The Case of the Missing Servant

Fifteen

Facecream had discovered a gap in the perimeter wall behind the servant quarters just large enough for a person to squeeze through. She'd made use of it a couple of times in the past two days, sneaking out undetected to go to a pay phone booth a few streets away.

But Facecream was not the only person using this secret gateway: the earth between it was well trodden.

This raised the alarming possibility that an outsider was entering the property unseen and unchallenged-perhaps the same person who had tried to open her door that first night.

Determined to find out who was coming and going through the wall, she had set a trap, stringing a tripwire-or rather a trip-thread-across the gap. Anyone passing through it would now inadvertently tug a bell hanging inside her room.

In the past two days, she'd had just one bite-a stray pyedog. But the line remained taut. And now, as she set off for a midnight rendezvous with Puri, she was careful not to fall victim to her own ruse. Treading carefully over the thread, Facecream passed through the gap in the wall.

On the other side lay an abandoned property, an old bungalow with broken windows surrounded by a large garden overgrown with vines and long grass. She stopped, surveying the shadowy terrain ahead for any sign of movement. Nothing stirred in the undergrowth save for grasshoppers. The only sounds were distant ones: the hum of an autorickshaw, the screech of an alley cat. Up above, bats darted through the air. In the moonlight, she caught glimpses of them swooping above the tree line, where their black wings appeared momentarily, stretched against a hazy backdrop of stars.

Jaya feared the bats and the owl that lived in one of the khejri trees. She had warned her new friend Seema not to go into the garden at night.

The bungalow, she believed, was inhabited by malicious djinns. They had driven out the owners and guarded their territory jealously. At night, lying in her room, she claimed to be able to hear their terrible, mocking laughter and the cries and screams of those they had entrapped in the spirit world.

Djinns, Jaya told Seema, often possessed people. Just recently, one had attached itself to her aunt, forcing her to speak in strange tongues. It was only thanks to a travelling hakim that she had been cured. He'd taken her to the tomb of a Sufi saint and exorcised the malicious fiend.

But Facecream did not fear djinns. Parvati, the mountain goddess, whose magic talisman she wore around her neck, had always protected her against attacks from both ghoulish and human assailants. Living rough on the streets of Mumbai when she'd first come to India had also given her a sixth sense for recognizing danger. And just in case, her Khukuri knife was tucked into her waist.

Facecream set off across the garden and made her way down the side of the bungalow, nimbly avoiding the odd bits of rusting metal hidden under the tall grass and weeds, and stopping now and again like a deer testing the air.

When she reached the front of the property, she passed through the leaning iron gate that stood at the entrance to its neglected driveway, tugged her shawl over the back of her head so that it framed her face, and turned left into the quiet lane.

The security guards in the sentry boxes positioned outside the other neighboring properties were all snoring loudly and she slipped past them unnoticed. The drivers at the bicycle rickshaw stand were all asleep as well, slumped on the seats of their vehicles with their legs stretched out across their handlebars.

Further on stood a large house surrounded by a high wall and a pair of gates mounted with bright lights. Soon after she had passed these lights, Facecream noticed a shadow creep along the ground in front of her. Then, gradually, it began to shrink.

She was being followed.

The distinctive sound of rubber chappals scuffing against the ground told her that her stalker was no djinn.

For a moment, Facecream considered turning around, drawing her Khukuri and charging. But then she remembered Puri's advice about controlling her reckless streak and decided to wait for better attack terrain.

She continued to the next junction, turned right and broke into a sprint. Reaching the first parked car, she hid behind it, lying flat on the ground, and watched to see who came around the corner.

A few seconds later a pair of hairy male legs appeared. They stopped, shifted from left to right indecisively and then hurried on in her direction. Facecream could see from the man's skinny ankles that he was no match for her. She drew herself up on all fours like a cat and prepared to spring at him. But at the last moment, she held back and let out a loud "Boo!"

Tubelight staggered back in shock, looking as if he might keel over.

"What are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?" he cried.

"Ssssh! Keep your voice down! You'll wake the guards!" hissed Facecream. "What are you doing here?"

"Boss is running late and asked me to let you know."

"So why were you following me?"

"I knew you wouldn't want to be seen with me behind the house."

"You weren't trying to sneak up on me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. If I'd wanted to do that, I could have easily taken you by surprise."

Facecream laughed. "You were making more noise than a buffalo in heat."

"Listen, if I'd been on my guard you would never have been able to surprise me."

"Whatever you say, bhai."

Puri picked them both up and drove them to the Park View Hotel, where he was staying. It was nowhere near a park (his room provided a view of a car park), though it was a modern affair with air-conditioning, clean sheets, and Western-style toilets.

The trio sat at a table in the otherwise empty restaurant. The night manager placed a bottle of Scotch, some bottles of soda, ice and glasses on the table before returning to the front desk.

Puri poured a peg for himself and Tubelight and a plain soda for Facecream, who strongly disapproved of alcohol. He'd once heard her describe it as "a curse on women."

"So, Miss Seema," he said. "Your message said 'urgent.'"

In Puri's presence, Facecream was always serious, calm, respectful and, although it rarely showed, affectionate. She seemed totally removed from the party girl or cheeky village damsel she often played.

The detective surveyed her appraisingly. He found himself wondering who the real Facecream was. And whether she knew herself.

"Yes, sir, I have important information for you," she said. Her soft, eloquent pronunciation was unidentifiable as Seema's coarse village burr.

"I've spent the past few days working side by side with Jaya. We've cleaned together and, in the evenings, cooked and shared all our meals. I've told her many stories about my-Seema's-past. She loves hearing them and a bond has formed between us.

"Last night, Jaya started telling me about herself and the many difficulties she's faced. She was married off to her second cousin at fifteen. They had a son, but he died after two years. Cause unknown. It sounds to me like jaundice. Then two years ago, her husband was killed in a train accident. Her in-laws said she was cursed and threw her out of the house. When she tried to return to her parents' home, they refused to take her back.

"Jaya was taken in by her eldest sister here in Jaipur. This sister got her the job with the Kasliwals. Things started to go better for her. But one evening, when her sister was out working, her brother-in-law forced himself on her. Somehow the sister found out and blamed Jaya. After that, she had to come and live in the servant quarters."

Puri nodded encouragement to go on.

"Jaya is extremely shy and nervous," Facecream continued. "She also gets very frightened at night and hates to sleep on her own. This evening, I discovered why."

Tubelight lit a cigarette and squinted in the haze of smoke that swirled in front of his face.

"When the police arrived this morning and arrested Mr. Kasliwal, Jaya became extremely distressed," Facecream recounted. "I found her making up the beds in tears. When I asked her what was wrong, she refused to answer. I sat with her for a while as she cried. And then she said, 'He didn't do it.'

"'Who didn't do what?' I asked.

"'Sahib is a good man. He didn't kill Mary. It was somebody else.'

"I couldn't get anything more out of her after that. For the rest of the day, she looked grief stricken. At teatime, she dropped a cup. Mrs. Kasliwal shouted at her and called her stupid. Jaya went to her room and in the evening she refused to eat.

"After I had finished my duties, I took her some food and sat with her and combed her hair. Then she asked me if we were friends. I told her, 'Yes, we are good friends.' She took both my hands in hers and asked me if I could keep a secret. She said it was a very big secret and that if I told anyone, we would both be in danger. I assured her that I would help her in any way I could. Then, Jaya told me in a whisper that she knew who had killed Mary. She said she'd seen the murderer disposing of the body."

"Go on," said Puri, shifting in his chair in anticipation.

"On the night Mary disappeared, Jaya was fast asleep. But at around eleven o'clock, she was woken by a commotion in Mary's room. She opened her door a crack and saw Munnalal, the driver, carrying away Mary's body in his arms. Jaya caught a glimpse of Mary's face. She says it was ghostly pale. Her eyes were wide open, but frozen.

"Munnalal carried her to Sahib's Tata Sumo, laid her on a big piece of plastic in the back, shut the door quietly and then quickly drove away with his headlights off."

"What did Jaya do next?" asked Puri, sipping his drink.

"She crept out of her room. On the ground, she says she noticed some drops of blood leading to the spot where the Sumo had been parked. She found the door to Mary's room half open and looked inside. The thin cotton mattress was soaked with blood. On the ground next to it lay one of the kitchen knives from the house, also covered in blood."

"By God," said Puri.

"Jaya ran back to her room and bolted the door behind her. She sat there for hours in the darkness, crying, terrified. Eventually, she fell asleep. In the morning, the trail of blood on the ground had vanished."

"Did she look inside Mary's room again?"

"Yes. She says the door was wide open. All Mary's belongings, apart from the posters on the wall, had gone."

"The mattress?"

"That too. The floor had also been washed."

Puri thought for a moment, gently rubbing his moustache with an index finger.

"Munnalal must have come back and gotten rid of everything," suggested Tubelight.

"Might be," said Puri. "Let's put ourselves in his chappals. In the dead of night, he returns to clean up his misdeed. He's got to get rid of her paraphernalia and all. So what next? Could be, he takes it all away. Gets rid of it elsewhere. Or he tosses it over the back wall."

"That's the likeliest possibility," Facecream ventured.

Puri shot her a look.

"You found something?" he said eagerly.

She grinned and pulled up the leg of her baggy cotton trousers. Taped to her ankle was something wrapped in a plastic bag. She placed it on the table and opened it. Inside was a four-inch kitchen knife. The blade was rusted.

Tubelight let out a low whistle.

"I found it in the undergrowth," she said.

"Absolutely mind-blowing!" exclaimed Puri with a big, fatherly smile.

"I've got other good news," said Tubelight.

"Munnalal?"

"My boys found him today. He's living in the Hatroi district of Jaipur."

"First class!" said the detective. "Tell them to watch him round the clock and I'll pay him a visit tomorrow."

"Any more instructions for me?" asked Facecream.

"Spend time with Kamat," instructed Puri. "Find out if Mrs. Kasliwal was correct and he was doing hanky-panky with the female."