Tarquin Hall - The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing

“Very nice to meet you!” Pandey greeted the detective at the front door with a warm, welcoming smile. “Are those rubber soles you’re wearing? There’s a chance of an electric shock, you see.”

Puri looked down at his shoes with a quizzical expression. “They are made of natural rubber. From Kerala, I believe.”

“Excellent! Then do come in.”

Puri followed him through the front door and inside the house, which smelt of pipe tobacco. A collection of old computers, TVs, vacuum cleaners, electric razors, calculators and tangles of wires cluttered the place. Circuit boards, soldering irons and current testers lay on a workbench positioned against the far wall. In the center of the room stood an old washing machine that had been gutted of its innards; it looked like a robot that had suffered a nervous breakdown.

“I’m building a rudimentary thermoelectric generator,” explained Pandey as he knelt next to his creation, tightening a wing nut with a spanner.

“Pardon?” asked Puri.

“It converts heat into electricity. This one creates cold air from hot! Does the job much cheaper than solar power. Think of the potential here in India. This one’s for my class, to show my students. Bright young minds!”

“It’s dangerous?” asked Puri with a frown, hovering by the door.

“You can never be too careful, can you? Not when you’re dealing with electricity. That’s why I asked about your shoes. Rubber provides insulation. Look at mine!” He lifted his right foot in the air to show Puri his boots. “See?”

“Very good, sir,” said Puri, stepping tentatively into the room.

“Are you here about Dr. Jha’s death?” said Pandey, beaming. He sounded positively excited by the prospect.

“I’m doing my own investigation,” explained the detective, puzzled by the man’s exuberant mood. “His murder should not and must not go unsolved.”

Pandey looked up from what he was doing. “Good for you,” he said, smiling. “And you’re of the opinion nothing paranormal occurred?”

“At the present time, I am concerned with your opinion, only,” he answered.

“I’d be happy to tell you what I saw,” said Pandey with an ironic smile. He stood up, put the spanner on his workbench and picked up his pipe. “Frankly, it’s baffling,” he continued, emptying the bowl of the pipe into a dustbin and then filling it with fresh tobacco. “As an electrical engineer, I deal in data, verifiable results – in proof. But what happened yesterday… well, I can’t explain it. Whatever that thing was – goddess, deity, apparition – it levitated three feet off the ground. That is not within the capabilities of mortal man.”

“Must be a trick of some sort,” suggested the detective.

“An illusion?” Pandey shook his head as he lit his pipe and the smoke wafted up over his face and hair. “I saw no wires, no stilts, no platform.”

“Surely, sir, you and other members were confused, no? Something was affecting you – some narcotic or gas. Could be it had you seeing things that were not there.”

“Hallucination? It’s possible, I suppose. I did have a headache, which could have been an aftereffect.”

“Concerning the levitation,” said Puri. “What if some sort of magnetism were used?”

“An electromagnetic field? Interesting!” Pandey pondered the idea for a moment. “I suppose it would be possible for someone to levitate using such means. But nothing like that has been done before. You’d need a lot of equipment – a power supply, for example.”

“What about a projection of some sort?” asked Puri.

“Another interesting idea! But no, I’m afraid it couldn’t have been. Whatever killed Dr. Jha was definitely three-dimensional.”

Pandey went on to relate his version of events. He maintained that the ‘avatar’ had stood twenty feet high. Only after she had disappeared had he been able to move his feet again. The one major discrepancy was what had happened to the murder weapon.

“Again, I cannot explain how it happened scientifically. Metal cannot disintegrate of its own volition. That’s impossible. And yet I saw the sword turn to dust,” said Pandey, suddenly letting out a short giggle.

Puri eyed him curiously.

“Why no one else saw it happen?” he asked.

“How they missed it, I can’t imagine.”

And the ‘miraculous’ appearance and disappearance of the goddess?

“The flashes could very easily have been man-made,” the professor conceded. “They caused temporary blindness.”

“You saw any ice cream wallah after?”

“No, but then I was busy trying to save Dr. Jha’s life.”

Puri referred to his notes.

“Mr. Ved Karat tells he died right away. He searched for the pulse but found none.”

“That may be, but my first instinct was to get him to the hospital.”

Puri changed tack.

“How long you knew him – Dr. Jha, that is?” he asked.

“Two years or so. Since he joined the Laughing Club.”

“You were close, sir?”

“We became friends, yes.” Professor Pandey looked up toward heaven and raised his voice, saying, “A more courageous or generous man never walked the face of the earth.”

Again, the detective found himself flummoxed by the man’s lightheartedness.

“Why you didn’t attend the cremation?” he asked.

“But I did, Mr. Puri. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Sir, when it comes to faces my mind is better than any camera. That is because it is never running out of film. I am one hundred and fifty percent sure you were not there.”

“All I can say is that in this instance you are mistaken,” said the professor, apparently untroubled by the detective’s assertion. “I was one of the first to offer my condolences. Perhaps you came late? I might have had my back to you.”

Puri wondered if Pandey might have been the man with the video camera but decided he was too tall.

“One thing I’m getting confusion over,” continued the detective. “Dr. Jha was your good friend. Yet you are not at all saddened by his demise. Very jolly, in fact.”

“I can assure you that I am absolutely devastated,” answered Pandey. “Suresh was a dear, dear man. But it is not in my nature to grieve. I believe in a positive outlook at all times. We only have one life and it’s my opinion that we should make the most of it every minute of every day. That is why I do laughter therapy. Laughter cures all our ills. It keeps us in a positive mental state.”

“There are times when crying is necessary also, no?”

“Perhaps. But laughter is so much better! It is the antidote to all the miseries of our planet. My answer to Suresh’s passing is to hold a Laughter Memorial for him. I am inviting everyone who knew and loved him to come to the Garden of Five Senses day after tomorrow. Together we will enjoy a good chuckle – the best thing for our grief. I do hope you can make it.”

Puri said that, regrettably, he would be ‘otherwise engaged’.

“Very good, very good, very good,” said Pandey, beaming again as he showed Puri to the door. “The best of luck with your investigation. I sincerely hope you find whoever – or should I say whatever – did this.”

“Allow me to assure you, sir, Vish Puri never fails,” said the detective in a dry, even voice. “No amount of hocus or pocus or jugglery of words will prevent me.”

Pandey walked him out to the gate and opened it for him.

“One thing before you go,” said the professor. “Do you know any good jokes? I haven’t heard one today.”

The detective was not in the mood for jokes. At best, he found Pandey’s buoyant mood inappropriate.

“Nothing comes to mind,” he answered.