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“The chief trustee was a powerful man. I can’t remember his name now but he was very well connected, the bugger. Xavier was bonking him. In her younger days she was quite a looker,” winked the deadbeat.
Nisha thought about what the man had just said and released his arms. Getting off him, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a five-hundred-rupee bill that she handed over to him wordlessly. She then turned around and made her way out of that dark and evil place that still seemed to echo with the cries and screams of orphans.
Chapter 70
ON THE WEDNESDAY that Elina Xavier, the school principal, had been murdered, she had spent the better part of the day in Mahim Church.
She had shuffled her way through the crowds gathered for prayers. Although it was a Catholic parish, few people in Mumbai called it St Michael’s Church. For the average Mumbaikar—as Mumbai residents called themselves—it was simply known as Mahim Church after the area in which it was located, a place where not only Christians but also Hindus, Muslims, Parsis, Buddhists, and Sikhs could gather to pray.
It was believed that visiting the church on nine consecutive Wednesdays would result in wishes being granted—and this was Elina’s ninth. She had been diagnosed with leukemia a year previously but her doctors were now telling her that the disease was in remission after bone-marrow transplants, dialysis, and multiple rounds of chemotherapy. All she had wanted was her life back. Hence her desperate call for help to the Lord each Wednesday.
Father Luis had seen Elina Xavier and looked at his watch. She had specifically requested to say confession today. It seemed as though she had needed to get a few things that were bothering her off her chest. He had gestured to her to enter the confessional. Elina had pulled herself together, taken a deep breath, and followed him to the box, taking her place on the opposite side of the screen.
Wearing a pale blue dress and dark blue shoes, she had carried a smart white calfskin handbag and had had a dignified air about her. It had been obvious that she must have been eye-catching before age and illness had taken their toll.
She had pulled a piece of paper out of her purse.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession,” Elina had said, kneeling down.
“Go ahead, Elina,” Father Luis had said.
“As you know, I used to manage the Bombay City Orphanage that was established by the Sir Jimmy Mehta Trust,” she had begun.
“Yes, I do recall that,” Father Luis had said through the screen.
“I did not do my duty, Father,” Elina had said, her eyes welling up.
“Why do you say that?” he had asked gently.
“I was in love with the chief trustee. He was a married man and I was determined to break up his marriage and become his wife. Our adulterous relationship continued for a couple of years.”
“I sense there is something more than this that you wish to confess,” Father Luis had said. He spoke with the experience of many years.
“I was so caught up in the affair that I allowed the orphanage’s funds to be embezzled by him. Eventually it had to shut down and is closed to this day,” Elina had replied.
“Be that as it may, you continued looking after the children while the orphanage lasted. That must count for something,” Father Luis had said sympathetically.
“But that’s just it. I was terrible to them. In particular, after I found out that I had been used like a whore by the chief trustee, I was overcome by rage. I began taking it out on the children who were in my charge.”
“How?” Father Luis had asked.
“I would beat them with a rod, often till the welts bled. I would hold their heads under water to discipline them. Sometimes I would fly into a fit of rage if they had wet their beds and would almost strangle them. I was worse than a witch.”
“If that was the case, how did you get your present position as the principal of such a well-respected girls’ school?”
Elina’s hands had trembled. “I blackmailed the chief trustee. I told him that the orphanage had closed down because of his financial misdeeds. I also had evidence of our sexual relationship, which I threatened to expose to his wife.”
“And in return, he managed to get you a plum post so that you would keep your mouth shut?”
“Precisely—at the girls’ school. Luckily for me, there had been an instance of teen pregnancy there and a reporter from the Afternoon Mirror was chasing the story. I went to her office, screamed at her, and told her that I would get the girl’s parents to sue her for defamation if she printed anything. The threat worked and the paper dropped the piece. I became the darling of the board of trustees.”
“And was your old friend among them?”
“Yes,” Elina had replied. “He is still on the board but we rarely talk. I got married to the gym instructor at the school but my husband died a few years later from cirrhosis. I settled down into my role and made a new life for myself.”
“So why this confession, then?” Father Luis had asked.
“I was diagnosed with leukemia a year ago. Don’t worry … it’s in remission. I realize that I need to make a full confession so that I can stop walking around bearing the guilt of my past sins. I need a fresh start, Father.”
