#nidhiKapoor

Chapter 3. The Letter.

This is part 3 in a series. You may want to read part 1 and part 2 first.

“So who do you think wants to kill you”?, asked Prakash, to no one in particular. He always let his questions hang in the air like that. One of his theories was to ask questions to no one in particular and let the audience answer. And more often than not, whoever responded first, in all likelihood happened to have a solid motive for the crime.

The scene in Nidhi’s bedroom was morbid. She sat curled up like a fetus on the sill of giant french windows. The sill has been designed to hold a small platform that someone could sit on. It looked like the comfort place for Nidhi. It was padded with a rich cushion and there was a small coffee table next to it. Nidhi was holding onto her knees in front of her chest and was rocking back and forth slowly. If this was not for real, it could pass off as a scene from one of her numerous rom-com movies. Nidhi was the undisputed queen of Indian romantic movies of this decade and along with Kabeer Khan, had inspired millions of love stories.

She was wearing a light pink linen tank top and white hot pants and despite her distraught shape, a generous amount of her flawless skin was on display. Despite his known aversion to the members of opposite gender, even Prakash could not stop admiring Nidhi’s well sculpted body. Prakash concluded that Nidhi must be the kinds to go to the gym religiously. Prakash also noticed that the windows behind Nidhi overlooked the garden and the swimming pool. Thanks to the Ashoka trees, from Nidhi’s vantage point, you could not see anything outside the house. And vice versa.

In the room, in presence, in various states of distraught was Nidhi’s entourage. Next to the french windows, on a writing table sat yet another strikingly good looking woman, of about 25 or so. Her hips were casually resting against the table and her arms were folded in front of her chest. She was wearing a pair of skin tight denims and a bright tee shirt. Prakash guessed that she must be Payal, Nidhi’s manager and close friend. Prakash quipped to himself, “Even this Payal could be an actress”. On the bed, sat the famous Neelima Kapoor, Nidhi Kapoor’s mother. Prakash did not have any difficulty identifying her. He had seen his share of films when he was young. Though Neelima was old now, one could see that she would have been a splendid beauty in her heydays. Next to the bed, on a chair, sat Naveen Kapoor. He still had a look of hostility in his eyes and body language. He was talking softly to Neelima and Prakash could not hear their conversation, even though he was in the same room as them. Two servants, apparently a middle aged couple were busy tending to all those present in the room. The lady was standing next to Nidhi and the man was standing against a wall, close to Naveen.

Unlike the rest of the house, Nidhi’s room was rather spartan. Apart from rich embroidered curtains, thick rugs and cushions in all shapes and sizes, a very few items of vanity were at show. Unlike the reception hall and her study, the bedroom did not have a single picture of Nidhi or her movie posters. Prakash found it rather strange. Prakash also noticed that the room did not have a single book. It did have a large Sony television and a few bollywood and hollywood DVD stacked neatly in the cabinet, just the way books and vinyl records were stacked in the office. He also saw a Harman Kardon music dock on the writing table where Payal was standing, connected to a mobile phone. There was no music playing though. There was some sort of a walk in closet on the far side of the room and Prakash could not see it from where he was standing but could make out that it was a dressing room, closet and storage, all rolled into one. There was another door next to the closet. It apparently led to the bath.

Prakash waited for Nidhi to answer but she continued to rock back and forth slowly on her hips. When no one else volunteered an answer, Prakash started to move towards Nidhi but Naveen interrupted, “This is not the right time to ask her such questions. Cant you see she is already troubled. If not for the shoot yesterday, God knows what would have happened. You must leave us alone now. I’d have a word with Commissioner Sharma.”

Prakash shot an angry glance at Naveen. Prakash’s eyes were hard and cold like a stone. Even though he was a small man, his eyes could easily send shivers down the spine of even hardened criminals. But Naveen did not flinch. He instead got up from the chair, walked between Prakash and Nidhi and folded his arms over his chest. Prakash realized that Naveen was either overprotective of Nidhi or was trying to shield her for some reason. Prakash said, “I am merely trying to help your family here, not that I want to. I don’t really care about these mutts but the letter is a serious matter. I am sure you must be used to getting death threats all the time but do any of you realize that this time it is for real?”

Prakash took back a step. He was about to go out of the room. He paused and said, “Tambe, give me that letter.” Without waiting for an answer, he literally snatched the letter from Tambe and placed it on the empty chair that was previously occupied by Naveen. He continued, “This letter was in the typewriter in the room downstairs. If after reading this, you change your mind, you may talk to Mr. Sharma and come see me at the station.”

At the mention of the typewriter, Nidhi turned her neck slowly at Prakash. Prakash noticed the movement and for an instant he and Nidhi were looking into each other eyes. Prakash thought that Nidhi’s eyes were her best feature and could now imagine why all her films did so well despite lack of any substance. Nidhi broke the gaze and glanced around the room, searching for the letter that Prakash was talking about. She found it on the chair and then she stared at it, wrapped inside a transparent evidence bag. She looked at the letter and then at Prakash and then at her mother, Neelima. Finally she rested her eyes on the letter.

Prakash noticed Nidhi staring at the letter, he turned around and left the room. Praveen followed him with a nonchalant walk. Renu was too dumbfounded to make anything of this. She was standing close to the door and after Prakash left the room, everyone, except the famous Nidhi Kapoor, was starting at her. She did not know how to react. She retraced her steps, turned around and stumbled out of Nidhi’s room.

Renu climbed down the stairs and ran after Prakash and Praveen. She caught up with them when they had reached the lawn and were almost out of the main entrance to the house. Renu said, “What is this? You would simply walk away? Shouldn’t you investigate further?”

Prakash looked at her, began to talk, and then stopped short in his tracks. He was staring at something behind Renu. Praveen and Renu turned around as well and they saw Nidhi Kapoor running towards them. They were stunned at Nidhi’s sudden transformation from a shock-stricken young dame to having total control of her sense.

“Wait, wait”, she was panting. She continued. “Sir, wait a minute please. I want to speak to you about this”. She was holding the letter in her left hand and was waving it frantically in the air. Behind Nidhi, Prakash and party could see Naveen Kapoor and Payal Chopra trying to catch up to Nidhi.

Prakash said, “What about it? Clearly your uncle believes that he does not need my help. Contrary to popular belief, we are really short staffed and…”

Nidhi interrupted Prakash in mid speech. She said looked him into his eyes and said, “Ok, stop it. I apologize for my uncle. He is like that only. Please. You know, my dogs and cat were very important to me. I am not worried about the attack or the letter. I have been getting such threats since I was a kid. But I really want to see the bastard punished. Please help me.”

By this time, while talking, Nidhi had come really close to Prakash without anyone realizing it. She was holding onto Prakash’s arm by now.

Prakash underwent a sudden transformation. He looked at his arm. Nidhi realized it and let go. Prakash said, “Ok, I would need to ask you a few things. You will have to lodge an official police complaint about this letter. Can we sit somewhere quiet?”

Nidhi nodded like an obedient school kid and led them to her bedroom once again. She went and sat on her window sill. Prakash asked everyone else to wait in other rooms while he interrogated Nidhi at length. Renu observed that Nidhi was composed throughout the entire interview and volunteered information at a few places even though she was not asked.

After Nidhi, Prakash spoke to Payal, Neelima and two servants. He did not interrogate Naveen. Prakash relied on his memory to notice details and interviews, Renu on the other hand took copious amount of notes of all interviews. Praveen in the meanwhile had left to work with the rest of police team that had arrived to take a stock of the crime scene.

Prakash eventually got Nidhi and Naveen in a room and said, “I’d be leaving now. My team is already here and is working in your study. They would leave in a bit. I would need those CCTV tapes as and when you can get those. Please send them over. And let me know in case you need an extra cover of security.”

Prakash and Renu walked out. As they were coming out of the house, Renu asked, “What do you make of these interviews”?

Prakash said, “Everyone seemed to cooperate. I could not read anything in any one’s body language. I don’t think someone would have had the balls to barge into the house with all the security and electronic surveillance. The animals were plain unlucky. Everyone believes that if Nidhi was not out for a shoot, she wouldn’t have been with us.”

Prakash continued, “It has to be an insider. But cleaving these animals like this, I don’t think a woman is capable of doing it. Naveen Kapoor looks like those typical rich snobs but I he is not capable of hurting anyone. He is a rather meek person and he hides behind his loud mouth. If he wasn’t related to Nidhi and Neelima, he couldn’t be anything more than a mere orderly in a large building. So I think I can rule him out but I have been wrong in the past. The servants have been with Kapoors since last 15 or so years. So I don’t know. Everyone seems to be above suspicion. I have asked Naveen for tapes from CCTV. Let’s see what comes out of those. What did you think?”

Renu was back to her usual self, “Hmmm, makes sense. I thought as much. I have a few observations as well. But before that, I am starving. Can we please go and grab something to eat please?”

Prakash was getting irritated. He said, “I’d be in my office. I’d drop you to some place on the way.”

Renu played along, “Of course. Now that you have The Nidhi Kapoor’s phone number, why would you talk to a mere reporter? That Payal is not bad either. No?”

Prakash shot an angry glance and did not say anything. Renu continued, “But what was in that letter that made her forget all her worries and run to you like that?”

Prakash took the letter out of his pocket, handed it over the letter to Renu and said, “Here, read it for yourself. Hand it over to Tambe once you are done.”

Dear Nidhi,

I have been trying to get in touch with you for so long. I have tried to speak to you so many times but you are always busy. Today Nidhi, the separation from you got the better of me and I had to come and meet you. I went to your film set but you had left by that time. I thought I would catch up with you here at your home. I knew you would be in your study. Didn’t you say so in your interviews?

I came here and well well well, I was surprised to see all those books. I did not know you were interested in reading. You have never mentioned that anywhere. But it was a good surprise. May be when we are together, we could take a few books with us for the holidays.

Coming back, I loved your room and just when I sat down on the couch to play some music, your dogs and cat starting growling at me. Thanks to that documentary about you on the Discovery channel, I knew about them and I had come prepared. I had a pack of biscuits laced with sedatives and it was easy to pacify the greedy animals.

I just sat there and I waited and waited and waited for you.
Since I did not have anything to do, I thought I’d play with your pets. But the silly creatures were almost asleep and were no fun. And I thought, why not just remove them from the scene altogether? I started with the cute pug. I know you call it Cho. Ever since that mobile phone company used it in their ads, every one has bought one. Did you also get it because of that ad Nidhi? Even if you did, thanks to me, its gone now. I held the pug in my arms and twisted it neck like a coil, like that wristwatch that you had to wound regularly. I did it till the neck snapped with that sweet sound of the bone breaking. Its the most comforting sound ever Nidhi, the sound that a bone makes when it breaks. Someday I would make you hear it.

Ceaser, the bulldog was next. You know I tied one of it hind legs to the writing table. I actually wanted to write this letter on its belly. I would have been the best love letter ever. I started to write but despite the drugs, the damn dog did not stop moving at all. I got so angry so angry that I just stabbed him in the belly with your pencils. And then it started to cry. Can you believe it? Cry! A dog. I just plunged a pencil in its face so that it would stop crying.

The cat, was surprisingly easy. I merely had to lift it up and slam it on the floor some three four times. You know I was surprised to know that cats don’t really bleed as much as dogs, or even us humans do.

And then I cleaned all the mess. I piled them on top of each other on the nice carpet. It made a brilliant sight. And then I started to wait again! I waited till almost the morning. I wanted to stay longer but I had to go. If I am missing from my room for too long, they will know. And I don’t want them to know about me. But of course you know who I am. Don’t you?

I will be in touch. Will meet soon. You and I are meant to be together. This word can’t keep me away from you any longer. There are so many things that I need to tell you Nidhi, so many.

Till the time we meet, you please take care. And wait for me.

Renu got so engrossed in reading the letter that she did not realize that Prakash had left her alone in the sprawling lawns of the Kapoor’s. She looked around and found Tambe smirking at her. Tambe said, “Madam, saheb has left. I am also done talking to the guards. I am heading towards the police station. Do you want a lift?”

Renu nodded and said to herself, “something is not quite right here. I cant put a finger on it yet though”. She was now riding shotgun in an open jeep of Mumbai police and it was flying down the empty expressway.

Chapter 2. Cho, Ceaser and Cookie.

This is part 2 in a series. You may want to read part 1 first.

Prakash observed that the office was not big compared to the opulence and grandeur of the living room that he had just crossed. An impressive polished teak table was placed in the middle of the room. Behind it was a window overlooking the garden, it had lilac chiffon curtains on it. A shiny iMac on the table was facing that window. There was a pen stand that had immaculately sharpened pencils, sharpened ends facing up, in it. Next to the stand were loose sheets of paper, fluttering under the constant waft of air from the aircon vent write above it. They were held back by a figurine of Sheldon Cooper, the character from the TV series Big Bang Theory. It was a picture perfect setting for a writer. The writer could walk upto the desk any minute and start scribbling out his best seller. And then Prakash saw it, the typewriter, perched up on the other end of the table. And a sheet of paper hanging out of it. The paper had something typed on it. It also seemed to have crimson spats on it. From where Prakash was, the spats looked like dried blood stains.

The wall on the left had a floor to ceiling high bookshelf, filled meticulously with books,
mostly on film, television, biographies and other such popular titles that people merely collect, to show off, and not read. The shelf was designed like that in libraries. Wooden shelves, spaced at regular distances, and without a glass door. On the
other side of the table, along the right hand wall was a huge bright yellow couch, enough to become a makeshift bed if required. And placed between the table and the couch was a huge gramophone and an envious collection
of vinyl records stacked as neatly and orderly as the books in the
bookshelf were. Looked like Nidhi Kapoor had a fetish for all things
retro. And she was orderly in her approach and everything was neatly stacked. Any amateur people-watcher could tell that she was at least a borderline case of obsessive compulsive disorder and Prakash was no amateur.

There was a oval rug on the floor between the door and the teak-wood desk. The rug occupied most of the empty space on the floor. Looked like an expensive piece of accessory but it had soaked in a lot of blood and had become messy. Renu, when she entered the room behind Prakash and Praveen in a hurry, had stepped on this rug. Renu was wearing her regular Kolhapuri chappals and if she wasnt numb with what she saw, she wouldve felt thick sticky liquid on her feet. Since she had stepped back to hold on to the frame of the door, she had left a distinct U shaped mark of her Kolhapuri chappal on the rug and at the entrance of the door. The red U mark pointing towards the story unfolding in front of her.

When Renu came in, on the rug, she saw lifeless bodies of two dogs and a cat. And not just lifeless but the murderer had used these poor animals as a canvas to show off his or her creativity on. A pug, that probably suffered the least when it was killed, had its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. The eyes were still open and were staring at the entrance. The brown skin had turned dark with all the blood that had dried. The jaw was open and the tongue was cut by its own teeth, probably, the pug was trying to breathe once its neck broke. The other dog, a bull dog, had suffered the worst fate. It had multiple stab wounds on its body and one of the pencils from the desk was stuck into its face, right below one of the eyes. It was lying on its back and and a huge blot of blood clot was visible on its entire belly. One of the legs was amputated and the bone was sticking out of it. The cat had deep cut on its shoulders. The white fur had turned red and the head was split open to reveal pinkish mass beneath the white and grey lumps of hair.

Dead bodies of all these animals, or whatever remained of them, were stacked close to each other and they looked like a heap of flesh and bones, gathered carelessly in the middle of big puddles of blood on the rug. And Renu was probably so disturbed because she loved pets. She herself had a cat at home. The cat at home, she called it Felix, was her only companion in fact. There was no dearth of suitors, she was young, very attractive and on the fast track to being successful. But for some reason she kept everyone at bay. She did have a few people that she would get sloshed with and then get one of them back home for the night. She probably wanted a similar arrangement with Inspector Prakash, get him drunk and invite over to her apartment. But right now, she could not think of anything else. Her gaze was fixed onto the heap of dead bodies and she seemed to have lost her speech. Tambe, when he saw her slump had rushed to help her but Prakash had stopped him from going.

“Hmmm… When did you discover this?”, Prakash asked no one in particular, but everyone knew that the question was addressed to Naveen Kapoor. Prakash was as composed as if he was in the familiar garden where he went for his morning yoga sessions.

Naveen was clearly uncomfortable in the room, made more uncomfortable by Prakash’s indifference and Renu’s trauma, he said, “I dont know Inspector. We found these today morning when Nidhi came into her office. Poor girl is still in shock. Cho, Ceaser and Cookie meant the world to her. She would take care of them as if they were her children”.

Tambe stared long and hard at Naveen on the children remark. Prakash looked at Tambe and then turned back to Naveen and continued, “No one at the house saw or heard anything? The security guards? If someone had to kill these animals, they had to get access to the house. And dont dogs and cat make a lot of noise? There is no way someone maimed these animals and no one heard a thing”. More than anything else, Prakash was talking to himself. Tambe knew it instantly, he and Prakash had been together since Tambe moved to Mumbai, from Satara, another district in Maharashtra. Tambe was a beat constable there and he had been promoted 4 years back.

Naveen said, “These were very friendly dogs. They did not bark even if you took their food away. They have been, had been, with us since Nidhi was in school and she had trained them well. Of course Nidhi’s father, late Nishant Kapoor, was a famous actor in his days. He always had money and time for these things. And the guards, they are not allowed in the house. Their only job is to remain outside the gates and control the maddening crowds that throng our home incessantly”.

“Mr. Kapoor, I asked if someone saw or heard something. I am not interested in the life and times of Kapoors”, Prakash said curtly. He apparently had no time for vain indulgences of Kapoor.

“Are there more dogs, cats or other pets in the house? Did you interrogate the guards?”, Prakash was getting impatient and wanted to get over with the case as soon as possible.Even thought this looked like a petty crime where a few pets have been butchered but the way they were executed methodically, in cold blood, was making Prakash skeptic.

“No. No. I havent had time to ask anyone. Nidhi discovered this… mess and she’s gone in shock. She is upstairs in her bedroom with her mother and her assistant Payal. I have been tending to her. It was only when Payal reminded me to call the police, I spoke to Raj Saab”, replied Naveen.

Rajkiran Sharma was the commissioner of police and he had instructed his office to give this case to Prakash Mohile’s station. Everyone knew that Prakash was a no – nonsense officer and was least likely to get influenced by the high profile nature of the case. He is also known to keep his distance from the media. So the unnecessary leaks could be kept in tab.

“Hmm.. ok. I would want to talk to every member of the house, including the servants. I want to spend some time here by myself. Please wait for me outside till then”, Prakash said, while walking towards the table. He continued, “Tambe, take Renu Maam out of the room and get someone to get her some water”. Both statements were more of orders, rather than requests. Tambe was used to these but Naveen Kapoor wasn’t. He started to revolt but decided against it. He did not want to be in the room with dead bodies anyway. Naveen started to go out of the room, paused momentarily when he saw Renu on the door. Renu was still staring at the
mangled bodies and seemed to be shivering.

Naveen said, “You know Inspector, this is exactly how I found
Nidhi, right here on this door”. And with this, without waiting for an
answer, Naveen side-stepped Renu and walked out.

Moment
he was out of sight, Tambe muttered, “Sir, something’s wrong. Naveen is not
as worried as he wants to appear. But who would kill these poor
animals. They had a far far better life than most of us anyway. They
live in air conditioned rooms with enough food to feed five families,
and access to doctors that take more money per visit that we spend on
medicines in our entire lives”.

“And this is why someone killed them Tambe. Lets
stop chitchatting and go through the crime scene. But
first take care of Renu maam please”, instructed Prakash.

Tambe headed towards the door to tend to Renu who looked visibly shaken. Before Tambe could help Renu, she realized what was happening around her. She got up by herself and walked out. Tambe followed her out. Prakash silently saw them depart and turned towards the table again.

Prakash liked to work like that on most of his cases. He’d take one long, hard, unbiased look at the crime scene to acquaint himself with it. Then he would talk to everyone who could have had anything to do with the victim or the crime scene. Finally he would just let everything simmer in his head and wait for dots to connect. Every new evidence added another layer of connection between the dots and he kept on breaking and making these connections. And finally he would get the answers. Answers to even seemingly impossible cases. His repertoire of successful cases included confiscation of a large stash of illicit drugs and the famous hit and run by son of a leading industrialist. In both these cases, they did not have a single clue. Only a crime scene and tyre marks on a dusty road and a grainy footage from a cctv in the other. And yet Prakash was able to close those cases.

He was always called in when there were cases that seemed too complex for the police force to handle. Of course nothing in his countenance gave that away. He was rather small, compared to other police officers. He would be about 5 feet 8, very fit and was almost bald. He kept his head shaved and no one could tell that he was 34. He came to Mumbai with his mother and sister when he was ten and the city was still called Bombay. His mother was a successful theater actress in Pune, some 160 KMs from Mumbai. His father, a school teacher and their’s was a love marriage. But right after Prakash was born, the daily grind of the household got to the nerves of his parents and they had started quarreling occasionally at first and then almost everyday. His mother harbored the desire to be a film star and father liked the small town life on the outskirts of sleepy Pune. Differences became so much that Prakash’s mother decided to move to Mumbai with the kids in tow. But reality hit harder and sooner than she had expected. Her only appearances on screen were a few sightings in the background scenery and a couple of side roles as character actress. She, like others, turned to alcohol, in attempt to find solutions and success. Even that dint help. And when Prakash was all of fifteen, his mother committed suicide, depressed about girls half her age getting meatier roles than her. Even in her death, she did not get any mention in the newspapers. By this time, Prakash’s father had moved away from Pune and a young Prakash could not trace him. Prakash came back to Bombay and put all his energy and time into his and his sister’s education.

In Nidhi Kapoor’s office, despite all the other overpowering odors of excreta, animals, burnt flesh and air conditioning, there was a distinct whiff of some variety of lavender perfume in the room. Prakash made a mental note about the perfume and started to examine the room carefully. The first thing that he went to was the typewriter. On it was a sheet of paper that had some sort of typed letter on it. He carefully clicked the picture of the type writer and the sheet of paper hanging from it, with his phone and tore the sheet away. Prakash had a blatant disregard for protocol and yet he was careful enough with anything that he could use as evidence at a later date. Most other officers would wait for police photographer to arrive and take pictures of the venue before they start with the investigation. Not, Prakash. He liked to take action and swift action at that. He knew his technology and knew that pictures from an iPhone are as good as the one from official police cameras. And no one used the pictures anyway, except the newspaper hounds, when the pictures were leaked.

He started reading the letter, written in chaste English. It was apparently addressed to the deceased animals. Tambe was back by then and he saw Prakash reading the letter in rapt attention. Tambe guessed that the letter must contain something important, or else Prakash wasnt the kinds to put too much attention into reading. He dint even read the newspaper or the official reports.

“Whoever wrote this, definitely has a knack for writing good prose. Too bad, the letter is at the crime site, or the writer could have written a few films for Kapoor clan”, said Prakash and handed over the letter to Tambe, who carefully sealed it in an evidence bag. Tambe really wanted to read the letter but he wasnt good with English and more importantly he knew that while Prakash goes through a crime scene, Prakash wants everyone on their toes.

Nothing else seemed out of place in the room. The window behind the table was shut tight. The lawn beyond the window had a small swimming pool in it. The water in the pool was clean and calm and the umbrella next to the lounge chair was folded. The entire periphery of the house was covered with high walls, barb-wired at the top. Tall Ashoka trees had been planted along the wall, to afford privacy.

Prakash thought out loud, “So whoever did this, had a lot of time to go about carving these animals. There is precision of a careful planner. Apart from the foot mark left by Renu, there is no other trace left by the killer. The killer has to be somebody who knows this house and this room well. Animals are never friendly to strangers and there are no signs of any struggle. There is no way all three could be killed at one time. We can atleast get an autopsy done to estimate the time of killing of these”. Tambe was trying to think hard as well.

“Look Tambe!…”, Prakash suddenly exclaimed with excitement.

Prakash had reached the other end of the room where the large gramophone was placed next to that yellow couch.. Prakash suddenly bent over the gramophone and had pulled something out from the pie of vinyl records.

“What is it sir? A vinyl record? I have seen many of those a Lamington Road market.”, Tambe was trying to think hard and figure out the reason for Prakash’s excitiment. May be the record had some finger prints or some blood spats or something that they had missed all this while.

“An original record for Pyasa, the Guru Dutt movie. I have always wanted to own one of these. It would fit in well with my collection of…”, and Prakash paused in the middle of the sentence.

Tambe was thrown offguard for a minute when he heard the mention of Pyasa. He knew Prakash liked Guru Dutt but he could not make the connection between the crime scene and Prakash’s evident excitement. Before he could say something, Prakassh had paused in mid sentence and had started to walk towards the book shelf on the other end of the room, his eyes fixed at a spot on the top shelf. Tambe, being an experienced policeman realized what was important and his gaze followed Prakash’s. Prakash was staring at a point on the top corner of the book shelf.

Prakash side stepped the rug in the middle of the room and crossed the entrance to the room and reached the bookshelf. He said, “Looks like someone has borrowed a book from this shelf. And a fat book. There is no way the book shelf would have an empty spot like this when every inch of available space on the shelf is crammed with books. And I can bet no one here touches any books. These are meant for display only!”.

Tambe replied, “How do you know sir that these are for display. And may be a book is missing. Or someone took it on loan. What does a missing book has to do with our case sir?”. Tambe was amongst a handful of colleagues who could afford to question Prakash’s judgement.

Prakash answered, “Look at the shelf. All books are lined neatly as if they were lined with a ruler. There is a thin layer of dust on the shelf. Probably the cleaner did not get time today. The spot on the top shelf however, is clean. Very clean. So clean that its out of place. Its as if there was a book there and someone dragged it out of there to make space. Also people who read a lot, read more than one book at a time. And they always leave the books they are reading at strange places. My sister does that. The house is full of books and bookmarks”. Prakash paused to examine the titles on the shelf.

“And look at the gramophone there”, Prakash pointed and said, “someone plays it regularly. There is not a speck of dust on it. The vinyls are stacked neatly as well but some of them are not in their jackets, like this Pyasa record, and some have been left right next to the player. Its odd that a room kept as meticulously as this would have an empty space in the bookshelf”.

“You are right sir. And who wants to read only biographies and film books. Where are the magazines? And our staple evening newspaper, Maha Sakaal?”, quipped Tambe. He continued, “Sir, which paper does Renu madam write for?”

Prakash replied carelessly, “I dont know that. Raj Saab hasnt told me that. Its some secret assignment for some international newspaper or magazine. All I know is that I am supposed to keep her in tow for a month. And that means we have to tolerate her for 15 more days”.

Tambe began to laugh. He was the kinds that had infectious laughter. When he laughed, you could see all his teeth. And laugher sounded more like a roar.

“Whats so funny that you are laughing? And we are done here. I have seen what is there to be seen. We wont find anything of interest here. Ask someone to seal this room”, Prakash instructed.

Tambe nodded and flipped out his walkie talkie to call for this colleagues.

“And lets go and talk to Nidhi Kapoor. You always wanted to meet her. Right? Here is your chance. But before you talk to her, there is something very important that I want to do. That letter that I gave you Tambe, I have to ask her something about it”. Prakash said and he headed out of the room. He also threw the vinyl that he was so excited about, at Tambe, who caught it deftly. Tambe left the record on the yellow couch and rushed behind Prakash.

Renu was standing outside the room, facing the door, still looking at the mangled bodies on the rug. She was using the wall to support her back and her entire demeanor seemed resigned, but in control. She tried to collect herself when she saw Prakash come out. Prakash looked at her, paused and said, “Oh yes, you! I had almost forgotten about you. Are you alright? I want you to come with me when I talk to Nidhi Kapoor. Can you do it?”

Prakash rarely waited for answers. That was his way of working. His orders often came in guise of requests, and requests in guise of questions. This sounded like a question and Renu knew immediately that this was a request.

She said, “Yes I think I am ok now. I would come along. I need to catch whoever did this. Bloody butcher needs to be punished”. This was the first time Renu had shown any kind of serious emotion. So far, in her two weeks with Prakash and Praveen, she hardly let her true emotions surface. She started following Prakash with hurried steps. Prakash was anyway always in hurry and now had Tambe and Renu in tow.

And they left the room, the way they found it. Only thing they had taken from the room was the letter from the typerwriter. And the only thing they had left behind was a pointed U mark from Renu’s Kolhapuri chappal on the expensive rug.

2700 Words – Of no consequence

Note: Starting August 2013, I am going to work full time to extend this “chapter” into a full length fictional story. I call it the Nidhi Kapoor Story. Do check out the website and the Facebook page.

As part of 1000WADv2, I am trying my hand at crime fiction. I wrote some 2700 words and I dint even touch the C of crime. Damn. Read on anyway and please share your feedback. Comment or email.

It began like any other day in the office for Prakash Mohile. As the chief inspector with the crime prevention bureau of Mumbai Police, his job was a tough one. For a city that more than two crore people call home, Mumbai had a very small police force of just about 41000 employees, divided into 89 stations. And with all the VIPs, film stars and industrialists that demanded constant protection from threats legit and otherwise, the force was always understaffed and overworked.

Amongst all the odd jobs that Prakash was responsible for, he was also in charge of protection net for those famous film stars. On the outside he came across as a no nonsense policeman with an impeccable service record and a clean image. He was even friendly with a few reporters on the crime beat with major newspapers. Like most mornings, today he was leafing through case files from the previous evening, hearing out the mercy pleas of kin of miscellaneous men arrested yesterday and barking instructions at his juniors. All at the same time. And not for a minute he stopped staring at Renu Sharma, the photo journalist with a nameless international publication. Renu was doing a photo essay on Mumbai police and though Mohile did not appreciate anyone interfering with the way he worked, Renu had been put in the station by the city Mayor and Mohile could not do a thing about it. Of course it helped that Renu was good looking, intelligent to talk to and obviously interested in more than merely professional relationship with Mohile.

Most cases today were as drab as they were on any other day. Same set of extortion calls, thefts, road accidents, celebrity altercations, union troubles. By the time officers spend five or so years in the police service, they become indifferent to all the miseries around them. Not Prakash. He had been in service for more than 10 years, or 10 years, 4 months and 3 days, as he liked to remind his staff every day. Every day while allocating casing to his subordinates, he would ponder on the meaning of life and unnecessary grief caused by these crimes. No surprises that he was most sympathetic to the issues of poor and helpless. And most indifferent to miseries of the rich. And as a result, he would allocate the cases of the fanciest film star to the worst of his team.

And it came as a surprise to everyone today when he kept a very high profile case for himself. Even Renu took note of it, now that she has been shadowing Prakash for well over a week now and was aware of his decisions. No body had the balls to question him, he was very clear in his head when he decided something. But then Renu did not subscribe to either fear or respect for Prakash. She was anyway known to be a loud mouth.

“So, Inspector Saab, finally you found a case worthy of your time? You are also going to chase lime light now with this stupid case of what looks like a petty theft at Nidhi Kapoor’s house?”, taunted Renu, while stuffing her things in her bag. She knew that once Prakash does the allocation, he wants every officer on the field.

Prakash just looked up at Renu, gave her his trademark smirk and went back to his files. That smirk, had as infamous reputation as any goon could have. Prakash used when he knew he was right and the other person dead wrong. For different people it meant different things. For suspects and criminals, it meant that Prakash has called their bluff and they were now in the bad books of Prakash. Forever. For his subordinates, it meant that they hadn’t done their homework and were caught with their hands in the cookie jar. For people who did not know Prakash, it just came across as a silly smile of a tall, lanky balding old man. For Renu, however, it merely meant that Prakash was amused at the apparently smart comment by her.

Renu knew of the smirk. She could not tolerate her being dismissed like that. She egged on, “I know you like Nidhi Kapoor. Weren’t you a part of her security detail when the premier of her last film was screened for the CM? There were quite a few pictures of you, her and the CM in all the newspapers. You do seem to have a soft corner for her”.

“Stop wasting your time. If you want to come along, you better hurry up”. Prakash said, while rushing out of the station. Renu had to almost run to reach the gates of the police station and grab a seat in Prakash’s jeep. That’s another thing. Prakash drove his jeep by himself. The driver was merely a watchdog and usher for the jeep; Prakash would park the jeep wherever he felt like, irrespective of the time of the day or the traffic in the city.

On the way, while they were crossing the Juhu Beach, Renu said, “Prakash Sir, we must come here sometime in the evening. I’ve heard the Pao Bhaji is to die for”. The constables and the driver giggled softly at the overt display of affection. Prakash stared hard at them. His stare was enough to put the fear of God in anyone’s head. All three of them shut their mouths in less than a second. Renu was quite amused with the scene and started looking at people milling around on the beach. She wondered why would someone come to a beach at 11 in the morning? Dint they have better things to do? Were they jobless. And then her thoughts drifted towards Prakash and the last week that she had spent with him. She knew she was craving for Prakash and despite him knowing it, he remains illusive.

The jeep came to a halt all of a sudden and Renu was almost thrown out of the jeep, if only Prakash hadn’t caught her. She did not know how to react. She was still shocked from the sudden break and yet she could feel the strong grip of Prakash on her arms. “Next time, you better sit in the back. These jeeps are not your luxury cars that you girls now a days are used to”, said Prakash while getting down from the jeep. The constables had alighted by then and were already walking towards the front door of Nidhi Kapoor’s house.

The access to house wasn’t easy really. It was a Sunday and on each Sunday, precisely at noon, she would step outside on the balcony of her mansion and wave at her fans for exactly 2 minutes. And for some reason, the number of fans eager to get a glimpse of her, in flesh and blood, only went up every week. Today as well, the road opposite her house was jammed with bumper to bumper traffic and huge crowd that had gathered for the weekly sighting of Nidhi Kapoor. Renu had done a story on this phenomenon few weeks back and had captured pictures of residences of Kapoors, Khans and other acting clans. But for some reason, Renu felt that today there was this unrest in the crowd and rather than a bobbling mass of energy that these crowds normally are, today it was cold and distant. By this time Prakash had stopped the jeep in the middle of road and was scampering towards Nidhi Kapoor’s house with his team. Renu ignored her thoughts and tried to keep pace with Prakash and his team.

Prakash was trying to wade through the crowd towards Nidhi Kapoor’s house and when he heard his head constable and closet confidant in his team, Praveen Tambe, mutter, “I wish even I had these many people standing outside my house for my darshan. These film stars must be bribing God to give them such wonderful lives”. Prakash turned to him and said, “Wait till we get back to station. I would hang you upside down, naked, in front of the station. Then you’d definitely get some audience”. Praveen blushed for a moment and he stopped in his tracks for a minute. Only to be pushed around by crowd around him. Prakash said,”Move it bhai, we dont have all day. This case was sent to us by the commissioner’s office”. And he rushed towards the gate, with Tambe, Nidhi and another constable in the tow.

The guards on duty today were more alert than ever. Normally they would be sprawled on their chairs, under an umbrella and would be sipping on to their teas. Today they were alert and had made a security ring outside the main door. They even had their guns, which normally were out of sight, in full display. When they saw these four run toward the house, they got tense for a minute. But when they recognized Prakash and Praveen and heaved a sigh of relief. They tried to stop Renu but Praveen signaled that she was with them. The door opened just enough to let them through and then it closed behind them, faster and tighter than ever.

And suddenly, from the commotion on the street outside, they were in an expansive and yet well-maintained lawn. It was quiet and serene inside. It was as if they were teleported to a different place, a different time. Prakash looked up at the noise reduction barriers installed on top of the wall that made the periphery of the large house. Praveen followed Prakash’s gaze and understood what Prakash was thinking. In the lawn, a middle aged man was was pacing frantically around the chairs placed bang in the middle of the lawn. When he saw Prakash and his entourage, he ran towards them.

“Hello Inspector… Mohile”, said Naveen Kapoor, eyeing Prakash’s name badge. Naveen Kapoor continued, “I am Naveen Kapoor. Nidhi’s uncle and her manager. I spoke to Commissioner Sharma in the morning only. Thank you so much for coming at this short notice. Sharma saab could not come? I was expecting him, you know.”

“Mr. Kapoor. Sharma saab may not have time to chase wide geese like this. He had instructed me to visit you personally and here I am. Otherwise even I have other pressing matters to worry about. Can I please meet Ms. Nidhi now?” Prakash was clearly offended by Kapoor’s demand to see the police commissioner and he cut the long monologue that Naveen had launched himself into.

“How dare you talk to…And who is she? And I clearly told Sharma saab, no photographers”. Kapoor pointed at Renu and her camera.

Prakash said, “I know what you asked him. She is with us and she will be present while I am here. I can assure you that she will not click any pictures but she will stay. If you like it, we can stay and meet Ms. Nidhi. If not, we can go back to the station and wait for Mr. Sharma to get free and come and see you”.

“I dont believe… Ok. She is in her room. Lets go there”, Naveen started to argue but then thought better of it. He rushed towards the house.

The house was an impressive structure, shaped like a Pantheon. And thus it was tough to guess the number of floors. But the elevation looked like as if it was a three story structure. Prakash, Praveen and Renu started following Naveen Kapoor. Prakash nodded at the third policeman and indicated him to guard the main entrance. The policeman went off towards the main gate to the house.

“Who else lives in this house Mr. Kapoor?”, asked Prakash.

“Here? Nidhi, her mother, her assistant, a couple of servants. That’s about it. I live in a building in the next lane. I come and go as and when Nidhi or Nilima, my sister and Nidhi’s mother need me.”, replied Kapoor.

Prakash stared at his back and continued, “What about all those guards on duty at the main gate? Where do they live?”

“Oh, those, they dont live here. We’ve hired a security agency and four guards work here on 6 hour shifts each. So total of 24 guards. There is a room for security guards towards the end of the lawn. They use that room for wash and change”, Kapoor said, pointing a finger at a small room on the far end of the house. From that room, someone with an intent and powerful set of equipment could keep an eye on the house and the entrance, without getting noticed.

Prakash whistled and said to no one in particular, “24 guards? For
one woman? And when shes not even at the home most of the times? Why are
we wasting our time here Tambe?”. Tambe knew that he was not supposed
to react. This was how Prakash worked.

Kapoor, as if he did not hear Prakash, continued. “Nidhi is the biggest superstar in the Indian film industry. Her last 3 movies have gone on to make more than 100 crores each on the box office. We have to be very cautious. Even the guards are not allowed inside the house. And the house has a biometric access system”.

Kapoor put his thumb on an electronic scan pad, entered a string of numbers of the pad and opened the door for the group. He said, “please come in”.

Renu all this while was seeping in the scenery around her. Nidhi Kapoor was obviously rich and had a fine taste. The house had been done nicely. The reception hall, or the drawing room, was rather large for Mumbai standards, with a nice chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She frowned at it. She thought chandeliers were a thing of past and nobody used them anymore. She hated it when she was proved wrong. Each wall had a certain character to it. Each wall told a different story. The one of the left was full of photos of Nidhi Kapoor, framed in wooden photoframes in all size. It was like a rectangular mesh of wood with pictures of Nidhi Kapoor stuck in the mesh. The one on right probably was where Nidhi Kapoor showcased art and pictures from famous artist friends. It also had life size posters of old movies, from the time when posters were actually sketched and coloured by hands. Renu wanted to steal that Sholay poster. She made a mental note of it.

There was a sofa set underneath the chandelier that could seat a mini procession and yet leave room for more people to sit on. The tables behind the sofa set, had curios, apparently gathered from all parts of the world. The whole place had a sense of symmetry to it. Like someone had used a ruler to put it all together with great care. While she was wondering about the meticulous brain that had designed the hall, she realized that she was left alone in the hall. She saw the back of Tambe dissappeaing behind an open door on the left. She scampered towards that door and yelled out loud, “wait for me!”.

She rushed in the room and immediately stepped onto something sticky on the floor. And she froze at her place. Her eyes opened up wide with amazement. Or was it horror. Or may be shock. She could not pinpoint what emotion was at play and had left her stunned with her jaws hanging open. She could feel all the energy drain out of her system. Her head began to throb and she could imagine a lump, size of a cricket ball, beneath her scalp, aching to burst out of her head. With great difficult, she took a step back and grabbed the door to help herself from falling like a heap of potatoes.

Renu was not weak hearted at all. She had seen her share of gory crime scenes as a criminal photo journalist and she had earned the reputation for having guts of steel. Crime scenes that made the most experienced of policemen empty their guts out on the sides, she worked those as if she was strolling in a park. But she was not really prepared for, what was unfolding in front of her eyes. In what looked like the office of the famous actress, Nidhi Kapoor.

~~To be continued…~~

Others parts
Part 2, Part 3