of tastefully laid out rings of rocks and plants, rising higher with each ring. Around the outermost ring were three stone benches for people to sit on.
About 500 yards from the inner lawn, the walkway ended in a quiet little cemetery demarcated by stone pillars. The grass in the square piece of land had been mowed, and small flower beds had been laid out around the five gravestones that occupied one corner of the cemetery.
Michelle walked up to the graves and solemnly placed the flowers she had brought with her. Athreya stood back a few paces, his arms folded in respect for the departed. Michelle bowed her head and said a silent prayer before she turned to Athreya with a little smile.
‘I always feel at peace when I come here,’ she said softly. ‘Somehow, I feel my mother’s presence here, as if she is standing beside me. Poor Mom, she went too young.’ She gestured to the gravestone closest to her. ‘This is her grave. The large one near the corner is my grandfather’s. The ones next to it are my uncle and aunt. And this is my father’s.’
Athreya had detected a hint of suppressed emotion when she had talked about her mother, and, to a lesser extent, about her grandfather. But when she mentioned her father, her voice was flat and expressionless.
‘There are two people from the family who are missing from this cemetery,’ she continued. ‘Do you know why?’
‘Well, I heard that your grandmother’s name was Anjali and Bhaskar’s wife’s name was Sujata. I presume they were cremated, not buried.’
‘That’s right.’ Michelle flashed him a quick glance. ‘That was quick. You hadn’t met any of us till yesterday evening.’ A sheepish look came over her. ‘I hope you have forgiven me for yesterday’s foolishness?’
‘There is nothing to forgive, Michelle,’ Athreya said.
‘As you would have gathered over dinner last night, we are going through a difficult patch. You know that Uncle and my husband are not on talking terms, and quite frankly, my husband and I could do with some help from Uncle. With the two of them staying at two ends of the vale, I have to be the go-between. I don’t mean to bore you with my troubles, but I thought I owed you an explanation for yesterday’s rudeness.’
‘Come, Michelle, you need to explain nothing.’
By now, they were walking out of the cemetery and away from Greybrooke Manor. The walkway had ended at the cemetery, and they were now on a mud path with wild grass and shrubs on both sides. A dozen yards to their left ran Grey Brook, whispering to itself, flowing placidly. A short distance to their right was an irregular stand of trees, beyond which the hill began its climb gently.
They continued walking slowly, with Michelle providing a running commentary, just as Dora had done in the jeep. With a smile, Athreya appreciated the fact that everyone at Greybrooke Manor, with the exception of Richie, was being hospitable, and was going the extra mile to make him feel welcome.
Ten minutes farther down the valley, they came to a clutch of low buildings to their left, one of which was larger than the rest.
‘Is that a resort?’ Athreya asked.
‘The Misty Valley Resort. This path leads straight past it.’ She gestured towards two cottages to their right that were standing alone. ‘These have nothing to do with the resort, and stand on Uncle’s land. A very good painter lives in one of them.’
‘Ah, Mr. Phillip, I presume? I believe he is coming to the party tonight?’
‘That’s right. A quiet man who says little, but smiles a lot. The other cottage is occupied by an ex-army major and his wife. They too will be coming to the party.’
Michelle broke off as a youngish-looking man appeared farther down the path. He had just come from the resort, and hailed Michelle as he strode towards them. He was immaculately dressed, and must have been in his mid- thirties. His dark hair was carefully brushed back, and he seemed to have freshly shaved. His clothes were obviously expensive. Athreya’s first impression was that he gave considerable attention to his looks.
‘This is Ali Abbas, the owner of the Misty Valley Resort,’ Michelle said. ‘And this is Mr. Athreya, who is visiting Uncle.’
‘Technically,’ Abbas said as he shook hands with Athreya, ‘I am not the owner. My father is. But as he is too old to run the place, so I do what I can. A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Athreya.’ He looked down at Athreya’s long fingers and continued, ‘Of course! A valuer would be an artist too.’
For a second, Athreya was confused. But light dawned the next moment. Abbas had mistaken him for the art valuer Bhaskar had invited to Greybrooke Manor.
‘I’m afraid I’m neither, Mr Abbas,’ he said good-humouredly. ‘I do sketch a bit and fool around with pencils and pens, but I am not an artist by any stretch of
