Chapter 14
Unlike his speedy rash bike driving, Sagar was over cautious with the car. In spite of arguing strongly against taking his boss' car for his sleuthing task, his boss had won. He wanted to take his luxurious sports bike to wander around even with the rains lashing around madly. But his boss had ordered otherwise and it would be an eighth wonder if he could successfully convince him. His only respite was not being forced with the official SUV. He hated the huge vehicle. He always felt as if a huge burden was pushed down on his shoulder to prevent it from dropping down whenever he took the steering. He was glad his boss had offered his own personal car for the task.
Chopra Garden City was a lavish, exuberant architectural genius of bungalows, apartment towers, penthouses and commercial complexes. Situated in the outskirts, its radiant presence could be seen and felt at least 5 kms before it's reach. Shelter and investment for most of the top businessmen of the country and NRIs, Chopra Garden City hosted the country's most important men and women living in the city. Smooth roads with green plants and trees positioned as escorts on either side of the road, Sagar never expected to enjoy his drive. The area was such a contrast to the city. Clean with no garbage sleeping on the sides, road maps and signals erected at the right places, parking spaces marked clearly, the area seemed to look like a developed foreign country.
"Definitely under private jurisdiction," murmured Sagar. He turned down another point of the car AC, feeling the cold taking a toll on him. Shivering slightly, he blew out air, rubbing either side of his arms leaving the control of the steering wheel for a moment. He switched on the music player and was not surprised to hear a sober old Hindi song.
"Like boss, like song," he commented to himself. He connected his phone to play blasting music, shielding all sound from outside the car. "No mention music player. Finally you are put to perfect use."
Minutes flew as Sagar entered the main gate of the luxurious township. Uninterrupted anywhere, he travelled over the many speed breakers, changing gears swiftly, swirling his neck left and right, gazing firmly at the several huge commercial complexes which had its own independent gates and security. He had to travel at least 2 Kms from the entry into the magnificent city' to reach the residential buildings. Sagar wasn't sure if he was mighty impressed or mighty frustrated at the extravagant display of richness when the same city sheltered people slogging in poverty. Even a small percent of the total investment made in this project could have served thousands of people to live a better life, at least out of the road side platforms.
A huge arch hoarding displayed Chopra Gardens in stylish word art. A check post barrier obstructed the path. Sagar could already see a man in uniform coming out of the security cabin with his hand raised above in a stop. Sagar scurried for his ID card, a strong common gate pass over any halt. He downed his window to flash his card but the security still didn't seem to be in any mood to let the car pass. He picked the card from Sagar, as he finally stopped at the barrier. Observing the card closely and matching it with the face protruding from the inside of the car, he returned the card. "Sir! Could you please come over and sign the register to acquire the gate pass?"
Sagar was irked. He hated to waste time on petty things like that. He was a police officer and had already proved himself to be one with his ID. Yet, he was forced to follow unnecessary protocol. "I am on duty," he tried to release himself of the security hook. Deep down he knew as an officer he had to follow the rules instead of trying to dodge it.
"I am sorry Sir. We have to follow rules. It would take less than a minute. Please Sir," said the officer respectfully. Unable to refuse, Sagar stepped out of the car, locking it behind. He entered the small cabin which consisted of just a table and a chair, the table filled with registers and a landline phone. The officer picked a register which was titled Visitor. He jumped the pages to the latest one and turned the register towards Sagar and handed over a pen. Sagar obliged as he entered the date, his name, the name of the resident he was visiting and the address details, and his mobile number. The officer observed the address details and picked up the phone to inform the resident.
"Could you please not do it?" Sagar requested. The officer looked confused. "It's official business. I don't want to tip the resident of my arrival. I hope you understand. It's nothing serious but it's my protocol." The officer blinked for a few seconds thinking of his duty but later nodded in agreement. He could give a small leverage to the policemen. Sagar signed the register, smiled as a sign of acknowledgment for the officer's help and got out of the cabin and into his car. He sped past the many blocks of apartments before reaching the H Block. All the blocks were painted in similar colours with the usual dull naming convention- alphabets. "Could never have been more creative," he thought.
Parking in the allocated space for the visitors, Sagar stretched himself trying to break his stiff back after the drive. He wasn't used to car driving and the discomfort of it clearly made its presence felt. Searching for directions for the elevators, Sagar walked into the darkness of the parking lot. A board marked the direction for the elevators. He checked the small bit of paper where he had made note of the address. 19th floor. He punched the number in the elevator and waited for him to be taken to the destination. Stepping out of the elevator into the smooth, white granite flooring, Sagar carefully walked to 75A. He rang the doorbell and waited patiently hearing the scampering inside and the incoming footsteps.
John Mathews, a man in his 60s presumably, opened the strong wooden door to be taken by surprise seeing Sagar. Visitors were always informed of their coming by the security. He was confused why he wasn't called. He looked questioningly at the officer for his identity. "Yes. May I help," he asked formally.
"I am Sagar, a police officer. May I come in?" asked Sagar. John stayed by the door. He wasn't ready to let the guy inside so easily. Sagar fluently showed his ID card expecting a difference in behaviour but John stood his position expecting more details. "This is with regard to an accident in which your vehicle is involved. Is Duster - RX 75 8836 your car?" Finally, thought Sagar. There was a change of body language in John as his expression turned from questioning to grim nervousness. His eyes fought not to meet Sagar's. "Can I come in?" repeated Sagar. This time John opened his door widely to let the officer in. He closed the door behind and took a deep breath.
"Please take a seat," he offered Sagar. The apartment matched with the luxury of the township. Huge living room decorated with a massive rich sofa set at the entry facing an equally massive wall mounted LED TV made the first impression. Sagar looked at the rich wood work and the well painted glass windows at one corner. He controlled himself not to be wide eyed in awe.
"Do you like to drink something? Hot?" asked John.
"Yes, please," said Sagar not refusing the offer. He was very cold and with do with something hot.
"Tea or Coffee?"
"Coffee please."
John called for his servant and instructed for two cups of coffee while he seated himself in the adjacent huge single seater sofa from Sagar. Bald in the front, fair in complexion and tall in stature, dressed casually, he sat struggling to restrain from shaking his legs. That would be an easy give away of his nervousness.
Sagar didn't wait for his coffee to begin his inquiry. "So the car is yours?"
John cleared his throat before answering. "Yes."
"May I know where it is now?"
Sagar had done his homework. Before his current visit, he had made a tour of the service station where the White Duster was recorded for service. He had already warned the service centre to cease all work related to the SUV. He scanned the car well. The bumper had a huge blow, windscreens were broken, and it fitted perfectly with the accident scene. To his disappointment, there were no blood smears. Nonetheless, it could be proved that the particular SUV was the one to throw Veerkaran off the road. Moreover, John's nervous looks confirmed Sagar that he was in the right place.
"I have given it for service," John replied. He didn't know if the policeman was there out of coincidence or out of evidence.
"What happened?"
"Nothing. Just normal service."
"Hmm..." nodded Sagar peering at John. John could feel as if he was under some scanning equipment. "When did you last take the car out?" asked Sagar.
John blinked thinking. "Uhmm...I don't remember. Service was due and hence..."
Sagar decided it was time to get straight to the point. "Let me get directly to the point Mr. Mathews. Your car is involved in an accident that took place at JP Link Road on Friday morning. I am sure you read the papers and heard about the death of Mr. Veerkaran Singh. Your car is involved in that case. Now would you tell me, why you fled the scene of crime?" Sagar could witness fear filling John's body. "I am just here to get answers for a few questions before I arrest you for murder."
"No No!" shouted John in panic. "I didn't do it."
"It's your car Mr. Mathews. Isn't it? It's registered to your name."
"Yes...But I didn't do it. I don't drive," replied John.
"So it's your driver then?"
John remained silent.
"Mr. Mathews! Where were you on Friday morning, 1.00 am?" asked Sagar.
John swallowed hard breathing quickly. "I was out of town. I was attending a conference. I returned only that evening."
"And I can see you do know who took your car," stated Sagar confidently. It wasn't very difficult to see John sweating profusely, scared.
"I am not sure," said John, his words stumbling. "I came back from the conference and saw the car all bashed up. I sent it for repair the next day."
"You didn't enquire who did that. Hmm?"
"I did. The drivers said they didn't take the car. I don't give them the keys when I am not around," explained John.
"How many drivers do you have?"
"Four."
"So the drivers denied taking the car. Then who did? I am sure the car doesn't automatically drive out to create an accident," mocked Sagar.
John looked nervously around. He wasn't sure if he should go out with the truth.
"If you have other plans like remaining silent, I may as well save my time talking and take you to the police station," threatened Sagar lightly, which was more than enough for John.
"It was my wife's brother. I am not sure but he always used to take out my car without permission," said John.
"Your wife's brother?" repeated Sagar curiously. "Where is he now? You didn't ask him?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him for weeks now. He used to visit frequently when my wife was alive but now he comes only when he is in need."
Sagar pondered a while walking around the living room. "When did you last see him?"
"Hmm...couple of weeks back? He needed some money."
"What does he do?"
"Nothing." There was contempt in John's voice. "He works in some mobile shop if I am not wrong. Or at least he said he was working in some mobile shop."
"Where does he live? Address?"
"Some dungeon room in VKJ Colony. I have never visited there."
"And you think...What's his name?"
"Vincent."
"You think Vincent committed the accident?"
"All I am saying he is definitely capable of it. I don't know if he did it. I called his number but it's switched off."
"Did you clean the car, wipe it or do anything?"
"My drivers could have...but I think they didn't. I asked them to directly leave it at the service station."
"Mr. Mathews! Can you tell me a little about Vincent? What kind of boy was he?"
"Irresponsible! Arrogant! Careless!" snarled John. "He was lucky to have a sister like my wife who took complete care of him after their parents' death. She tried hard to turn that idiot into a good man...but sadly her attempts were in vain. He dropped out of college, hung around with useless boys like him, tried starting business and drowned all my money..."
"You didn't like him, did you?"
"Honestly...No. Doesn't mean I hate him. He was my family and I wanted good for him. Did whatever I could but sadly he wasn't grateful for that. He was selfish...officer. He was a pathetic loser and he enjoyed being like that."
"What do you do, Mr. Mathews?"
"I am into Pharmaceuticals," replied John. He was pretty relaxed now. "Officer. I know you will enquire more before getting down to any decision. But if Vincent is found guilty, was responsible for the accident, he should serve the punishment. I want to transform the boy for my wife's sake. I will do everything to help him."
Sagar could see a slight glint of tears in John. John was looking at the photoframe of his wife which hung near the LED TV. Obviously it was evident that he still loved his wife and still missed her.
"What about your kids, Mr. Mathews?"
"Two sons. They have their own business. They don't live here," replied John.
"Where can I find Vincent?"
John thought for some time, not because he didn't want to answer but because he didn't know the answer. "I don't know, officer. I seriously don't know. As I said, I have been trying to get hold of him myself. He usually hung around in the mobile shop he said to be working at. It's at Lanka Park. May be you can find him there."
"Hmm...Thanks Mr. Mathews. I would like to inform that I would be taking away your SUV for examination. And kindly inform us if Vincent contacts you. Can you give me a picture of Vincent, please?"
"Sure...Please do keep me informed Officer. I know...I may not directly be related to Vincent. But he was Mary's brother. He is my brother too."
Sagar mind was struck at one word. "Mary!"
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"You will be alright," Heera patted Charith's back. He was never used to be on the field for investigation purposes though that had always been his fantasy, his interest. His usual work was done by tapping few keys. He was on the field and he felt limitlessly nervous. It could have been easier if he just had to enter some place and question someone. But to hide his identity and question subtly without letting anyone know that he belonged to the police was too much pressure for his faint heart and mind. Moreover, he couldn't express his alliance with Heera too to anyone. Heera was known as from the police at the funeral house but he was a new entry to the sorrow-filled environment.
"I am going in. Enter after few minutes. You will be fine. If there is any problem, excuse yourself and leave the place," instructed Heera with compassion. "Else...Just say who you are. You aren't doing anything illegal." She understood Charith's fear and nervousness very well. She always had a soft corner for the shy boy. He was like a little brother to her, a brother she never had and always wanted. Charith too, felt a strong bond with Heera. She was the first person to welcome him to the team, with whom he voiced out his fears openly. From that day, Heera always had an eye on him, checked on him to see if he was comfortably settling down in the team.
Protected in thick jackets from the cold and rain, both the officers observed the swarm of people entering Veerkaran's house. His body was released the previous night and the family had decided to complete the rites immediately. Army officials were present to perform their side of the duties. Family, friends, neighbours, and of course the media were in full presence. Heera gave an encouraging smile before she walked through the gate and into the crowd. Charith looked around. His body temperature was turning cold heightening his uneasiness, adding to the already chilly atmosphere. He zipped up his jacket to the neck, pulled out his gloves to warm his shivering palms. Blowing air into his gloved palm, he waited with one eye on every minute that passed on his watch and one eye on every person who entered the house.
After about 5 minutes, Charith readied himself to begin his mission. He wondered how his senior officers were able to perform on the field work with so much ease and elegance. Lining his thoughts, he walked casually into the house, into the crowd of mourning people. His mission was to find out more about the family. He had decided to target Sharad's friends. They would be the best people to share details that he wanted. His eye scanned for younger people, naturally, people standing in a huddle. He knew friends always stood together. Apart from the situation of the funeral, it was perhaps the only time they actually could get together for a meeting. After few minutes of slow walking, standing beside few men to avoid suspicion, Charith made his way to the huddle he had discovered to be Sharad's friends. He had a glance inside the house through the main door, where the body had been kept in a freezer box. He immediately diverted his mind. Scenes like that always troubled him a lot. He had always avoided visiting funeral houses as he didn't have the heart to cope with the distress. His parents had never taken him to houses of condolence and he felt grateful for that. But for the mission in hand and to fulfil his professional duty, he had accepted for the task in hand, not that he had any choice. He would attend a funeral instead of trying to talk to Vedant for permission. He didn't have the courage for the latter not that his boss would eat him alive.
Heera identified where Charith was and kept him in sight. She couldn't leave him alone even if she wanted to. She couldn't bring her mind to leave him on his own. She knew he was a grown up, an officer of the Special Branch. She knew him for just 6 months, yet his shyness, his respect for people around and respect for his own work impressed her a lot. She wanted to be of any help he wanted. She did realise that she can't baby sit him and probably he wouldn't like it either, but she couldn't help herself.
Charith moved along and stood near the huddle of friends. Before making his move, he had to gain knowledge about the friends, whether they were Sharad's school friends, college friends, childhood friends or any other category of friends. After standing nearby but watching elsewhere, Charith understood the group was Sharad's school and college friends, a mix. It would be extremely risky for him to begin the conversation introducing himself as one of Sharad's old mates. Sharad would have definitely told his friends if he had an old friend and his cover would be blown immediately. He had to hide his identity not because he was doing some risky operation but because he would get much better and authentic information if he disguised himself.
"Hey! You are Sharad's friends?" asked Charith turning to them. He spoke with a determined confidence. The group looked interested and most of them nodded in agreement. Charith instinctively knew he was in.
"Excuse me?"
Heera was mildly surprised to see Sharad call her. He looked sober, naturally.
"Do you have a minute?" he asked, with a mature calmness. Heera nodded. He began walking inside the house. He turned around and signalled Heera to come along. Shooting a glance at Charith who was busy talking with the friends, Heera followed Sharad. He took her upstairs to a medium sized room, assumingly a study room, assumingly Veerkaran's. It was a neat room, painted in light green, with a huge shelf of books making one wall, with the rest of the walls hosting various photographs. As Sharad went in to unlock the cupboard to take something out, Heera surveyed the pictures, mostly of Veerkaran in his military uniform with his comrades and other senior officials. The medals and the trophies sitting on a bench in one corner shone with Veerkaran's bravery.
"I wanted to give you this," Sharad presented a pile of books- diaries. "I found them in the book shelf. I couldn't go through with Ma's protective eyes always on me. I thought it might be useful to you."
Heera smiled as she took the diaries in her hand, with blinding lot of questions in her mind.
"I want to help as much as I can, though Ma doesn't want me to," said Sharad.
"But why? Why does your mother not want to help us?" questioned Heera.
"Ma'am! I understand you want a lot of answers. But, now, I don't think it's possible for me to explain," replied Sharad. He looked at his watch and then extended his neck a little towards the door to check if anyone was calling or searching for him.
"I understand Sharad. I am really sorry for your loss," replied Heera. "But, before you go...I want the answer for just one question." Sharad waited with concentration. "Do you know who killed your father? Or do you know anyone who might be involved?"
Sharad's stature, his shoulder stooped immediately. There was frustration and desperation in his body language and facial expression. He looked around the room meaninglessly left and right, comprehending the words to put out as an answer. "I am not sure. Actually I don't know. I can only say, we have been in contact with few anonymous people who had been threatening us for years, blackmailing us. Ma didn't inform Dad about it. She was scared for him and for me. But Dad came to know about it and stopped the blackmail transactions. I think those people must be behind Dad's murder. I don't know who they are...I doubt if Ma knows too. We have never met them. But Dad ceasing to give money and then his murder, it can't be a mere coincidence, can it?" His voice was hoarse and controlled. He was fighting back his tears.
"SHARAD!" travelled a voice from downstairs.
"Ma'am! I really want to help. I will tell you everything I know, after the rites. I want to find who killed my father."
Sharad sent a sad smile before he walked out of the room. Heera looked at the pile of diaries. There could be huge evidence hidden behind Veerkaran's words. Her operation for the day has hit the highest score possibly. She thought about how Charith was doing in his work.
"Thanks a lot for sharing stories about Sharad and his family. I am sure I will be able to understand him better, help him better." Charith shook hands with each one of the friends after his masked investigation. He looked around searching for Heera to signal that he was done with work. Failing to locate her, he walked slowly towards the gate to remove himself from the assembly. On his way out, unfortunate to his plan, he banged with a middle aged man.
The man, probably in his late 30s, looked pitifully at the juice that had spread wasted around on the ground leaving a damp patch.
"I am so sorry," apologised Charith sincerely. It was his mistake. In his bid to leave the place, he forgot to be cautious about his footsteps.
"That's Ok," replied the man with a pleasant smile. "Don't worry about that. You are leaving?" he added the question seeing the direction Charith was walking.
Charith was caught unaware of the question he was put up. He would look extremely insensitive if he said he indeed was leaving. "Uhmm...I left my phone in the car. Just going to pick it up."
"You must be a friend of Sharad's?" the man asked.
"Yes. Charith. You are?" Charith pondered a moment looking at his own gloved hand if he had to offer for a handshake.
"That's Ok," said the man with a little chuckle seeing Charith's hesitation. "I am gloved too. It's really very cold this time. I am Hariprasad. Veer's neighbour."
Charith immediately recognised the name - the bike's owner. Hariprasad was a tall, well-built man and the continuous smile on his face enabled his friendly nature to overflow and make it evident. There was a clear ease sharing time with the man, talking. There was a strange sense of maturity and wisdom overpowering his eyes. He almost seemed to be happy in the sad gathering.
"I know you must be thinking I am a weirdo," said Hariprasad bringing Charith out of his analytical reverie. "Death reaches everyone. It's just a matter of time. This time it was Veer. Tomorrow, it could be me. That's how life is. I am sure Veer's soul would be peaceful. He had a good life."
"You were close to him?" Charith couldn't stop himself getting into the question mode.
"Sort of. He was a retired man and I had my business done from home. So we did spend a lot of time together. Very good man. Patriotic. Principled man. Everyone respected him. You can see that from the number of people he had pulled to his funeral."
There was a dip in the smile that tainted Hariprasad's face. It was as if he was trying to put up a jumpy show while he was extremely sad inside.
"What happened?" asked Charith.
"He took my bike that night. May be he got killed because of that. May be if he had gone in his car, he probably might not have got into trouble." The man wasn't in tears but the depth and seriousness in his voice and words shook Charith. It was a man filled with guilt and grief. Hariprasad was more than just a neighbour.
"It's appalling to hear...Uncle was actually murdered," Charith changed his sentence in time to project himself close to the family. "Was he in any sort of problem?" he added trying his luck for an answer.
"Not to my knowledge. He seemed the same man to me. Organised in his work and thoughts, having a perfectly healthy life. He loved his job. His job made him happy. I could never think of any reason in the world that he might had been in any trouble. He would have told me." Hariprasad forced a smile back glancing the gathering. "I'll keep going. It's sad I can't stay till the last rites. I have an important trip to make. My mom is sick and..." There was evident sadness.
"It was nice meeting you, Sir," Charith smiled acknowledging the talk.
"You better get your phone," said the man leaving through the gates. Charith saw the man trailing away from his sight. He felt a sudden heaviness in his heart. Every people he had met or searched related to Veerkaran had loved him. Veerkaran seemed to be a man who had left a positive lasting impression on everyone. How could have one possibly murdered him in such a cruel way. Heaving a small sigh, he turned to position Heera anywhere. She was standing by the door with a pile of books. She saw him seeing her. She saw him initiating to approach her. She raised her hand in alarm. They weren't supposed to know each other. Charith understood his mistake immediately and walked out of the gate to the car. His operation had been successful to an extent too.
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"Are you sure?" asked Vedant, seriousness at its heights. He was standing outside his parked official car, in front of a huge blue glass building.
"Positive. This forensic report makes no sense. The test results are improper. Nothing makes sense I mean... I don't even understand how this report was passed in the court without any disapproval. I am sure the prosecution would have raised objection. Wasn't an expert called for review?" Shakti was sitting at her office, one hand holding the receiver and the other flipping through the reports. She was confused, irked and angry at the sight of forgery.
Vedant ran his hand through his hair moving down to scratching his cheeks pointed with little beard, thoughts congregating from million sides. "Talk to the designated forensic doctor of the rape case. See if you can find what actually happened. I feel there had been another report, the real report which was changed at the end. If you aren't able to get hold of anything, I am sure the evidence still lies. See if you can run the tests again. Any permissions or signatures, I will get it done. Inform me if anything pops out of the ordinary or if any evidence was conveniently ignored."
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