Nisha watched in the picture’s reflection as Devika threw up her hands at her own naive stupidity.
“So why didn’t you tell the authorities that the stuff did not belong to you?”
“Headzone’s management had contacts with a man named Munna. I expect you know him.”
Oh, Nisha knew Munna all right. The rather few cops in Mumbai who wanted to see Munna behind bars were those not on his payroll.
“The management told me that they would ensure the police recorded the quantity as less than a kilo, in which case I’d serve less than six months. They also assured me they’d get Munna to have a chat with the police to suspend my sentence. I went along with it.”
“But that’s not how events played out, right?”
“Precisely,” answered Devika. “The consignment was more than a kilo and I was given the maximum sentence. Headzone cut off all communication with me—apparently I left the band because of creative differences. I’d been tricked by them: Headzone, Munna, Nimboo Baba … they hung me out to dry.”
“Nimboo Baba?” said Nisha. “What on earth does he have to do with it?”
“He works for—or with—Munna. He’s Munna’s money man.” She chuckled at the alliteration.
“How much time did you get?” asked Nisha. She watched Devika carefully in the reflection.
“I was awarded the maximum sentence under the Act—ten years. A stupid mistake had cost me a decade of my life,” said Devika softly.
“And that’s why you’re telling me this, is it?” said Nisha. “You want payback?”
“Maybe,” replied Devika airily. “Maybe if you chose to act upon the information I’ve given you the outcome would be satisfactory for me, yes.”
“Why now? Why not years ago?”
Devika fixed her with a look. “I expect you have heard the rumors that Nalin D’Souza has a fondness for making wild bets.”
Nisha spread her hands. Hadn’t everyone?
“Well, those rumors are true,” said Devika. “Nalin D’Souza owes Nimboo Baba millions. And I am in love with Nalin D’Souza. The downfall of Nimboo Baba would be my gift to him.”
Nisha nodded. “One more thing,” she said. “I have a name. I wonder if it might mean anything to you?”
“Yes?”
“Aditi Chopra.”
Chapter 87
“SHE TURNED WHITE, boss, I swear,” said Nisha excitedly, back in her car. “Denied all knowledge of Aditi Chopra. But it was written all over her face. She was lying, I swear it.”
“Excellent,” said Santosh. Rupesh had taken a seat on the other side of the desk. With his arms behind his head, he listened to Santosh’s side of the conversation with interest. “What else did she have to say?”
“Very interesting stuff indeed,” said Nisha. “The jail time was drugs-related, and mixed up in it all were Munna and Nimboo Baba.”
“Right,” said Santosh carefully. He looked across the desk at Rupesh, who smiled back.
Was that it? In the car, Nisha pull
ed a face. She’d been expecting a better reaction at the mention of Munna. Some kind of reaction at least. “And Nimboo Baba,” she added, for emphasis.
“Right,” said Santosh, who was thinking that the rumors were right, that Munna and Nimboo Baba were partners. Across the desk, Rupesh was keeping his face blank. Who else could Munna and Nimboo Baba count as a business partner? Santosh wondered.
In her car, Nisha frowned. Then, glancing to her left, she saw the door to Yoga Sutra open and Fiona exit. By the look of her bag she was leaving for the night.
Next, the Yoga Sutra signage, a pastel yellow, blinked off. No doubt about it, Devika Gulati was shutting up shop early for the day.