Richie had stepped out of his room at some time between 12:50 a.m. and 1 a.m. He too would have had the opportunity to kill Phillip. There was little doubt in Athreya’s mind that Richie had oiled the chapel door in anticipation of nocturnal activity. He was sure that Richie was one of the several people who had visited the chapel that night.
Abbas had ended his discussion with Michelle at 12:25 a.m. at Sunset Deck. Nothing was known about his movements after that, although Athreya did suspect him of meeting Murthy sometime later in the rock garden, where they had smoked together. So, Abbas too had the opportunity. Besides, his last admitted location—Sunset Deck—was close to the chapel.
Murthy had been skulking around Greybrooke Manor till about 2 a.m. He too had been in a position to kill Phillip.
Then there was the whole matter of the mongrel. He had been at the resort on the night of the murder, having returned to complete his aborted mission of killing Bhaskar. He would have conducted extensive reconnaissance of the estate, and would have known his way about in the fog. In fact, the fog would have aided him.
And, if Jilsy was right, he was already hand in glove with Abbas, Murthy and Phillip. The question that remained was whether the mongrel had killed Phillip by mistake, taking him to be Bhaskar.
That left Bhaskar, Manu, Sebastian, Ganesh, Father Tobias, Bahadur and Jilsy. None of them had alibis, and all of them, with the possible exception of Jilsy, could have slit a throat. Nothing could have stopped any of them from stepping out into the fog and killing Phillip.
Bhaskar and Manu had their own private French windows through which they could have passed unnoticed. So could have Sebastian, if Bhaskar was asleep. Ganesh and Father Tobias were in the annex, and would have been completely hidden by the fog. Nobody knew precisely where Bahadur was at any point in time.
The list of suspects was still too long. He had to find ways to eliminate some names from it.
With a start, he realized that his right hand had been sketching while his mind had been churning. It was a crude picture of Jesus on a cross, looking down upon a man in a wheelchair. Between the two of them was a broken altar.
* * *
The memorial service turned out to be a long, sombre affair that was attended by between thirty and forty people. Athreya hadn’t known that there were so many people in the vale. The chapel had been full. All the pews had been taken, and people were standing in the area behind the pews.
Bhaskar had asked Mrs. Carvallo to sit in the first row, with Dora beside her. The family had taken the first row on the right side, and invited guests had sat in the other rows in front. But Jilsy had refused to go anywhere near the spot where Phillip’s body had been found, preferring to take the last row on the right.
Athreya had stood in a corner at the back and watched Father Tobias conduct the service with grace and empathy. His tone was just right for the occasion, solemn but clear. He invited people to speak about Phillip, and was kind and encouraging to Mrs. Carvallo, who spoke wistfully between bursts of emotion.
Ganesh’s loud voice boomed through the chapel as he recalled his relationship with his neighbour. Michelle and Dora said short, quiet pieces, and Bhaskar finished it off with a brief, erudite speech.
Outside the chapel, the mist was gathering again, promising to be as dense as it had been on the day of the murder. At the end of the service, people melted away in groups, most of them going down the path towards the Misty Valley Resort. Not wanting him to risk passage in the thickening murk, Bhaskar asked Father Tobias to stay for the night.
When they sat down for dinner, it was a dozen of them—the same group as before, with the exception of Phillip. Bhaskar was back in his motorized wheelchair, which had been cleaned, with all its upholstery changed. It had been stripped down to its metal frame, and all the bloodied parts had been thrown away. All the replaceable sections—the seat, back and armrests—had been replaced with new ones.
‘How is your investigation coming along, Mr Athreya?’ Ganesh asked amidst a long, awkward silence, trying to spark conversation. ‘The revised estimate of the time of death has thrown a spanner in the works, hasn’t it?’
‘Not really,’ Athreya answered. ‘Earlier, nobody had an alibi. Now, with the revised time frame, some people seem to have one, at least on the face of it.’
‘Any idea of the motive yet? From what we heard at the service today, Phillip seemed to be a well-liked man.’
‘A case of mistaken identity may well have prompted the murder, Major. But, just as we have multiple suspects, we’re looking at a host of possible motives too, some quite esoteric. Did you know that Phillip spent many years in Austria as an artist, converting photographs to paintings and copying the works of others?’
‘Really?’
Several heads jerked up, as the diners transferred their gaze from their plates to Athreya’s face.
‘Austria?’ Manu asked. ‘Wow, I didn’t realize that he had lived overseas. Usually, that shows up in the way people speak and in their choice of words.’
‘He was a reserved man who spoke little,’ Dora said.
‘Taciturn, really. Maybe that’s why it didn’t show. In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I would have exchanged more than a few dozen sentences with him.’
‘That’s true, Dora. He was a quiet man. I wonder who would want to kill such a man. He kept largely to himself.’
‘It must have been someone from outside. I just can’t see anyone we know wanting to kill him.’
Father Tobias had been watching the exchange across the table as if he were watching a tennis match from the sidelines.
