The Turning - Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Prakash was awakened by Vinod, who was shaking him by the shoulder. He was standing by the twin bed, fully dressed. "Come, Father," he said. "Get up. At least let's have coffee together, before I go off to the hospital!"

Prakash peered at his watch which was lying on the bedside table. It was 7.30 in the morning. He rose, and within about fifteen minutes was at the breakfast table. Everyone else was at the table. Except Nivedita. But then that was hardly surprising any more.

"Shantabai has gone to clean the child's room," said Kuntabai, as though reading her son's thoughts. "She'll have her out of bed soon enough. High time the girl stopped mooning around and got herself something to do. We'd better start looking for a nice boy for her, Beta," she said, casting an almost accusing glance at Prakash.

At that moment they heard a high-pitched wail coming from the direction of Nivedita's room. Followed by a frenzied: "Baba, oh Vinod Baba, come . . . come soon . . . oyee maa . . . a . . . a . . . "

Prakash and Vinod were out of their chairs almost simultaneously, racing towards Nivedita's room. Arun too followed, casting his wife a puzzled glance. Kuntabai sat as though frozen to her chair.
Vinod reached his sister's room first. Shantabai was beating her chest and wailing. Vinod tried to prevent his father from entering the room, but was too late. Prakash took one look inside the door and quietly crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

The sight of his daughter's body, hanging grotesquely at the end of a sheet from the rod of the ceiling fan above her bed was too much for him.

Arun by now had reached Nivedita's room. He stood, shocked and undecided between the apparently dead daughter and the prostrate father. Vinod, who seemed to have himself well in hand, after one glance at his sister, did not have any trouble deciding his priorities. Nivedita seemed too far gone. But his father required urgent attention. He set about quickly trying to revive him.

Arun led the sobbing Shantabai out of the door, then informed the ladies (who by now had had the premonition of disaster) as to what had happened, and went back hurriedly to his niece's room.

Prakash's eyes were just beginning to flicker as Arun entered the room again. With some difficulty, between the two of them, he and Vinod managed to get Prakash to Vinod's room where they laid him out on the bed. Then Vinod telephoned his father's personal physician. And also their own family Doctor. A death certificate would be required for Nivedita. He himself would rather not sign one!

The family Doctor, however, insisted on calling in the Police, and himself rang up Gamdevi Police Station. Dina Sattar's case had made headlines, after all. Prakash Sattar was a prominent figure in the city. And the Doctor was well aware of the malicious gossip in medical circles concerning poor Dr. Dhondy. This girl appeared to have hanged herself all right, but he had no wish to take any chances!

The Senior Police Inspector in charge of Gamdevi Police Station was a man both cautious and perceptive. On hearing the news of Nivedita Shahane's apparent suicide, he called up the Cuffe Parade Police Station and conveyed the news to his counterpart there.

"Hell, Akshay, are you sure it's not some kind of hoax?" demanded an incredulous Sheriyar Irani at the other end of the wire. He had thought there was nothing that could shock him any more, after his twenty years in the Force. He had not bargained for such wholesale deaths one after the other, all connected to one family! First wife, second wife, now daughter, thought the Inspector to himself.

He buzzed Rodricks on the intercom. Patil was coming in late. He had an appointment with that Sattar dame's Solicitor, remembered Irani, who kept a track of his officers. He'd better go over himself with Rodricks, thought Irani. Akshay Varma of Gamdevi and he got along well together. This may be connected to the Sattar murder. Or it may not. But it had to be investigated.

Then he called up Sushildutt Tagore. Who on a sudden impulse called up Zerxes Avari, catching him just as he was about to leave his flat to join Scherezade for a quick breakfast at the Sea Lounge, before his appointment with Gustad Kabraji.

By the time Irani and Rodricks reached the Shahane residence, at around 8.30 or so, Akshay Varma was already there with his team. The family Doctor had now retired into the background, allowing the Police Doctor to take over. The photographers had finished their job, and two constables brought the body down. There was no doubt about it. She was dead.

The Police Doctor examined the noose, the area around the neck, the eyes, the lips, the face, and went into a huddle with the two Senior Inspectors. They heard him out in silence. Irani frowned a little, then slapped his thigh as though coming to a decision, and nodded to Varma.

"I think we'd better have the post-mortem done, in the circumstances," said Irani. "Rodricks has discovered that Sattar's daughter had visited Dina Sattar on the day before her murder, which also happened to be her birthday. Only on that day! She had never been there before. And she hated Dina, by all accounts. My chaps hadn't got around to questioning the girl as yet. They'd have done that today. If this is suicide, she's picked a damned convenient time! If not, someone else has panicked a bit. Which means she knew something!"

Then he and Varma went in search of Vinod. In the living-cum dining room, the family Doctor was trying to persuade Kuntabai to go to her room and relax. The old lady still sat at the table, chanting some verses like an automaton, paying no heed to anyone or anything around her. Suchitra Khanna had an arm around her, but didn't seem to know quite what to do.

Irani found Vinod and Arun Khanna in Vinod's room, trying to persuade a now fully conscious Prakash that it would be best if he got admitted into a hospital for some time. Prakash's personal physician was there too, trying to lend the weight of his authority. Prakash was resisting feebly. He seemed to have hardly any will left. Irani thought he had never seen anyone age so fast. Varma's Sub-Inspector came tentatively to the door, and signalled to his Superior to come out. Both he and Irani went over.

"What's up, Rafik?" Varma asked abruptly. Rafik Merchant, the SI at the Gamdevi Police Station held out a piece of paper which appeared to have been tom from a notebook. "It's been dusted for fingerprints, Sir," he said. "We found it on the bed, under her pillow." The note contained a scrawl in childish, rather ill-formed handwriting. The message was brief and rather stilted:

"I am sorry I did that. I just had to!
Don't be angry with me, Papa. I love you."

"Well, I suppose that's clear enough," said Varma.

"Hmmm . . ." Irani seemed lost in thought. His eyebrows snapped together, giving him a ferocious look. He looked up at Varma. "The PM will tell!"

"You don't believe this is suicide?" asked Varma.

Irani shrugged his bulky shoulders. "You heard what the Doc said. No saliva dribbling. Hardly any petechial haemorrhage around the ligature. That's fishy! Of course, these signs are not conclusive. But this could well be a case of poshnortem hanging."

"You think someone killed her first and then strung her up to give an impression of suicide?"

"We can't rule out that possibility," said Irani thoughtfully.

"Besides, I've got a nasty feeling in my gut. In fact, Akshay, I'm wondering whether we should review the case of Karuna Shahane."

"By God, Sheriyar! You don't think Sattar himself is responsible?" Varma sounded sceptical.

"It's too early to rule out anybody. And there's a lot about Mr. Prakash Shahane Sattar that won't bear close scrutiny, I assure you," replied Irani dryly.

"What about this note?" asked Varma.

Irani looked at him with a slight, grim smile. "Under the circumstances, what message does the note convey to you?" he asked.

Varma looked at his colleague, a slight frown in his eyes. "It seems as though this dame was responsible for Dina Sattar's murder, and then committed suicide in a fit of guilt or remorse!" he said.

Irani's smile broadened. "That, my friend, is exactly the message someone wants us to get! We'll know whether that is true or not, once we get the results of the PM."

They went back to Nivedita's room, to find that the Police Doctor was packing up his instruments.

"What, according to your estimate would be the time of death, Doctor?" asked Varma.

"She's not been dead too long," said the Doctor. "Rigor mortis has commenced, but is not as yet completely established in the entire body. I'd say not more than six hours, seven at the most. He looked at his watch. "It's about 9, now. I'd say she died some time around 2 to 4 this morning, on a rough estimate."

Varma gave the note back to Merchant. "Get the experts on to it. Apart from the fingerprint chaps. Handwriting analysis, chemical testing, the works. Get samples of the deceased's handwriting from the brother. And ask our chaps if they can estimate when the note was written. It's written in ink, so that may help a bit."

The SI seemed to hesitate a bit. "Do we take the fingerprints of everyone in the house, Sir?" he asked.

"Yes dammit," replied his Senior irritably. "We can't afford to take any chances this time," he snapped out, wincing a little as he recalled the readiness with which they had accepted Karuna Shahane's death as suicide. Of course, it still could be suicide, and everything that followed could have nothing to do with her death.

Both Senior Inspectors were well aware that if Nivedita Shahane's death turned out to be murder, the suspects were all within the four walls of that house. All her closest family: father, brother, grandmother, uncle and aunt. There were no signs of anyone having broken into the flat. In fact, there was no question of anyone having been able to break into the flat. The flat was on the 5th floor. The windows all had secure decorative grills fixed on them. On the door of the main entrance was a sophisticated Yale latch. Everything was intact. No, no one had broken in.
And if Nivedita had been murdered, it could only be because she knew something or had discovered something about Dina Sattar's murder, Irani opined, in a hurried conference with Varma. There was hardly any other motive for killing the girl And that made Prakash Sattar the hottest suspect! Prakash Sattar, who had had both the motive and the means to murder his wife. And who had been present under this roof last night. Who had been alienated from his children for so long. After all, Irani had known of cases where fathers had coldbloodedly murdered their own children. As had mothers!

After Nivedita's body had been taken away, Sheriyar Irani looked inquiringly at Varma. Varma understood, and nodded his acquiescence.

"Yes, I don't mind if you do the questioning," he said genially, realizing full well that whether this turned out to be murder or not, Irani was at least as concerned as he himself, in the investigations. If not more.

Besides, Irani knew all about the circumstances concerning Dina Sattar's death. Varma, as yet, knew next to nothing. Irani would know better what line of questioning to take with these people.
They weren't going to be easy to interrogate, Varma thought to himself, noting the taut, angry look that came into the face of Vinod Shahane, who had come into the room and heard what he had said to Irani.

"Now look here," began Vinod belligerently, "My sister's just killed herself. My father's prostrate. My grandmother is in a state of shock. You can't do any questioning now. Besides, what's there to question?"

"We are still not absolutely sure that your sister did kill herself," Irani said quietly.

"Then wait till you are sure, before you start badgering us at such a time!" replied Vinod rudely.

Irani looked at him stonily. "Your father had used some very similar words when Dina Sattar died," he said, a hint of steel in his tone. "If you absolutely insist, we shall defer the questioning till we get the PM results. But are you sure you want to insist?"

Vinod looked sulky. "Very well," he conceded with ill grace. "But I'd be obliged if you could spare my father and grandmother, at least."

"We'll be very gentle with them," promised Irani, willfully misunderstanding the stiffly mouthed request.

There was a small study just next to Vinod's room, which Irani and Varma decided to use for interrogation. The Police Stenographer was installed at a table. Vinod shouted to Shantabai to get some tea. Shantabai, still weeping, resentfully declared herself unable to do any work.

"I'll make the tea," offered Suchitra Khanna quietly and went to the kitchen, sweeping the muttering maidservant with her.

Arun came in quickly to join his nephew in the study. He was asked to wait outside. "We'll see everybody, one by one," said Varma firmly, closing the door on him before he could protest.

"Now, Mr. Shahane," began lrani. "Could you please first give us the names of all the persons who were in this house last night?" "My grandmother, Kuntabai Shahane, my uncle and aunt, Arun and Suchitra Khanna, . . ."

"Do they normally stay hete? interrupted Varma.

"No, they are from Calcutta. They came over when my mother died. Arun's her brother. They were to go back to Calcutta yesterday." He suddenly broke off, as though realizing the significance of what he had just said.

"Indeed," said Irani. "And why did they delay their departure?"

"That has nothing to do with the Police," muttered Vinod sullenly.

"You will allow us to be the best judge of that, Mr. Shahane," Irani's voice hardened almost imperceptibly. "Kindly answer the question."

Vinod shrugged resignedly and said, "They decided to stay a bit longer in view of Dina Sattar's death."

"But Dina Sattar died three days ago. And yet they were to leave yesterday."

"Well," Vinod said helplessly, "They postponed their departure again on knowing that she was murdered."

Both Inspectors frowned. "Why should the discovery that Dina Sattar had been murdered make your mother's brother and his wife delay their departure to Calcutta?" asked Irani.

Vinod seemed to swallow. He looked embarrassed. Irani waited patiently. Ultimately Vinod looked up, met Irani's eyes fleetingly and said, "Because my sister was very badly affected by that news."

"Why should she be?" asked Irani with the air of one genuinely seeking enlightenment.

Vinod swallowed some more, stared at the floor for a while, and then abruptly looked up as though he had come to a rather painful decision.

"You see," he said, "my sister has always hated Dina. She blamed her for everything, including our mother's death. And for many years, she has wished Dina dead. More so after our mother died." He sighed, and said, "You might as well know. you're bound to, sooner or later."

"Know what?" asked Varma.

"Nivedita actually used to pray for Dina's death," he said in an unhappy whisper.

"Since how long?" asked Irani sharply.

Vinod shrugged helplessly. "Ever since my father got married to Dina," he said. "Nivedita never forgave Dina for taking him away from my mother, from us."

"Did you or your sister ever visit your father at his Cuffe Parade residence?" asked Irani.

"No, never," replied Vinod, surprised at the question.

"Did he ever come here?"

"Only on the day my mother died. I thought it was necessary to let him know. He came here just before the body was taken to the crematorium."

"Do you mean to tell me your father had not bothered to see you and your sister for over ten years?" Irani deliberately let the contempt and incredulity show in his voice.

"Nivedita was pathological where Dina was concerned," was the defensive reply. "And some of that hatred initially transmitted itself to Father also. In fact, she kicked up quite a rumpus in public, at the funeral."

"And you?" asked Irani quietly.

"I used to be in touch with him a bit, over the telephone. But not much. I did not wish to upset my mother, you see," he explained ruefully.

"If your sister was so much against Dina Sattar," said Irani casually, "then why did she go to visit her at her residence on the day of her birthday? In fact, the day before she died?"

Even to both the Inspectors' suspicious, trained eyes, the surprise on Vinod Shahane's face was absolutely genuine. He obviously knew nothing about his sister's little visit!

"You're joking," he ejaculated, looking at Irani blankly. "No way would Nivedita have gone there, ever!"

"Would she have known it was her birthday, that day? Did you?" inquired Irani.
Vinod frowned.

"No, I don't think she would have known that. I certainly did not. Father never mentioned it to me, at least."

"How did your sister seem yesterday, Mr. Shahane? Did she seem depressed or morose?" asked Varma.

Vinod said, frankly, "As I've told you, Inspector, she's not been herself for quite some time. She's . . . for the last few years she's been displaying the symptoms of acute depressive neuroses. She's often had bouts of hysteria. And she's always had an obsessional phobia where Dina was concerned. I think," he added carefully, "she had got to a stage where she had ceased to be fully responsible for her actions."

"What are you trying to suggest, Mr. Shahane?" asked Irani quietly.

Vinod seemed taken aback. "1 am not suggesting anything, Inspector," he said. "1 am merely giving you my opinion of my sister's mental and psychological condition."

"Ah yes, you are a Doctor, aren't you? And where do you practise, Dr. Shahane?"

"I'm attached to a hospital, right now," answered Vinod shortly, adding, as though he couldn't help himself, "But I'll be setting up my own Consultancy soon."

"Your father seems to have stayed here last night?" Irani asked, veering from the earlier topic suddenly.

"Yes. My grandmother suggested he do so."

"Is this the first time he's stayed here for the night, after his second marriage?"

"No, he had stayed over the night before my mother's twelfth day ceremonies. "

"Your mother's twelfth day would have been. . . let's see. . . the day before Dina Sattar's birthday? Two days before she was murdered?"

"Yes," said Vinod, adding stiffly, "but I don't see the connection."

"We are just ascertaining the facts, Dr. Shahane," said Irani mildly.

Changing the tack of his inquiry, Irani asked him rather formally, "Can you give us the details of your movements since you last saw your sister, Dr. Shahane?"

Vinod's lips twisted in the semblance of a smile. "There's hardly anything to tell about my 'movements', as you put it, Inspector! My sister came down to dinner. My grandmother insisted on that."

"Insisted?" prompted Irani gently.

"Nivedita had retired to bed with a headache. At dinner time, after my father had come over, Dadi insisted that I call Nivedita to the dining table. I did so. We all had dinner together. My father, grandmother, Arun maama, Suchitra maami, Nivedita and I."

"Any servants?"

"There is a woman who comes part-time in the evenings to prepare the chapattis, heat the food, lay it out, and then clear up. But we always serve ourselves. I don't like servants hovering around while we are dining."

"Quite. What time did this part-time servant leave?"

"Around 9.30. Her husband, who is a chauffeur for one of our neighbours, also finishes his duty generally around that time."

"After the servant left, did you all retire immediately to bed?"

"Nivedita did, pleading a headache. Come to think of it, she really seemed to be in a queer mood yesterday," said Vinod, wrinkling his brow in an effort of concentration.

"Queer? In what way?" asked Irani.

"Even more morose and depressed than usual. Totally disinclined to talk. Even to Dadi, whom she adored. Come to think of it, she appeared to have something weighing on her mind rather heavily."
"Did she say anything to anyone before retiring to her room?"

"No, she just sort of looked around wildly at everyone on the table, blurted out that she had a headache, and then ran off as though the devil himself was after her."

"She never came out of her room afterwards?"

"Not to my knowledge," replied Vinod. Then he furrowed his brow. "Wait a minute - Yes, she did. She came to borrow Crocin from me. Then she went back to her room. Arun maama and Suchitramaami retired shortly after Nivedita."

"Which room are they occupying?" inquired Irani.

"The spare guest room. That's next to my room, which I was sharing with my father last night."
"And your grandmother?"

"The one next to Nivedita. My mother's old room," answered Vinod.

"Are you and your father both heavy sleepers?"

"I am. I am not so sure of my father's sleeping habits, after all these years," answered Vinod a trifle dryly.

"And what time did the two of you retire? And your grandmother?"

"Dadi, Father and I more or less retired for the night together. Maybe around 11 or so. Father came with me to the room, then went out for a short while to telephone his servant at his place that he wouldn't be going there for the night, and then to borrow pajamas from Anm Maama."

"Did you have any alcoholic drink before retiring?"

"Yes. Father felt like a drink. We both had whisky."

"Both of you had the same whisky?" queried Irani.

Vinod answered stiffly, "It was from the same bottle, if that's what you mean." "Did you or your father get up for anything during the night?"

"As I said, I'm a heavy sleeper."

"So you didn't get up. Hear anything at all?"

"No," answered Vinod rather sharply, adding,

"I did not get up till about 6.30 in the morning. I took in the milk and the morning papers, then shaved, showered and dressed for the hospital. Dadi was up before me, praying on the terrace."
"Does she normally do that?" asked Varma.

"No, but I guess this morning it was quite bright, so she felt tempted to go out for a while," Vinod answered somewhat lamely.

"What happened after you showered and changed?"

"I woke my father at about 7.30. I have to be at the hospital by 8.30 am."

"Who found your sister?"

"The servant. The other top-work woman who comes in the mornings. Shantabai. She's been with us for years. Acted as a nanny to Nivedita when she was small,"

"What time does she come in?"

"Normally at around 6.30. Today she was about five-ten minutes late. She went to do Nivedita's room at around 7.45, after doing all the other rooms. All the others were at the table for breakfast. Today Suchitra maami had prepared it. Shantabai went to Nivedita's room and let out a scream. We - my father and I rushed to her room. Arun maama followed. And we found her," he ended, shuddering slightly.

"The door of her room wasn't locked?" queried Varma.

"Obviously not," answered Vinod, a touch of scorn in his voice. "Otherwise Shantabai wouldn't have been able to get in." "Obviously," repeated Irani, rising and holding out his hand.

"Thank you for your co-operation, Dr. Shahane. And now, we'll ask your father just a few questions, if Dr. Bidwai has no objection."

"I'11 go and ascertain from him," offered Varma, forestalling Vinod's protest and going quickly out of the room, before him.

Dr. Bidwai did not object. Prakash seemed to have made a rather quick recovery. But he cautioned Varma that his patient mustn't be tired out or asked too many questions. And at the slightest sign of flagging, they should immediately call him. Both Inspectors readily promised to do so, and shut the door on both him and Vinod, who was trying to get an edge in.

Prakash Sattar was sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows, the blanket now pulled down to his knees. On seeing Irani, he essayed a smile that was ghastly to behold, so pathetic was the attempt! "This time I shan't ask you to await the autopsy results before answering your questions, Inspector," he said weakly.

Irani smiled back bracingly. "And just to take us cops down a peg or two, this will turn out to be just what it seems," he said.

Sattar winced. Irani, a decent soul with some sensitivity, for all his bluff heartiness, said quietly, "I'm sorry Mr. Sattar. This is a very bad time for you. But we have to clear up a few things. Where only you can help us."

Sattar spread out his hands in a futile gesture. "Ask me what you will, Inspector. I'll answer the best I can."

"Thank you. We understand it was your wife's birthday, the day before she died?"

Prakash frowned. "That's true. But what's that got to do with her death? Or my daughter's, for that matter?"

"I didn't say that it had," said Irani mildly. "But we can't rule out the possibility of some connection between the two deaths."

Prakash's face seemed to take on an even grayer tinge. His conscience was playing havoc within himself. In a fit of unaccustomed fancy, he could almost feel his past rise up in retribution against him . . . the tide of his fortune turning. Turning to devour him . . . and his!

Resolutely, Prakash pulled himself together. Tried to attend to what Irani was saying.

"Can you tell us how you and your wife celebrated her birthday?" repeated Irani.

Prakash recovered his astringency. "It was my wife's forty-ninth birthday, Inspector," he answered dryly. "Hardly a birthday she'd want to celebrate with a lot of fuss!"

"I believe you left town that evening itself?" Irani did not bother to prevent the tinge of malice from entering his voice.

"I had some urgent business in Poona," said Prakash, adding, "As I said, the birthday was no big deal for my wife. Anyway, we'd invited her family over for lunch."

"Just who was present at this lunch?" Prakash told him. On further questioning as to the timings of the arrival and departure of the various relatives, he confessed to being a little hazy. But they all had left almost together, by around 3 pm.

"Did anyone else come to visit her?" Prakash looked at both of them in turn, as though trying to assess how much they already knew. Ultimately deciding not to take any chances, he said reluctantly, "My daughter had come over. But she did not meet Dina."

"How so?" asked Varma.

Prakash ran a tired hand over his drawn face. "As you are probably aware, Nivedita hated Dina. For a long time, she refused to meet her or have anything to do with her. Even with me, as a matter of fact. We re-established contact after her mother - my first wife - died. Nivedita seemed to have had second thoughts about Dina then and expressed a desire to meet her." His lips twisted. "Maybe the loss of her own mother brought about that change of heart. I don't know. I just don't know!"

"Didn't you find that rather peculiar, Mr. Sattar? Normally, wouldn't her mother's death have strengthened your daughter's hatred for your second wife?"

Prakash looked at Irani with rather a sad smile. "Who can tell with women, Inspector? Can you always predict how your wife will react?"

Thinking of his no-nonsense, sharp-tongued wife, Irani smiled. "More or less."

Prakash sighed. "I envy you, Inspector. But, to come back to Nivedita, you must remember that she was not quite. . . rational when it came to Dina." He smiled a grimace. "Vinod insists she had an obsessive compulsion to hate Dina. Who knows? Maybe that compulsion reversed itself." He shrugged. "I was too thankful at the change in her attitude to think of analyzing it. Even if I could!"

"Was your daughter aware that it was Mrs. Sattar's birthday, when she came to visit her?"

"Yes," replied Sattar heavily. "She was. I had told her so."

"In what context?" was the inevitable query.

"When she told me she wanted to meet Dina, I suggested she could come over on her birthday. In fact, I would have preferred some other time, but I was going away to Poona and wasn't scheduled to be back for a week or so. Nivedita did not want to wait that long."

Irani's shaggy brows rose. "She was in that much of a hurry to meet your second wife, then?"
"Possibly she wanted to do it before her own mood changed," said Prakash irritably. "Anyway, what does that matter, now? What are you trying to imply, Inspector?"

Ignoring these questions, Irani rapped out, "Did your daughter give Mrs. Sattar any present?"

"As I was telling you, Inspector, ultimately my daughter changed her mind and left without meeting Dina."

"Where were you and Mrs. Sattar when your daughter came in?"

"Both Dina and I were having breakfast in the dining room. Our maid showed her into the Hall. I went out to the Hall first and asked her if she wanted me to be present when she met Dina. She declined, so I went into my room. Dina told me later, that Nivedita had left the house without seeing her. Must have been nervous, I suppose," he hazarded.

"How long was your daughter alone in the Hal1?"

"I really can't say. Passage of time can be quite deceptive. May have been five minutes - may have been fifteen!"

"Did you give your wife any present, Mr. Sattar?" Irani wondered if it was his imagination, or whether there was really a flicker of apprehension in Sattar's eyes, for a moment.

Ultimately he said in a blustering tone, "Of course I did."

"And what was the present?"

"A bottle of perfume. My wife loves perfume. I have been giving her perfume for her birthday for the last couple of years."

"What perfume was it?"

"'Joy'."

Irani thought for a moment. Then he said deliberately, his eyes on Prakash's face, "I must inform you Mr. Sattar, that the poison which killed your wife was put into the bottle of 'Joy' perfume."
Prakash was startled into saying, "So that's . . ." He caught himself, and closed his eyes. He appeared to struggle with his breathing. After a few moments, his agitation quietened down. He opened his eyes and looked at Irani. "I did not put any poison in the bottle of perfume, I assure you Inspector. I do not know who did or how it got there, but I did not! I had no reason to kill my wife. I am genuinely upset by her death."

"I'm sure you are," Irani said sardonically.

Despite feeling sorry for him, Irani had taken a dislike to Sattar. But he was too seasoned a Policeman to allow that to affect his professional judgment. He knew well, with his years of experience, that the twinge of apprehension which showed in Sattar's eyes could well mean anything. Apparently, he had noticed the disappearance of the bottle,and had been worried about it.

Irani recalled the telephone call that had come in from Poona just last night. That Sattar had been staying at the Hotel Blue Diamond with his 'wife'. The telephone call from Fredun Vatcha had been received by a male receptionist, while Sattar himself was out. The message had been given to this 'Mrs. Sattar', whoever she may be. Wouldn't take his boyos too long to find out! If Sattar was carrying on with another woman, thought Irani to himself, he definitely had a motive to get rid of Dina. From what Irani could gather, Sattar's business and political connections would not take kindly to him divorcing her, considering the manner in which he had married her, in the first place!

He turned to Sattar again. Better finish with the chap, and get out before Doc Bidwai decided to throw them out. Sattar was looking none too well!

"What did you do last night, after your daughter retired for the night with a headache?"

"We stayed and talked in the living room for a while. My mother, my son, and I. My brother-in-law and his wife had retired shortly after Nivedita. Then, after my mother too had retired, my son and I went to his room. I then remembered I had not yet phoned my maid and told her I'd not be going to Cuffe Parade that night. I also had to get pajamas from Arun. I did that, and then joined Vinod again. Vinod suggested a drink - I had about three pegs of whisky. Then we went to bed."

"Did Vinod have a drink too?"

"Yes, he too had whisky. But just one peg. My son is not too fond of alcohol, Inspector."

"Are you a light sleeper Mr. Sattar?" asked Irani.

"No Inspector. I'm normally dead to the world when I sleep. And with three whiskies inside me, definitely so!"

"S0 you did not get up at all, during the night?" Sattar seemed to hesitate, frowning a bit. Then he said, "Come to think, I did get up once. Just once. To go to the bathroom."

"Any idea of the time?"

"I do not look at the clock every time I relieve myself, Inspector," Prakash essayed a grim attempt at humour, "Especially in the dead of the night. . . or . . . maybe it was very early morning. I'm not too sure."

"And did your 'going to the bathroom' disturb your son, at al1?" suggested Irani smoothly.

"Vinod was awake when I got back to the room," answered Prakash.

"Got back to the room?" repeated Irani. "Isn't there an attached bathroom in the bedroom you were sharing with your son?"

Prakash snapped irritably, "Yes, there is. But I was more likely to awaken Vinod if I used the attached bathroom. Or so I thought, anyway. So I went to the common bathroom."

"And where is that situated?"

"Just off the living room."

"Do you have to pass Nivedita's bedroom, to reach there from Vinod's room?"

"Yes." the tone was choleric, now. "And I may tell you, Inspector, that you had better have a care. You are overstepping your limits. I did not," he went on, cutting off Irani's exclamation, "go into my daughter's room, nor did I even open the door. If that is what you are implying."

"I have not implied anything of the sort, Mr. Sattar," answered Irani levelly. "What I would like to know if you can think coolly, is, did you hear any sound at all when you passed your daughter's room? Did any light show from under the door? Did you notice anything at all unusual?"
"No. No to all your questions. In fact, there was pin-drop silence. And no light showing from anywhere. Except the lamp my mother had lit, in the living room. In the Pooja alcove." Prakash lay back against the pillows. He seemed exhausted, his brief burst of anger having spent itself.
Irani looked at him consideringly, and decided it was time to leave. He did not want to precipitate a heart attack in Sattar.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sattar. We'll let you know if we need anything further from you."

"Inspector!" The urgent plea in Sattar's voice arrested both the men as they were almost out of the door.

"Inspector," rasped out Sattar. He had half raised himself. "She couldn't possibly have killed Dina, could she?"

Despite his dislike for the man, an unaccustomed feeling of pity assailed Irani. "Don't you anticipate our investigation, Mr. Sattar," he said in a rallying tone, adding in a softer voice, "Don't worry, we'll do our best to solve the case as soon as possible. No sense in imagining things in the meanwhile."

*