‘It was really nothing, Mr. Athreya,’ Ganesh replied guardedly. He shot an annoyed glance at his wife. ‘Just some silly misunderstanding. It was sorted out and forgotten.’
‘That’s good. But I’d still like to hear about it.’
‘Really, Mr. Athreya, it’s nothing,’ Jilsy pleaded. ‘It’s got nothing to do with Phillip’s death. It’s not really a fight between Ganesh and Phillip. We were very good friends with him.’
‘At this point,’ Athreya countered firmly, ‘we can’t tell if it had anything to do with Phillip’s death or not. We just don’t know enough about his death to tell what may be related to it and what may not be. However, if you fear I am suggesting that the altercation pins a motive on you, rest easy. My intention in asking this question is something else.’
Relief flooded Jilsy’s pretty face. The tension slipped out of Ganesh’s bearing too.
‘You are a good man, Mr. Athreya,’ he said.
‘Now,’ Athreya persisted, ‘will you tell me about it?’
‘Well, it was like this,’ Ganesh began. ‘Phillip’s gate and our gate are side by side, and our cottages are adjacent to each other. I was entering through my gate when I overheard Phillip say, “the mongrel is here”. At that point, I didn’t think much of it. But within the next ten minutes, Jilsy, who was out in the garden, heard the term “the mongrel” repeated twice.
‘There was no doubt that Phillip was referring to someone. Each time the context was such that Jilsy thought that he was referring to me. Upset, she came and told me what she had heard. I recalled him saying “the mongrel is here” minutes earlier when I entered my gate.
‘I put two and two together, and concluded that he was insulting me. I went over to his cottage immediately and confronted him. He seemed a little shocked that I had heard him use that derogatory term, but denied that he was referring to me. When I asked him whom else he could have been referring to, he had no satisfactory answer.
‘But he insisted—pleaded, rather—to forget what I had heard. It was not me he was talking about when he used the derogatory term, he repeated. He then cooked up a cock and bull story about someone who was visiting a servant at the resort and whose nickname was “the mongrel”. But the man seemed so sincere that I decided to let it go.’
‘Did he say that the servant’s name was Ismail?’
‘That’s right.’ Ganesh exclaimed in surprise. ‘How did you know?’
‘This was on Thursday?’ Athreya asked.
‘Yes. The day before we gathered here. Jilsy and I decided to forget about it once and for all.’
‘Do you know who Phillip was talking to when he said “the mongrel” thrice?’
‘Er…’ Ganesh began uncertainly.
‘I know,’ Jilsy cut in. ‘He was talking to two men in his cottage. A pretty serious discussion, I would say, from the sound of it. You remember I was in the garden when I overheard Phillip? I saw them leave shortly after the conversation. That’s how I know who he was talking to.’
‘Who?’ Athreya asked.
‘Abbas and Murthy.’
Athreya stopped, and turned to face Ganesh and Jilsy.
‘Don’t speak of this to anyone,’ he said in an undertone.
‘We don’t know if it is relevant. But if it is, such information can be dangerous.’
‘You mean–’ Jilsy began but broke off. She had turned pale.
‘There is a killer around. It’s best to play safe.’
Chapter 14
The next day dawned foggy and dim, but it was not as murky as it had been on Athreya’s first morning at Greybrooke Manor. As had been the case the past two mornings, Athreya was among the first to rise. Ten minutes later, he was out in the garden, jogging along the walkways. While the past two days had seen a lot of activity, he hadn’t got the exercise his body demanded. This was an excellent time to remedy that.
Looking back, Athreya was a little surprised at how much had happened in one day. The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after a murder were always critical, but yesterday had been highly productive by any standard. It felt as if he had discovered the murder a long time ago, not just twenty-fours before. Today too would be crucial. He was hoping that new evidence would emerge, and that his enquiries would bear fruit.
Fifteen minutes into his jog, his phone rang. It was Rajan calling from Coonoor. He had made enquiries of the kind Athreya had requested, and was calling to share his findings.
‘By all accounts, Ganesh Raj seems to be a harmless fellow,’ he said. ‘He is on the denser side, but people seem to like him. An ex-army man who has seen a lot of action on the line of duty. Twice, he was wounded badly, but went back to the front line each time. He has a reputation for being courageous and dependable in action. Known as a doer rather than a thinker. A genuine guy, whom his colleagues recall with fondness.
‘But being a bit of a dullard, he was overlooked for promotion several times. Lacked the intelligence and tact to rise very high, it seems. But when it comes to integrity and honesty, he is top-notch. Not the slightest blemish on that account in his entire career. A very forthright person, he is, if sometimes tactless. Gets into altercations sometimes for calling a spade a spade.
‘Now, his wife seems to be a different sort. A bit of a flirt who is not averse to having a quick fling when her husband is not looking. She is seventeen years his junior, and seems bored out of her skull in this middle- of-nowhere valley that Ganesh picked as his post- retirement home. Poor girl, it’s not been a great marriage for her.
‘I’m told that she spends a lot of time at Greybrooke Manor, more out of nothing else to do, I suppose. Bhaskar humours her
