‘You drew the same dagger you had dropped three months ago. Phillip had been kind enough to retrieve it for you. You went in and slit his throat. You ran out, threw the dagger into the stream and went back to the resort.
‘At the resort, you used the small side gate. You knew that it made a noise that would alert the guard. You lifted the latch slowly and let it down. You lifted the gate an inch or two so that it didn’t make any noise, and slowly opened it. Five minutes later, you were in your room, safe and sound.
‘But you were in for a shock the next day. The man you had killed was Phillip, not Bhaskar.’
Athreya stopped and watched the mongrel. He was terrified. Conflicting emotions flashed across his face even as his mouth fell open and his eyes darted about. His breathing had grown shallow, and his face was as white as a sheet.
‘This is the case against you,’ Athreya said. ‘A pretty strong one, don’t you think? What I’ve narrated is what Inspector Muthu believes happened. Of course, I have not given you the evidence; I’ve only outlined what the police think happened. They are convinced that you killed Phillip, mistaking him for Bhaskar.
‘Who saw you, who heard you, what others said about you—all that you will hear in court. Keep in mind, Ismail will sing like a canary. If he doesn’t, he will become an accessory to murder.’
‘I didn’t kill Phillip!’ the mongrel wailed. ‘You must believe me. I was there at Greybrooke Manor, but I didn’t kill him.’
Athreya remained silent, letting the man squirm and agonize.
‘I didn’t kill Phillip,’ he moaned again. ‘Yes, I locked the door of the staff quarters. Yes, I was near the chapel. Yes, I overheard Abbas and Murthy plotting. But I didn’t kill Phillip!’
The mongrel was breathing rapidly now, his breath rasping. The broken man was trembling and wringing his hyperactive hands. His beseeching eyes, bloodshot and haunted, were pleading with Athreya to believe him. When Athreya remained still and silent, a shuddering sob rose from the mongrel’s chest.
‘I…didn’t…kill…Phillip,’ he whimpered. At last, Athreya spoke.
‘I know.’
Chapter 19
The mongrel gaped at Athreya as if he couldn’t comprehend the simple two-word sentence. A look of utter bewilderment overtook his face. His eyes bulged and his jaw hung slack.
‘You know?’ he repeated. Athreya nodded. ‘You know that I didn’t kill Phillip?’ the mongrel’s eyes were searching Athreya’s face as the latter nodded again.
‘You know who killed Phillip?’
‘I do.’
‘Then?’ he asked. ‘Then…’ Words failed him.
‘You got it backwards, my friend,’ Athreya said. ‘You thought that I had come here to discuss the offer you made to Mr. Fernandez. You see, I have come to make you an offer of my own.’
‘Offer?’ The stupid look remained on the mongrel’s face. ‘What offer?’
‘I want you to tell me your story.’
‘Why?’
A shrewd look came to the mongrel’s face. He was getting back to his old self.
‘Because there are multiple crimes here. It’s not just the murder of Phillip. I want to expose all of them, and one way to do that is to use your testimony.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘For one, if you become the state’s witness, your sentence will be much lighter. Second, the murder charge that is hanging over your head will disappear. Third, Mr. Fernandez could consider dropping charges against you. I don’t know if he will, but it is a possibility.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘I walk out of here. I will leave you to your fate and at Muthu’s mercy.’
‘You will let an innocent man rot in jail for the rest of his life?’ the mongrel demanded.
‘Innocent?’ Athreya asked, raising his eyebrows theatrically. ‘Show me one innocent man in this room other than me.’
‘You said there were multiple crimes here other than Phillip’s murder. What crimes?’
‘I’m not going to tell you. You confess completely, and answer all my questions truthfully. Only then does my offer stand. If you play games with me, you will end up in the gutter.’
‘How do I know you will keep your word? How do I know you will not cheat me after I confess?’
‘You don’t,’ Athreya said evenly. ‘But you have no choice but to trust me.’
‘Give me five minutes,’ the mongrel muttered and turned away.
Athreya rose and went out of the cell. He asked a sub-inspector to prepare to record the mongrel’s confession. When he returned to the cell ten minutes later, the mongrel was ready.
‘I’m going to trust you,’ he said. ‘I will tell you everything. You must keep your end of the bargain.’
‘My end of the bargain is this: If you confess and turn state witness, I will make Inspector Muthu drop the murder charges, and ask the prosecutor to recommend a lighter sentence for you. Whether Mr. Fernandez chooses to drop his charges of attempted assault is up to him.’
The mongrel nodded slowly and began his story.
‘I followed Murthy on Friday night to Greybrooke Manor, just as you said. Ismail had not told me who had commissioned the contract, but it hadn’t taken me long to find out. I already knew that it must be Abbas or Murthy. But Murthy had no money, and he was in no position to put out a contract. So it had to be Abbas.
‘But why was Abbas doing it? What did he stand to gain by having Fernandez killed? All it took was some snooping and eavesdropping. I found out that Abbas had struck a deal with Murthy. The property that would come to Michelle after Fernandez’s death would be merged with Abbas’s resort.’
‘Did Michelle know about the contract?’ Athreya asked.
‘No. She was kept in the dark. Murthy had beaten and slapped her into submission. He had made her sign an agreement with Abbas, promising to merge her inherited property
