The Turning - Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Prakash gazed numbly at the brother-in-law who had never acknowledged him as such, apparently unable to take in what he had been saying.

"She's dead. Dina's dead!" he repeated in a dazed voice. Then a spark of anger entered his eyes. "And you've sent her body away to some hospital without even consulting me, without even waiting for me to return?" he asked, accusingly.

It was around 5.30 pm, the day after Dina's death . . .

Prakash had received Fredun's message late night the previous day, but, giving in to the demand of a suddenly querulous Sonali, had waited until after a leisurely breakfast the next morning, to start the drive back to Bombay. He had arrived to find his house invaded by his wife's relatives. Banoo Maa, Fredun, and surprisingly Zerxes, but no Scherezade!

Zerxes had left Scherezade asleep, a note for her on the bedside table, and had driven over to Dina's by around 11 in the morning. He was immediately questioned by Rashna, as to how Scherezade was. It transpired that Fredun had phoned his residence, and Firdauz had given him a sketchy report about her bout of ill-health the night before.
Zerxes made the mistake of giving the true report. He was unprepared for Rashna's reaction.

"What? She actually had to be given oxygen?" she asked sharply, glaring accusingly at Zerxes. "Firdauz didn't tell me that!"

Zerxes shrugged. "1 guess he didn't want to alarm you," he suggested.

Rashna ignored him and looked at her husband. 'Tm going. I must go and see Sherrie. Is she still at your place?" This last was flung at Zerxes. Rashna had visited his flat a couple of times, without her husband.

"Yes she is," replied Zerxes coolly. "Please go over," he continued, as Fredun opened his mouth to speak. "Go over and make yourself at home. Why don't you take your car? I'll bring Fredun there later, after Sattar deigns to land up and we all can leave from here."

Banoo Maa had been tom between wanting to rush over to her Scherezade, and to stay and sort out things for her Dina. Perform this last office for her! Zerxes persuaded her to remain.

Shirin had surprisingly elected to stay at home that day instead of accompanying her husband to Dina's. Jamshed had gone out for a while, having turned up quite early in the morning. As the hours passed without any sign of Sattar, those waiting for him started chafing a bit. Zerxes, in particular was getting quite restive, worried as he was about Scherezade. The only thing that kept him from going back to ensure Scherezade was okay was the knowledge that her mother would be with her. Also, Krishna could be relied upon to telephone him and let him know, if something went wrong.

So, it had been Fredun, Banoo Maa and Zerxes, who had formed the reception committee for Prakash when he arrived from Poona . . .

It was Zerxes who picked up the gauntlet flung by Prakash.

"There was no question of consulting you, or anyone else," he said coolly. "Dina's Will made her intent very clear. It had to be honoured, her wishes carried out, without undue delay. As for waiting till . . ." But here he was interrupted.

"A Will?" echoed Prakash incredulously. "Dina died leaving a Will?" "Yes, she had made a Will." It was Banoo Maa, her voice weary. "Dina was well aware of your phobia about making a Will. She told me that nothing would induce you to make one. Maybe that was why she did not tell you," she shrugged indifferently. "But she herself had made a Will all right."

"Who had attested it?" Prakash demanded.

"I was one of the witnesses," said Banoo quietly.

"You and who else?"

"I say, layoff, will you," broke in Fredun angrily. "What the hell do you think you are doing? Cross-examining Banoo Maa?"

Before Prakash could respond to this, Banoo Maa spoke, casting Fredun an affectionate glance, "I can take care of myself, dear boy. Prakash has a right to know. Besides, it's no secret. Or soon anyway, it will no longer be one." She looked at Prakash steadily. "Fatima was the other witness.
And," she went on firmly, forestalling the exclamation that rose to his lips, "If you'd like to discharge her from your service, kindly let me know right now. I'll engage her myself and take her back with me straight away."

Prakash ran a tired hand over his face, looking defeated. He said in a stiff voice, "I did not mean to offend any of you. But I can't just take all this in! It's too much! Too much!" he repeated. Then almost as though he couldn't help himself, he asked, "Is it a secret, or may I know the contents of the Will? Apart from the disposition of her own body?"

Banoo Maa's answer was drowned in the imperative ringing of the doorbell. Fatima came in, looking frightened, followed by two gentlemen. One was in the uniform of a ranking police officer; the other was in plain clothes, but clearly also a member of the Police Force.

"Good morning, Madam, Gentlemen," said the uniformed Officer politely. "I'm Police Inspector Avinash Patil from the Cuffe Parade Police Station, Crime Cell. This is Sub-Inspector Andrew Rodricks, the Investigating Officer."

The shocked silence was broken by Prakash. "Indeed! May I know the reason for your presence here?"

"Certainly," answered Avinash Patil. He was a man of around forty: slightly over medium height, slim built, with a direct gaze from behind metal-framed spectacles, and few airs or graces. His Sub Inspector was of a more cheerful aspect, a slightly tubby man with a just-about-noticeable beer belly, in his mid-thirties.

Patil looked at Prakash. "You are Mr. Prakash Sattar?" he hazarded.

On Prakash confirming that he was, Patil went on, "We are here to inquire into your wife's death, sir. There appears to be some doubt about her having died a natural death."

Prakash, stunned though he was for a moment, made a quick comeback.

"Indeed?" he said, in the time-honoured phrase used to buy time when one wasn't sure just what to say. "Indeed?" he repeated. "So what did she die of, Inspector, if not natural causes?" he blustered.

"We are not sure, as yet," Patil responded in a soft, polite tone.

"The matter has been referred to the Coroner. We are awaiting the autopsy results." Andrew Rodricks glanced rapidly around the room, appreciating with the eye of a connoisseur the expressions ranging on the faces of the relatives of the deceased. On all except that handsome foreign-looking chap with those curious green eyes. His face was an impassive blank.
Cold-blooded looking chap, thought Rodricks to himself.

It was he who spoke, his tone 'just slightly disdainful. "50 what happens now, gentlemen? I take it we too await the results of the autopsy with . . . er . . . bated breath?" Before either of the policemen could answer, Zerxes supplied his own. "Yes, we do that! What I can't understand is," he frowned, furrowing his brow in feigned puzzlement, "the premature presence of you Gentlemen, here. Unless of course," he I went on with a slightly ironical air, "you have come, as a matter of courtesy, to inform us that the Coroner has ordered an autopsy, and that Mrs. Sattar's body is under his jurisdiction?!" His look held both challenge as well as amusement.

"You are related to the deceased?" asked Patil.

"Not quite," was the amused answer.

Fredun felt that it was time someone performed the introductions and did so, referring to Zerxes as his daughter's 'fiance'.

Patil turned back to Zerxes. "To answer your question, Mr. Avari, yes, that was part of our reason for calling on Mr. Sattar. To inform him that Mrs. Sattar's death has been referred to the Coroner. And also to make a few preliminary inquiries, in case the doctor's suspicions prove justified." For once Patil was not quite successful in making the statement sound so casual as he desired.

Prakash Sattar almost rounded on him. "Doctor's suspicions?
Which Doctor's suspicions?" he asked sharply. "I understand her family doctor was perfectly satisfied that my wife died of natural causes. Dammit, he has given a certificate to that effect."

"Well Mr. Sattar, this won't be the first time a Doctor's certificate will be proven wrong! That is, if it is proven wrong, of course!" Patil spoke coolly, almost soothingly.

Really, thought Zerxes to himself, Patil's manner was a bit too polite. A dangerous manner in a policeman! Zerxes was well aware that during his tenure thus far, Patil held the record in the Force for the highest number of confessions elicited by any policeman. And he had the reputation also, of not resorting to third-degree methods. His genius lay in wearing down his suspects with relentless, unflagging questioning. And trapping them in the contradictions of their replies.

Zerxes glanced a little uneasily at Prakash, who was beginning to look choleric. "You haven't answered my question. Who had these socalled suspicions?" Prakash rapped out.

"The Doctor who dissected her body at a demonstration class at JJ Hospital," said Patil, his expression deadpan.

"Remarkably quick work, for a teaching hospital," commented Zerxes before Prakash could get an edge in. "Dissecting a cadaver as soon as it was brought in!"

Patil did not rise to bait. Nor did he think it necessary to explain the one in a thousand coincidence that had occurred in Dina Sattar's case, exposing an almost perfect murder. A murder which would have passed off as a natural death, had it not been for a series of accidents.

First, of course, was Dina's own act in donating her body for anatomical research in her Will. The second, the body being delivered at the hospital just as the lecture-demonstration given by the visiting German forensic expert was in progress, with the Coroner and the Professor of Anatomy at JJ both being present. . . the German deciding to give an unscheduled demonstration on post-mortem procedure, and demanding a cadaver . . . the chaps at JJ wheeling in the fresh cadaver that had providentially just come in . . .

Jovially cutting open Dina Sattar, making the usual macabre jokes, the expert had suddenly halted in his work, twitching his bony nose in a sniff. The smell of benzene was really quite unmistakable - it wafted even to where the Coroner was seated. The lecture-demonstration was aborted abruptly, as the German forensic expert and the Coroner went into a huddled conference, joined in by the Dean of Anatomy.

All three agreed: there seemed to be some form of benzene or aniline present in the body. This would require further testing, and detailed investigation. The possibility that this was not a natural death, that the deceased had been poisoned by some form of benzene or aniline, could not be ruled out. The Coroner authorized chemical and other tests of the viscera. . . the police were informed. . . and that had brought Patil to the doorstep of the deceased. . .

Patil, a fervent believer in the pre-ordination of human destiny, was convinced that the murderer's fate was sealed. After such a chain of coincidences, the murderer had to be caught and apprehended! He glanced around quickly at those present.

Prakash's face reflected a stunned daze. And something else mingled in it . . . a flicker of fear. . . or was it guilt? Fredun looked ill at ease. But that, Patil knew from experience, could mean anything. Or nothing. The old lady, Miss (he believed) Banoo Kanga had closed her eyes, the very lack of expression in her face revealing the depth of her anguish:

Zerxes A vari was impassive. Unperturbed. Patil smiled to himself. He knew something about Mr. La-di-la Avari, as some waggish cop had nicknamed him. He was certainly a little too well dressed for the scruffy Sessions Court he mainly practised in. But there was no denying his already formidable reputation. Even the most case-hardened cops dreaded having to face a cross-examination by Zerxes Avari. He so often succeeded in making them look like fools!

The doorbell rang. A sniffling, swollen eyed, sullen Fatima opened the door. Jamshed walked into the room and stopped short, casting an inquiring look at Fredun.

Fredun met his gaze briefly, giving a slight, warning flicker of the eyelids. "Come in, Jamshed. Prakash is here. And these are two Officers from the Cuffe Parade Police Station, come here with a rather incredible story." Turning to the two Inspectors, he went on, "This, er . . .
Gentlemen, is the ..er. . . Mrs. Sattar's sister's husband, Mr. Jamshed Dumasia."

Turning to Jamshed again, Fredun said, baldly, "The Police seem to think Dina was poisoned."
Jamshed's mouth opened, then closed again. He appeared to visibly collect his thoughts together. "Think?" he echoed, looking at Patil almost accusingly. "You mean you aren't sure? Then why couldn't you have waited till you were sure, instead of trying to create a scandal in our family?"

Patil was tmperturbed by the attack. He rather welcomed it. When persons connected with the case got a little rattled, one came to learn things one never might have, otherwise. How the devil did that Vatcha chap come to the conclusion that the deceased had been poisoned? But then, fair-mindedly he conceded that poison seemed to be the obvious method used in this case, if this was indeed murder!

What interested Patil more was this Dumasia chap's rather curious response to the news. This was not the way a chap would react, on being told that his sister-in-law had apparently been murdered, surely! Moreover, Patil had a shrewd suspicion the supposed poisoning of Dina Sattar was not the 'scandal' this Dumasia chap was referring to! He said mildly, "We thought it best to inform the family of the deceased that the matter was in the Coroner's hands," thinking of the scene at the Police Station when the call had come through from the Coroner's office.

* * * *

The call had been routed through to the Senior PI: the bluff, burly Sheriyar Irani, who had immediately summoned both Patil and Rodricks.

"Better inform the husband straight away," Irani had ordered. "He's a big noise in fairly high circles. Close to the Home Minister, Finance Minister, etcetera. . . etcetera. . . etcetera. . . I believe this was his second wife. One of those convenient converts. A bit of a hush-hush thing! First wife died just recently. Apparently a case of suicide. Wrists slashed. Gamdevi were on that case. PI there seemed satisfied that it was indeed a case of suicide."

He had shot his two subordinates a keen glance from under shaggy, untidy eyebrows. "Better tackle him tactfully. I want top priority given to this case. Less chance of any interference, if we move very quickly. As I've said, the husband's quite a big shot. And from what I've heard of him, a big bastard, as well! See what info you can get about the set up, reactions, etc. But don't get Sattar riled, for the Lord's sake! We haven't anything concrete to go on, as yet, and I don't want the Commissioner on my back. This'll be a bit sticky,"· he had prophesied gloomily.

* * * *

Rodricks, as was his wont, examined Sattar closely without appearing to. A distinguished-looking man, he thought to himself. Tall, slightly stooped, with iron-gray hair, iron gray moustache, and hooded dark eyes under thick dark brows, almost meeting over the bridge of his nose without any break. The effect was marred, however, by a receding, rather weak chin and a full, sensual lower lip supporting a disproportionately thin upper one. Hedonist or ascetic? wondered Rodricks. The mouth was a combination of both.

The hands were those of a voluptuary: the palm well padded; short, thick fingers, the lower phalanges more fleshy than the others. Hairy hands, noted Rodricks, taking in the expensive gold wrist-watch strapped over bunches of curly black hair which did not allow even a millimetre of the skin of the wrist to show.
SI Rodricks' breezy, casual, almost faddish manner, so deplored by his Superiors, was misleading. He was a highly efficient and capable officer, perceptive and astute. The perfect foil to Patil, who was shrewd, painstaking and meticulous. A man who did not miss much, with a quiet, laid-back manner of working.

Patil turned to Prakash again. "Did your wife complain of illhealth or uneasiness at any time during the last few days?"

Prakash took his time before replying. Then he said, slowly, deliberately, "Your queries will have to wait, Inspector, till you have established that there is a need or a basis for an inquiry. Till then, I would be obliged if you would refrain from invading my privacy at this time".

Rodricks seemed about to say something, but Patil quelled him with a slight frown. "As you wish," he replied equably and nodded at Rodricks and both officers tok their leave.

After they had left, Fredun seemed more ill at ease than ever. "I say, was that wise?" he asked Prakash. Prakash gave a short grim laugh that came out rather like a snarl and walked over to the Bar. "Let them establish there was a case of poisoning, before they start digging into our lives," he said curtly. "These policemen are getting too damn officious."

He picked up the decanter of whisky and looked around inquiringly. "Care for a drink, any of you?"

Banoo Maa looked revolted at the suggestion. The men declined politely. Prakash, past caring about the sensitivities of his wife's relatives, poured himself a generous measure.

Fredun broke the awkward silence, saying, "Well, I'd better be leaving," looking inquiringly at Zerxes, upon whom he depended for a lift.

"Yes, let's all push off," said Jamshed. "Prakash has had a long drive, then all this. . . Come with me, Maa, I'll drop you home," he told Banoo Maa.

Whilst passing out of the door, Zerxes, who was the last, said over his shoulder to Prakash, "I suggest we inform each other if there's any further development in the matter."

Prakash stood frowning into his glass, vouchsafing no reply.

After they had all left, Prakash strode over to the telephone and called Vinod. "I want you to come over here. Immediately," he almost barked into the receiver. "Don't ask questions now, just come. And Vinod - don't inform anybody at home that you're coming over here."

Then he called Sonali Roy and made a formal appointment to see her at her clinic at Pedder Road the following day.


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