© Saurbh Katyal

Babu was sitting in my car, while the junior inspectors waited in the jeep for the backup to arrive. We had exited the house to respect the family's privacy. The grief associated with the gruesome death had been overshadowed by the shock of the macabre possibility that the murderer could be an insider. The Kapoors had become hysterical after I told them my thoughts on the murder. Paras had requested Babu and I to excuse the family for sometime. They were seated in the living room engaged in some sort of confused, tearful confabulation the last I had seen them.

Babu said excitedly, 'If what you said is true, this will be one hell of a case! The media will go berserk!'

There was a twinkle in his eyes, expressing his delight 'You are quite a sharp guy. For how long have you been doing this stuff ... hey ... what's that?'

I caught the familiar sweet smell of weed, and cursed Pranay silently.

'You are smoking drugs?' yelled the inspector, and held Pranay by the collar.

It took a few seconds for Pranay's phlegmatic pupils to register that he was doing something wrong by smoking a joint in front of a police officer. His pupils became patulous with alarm.

'Put that away.'

I pulled the cigarette from between his lips and extinguished it against the steering wheel. I apologised on Pranay's behalf.

'I am sorry, Inspector. This is the first time he has seen a dead body at such close quarters. He is not thinking straight. It is just some weed that he plucked on the way.'

'That stuff is banned. I should have him arrested.'

'Let him be, Inspector. We have bigger things to worry about. How will you handle the media when they come to know that Anil Kapoor has been murdered, and you have found clues that incriminate a family member?'

He let go of Pranay's collar, and stroked his moustache in ecstasy.

'It will be big! Very big! They would want to know how we found that, of course?' He looked at me slyly. 'You will give a statement to the media?'

'Not a chance. I am very bad at giving statements. I will leave it to your judgement to issue the statement.'

He beamed at us, and both Pranay and I breathed easy. He continued, 'I will tell them how both of us uncovered the clues together. That should keep us in the headlines for a few days.'

'Maybe you should check with Mr Paras Kapoor before issuing any statements. And please don't mention my name.'

He ignored the first part of my statement.

'You don't want me to mention your name to the press? They would want to know who found all the clues.'

'Oh no. I got lucky. You were the first one to examine the corpse, remember?'

He looked at me, nodded gratefully, and an unspoken agreement was sealed between us. He would forget the dope Pranay was carrying, and I would forget what a dope he was. An excruciatingly painful hour passed in the car. There was no sign of any member of the Kapoor family.

Babu was attacking me with a paroxysm of idle chatter that was slightly more interesting than watching snails race. I thought of the repercussions of pushing him out of my car, and realised it would only make things worse. I wanted to shut out his mindless babble, close my eyes, and concentrate on how to deal with the tempest of past memories that was threatening to take my carefully anchored heart hostage. I wanted to see Aditi again. I wanted a drink.

Thankfully, Ram came running to us and said, 'Please come in, Sir. They are waiting for you.'

I followed Babu and Pranay into the living room, and found the Kapoor family sitting stiff and impassive, sombrely waiting for us. The Adams family assembled for their annual Halloween portrait. Six pairs of eyes gazed at me with a sense of anticipation reserved for a surgeon, who walks out of the operation theatre after trying to save a man's life. I noticed that Shalini and Mayank were missing, and asked where they were. Paras said that Shalini had had a nervous breakdown after hearing my assumptions about the murderer, and was resting in her room. Her father was with her.

Paras spoke in his commanding voice. 'Please sit down. What will you have? Tea or coffee?'

His voice didn't quiver; his manner didn't falter. Here was a man who was a true fatalist, an indefatigable master of emotions. I could see the truth in the myriad versions of his rags-to-riches story I had read-about the migrant who came to the city forty years ago, with only a suitcase and a legacy of bad debt.

Babu opted for tea. I considered the propriety of asking for beer. Empty bottles were strewn all over the carpet from last night's party, mocking my sobriety. I regretfully remembered the glass of Scotch I had left untouched at my office when Aditi called.

Paras asked me in a cautious voice, 'What's on your mind?'

Beer. Aditi.

'I beg your pardon?'

'I mean ... what do you think?'

'What about?'

He stared at me like my mother used to when she thought I was trying to be oversmart. Only, in this case, I wasn't. I was genuinely bewildered. I looked at the wave of anticipation on the faces surrounding me, and realised what this was all about.

'I don't know who did it! Do you actually think I do?'

Paras looked crestfallen. 'Oh! We just wanted to be sure. You sure you don't have any idea at all about the identity of the murderer?'

The old guy looked disappointed that I didn't indict one of his family members right there. Something was wrong about his behaviour. I felt terribly uncomfortable. They were still staring at me in anticipation. I retaliated with what I hoped was the most incredulous stare. They really thought I could discern the identity of the murderer, sitting in a car with Babu! The only person I knew who could do this was Sherlock Holmes, and the last I heard he lived a couple of continents away, a few centuries ago.

Paras said politely, 'Your presence here was highly appreciated today. We would like to know what your next step would be.'

I gave my standard answer to such queries. 'Well, if you appoint me as a private detective, I can formally look into the case.'

Paras looked at his sons, rebelliously.

'Vishal, I don't know why you came here, or what are you are trying to imply. But my son has been murdered. I don't care what others think. I want you to try and find the bastard who did this.'

Tears surged into his eyes, but he fought them back heroically. Sunil and Vimal did not look very happy with his decision to appoint me. Aditi had a faint smile of triumph on her face, that only I could decipher. Apparently, some of them did not want me to work on the case. Anyway, the king had spoken, and the plebeians could go to hell.