Tarquin Hall - The Case of the Missing Servant

"Quite a bruise you've got there, Mr. Puri. Some criminal type gave you a bash, is it?"

"Nothing so exciting as that," replied the detective, quickly changing the subject. "But what a fine house. Must be quite old."

"They're not making them like this anymore, that is for sure." Mrs. Kasliwal beamed. "It's been in the family for quite some time. Three generations, in fact. But where are my manners? Something to drink, Mr. Puri? Chai?"

"I wouldn't say no, actually, madam," answered the detective.

Mrs. Kasliwal rang a bell that sat on a side table along with a portrait of a young man in his graduation cap and gown.

"What a handsome fellow," remarked Puri.

"So kind of you to say so," she said proudly. "That's Bobby, taken earlier this year graduating out from St. Stephen's. Such an intelligent boy, I tell you. And most considerate, also."

"He is living with you now?"

"Living with us, of course, but currently studying in UK at School of Economics, London. In two years, he should be returning and joining Chippy's practice."

Chippy was evidently Ajay Kasliwal's nickname.

"So it's the legal profession for him, also, is it?" asked the detective.

"Bobby's always wanted to be a lawyer like his father, Mr. Puri. He's got all kinds of idealistic visions. Wants to put the world to rights. But I keep telling him to get into corporate law. That is where the money is. You know these fellows are making crores and crores."

A knock came at the door and the young maidservant reappeared carrying a glass of water on a tray. As she served the detective, Mrs. Kasliwal watched her every movement with a deep frown.

"Will there be anything else, madam?" the girl asked timidly after Puri had taken the glass.

"Bring tea," came the icy reply.

The maidservant nodded and withdrew in silence, closing the door behind her.

"Mr. Puri, I should have told you that Chippy is running late," Mrs. Kasliwal said while the detective sipped his water. "Some urgent business is there. You'll find him at the District and Sessions Court. But first you'll take lunch."

"He's a busy fellow, is it?"

"Never stops, Mr. Puri! One case after another. So many people seeking his advice. And he can never say no. He is far too accommodating, actually. That is his character. You will not find a more respected man in all of Rajasthan. And from such a well-to-do family. His grandfather was one of a kind and his father was a most distinguished person, also. Only problem is…" Here Mrs. Kasliwal faltered. "Frankly speaking, I fear for his safety, Mr. Puri. Such powerful people he is taking on. Even politicians and the like. I ask you, is it worth it? Sometimes it's best not to get involved, no?"

"Certainly one has to be careful," said Puri, staying neutral despite his admiration for his client's strong convictions and courage.

"Exactly," said Mrs. Kasliwal. "A man should put his family first and others after. Also, is it for lawyers to fix the whole country? Mr. Puri, such terrible things they are saying about Chippy. But that is why you are here, is that not correct? You'll clear my husband's good name and the family name, also. People are getting all kinds of ideas, I tell you. Everywhere there is talk."

"You can count on Most Private Investigators, madam," he replied.

"But how will you find this girl, Mr. Puri? She could be alighting anywhere, no? Who knows what has become of her? One day she is here, then absconding. Most probably she has made friendship with the wrong sort and paid the consequences."

Puri nodded. "Often shenanigans are taking place," he agreed.

"I tell you, Mr. Puri, I'm facing constant servant tension. I don't dare take my eyes off these people for one minute. Give them an inch and they take more than a mile. You provide good salary, clean quarters and all, but every time, someone is making mischief. I tell you, drivers are making hanky-panky with maidservants. Cooks are stealing ghee. Malis are getting drunk and sleeping under trees. Then they are making demands, also! 'Madam, give me advance. Madam, give my daughter education. Madam, give me two thousand bucks for Mother's heart operation.' Are we expected to take responsibility for every problem in India, I ask you? Don't we have our own stomachs to feed?"

Puri took out his notebook and asked Mrs. Kasliwal how Mary had come to be in her employ.

"Just, she came knocking one day. I had need of one maidservant."

"You have records? A photocopy of her ration card, a photograph?"

Mrs. Kasliwal regarded Puri with amused pity.

"Why should I have a photograph of her?" she asked.

"What about her last name? You know it?"

"I never asked, Mr. Puri. Why should I? She was just a maidservant after all."

"Is there anything you can tell me about her, madam? She was a satisfactory worker?"

"Not at all! Always things were going missing, Mr. Puri. One day my comb; the next, two hundred rupees. When absconding, she took one silver frame, also."

"How do you know?"

"Because it was gone! How else?"

The detective wrote something in his notebook, ignoring Mrs. Kasliwal's testiness.

"Mary vanished on what date exactly?" he asked.

"August twenty-first night. Twenty-second morning there was no sign of the girl. I found her room empty."

"Was Mary having relations with other staff members?"

"You know these Christian types, Mr. Puri. Always putting it about."

"Anyone in particular?"

"She and Kamat, cook's assistant, were carrying on for sure. Twice or thrice, I saw him coming from her room."

Puri made a note of this.

"You have been most cooperative, madam," he said. "But just a few more questions are there. Tell me, when Mary left, her salary was owing, was it?"

Mrs. Kasliwal seemed surprised by the question and took a moment to answer. "Yes, it was due," she said.

"You're certain, madam?"

"Quite certain."

"Did you report her disappearance to the police?"

"And what should I tell them, Mr. Puri? Some Bihari-type maidservant absconded? Police have better things to do with their time."

"You are quite correct, madam," he said. "The police suffer from case overload these days. That is why substitute batsmen like myself are making good innings."

Puri put away his notebook, but he wasn't quite finished with his questions.

"Madam, just you called Mary a 'Bihari-type,'" he pointed out. "But earlier you didn't say where she was from."

"A slip of the tongue, Mr. Puri," said Mrs. Kasliwal. "So many servants these days are coming from Bihar and other such backward places. Naturally I assumed she was from there, also, being so dark."

"She was very dark, is it?"

"Like kohl, Mr. Puri," she said with disdain. "Like kohl."

After an excellent lunch, Puri inspected the servant quarters.

The redbrick building stood in the back garden beyond a wide lawn and a screen of bushes.

There were five small rooms as well as a shared "bathroom" equipped with a cold tap, an iron pail and a squat toilet.

Mary's room had remained empty since her disappearance. It was dingy and bare save for a cotton mattress that lay on the floor and posters of the Virgin Mary and the Bollywood hunk Hrithik Roshan on the wall. Puri knew that in winter, with no source of heating, it must have been brutally cold, and in summer, unbearably hot.

He spent more than five minutes in the room, scouring the place for clues. There were rat droppings scattered across the floor, and in one corner ash from a burnt mosquito coil. Lined up on the windowsill, Puri also discovered a dozen smooth little colored stones. These he slipped into his pocket when Mrs. Kasliwal wasn't looking.

"Regrettably, I found nothing," said Puri as he emerged from the room, noting that the door was warped and it couldn't be closed or locked properly.