Dead Men Do Tell Tales
"So, where would you like me to start?", asked Shefali as she lowered herself into the couch.
Her eyes, ever observant took in the low ceiling, the dark curtains, the minimalist look of the room within a room, and finally, at the lady who sat across the dark mahogany table decorated with nothing but a pen stand, and a queer shaped reading lamp that looked like a cross between a lioness and a wild boar.
Shefali, who prided herself on her venerable mind reading skills felt at a loss this Saturday evening when the weather outside reflected the inner turmoil she was going through--- an ever darkening brooding disquiet that screamed despondency with a capital D.
The silhouette moved.
A voice boomed and ricocheted off the four walls.
'Start from the start, please.'
Shefali cleared her throat and switched to her oracular mode.
"I knew he was cheating on me when I noticed..."
'Wait!'
This time the voice was a couple of octaves high.
'When I said start from the start I meant exactly that. Start from the very start. I mean your marriage...err...I mean was it an arranged...?'
This time Shefali got the drift.
She once again cleared her throat, and thus began her monologue.
'My name is Shefali. Three years ago, just when I had turned 25, on April 19 to be precise, my parents married me off to Akash. It was an arranged match. He was from the same caste, Brahman Kayasth, a software engineer with a handsome salary, an only child, and attractive in a rugged sort of way.
The first two were what settled the deal for my parents who had already 'disposed of' three other daughters, and with three more to go after me. Yes, you're right on thinking. My parents were penny wise and pound foolish. They were a little too desperate for the male offspring and didn't mind a few 'bad apples' in their fruit basket. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, they ended up saddled with seven of us, daughters all. Unlucky Seven! what say! I was the..."
'STOP'
Momentarily stunned, Shefali looked at the apparition.
The voice, this time carrying a tinge of annoyance interjected.
'When I said 'start from the start', I didn't mean you to give me a blow by blow account of your life story, Miss Shefali Sinha. Just start from the moment you felt your marriage was falling apart.'
Shefali inhaled deeply as a slow smile creased her lips.
Her eyes caught the mirror on the opposite wall.
She adjusted a strand of hair that had fallen to her forehead, blew a soft kiss into the air, and then turning around, spoke.
"It began with small things, initially. He started to not pick up my calls. On asking, he would say the phone was on silent mode, or that he was in a meeting, or simply the battery had drained out. would at times call up to say he would be late as he was caught up in some urgent office work. Then, out of the blue, commenced his 'office tours'. On a Monday or Friday morning he would as usual, dress up, sit down and have breakfast, and just after gulping down his fave fruit banana shake, he would fill his mauve coloured American Tourister with a couple of shirts, a few tees, a short or so, and announce, as if in a tearing hurry, "Hey babes, got a conference. Will be back in two."
And even before I could react, he would out in a jiffy, the sound of his ever receding footsteps a continually jarring note in my ears.'
Three feet away, she heard feet shuffle. The silhouette slightly moved.
Unmindful, Shefali continued.
'I noticed a few other things. For instance, hard core vegetarian that he was, suddenly he stopped eating mutton. Just out of the blue! And when I asked him, he dismissed me with an insouciant wave of his hands, the gesture as shockingly revelatory as it were.
A few days later, I found a smear of lipstick, a deep shade of burgundy, on his shirt collar. And a day after, a strand of hair on his vest. I scooped it out, and held it against the light. It was long and, clearly a woman's. That was when the nickel dropped. For a city bred girl, a double post graduate to boot, it wasn't rocket science to figure out that my husband, all of just three years into our marriage was having an affair. The thought, the damning realisation sent me careening, hurtling down a bottomless pit. I felt the earth give way under my feet. In less than the time I had taken to fall in love, develop trust, and faith and swear ever lasting loyalty and fidelity to my legally wedded better half, he had brutally, very cruelly crushed my dreams, sent me down the slow yet sure slippery cesspool of despair and sorrow, my heart scooped clear off all human joy and happiness.'
The room fell silent. For an long time thereafter, a deafening silence took over The tension laced suspense in the air was so chillingly thick one could slice it with a knife.'
The voice from across the table once again came alive.
"Ok. Let's take a break, Shefali. I will just take a few calls in my chamber. Meanwhile, I will have someone come in with a cup of hot filter coffee for you".
***
Inside her chamber, the voice grabbed her phone and stabbed a few keys.
Within seconds her IPhone came alive.
"Good afternoon Ms Vaibhavi Dutt. Tell me. My ears are waiting to hear the good news. Has she disclosed where she was buried his body?"
Eminent psychologist Ms Dutt swung her swivel chair around, and replied with a tinge of irritation, "Mr Vikram Malhotra, please hold your horses. She is warming upto me but you see, I can't be rushing things. If she feels I am being too inquisitive she might just clam up and..."
The man on the other end of the phone interjected.
"Vaibhaviji, you and I go back a long way. I have always counted on you to deliver. And you have never disappointed me. But you know, this time it is different. As the Police Commissioner, there's much pressure on me. The Chief Minister's after my life. His secretary keeps calling very couple of hours or so asking to know have we solved the case. And you know without a body, it's all conjecture. No court will charge her guilty of murdering her husband without we finding out his body. Without one we're at..."
This time it was Vaibhavi's turn to interject.
"Mr Malhotra, I still implore you to have some patience. This woman is not just psychotic, but also a very sharp woman. She knows all the legal loopholes very well. She knows without a body there's no case. And without a case, no court in the world can send her behind bars. So, let me go back now and grill her even albeit in a very non-threatening way; trick all possible tricks including alternately cajoling, pleading, threatening et al to elicit this all important information from her."
So saying Vaibhavi ended the call, and stepped out of the chamber.
***
"Ok, so you found out that your husband was cheating on you. So, what did you do?"
'Simple. I killed him'.
The words, spoken in a staccato fashion, caught Vaibhavi by surprise.
True, the past one week the 'death' of 35 year old Akash Vajpayee, famous businessman and owner of InView, the most famous multiplex brand with a near pan India foothold was not just front page news but the topic of fervent discussion of every prime news hour debate. The fact that the deceased err the missing person was the nephew of a serving Central minister had ensured the incident was on everybody's lips, the said politician's family exercising immense pressure on the police to find the missing body and put an end to the climate of uncertainty and ambivalence that hung like an evil cloak all over the Delhi skyline.
The experienced psychologist that she was, Vaibhavi knew this was the time she needed to up the ante.
She sat upright, and looked benignly into Shefali's eyes.
Then, in a voice very soothing, she ventured, "Listen Shefali, from what I know you hav confessed to the police that you killed your husband. But, two days later, you changed your statement. You said that you didn't kill him. That he died of a fall. That you had a fight. And heated words were exchanged. That he rushed towards you, knife in hand. A scuffle ensured. That you pushed him. And that he fell. Hit his head against the hard mosaic floor, and started to bleed. That was when you panicked. You somehow dragged him into the lift. Pulled him to your car, and headed for the hospital. But on the..."
'But on the way, I stopped the car as I feared something was wrong. I got out of the car and checked him. He was slumped in the backseat; there was no sound. A lump developed in my throat. I bent down and put my hand to his chest. Then, felt his pulse. He had stopped breaking. He was dead.'
The room suddenly fell quiet.
For one whole minute no one spoke. Except for the whirring sound of the air-conditioner, there was complete silence.
Vaibhavi, who had cupped her mouth, waited with bated breath.
Her patience was rewarded.
Or, so it seemed.
'I panicked. All sorts of wrong things began to badger my mind. My husband was a well known businessman. He hailed from a very powerful political family. They had connections. So what if he was a wife beater, a serial philanderer, a liar, cheater and what have you. I had no such backing. No one would believe me. All we had was a fight which turned ugly. He attacked me. In my defence I pushed him, and he fell down, and within 30 minutes died. I didn't kill him. It was an act of self defence. And which judge would absolve me of murdering my VIP husband citing 'extenuating circumstances?'
Vaibhavi, who until was lending a very patient ear to his monologue, couldn't just hold herself back.
"And so, you dumped the body...possibly burnt it, or buried it somewhere, right Shefali?"
Shefali's eyes suddenly sprang up. Like a wounded tigress, she screamed.
'NO. I didn't do any of this. I just got very frightened. I didn't want to go to jail. Didn't want to spend my life behind bars for a crime I didn't commit. It was an accidental death. Not murder. I thought who would believe me. I panicked. I didn't...couldn't go to the police. Ditto...any hospital. My husband was already dead. The deed was done. So, I did what I...err…anyone would do under the circumstances. I drove a little more...in fact drove all the way to Gurgaon, hit the highway, slipped past a few towns whose names I just don't remember...and came across a lonely spot. It was slightly dense...there were full of trees all around. The sun had come down. It was getting dark. I stopped, pulled him out, and pushed him into a nearby nullah. His body fell into the rocky pit with a thud. I didn't want to look. I just reversed my car and came back home. '
The room again fell silent.
Vaibhavi knew it was pointless engaging with Shefali anymore.
She got up, and walked upto Shefali.
Putting an arm around the latter, Vaishali said, "Listen, I too am under pressure. I am a criminal psychologist. Today was your last chance to come clean. I do believe every single word that you have said, Shefali. However, I am not the prosecuting authority. I leave it to their better judgement as to what they make of all that you have officially shared with me today. I hope and wish and pray for you."
And so saying Vaibhavi exited the room leaving a shell shocked Shefali all alone in the semi- darkened room, and staring into empty space.
***
24 HOURS LATER...
Delhi Police Commissioner got up from his chair, and headed out of his office.
Just before he opened the door, he slowed down and checked himself in the full length mirror embedded into the right wall.
His face was slightly bloated and there were dark circles under his grey eyes. He shook his head as if the act would wipe clean all signs signs of fatigue and anxiety. Then, he turned around, held his head high, and exited the room.
Seven steps later he was facing a battery of TV cameras, and behind them stood, sat and/or hunched and bunched together an avalanche of media persons.
Seconds later, and after according them a long, benign look, the top cop began.
'My friends, I have come to announce that we have cracked the Akash Vajpayee murder missing case.'
A gadzillion ohs and aahs and erupted all over as a multitude of smattering voices escaped into the calm Saturday evening June air.
Unmindful, the Police Commissioner continued
'I admit we took over a week to solve this case. And there were reasons we took so long. First, as the deceased belonged to a very well connected and influential political family. Plus, we hadn't located the body. This had given rise to several unfounded theories ranging from the pure illogical to the bizarre. As we searched far and wide for missing person's body, we also were keeping a very close watch on the victim's wife Mrs Shefali. Thanks to human intelligence and some clever police sleuthing we are able to solve this jigsaw puzzle.
So, here is what happened on the night of June 7, 2023 at Flat No. 602 of Eternal Heights, the Tony residential highrise off Dwarka Expressway.
As usual Akash had come back from office on the dot at 8 pm. She had served him tea, and sat down opposite him on the L-shaped sofa. Something was said, a few bitter words were exchanged. Shefali, aa she had been insinuating for the past five months, began to accuse him of having an extra marital affair that, as he had been doing so earlier too, was vehemently denied by Akash.
After more than a few bad words being exchanged things started taking a downward turn.
Suddenly, Shefali got up, went to the kitchen, and came back and attacked Akash with a 7 inch long triple bladed butcher knife. Akash, who weighed a mere 49 kilos, was caught on the wrong foot. He did try to dodge a few stabs, but was no match for the over 78 kilos well built Shefali. Withing a minutes we had slumped to the floor. The postmortem has revealed no less than 21 knife wounds on his body. As many as a dozen of them ended up puncturing his chest leading to massive blood loss, and eventual death.'
As a flurry of gasps escaped the gathered persons lips, the TV cameras shone bright on the super cop's by now smiling face. There was a very perceptible sense of relief and satisfaction on his visage.
A hand shut up from the third row.
"Sir, tell us how can you prove that Akash was murdered by his wife and not anyone else?"
Mr Malhotra smiled as another orgy of flash bulbs exploded on his beaming face.
"Well, as I told you we cross checked every information Shefali had shared with us. We checked her phone records, swept through the CCTV footage of her society building, travel the route map she had taken while she had driven out an hour later dragging Akash's body and dumping it in her car backseat. Our forensic team went through her house, the living room, the lift, the car with a fine comb and picked up all tell tale evidences that connected her to the crime. In fact it was only yesterday that she finally revealed to us the exact location where she had thrown away Akash's body. I am pretty sure that we have a water tight case against Mrs Shefali. She is the killer of Akash Vajpayee. And that's all. Thanks."
***
TWO MONTHS LATER
CHIEF MINISTER'S RESIDENCE
TIME: HALF PAST TEN AT NIGHT
"Tell me Vikram, had Shefali not disclosed the location of the body, this was case would have also ended and written in police files as yet another 'unsolved murder', isn't it"?
"True Sir. It is a huge load off my shoulders. I am glad she confessed albeit with some clever cajoling and old fashioned ego massaging. But that's what's bothering me now'.
The CM looked slightly taken aback.
The top cop continued, this time in a soft empathetic tone.
"Sir, your nephew was murdered because he was having an affair...nor with a woman bur a man...he was gay. We've videos of him..."
"STOP."
THE CM got up and with folded hands implored,
"Make sure this is never leaked to the public ever"
The Police Commissioner's parting words before he exited the room were, "Absolutely sir, it's not rocket science. You scratch my back, I scratch yours."
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