“You were right, boss,” he said. “The jail times coincide.” Again his eyes swiveled to the floor, as though he could hardly bear to look at Santosh.
“Are you all right, Hari?” Santosh asked him.
A smile flicked on and off. “I’m fine, boss, fine.”
“What you’ve been through—nobody should have had to suffer that. You need time to recover. Later, perhaps, try to rest.”
“No,” said Hari, so quickly and so sharply that Santosh almost flinched, “I’m not resting until we’ve caught the bitch.”
“Good man,” said Santosh. He went to clap Hari on the shoulder. He’d felt reassured when Jack had done it to him, that easy brotherly way Jack had. So American. And yet he, Santosh, couldn’t bring himself to do it and instead sounded like a relic of empire: “Good man, good man. It’s most appreciated.”
The awkward moment passed, then Hari said, “The cooperation of the police is proving useful. We should have a picture of Aditi Chopra come through any second now.”
Santosh felt his pulse quicken.
Chapter 98
“ARE YOU THERE?” she called.
“Aditi, isn’t it? Aditi, I know it’s you.” She raised her head
from the mattress, tried to squint into the gloom at the foot of the bed. Just beyond the reach of her eyesight was a figure who stood in the shadows, watching her.
“I was an orphan too,” she called into the dark, trying to establish some kind of bond. “She abandoned you, didn’t she, to the orphanage?”
Nisha had been doing some thinking in the hours since she’d recovered consciousness.
“Lara Omprakash, the film director. The world saw her as this gorgeous, talented director, glamorous boyfriends like my boss Jack Morgan. But we know the truth about Lara, don’t we, Aditi? We know Lara for what she really was—gutless. A coward. She abandoned you, didn’t she, Aditi? Or have I got it wrong? Perhaps you know something I don’t. Perhaps Lara was simply trying to protect you. Was that what it was? Aditi?”
In reply, silence.
Nisha let her head fall back to the mattress in frustration. Then tried again. “Aditi, please, talk to me. I can help you. I know how you feel because I was an orphan too. I went to the Bombay City Orphanage. You were there, weren’t you? Elina, she was a bitch, right? Corrupt, right? You know, a lot of the grievances you have, a lot of people are going to look upon those as being perfectly justified. You’ve been treated badly, Aditi. But one thing I need to know. You’ve got to tell me, Aditi. Why me? What did I do to hurt you, Aditi, and how can I put it right?”
There was no response. There was just a titter in the darkness and then the figure moved away.
Chapter 99
THE JOURNALIST AND the doctor had been talking. They were talking—but about what? What did the journalist want from the doctor?
Or what did the doctor wants from the journalist?
She had a story for her, perhaps. Something she had come to Mumbai to expose.
But what? Santosh paced his office, eyes going to the remaining three names on the magnet board.
Singer.
Doctor.
Journalist.
The doctor was from Thailand. The singer spent time in Thailand. The doctor traveled from Thailand to Mumbai. The killer was a woman—a woman who wore men’s shoes, who looked like a man on the CCTV. Who clearly had the strength of a man …
Or were there two killers? Was that it?
A woman? Or a man?
And then it hit him. The mistake he had made—a question he had failed to ask.