‘Yes, sir,’ a pleased Murugan nodded. ‘The house has many old teak doors. They need to be taken care of properly. That’s why I don’t let anyone else attend to them.’
‘I noticed that all the doors here are mostly noiseless. My bedroom door too.’
‘Mr. Fernandez is a light sleeper, sir. Creaking doors wake him up, especially after that horrible break-in we had. I make sure that none of the doors or windows in the house make noise.’
‘The chapel too?’
‘No, sir. It doesn’t matter if the chapel doors creak. In fact, you have to struggle with one of the side doors to open it. If I hear a creak, I know that someone is there.’
‘Did you hear a creak last night?’
Murugan was stumped. He stopped what he was doing and stared unseeingly across the kitchen. The girls watched him wide-eyed.
‘No, sir,’ Murugan said at length. ‘I didn’t hear the door creak.’ He swept the kitchen with his imperious gaze and barked in Tamil, ‘Did any one of you hear the chapel door make noise?’
All the staff in the kitchen shook their heads, including Gopal and another boy who was cleaning the grinder.
‘Where do you keep the oil dispenser?’ Athreya asked, studying a piece of cauliflower Manchurian appreciatively.
‘There, sir.’
Murugan pointed to an open cupboard near the back door of the kitchen, where a number of tools were neatly arranged. Athreya ambled over to it and picked up a small plastic oil dispenser with a round body and a long, slender snout. Oil had spilled out, and had made the surface of the dispenser greasy. It had also left a ring of oil on the shelf. He touched the oil with the tip with his finger and smelled it. It smelled the same as the oil on the chapel door’s hinges.
Murugan hissed when he saw that the dispenser was greasy. He strode up with a piece of cloth and offered it to Athreya.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I always wipe it after the work is done. Not everyone does that,’ he said, shooting Gopal a dark look.
‘Not me, sir,’ Gopal yelped. ‘I didn’t use it.’
‘Then who did?’ Murugan demanded when the other boy also shook his head. ‘None of the girls are allowed to touch the tools. And I wiped it the day before yesterday after I oiled the front door.’
‘I don’t know, sir. Honest.’
‘Leave the poor boy alone,’ Bhuvana called from her stove, furiously stirring the contents of a large vessel.
‘He didn’t do anything. That oil dispenser was borrowed yesterday.’
‘Borrowed?’ Murugan asked, turning around. ‘By whom?’
‘Richie.’
* * *
From the kitchen, Athreya went in search of Bhaskar and found him in the library, reading a collection of short stories from the nineteenth century. He looked haggard and pale in his unmotorized wheelchair as he looked up from his book.
‘Come, Mr. Athreya,’ he said and closed the book after inserting a bookmark into it. ‘I had hoped that we would meet in this library under pleasanter circumstances to chat about this treasure trove I have here.’
He waved his arm, gesturing to the tall bookshelves covering the walls of the library.
‘We still can,’ Athreya replied. ‘After this affair is resolved.’
‘I certainly hope so. But your visit to Greybrooke Manor is already serving another purpose, notwithstanding that oaf of an inspector. I must apologize for his behaviour–’
‘There is no need for you to apologize, Mr. Fernandez.’
‘He was pretty nasty the last time around too,’ Bhaskar went on as if Athreya hadn’t spoken. ‘The time when the intruder broke in and tried to kill me.’
‘That was what I wanted to speak to you about,’ Athreya cut in, seizing the chance. ‘Manu tells me that the dagger we found in the stream may be the same one the intruder had dropped when you shot him.’
Bhaskar’s eyes flew open, and he sat up straight.
‘That’s right!’ he hissed. ‘Remember I told you that it looked vaguely familiar? That’s it! Manu has hit the nail on the head. The dagger you found in the stream looks very similar to the one the intruder had dropped.’
‘Are you sure, Mr. Fernandez?’
‘Hmm…am I sure?’ Bhaskar frowned deeply. ‘I think so. But will I swear to it? Probably not. You see, we didn’t pay much attention to the dagger that day. Murugan picked it up, and by the time we realized it, many sets of fingerprints were all over it. But after that day, I haven’t seen it. It’s been a while now, and I can’t be sure if this is the same dagger.’
‘Where was it kept after that day? Do you remember?’
‘I’m afraid not. Perhaps Murugan will know.’
He reached out and pressed the button of a portable bell. Somewhere deep in the mansion a bell chirped. A minute later the door opened and Murugan came in.
‘Yes, sir?’ he asked.
Bhaskar asked him about the dagger the intruder had dropped.
‘I remember putting it in the top drawer of the table that stands in the hall,’ he said slowly. ‘That was soon after I had picked it up and everyone had examined it. I didn’t see it after that.’
‘Go check the drawer, Murugan,’ Bhaskar growled.
‘See if it is still there.’
Less than a minute later, Murugan was back, shaking his head. Sebastian trailed in behind him.
‘No, sir. It isn’t there.’
‘Was that the last time you saw it, Murugan?’ Bhaskar asked. ‘When you put it in the drawer?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Murugan had paled. He seemed to have made the connection. ‘The dagger that was found today, sir…it looks very similar to that one.’
‘Could it be the same dagger?’ Murugan nodded silently.
‘I think so too,’ Sebastian added quietly. ‘Murugan is right. We put it in the drawer and forgot about it.’
‘Then,’ Athreya said, ‘anyone could have taken it, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who all were at the mansion when the intruder broke in?’
‘Mr Fernandez, Manu and Mr Phillip. Apart from Murugan, the staff and me. Richie and Dora came the next day.’
‘And when did this intruder break in?’
‘Let’s see…about three months ago.’
‘There is something I
