“Okay. So …?” said Nisha. You could almost see the cogs of his encyclopedic mind turn, she thought.
“So—either our killer doesn’t know about the horns. Or he doesn’t care. Or the Viking bit isn’t significant but the horn bit is.”
“Right …” she said, uncertainly. “And what about the flower on her hand? A lotus. And the fork? Maybe she snatched it to defend herself?”
“No,” said Santosh, lost in thought. “They were tied to her hands to look as if she’s holding them.”
Crouched down close to the body, Nisha noticed a black hair on the otherwise spotless tile floor. “There’s a hair here I’d like to bag, when we can,” she said. Santosh nodded.
“When do you think she was killed?” asked Nisha.
He glanced at her. “Look at the body. Consider the bed. The nightdress. When do you think she was killed?”
“Last night?”
“Exactly. Mubeen can tell us for sure, but yes—this happened last night. Did you check for signs of forced entry?”
“The windows are hermetically sealed. There’s no sign the bedroom door was forced nor any indication of lock tampering,” replied Nisha, glancing at her notes.
Santosh nodded. He looked from the body to Nisha with eyes that had seen too much pain. “This isn’t the last, Nisha,” he said. “Of that you can be certain.”
Chapter 4
“WE HAD RATHER hoped to avoid involving the police,” said the general manager, Mr. Singh—a nervous man who wanted nothing more than for the whole affair to go away. “After all, the hotel employs Private India for that very reason. Are you not the world’s biggest detective agency …?”
Santosh found his eyes drawn to a bottle of whisky tucked away in a corner of the office but Singh was pouring coffee instead. Probably just as well.
“We are indeed. But unfortunately we do not manage your internal CCTV system. Furthermore, this is a murder investigation, Mr. Singh,” he said regretfully. “There is no avoiding the police, I’m afraid. However, as your advisor may I suggest the call is better coming from you than from me.” He passed a card across the desk. “Ring this number, tell them there has been a suspected murder and that you have appointed the hotel’s detective agency—that’s us—to represent you in this matter.”
Singh picked up the card. “ACP Rupesh Desai,” he read. “This is the policeman I should call?”
Santosh nodded. “Rupesh is the Assistant Commissioner at the Mumbai Crime Branch. I can promise you his cooperation and discretion. We’re …”
He stopped himself saying “old friends”; even just “friends.” Not since the accident that broke everything.
“… we go back a long way. Now, tell me everything you can about Dr. Kanya Jaiyen.”
“All we have is the information she gave us when she checked in,” explained Singh. He passed a paper folder to Santosh, who scanned it quickly. A copy of her passport, a printout of online booking data.
“Excellent. You have a record of when the door was used?”
“Yes. It’s on its way.”
“And CCTV footage?”
“Also coming,” said Singh.
“Good,” said Santosh.
“So what now?” said Singh. “Can we assume the hotel will be kept out of any … unpleasantness?”
Santosh opened his mouth, then remembered that the Marine Bay Plaza Hotel was a client of Private India, and as the head of Private India he had to kiss ass every now and then.
“You can rest easy, Mr. Singh,” he said with what he hoped would be an ingratiating smile. “Leave it to us.”
Chapter 5
“WHAT’S PRIVATE INDIA’S interest in this case?” asked Rupesh bluntly, his hands pushed into his pockets.