Read Part 1 - here
Read Part 2 - here
Read Part 3 - here
Read Part 4 - here
Read Part 5 - here
Read Part 6 - here
‘Won’t you stay over for dinner?’ Nehar sported a beatific smile as she walked into the office shortly after Khar had finished talking to Tejan.
Her gaze slowly rested on Pavil and Nehar’s smile morphed into a sensual smirk that faintly played on the top of her lip, boring leisurely through the young police officer, adding a palette of magentas to his cheeks which he found difficult to conceal, and she found amusingly naive.
Pavil could feel his chest thump through his teeth. This, he knew was not real, because Nehar was genially smiling as she always did, holding her son’s hand and talking casually to Khar now.
An episode happening inside his head, or maybe it just happened momentarily, in the blink of an eye, or perhaps he really did imagine it all.
‘Thank you for the generous offer, Mrs Sinhal, but maybe some other time’ Khar’s voice was distant and cold. ‘We would, however, like to have a few words with Mr Veda Sinhal, if you..’ Khar stretched the last part of his sentence and Nehar eagerly finished it ‘Of course’ she said beaming her winning smile, sending flashes of iridescent glow in all corners of the room.
Nehar led them out of the house and directed them towards a shed at the back.
A narrow garden corridor led towards the shed that on closer look resembled a workshop.
‘His hobby shed’ Nehar had laughingly said ‘his place of zen for unwinding after long hours of work; to help him relax and de-stress, or so he says’ Nehar had good-humouredly rolled her eyes and Pavil felt an odd twang of jealousy when he slowly knocked on the large wooden door.
‘Come in’ a voice filtered out.
Khar realized that the word ‘shed’ was used rather loosely to describe this large workspace which looked like a museum of amateur wooden artefacts. Sawdust carpeted the floor and was unevenly littered with wood chips.
A huge workbench in the middle of the room was piled high with wooden planks, boards, measuring tapes and other implements Khar knew only belonged in a carpenters workshop.
Veda Sinhal stood amidst it all with a large broom in hand puffing at a cigarette that permeated the room with an ambrosial incense.
‘This is not a usual sight, I assure you’ Veda Sinhal was smiling at the two policemen and Pavil found himself getting surprised at the softness of his voice.
He never expected this top-notch politician’s voice to be so conflicting with his visage.
Veda Sinhal was intimidatingly large, almost a heavy set man, with grim features and humourless eyes, yet, when he smiled his entire face changed into that of honest happiness and generosity.
It was easy to see why he was so well loved in the community and respected in political circles. Something almost inspiring about the way he commanded the room to bend to his will while still retaining an amusing grin.
‘No one’s allowed in here’ Veda looked around the room in a way of apology ‘which is why the floor is so dirty and the room so messy’ he pointed at the wooden frames and boards piled on his workbench.
‘I’m in the process of making a small coffee table, but work often gets in the way of life, and so it lies incomplete’ he sighed whimsically.
‘Smoke?’ he held out a golden cigarette case towards Khar, and inside, lined in perfect symmetry were the beautifully peacock coloured clove and cinnamon scented cigarettes that only a day previous Khar had found beside a dead child.
Khar smiled and said civilly ‘Thank you, I don’t smoke’.
‘Too bad. Smoking is self-flagellation of the most darkly graceful kinds, or should I say for?.. Chic, sexy and brutal’ Veda Sinhal sounded droll.
He puffed out several smoke rings before speaking ‘and what may I do for the police?’
Pavil was inwardly smiling. He’d never come across a person so lyrically ornate and amusingly elegant.
Khar’s low toned voice resonated through the room ‘Mr Sinhal, are you on friendly terms with the Wasim family?’
Veda Sinhal’s face was grave. ‘Well, we’ve known them for over a year and have even invited them to our house on a few occasions’ he seemed to brood looking around at the sawdust ‘we are what you’d call acquainted.’
‘Did you know Majid well?’ Khar continued.
‘Hmm’ Veda was thoughtful. ‘he was my son’s best friend and I often met him at our home. I’ve never directly conversed with him, save a few times on the dinner table and he seemed like a good kid to me, other than that I couldn’t say’ he was looking at Khar, waiting for more questions.
Khar was silent for a moment and looked at the golden cigarette case ‘I’ve never seen such fancy cigarettes in my life’
‘Hardly fancy’ Veda tried to be modest. ‘These are the only cigarettes I can tolerate. That heinous smell of burnt tobacco is most offensive to my senses, and lingers rather ridiculously on breath and clothes, whereas these’ he drew out a cigarette from its case, holding it gently between his fingers in a soft caress, lighting it tenderly ‘are deliciously scented. Like mysteries of a souk’, he took a long pull and exhaled satisfied.
‘When did you find out about the murder?’ Khar suddenly asked.
Veda Sinhal seemed surprised at the abrupt question ‘well, uh, let’s see. On Monday, sometime around afternoon..or was it a little before noon. Yes, perhaps around noon. Uh, my wife informed me shortly before it was reported in my office’
‘oh,’ Khar nodded. ‘You were aware that Majid and Tejan had planned a sleepover in your house?’
‘Yes of course’ Veda replied immediately ‘I, er, knew of it and was, in fact, a bit surprised to find Tejan alone’ he raised his eyebrows a little to convey his surprise at that. ‘But, uh, good, that we got to spend some quality time. I’m constantly travelling and, well, you know how it is.’ he said shrugging.
Khar was nodding in agreement. ‘Oh, just another thing, Mr Sinhal, what time did you get back home on Sunday?’
‘Hmm Let’s see’ Veda looked to be deep in thought ‘I left for the airport at five in the morning, was in meetings all day and reached back home around eight in the evening, or maybe a little before that.’
‘Which means you must have landed around five in the evening’ Khar said
‘At six thirty’ Veda corrected.
Khar smiled ‘no wonder you need to have some time for yourself and unwind’
‘Now you sound just like my wife’ Veda lit up another cigarette and blew out a small fog of spiced cloud.
‘How long have you been pursuing this hobby, Mr Veda?’ Khar asked politely.
‘Since I was fifteen’ Veda tucked the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a large wooden box.
‘This is my unorthodox toolbox’ he spoke from in between the smoke floating up to his face ‘measuring tapes, claw hammer, chisel, spirit level’ the cigarette bobbed up and down as he spoke while pulling out tools from the large wooden box and arranging them neatly on a small bench and suddenly drew back his hand in alarm ‘how on earth did this get in here?’ he looked anxious, his face suddenly reddened.
Pavil observed Khar looking intently at Veda as he haphazardly stuffed everything he’d pulled out back into the toolbox.
‘What is it’ Khar asked nonchalantly
‘Nothing, nothing’ Veda wrapped a towel around his hand.
Pavil saw a small wound slashed across his palm that was beginning to seep blood. ‘That doesn’t look good’ he said scrutinizingly.
‘It’s fine, it’s fine’ Veda spoke hastily, holding onto the towel, slowly inhaling the spicy smoke of his beautiful cigarette ‘it’s not too deep’ his composure was returning. ‘I never stash sharp tools inside that toolbox. It’s usually measuring tapes and the like. Ah, the onslaught of pressures of life’ he laughingly mused.
‘Was it a saw?’ Pavil inquired.
‘Perhaps’ Veda Sinhal raised his eyebrows and smirked.
No comments:
Post a Comment