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“You seem to be misinformed, Inspector. We can’t have intimidated Vishal Agarwal because we didn’t even speak to him. He left the commune before we had even heard of him,” I pointed out.
“Your mere presence was intimidating enough,” he argued.
“And yet, that’s not a crime.”
“Abetment of suicideisa crime, though. If I find out that you or your band of thugs had threatened him in any way, I’ll have you locked up before you can cry lawyer,” he said sternly.
I shrugged carelessly. He could thunder all he liked, but it was all for show, and he knew that as well as we did.
“All of this is mere speculation, Inspector Saheb. You don’t have a shred of proof against us because we had nothing to do with Vishal’s death. We merely found his body after the fact. You can book us for breaking and entering if you like,” I offered politely.
He harrumphed in response.
“Inspector Saheb, we promise not to interfere with your investigation. But you know as well as I do that even though Princess Tasha’s connection to this case is tenuous, the minute the media hears her name, your case is going to blow up and for all the wrong reasons. Do you want reporters camping outside your station for the foreseeable future?”
“As for that, we only have your word that her connection to the case is tenuous. My investigation has just begun, and I’m not giving any of you the benefit of the doubt until I’m convinced that you lot had nothing to do with Vishal’s death. Prima facie, it looks like your men bullied him to the point where he felt death was the only way out.”
“I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m just requesting you to be discreet. You can question us all you want. But Princess Tasha has gone through a lot in the past year, and I’d like her to be spared some of the notoriety that comes with such a case because she has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t discuss my cases with the media anyway,” Inspector Sawant replied gruffly. “You have nothing to fear on that account.”
“That’s all we need. Thank you, Inspector. We’re available for questioning whenever you need us,” I said.
My work here was done. There would be no mention of Tasha in the media. Even if reporters went to nose around Vishal’s flat, Tasha’s photographs had been safely taken down and bagged as evidence.
I thanked him politely and we walked out of the police station. There was nothing more to be done for now. The police team would come around to Paradiso in the morning, but we had nothing to worry about. Once the post-mortem report confirmed that it was a suicide, the cops would lose interest.
Inspector Sawant didn’t seem like the type to harass us for hush money, which is what usually happens in suicides connected to high-profile individuals. Samar’s team had dug up all they could about him, and the only thing you could say about the good Inspector was that he was a conscientious officer stuck in a department full of laggards. We’d be fine as long as he didn’t go all Singham on us for no reason.
It was almost three in the morning by the time we got back to the commune. I took Samar to my cottage because Tasha and Sona were sure to be asleep by now, and we didn’t want to disturb them. He dossed down on the couch, while I spent what remained of the night tossing and turning in my bed. Finally, I gave up on falling asleep at around six in the morning and went for a run around the commune. Samar was still snoring on the couch when I let myself out of the house silently.
There was a road off the commune that led straight to the beach. I ran at a steady pace, my feet sinking into the sand as I dodged the fishermen coming in with the morning’s catch. The only thing on my mind was the beautiful, but maddening woman who seemed tied to me in ways much deeper than any formal betrothal. If the past two days had shown me anything, it was that we would never be free of one another. But I didn’t know whether she saw us as anything more than a fling.
I ran back to the commune and let myself into the cottage just as silently as I had left. Samar was up and frowning down at his laptop.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, as I threw off my shoes and socks, and headed towards the bathroom for a quick shower.
“Imran sent me a Google alert for Tasha. Her name showed up in a couple of Indian celeb gossip forums, along with photographs of the shrine in Vishal’s room. And a few minutes later, an article in an obscure local newspaper shows up with the same photograph. They are making it more about Tasha than about Vishal. Here, read this,” he said, turning his laptop around.
I swallowed over a suddenly dry throat as I read the blasted article. It made Tasha out to be some sort of femme fatale who seduced an innocent man and broke his heart. It even implied that she had driven him to suicide after she set her bodyguards on him.
“There’s no mention of the prank that he pulled on her. And how the hell did they get that photograph?”
“There must be a leak at the police station,” replied Samar.
“Fucking Sawant! I’ll rip his head off,” I growled.
“Hold it together,” warned Samar. “I’ve told Imran to make sure the article and the photographs get pulled.”
But it was too late.
By nine in the morning, reporters were camped outside Paradiso, trying to get a sound byte from Tasha. They tried to climb over the walls but were driven back by Samar’s men and the security guards. One intrepid reporter even tried to climb a coconut tree outside the commune to catch a glimpse of Tasha. Luckily, he fell off before he got too high up the tree.
She turned off her cell phone, but they wouldn’t stop calling anyone they could reach. Sandhya went around the commune, sternly forcing all the staff to drop their phones into a plastic bag.
“You’ll get these back after the reporters leave,” she said, in response to their grumbling.
“We can’t hold the staff here forever, Sandhya,” said Tasha wearily. “They will talk to the press at some point, and I can’t blame them for wanting to make some extra money.”
