Tarquin Hall - The Case of the Missing Servant

"Any luck at the Sunrise Clinic?" he asked Tubelight.

"I chatted with the receptionist. Says no girl matching Mary's description was brought in. I think she's lying. I'm going back at seven to meet the security guard on duty the night Mary was murdered."

"Allegedly murdered," Puri reminded him.

"Right, Boss. What's your plan?"

"Just there's some checking up I need to do here. Take the car and send it back for me. I'll pick you up around eight o'clock."

Puri got out of the vehicle, but turned and said through the open door, "Be alert! Whatever miscreant did in Munnalal knew what he was doing."

"A professional, Boss?"

"No doubt about it at all. A most proficient and cold-blooded killer."

Puri followed the brick pathway that led along the right-hand side of Raj Kasliwal Bhavan, rounded the corner of the house and paused outside the door to the kitchen. It was closed. All was quiet inside.

The detective surveyed the garden to see if anyone was around. Finding the coast clear, he walked over to the servant quarters and edged along the space between the back of the building and the property's perimeter wall.

Facecream's small window was easily identifiable from the thread that went up the wall and disappeared inside. Puri knocked on the glass three times and made his customary signal: the call of an Indian cuckoo.

A moment later, the window opened and Facecream appeared.

"Sir, you shouldn't have come!" she whispered in Hindi. "It won't be long before everyone is up. Memsahib does her yoga at seven on the lawn!"

"Munnalal was murdered last night in the garden right behind this wall," said Puri.

"Last night, sir? Just here? I didn't hear anything." There was a wounded indignation in her tone.

"Could the killer have come from inside?" asked the detective.

"There's no way anyone can come in and out without my knowing, Boss," said Facecream.

Puri brought her up to date with the events of the night before and told her how he had come to examine the knife wound for himself. When he was finished, Facecream said, "Sir, was the motorcycle a blue Bajaj Avenger?"

Puri's eyes lit up with expectation. "Tell me!" he said.

"Sir, Bobby Kasliwal has one. Last night he rode away on it at around eleven-fifteen."

"By God! What time he returned?"

"Past midnight."

Puri let out a long, resigned sigh. "It's what I feared," he said to himself.

"What is, sir?"

He didn't answer, but asked, "Is the motorcycle kept in the garage?"

"Yes, sir."

Puri nodded. "I'll have a look. Anything else you can tell me?"

"Sir, I've been trying to find out what more the servants know about Munnalal. Nobody has a good word to say about him. Jaya claims he constantly harassed her. She says he groped her a number of times. Once, when he was drunk, he tried to force his way into her room."

"Does she know if there was anything going on between Munnalal and Mary?"

"She's not sure, sir. She heard some sounds coming from Mary's room one night. This was soon after she started working here, in late July. But she couldn't say for sure whom Mary was with."

Puri heard a rustling sound coming from the side of the servant quarters and signaled to Facecream to close the window. Casually, he put his hands behind his back and pretended to be looking for something on the ground so that if anyone appeared asking him what he was doing there, he could claim to be searching for clues.

The rustling grew louder.

Presently, a large black crow hopped into view, turning over leaves with its beak.

"False alarm," he gestured to Facecream, who came back to the window and opened it.

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"Sir, I got the cook's assistant, Kamat, drunk. He liked Mary but I doubt there was anything going on between them. I got him to admit he's a virgin."

"Is he aggressive?"

"Yes, but he's not that tough."

"How do you know?"

"He tried it on and I slapped him. He ran off crying."

It was Facecream's opinion that the mali, too, was no threat. "He's smoking charas all day," she said, "and can no longer differentiate between reality and fantasy. He makes up stories about everyone. He seems to hate Kasliwal. Apparently he's been telling everyone that Sahib has been coming to my room at night!"

"By God," murmured Puri. "Anything more?"

"That's all," she answered. "But, sir, have you considered that after you confronted Munnalal, he figured out that it was Jaya who saw him carrying away Mary's body and he was planning to intimidate her or silence her?"

"That would certainly explain why he was carrying a weapon," said Puri. "But there is one other possibility-"

His words were interrupted by the shrill sound of Mrs. Kasliwal's voice. She was calling from the kitchen door.

"Seema? Seema! Chai lao! This instant!"

"Sir, I'd better go," said Facecream reluctantly. "I'm not in her good books. Yesterday I broke a plate and she's docking my salary forty rupees. That doesn't leave me much to take home!"

Puri laughed. "Just a few more days and we'll have you out of here. Let's talk tonight at the usual time."

The detective remained where he was while Facecream hurried off toward the kitchen.

"Haanji, ma'am. Theek hai, ma'am," he heard her saying to Mrs. Kasliwal.

The two women went inside, closing the door behind them, and Puri stole over to the garage, which was on the other side of the garden to the left of the house. He tried the side door, found it open and stepped inside.

Bobby's Bajaj Avenger was parked at the back.

The numberplate was coated in red mud.

Upon further inspection, Puri found a spot of blood on the accelerator grip. There was another on the helmet.

"He's gone to visit his father in jail," Mrs. Kasliwal told Puri when he asked about Bobby's whereabouts.

She was on the front lawn in the dandasana position, squeezing shut one nostril with her index finger and breathing out hard through the other.

"At what time, madam?"

Mrs. Kasliwal snorted a couple more times and then laid her upturned hands on her knees. "He left at six-thirty or thereabouts," she said.

"You're certain, madam?"

"Of course I'm certain, Mr. Puri!" she snapped.

Puri watched as she moved into the Ardha Matsyendrasana, or Half Lord of the Fishes, pose.

"He's carrying a mobile phone, madam?" asked Puri.

Mrs. Kasliwal sat up straight again, exhaling as she did so.

"Certainly he's having one, Mr. Puri. But why the sudden interest in my son?"

"Actually, there's a certain matter I would like to discuss with him."

"Tell me what exactly?"

"Actually, I was hoping he might bring me one or two caps from London next time he's reverting to India. I'm particularly partial to Sandowns. By far the best quality is made by Bates Gentlemen's Hatter of Piccadilly. I hoped Bobby would bring me one or two. Naturally I would make sure he's not out-of-pocket."

She looked at him with a baffled expression.

"Caps, Mr. Puri? Caps are the priority, is it? What about the investigation? What progress is there?"

"Plenty, madam, I can assure you."

"So you keep saying, Mr. Puri! But I see no evidence of it. Thousands are being spent of our money and for what? No progress at all! Frankly speaking, I don't know what it is you're doing all day."

She lowered her chin to her chest.

"Fortunately my lawyer, Mr. Malhotra assures me the police case is shot full of holes. Only the flimsiest of evidence they have. Nothing concrete. He'll be getting Chippy off for sure."

Puri fished out his notebook.

"What is Bobby's mobile number, madam?" he asked, pencil at the ready.

Mrs. Kasliwal rattled off the digits too quickly for the detective, who had to ask her to repeat them three times before he had it written down correctly.