Mad World: Part 2 of 2

Continued from Part 1.

“It can surely be arranged, detective,” assured Dr. D’Mellow, “it isn’t too much to ask for; I can pull a few strings, silence a few mouths, keep it close to the chest. I’ll move the body and conduct an autopsy at the soonest; you’ll be the first to know of my findings.”

Shiv nodded absent-mindedly in gratitude of the doctor’s services. He and Imtiyaz had completed a superficial examination of the body, yielding quite a few inferences that they had yet to follow up on. They had also taken the photograph of the corpse, if needed for future purposes. Dr. D’Mellow, one of Imtiyaz’s long-time acquaintances had been quick to arrive to the duo’s aid concerning the mystery of the dead man.

“I’ll need one of you to help me with the body,” D’Mellow said.

Imtiyaz volunteered at once, leaving Shiv to his own devices. He had been detached from the proceedings ever since he had inspected the corpse of the stranger, instead alternating between being engaged in his mobile phone and looking out into space with unfocussed eyes.

A business card had been found on the deceased, which named him ‘Mr. Vinay Dipesh’. He was a freelance journalist by profession, and nothing else, excepting his email id (dipesh_Vnay@bmail.com) and phone number (7448726339), had been mentioned therein. Imtiyaz had called the phone number but the pre-recorded voice of the announcer on the other end had declared that it was ‘out of coverage area’.

Presently, Shiv sprang out of his state of contemplation and stood up with a renewed physical vigour, his face etched with lines of an insane ecstasy, indicating that he had hit upon a brainwave.

“Have the good doc transport the body to his facility, Khan, and meet me in front of Sadbhavna Mandir in a quarter of an hour,” he jabbered as he took off for the outdoors with uncharacteristic nimbleness. He disappeared around the corner of the corridor immediately outside his second-floor entrance, sprinting while at it. Dr. D’Mellow and Khan stood transfixed, surprised at the abruptness of the detective’s departure. Shiv’s head re-appeared at the entrance, and he added, “and yes, Khan: keep the revolver handy. Just in case…” he winked and ran out of sight.

“Your friend, the detective, he’ll get to the bottom of this in no time,” remarked D’Mellow a few minutes later.

Khan smiled knowingly, giving the doctor a hand with the body.

“Haha, I’m sure,” he averred, “it’s only a matter of time…”

*

“The card had the printing shop’s name on it: Samarth Printers and Laminators,” Shiv explained to Khan, an hour later. The duo was sitting under a makeshift enclosure of a chai stall overlooking the Sadbhavna Temple, sipping at their glassfuls as a strenuous downpour stymied their progress.  

“I looked it up on the internet and found their address,” he continued. “Then, I texted one of my street faithfuls in the area, asking him to inquire about our Vinay Dipesh from the printing shop. He reverted in a short while with his complete address, extracted from the lady behind the counter at Samarth Printers and Laminators. It was at this moment that I took off from home. I got 5 photographs of the deceased printed on the way,” he said, passing on the address and photos.

Imtiyaz received and glanced through them before returning it to Shiv. He looked up to him for a long time, open-mouthed and tongue-tied with awe.

“I bloody underestimated you! Where do I even begin? Who are these ‘street faithfuls’ of yours?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re just a network of people I know from the roads. These are people who nobody notices in their day-today going-ons, but are very resourceful: taxi drivers, rickshaw pullers, roadside beggars, hawkers, urchins, pickpockets, and the like. They are my eyes and ears on the ground; I have taken them under my wing, paying them a nominal bonus whenever I need their assistance in my detective work.”

“Neat!” Imtiyaz exclaimed, “I tell you, the police have lost a huge asset in you. It’s not only about your advanced cognitive ability, but also your nonchalance in working with people that the society deems ‘lowly’.”

“Go easy on the flattery, Khan, it’ll take you nowhere.”

“You never can take a compliment, can you?”

“Oh shut up Imtiyaz! Stop being a nagging wife,” Shiv snapped with finality, sipping the last of his tea.

“You’re incorrigible,” his protégé spoke under his breath, getting up. “Okay, what now?” he asked out loud.

“The address, in case you haven’t noticed, is that of the apartment situated right across the road, adjacent to the temple. Wotsay, should be brave the showers? I don’t think it’s going to subside anytime soon…”

“Yes, it’s alright, we don’t have much time before dark anyway,” he replied, delivering his cup back to the chai waala. The two made a dash across the street, shielding themselves with their hands, doing little to stop the downpour from drenching them from top to bottom by the time they had crossed half the road. As they ran to cover the remaining length of the crossing, a speeding taxicab emerged out of nowhere, cutting across the falling raindrops, making its way directly to the spot where Shiv and Imtiyaz would be in the next instant.

“Watch out!” shrieked Shiv, catching his partner by the cuff and lunging forward. The taxi raced past their stretched legs, missing them by a whisker. They landed face down in a pool of grime. Imtiyaz sat up at once, shrugging off the filth from his clothes and attempting to note the license plate. Before he could do so, however, a scanty crowd began to form around them, hindering the taxi from view.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked, frantically.

“Yes, I am unhurt,” replied Shiv, expelling mud from him mouth. “Did you catch the number plate?”

“No, I couldn’t, sorry!”

“No problem, it’s alright,” he said, getting up, brushing his overcoat.

Visibly unnerved at the altercation, the two got up and assessed themselves, looking for any bodily harm. Imtiyaz had not a scratch on his body; Shiv had sprained his ankle. He kept looking at his palm, apparently checking a scab he might have incurred.

“Middle age doesn’t allow for these antics,” he joked. “One of these days, I need to get myself ensured.”

The jest wasn’t returned by his partner; he still seemed perturbed by their close shave with the taxi.

“Listen, sir…” he spoke, picking his words one at a time, “I need to tell you something.” His manner was suddenly grave and, for want of a better word, apologetic.

Shiv did not appear surprised at his unease. He continued to prance towards the apartment building, his stride consistent and countenance pleasant.

“I know, I know. This is the second time today that you’ve underestimated me, Khan. Keep walking.” He said, clearly enjoying himself.

“No sir, you don’t understand—“

“Oh, but I do, Khan!” Shiv cut in. “Just follow me, let’s go in and see what awaits us!”

Hesitantly at first, Khan kept walking, all his protests being done to naught by Shiv’s gesticulations. A sly smirk had spread across his face, much to Khan’s bafflement.

“SIR, LISTEN TO ME!” Khan shouted, demanding his partner’s attention. “I did not plan the taxi—“

“I know you didn’t, Khan!” he snapped with a laugh. “I know everything; let’s go in, the doctor and your fiancé must be waiting!”

“WHAT?! The doctor and who-?” His bewilderment knew no bounds.

“Just follow me, and all will be clear.” Shiv ordered, leading the way.

Flabbergasted at his partner’s bizarre behaviour but bound by obeisance to follow his orders, he tailed him faithfully.

“Which one is it, Imtiyaz?” Shiv asked him playfully.

“As if you don’t know already? That one, up on the first floor,” he said, pointing up at the one of the many windows dotting the building they stood in front of.

“Lead on, partner.”

“Sir, don’t play with me now. I know that you know everything about my little game,” he said in a low voice, leading the way nevertheless.

Shiv gave out a hearty laugh. “Well, I admit you had me there for a moment. But yes, only for a moment.”

“I don’t know how you did it, but please tell me…was it the anagram?” he suggested.

“What anagram?” replied a relatively surprised Shiv.

It was his partner’s turn to laugh now. “Oh, so you didn’t get that far! Well, that’s a victory!”

The two men continued to climb the stairs, slowly and with careful steps. Shiv remained silent for a moment, and then it hit him.

“But of course! How could I miss it!”

Both the men acknowledged their respective defeats, laughing at their own selves and sharing a light moment of mutual embarrassment. They climbed the remaining steps and stopped on the first floor landing, right in front of the apartment in question.

“Go on, you first. Savour the look on their faces when they see you unsurprised!” Imtiyaz said.

Shiv was more than ready to oblige.

“I’ll say this before I enter: you have a hell of an actor for a husband, Imtiyaz,” he said and opened the door.

The door swung open, revealing an average sized apartment sans any furniture or fittings. Right across the drawing room, stood Dr. D’Mellow and the ‘dead’ man, ear-to-ear grins etched on both their faces. They had been clearly anticipating the arrival of Shiv and Imtiyaz. Shiv made his way in, hands fully stretched and a beam to complement theirs.

“Hello, you rascals! Thought you could fool me, eh?” he announced boisterously, and held ‘Vinay Dipesh’ in a tight squeeze. The smile flew right off the latter’s face, and so did that of the doctor. They cast a look of utter incredulity at Imtiyaz, who could only shrug back in mock woe.

Shiv took his time and went on to hug the doctor next. He patted his back, saying, “You did a good job back there, doc; had me in a tizzy.” Coming out of the hug and gauging the surprise on their faces, he said to Vinay, “But of course, so impudent of me to not explain my lack of surprise at seeing you here, alive and kicking. But I’m not spilling any beans here, in this obviously for-rent apartment, so unbecoming and gloomy. Let us go someplace more fitting for a union of friends. Drinks on me!”

*

“I knew something was afoot the moment Imtiyaz came in,” Shiv said to his three companions. They were seated in a first class smoking lounge of a swanky bar situated in the heart of the city. “I couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but I had a niggling feeling that he was hiding something; keeping something from me.”

The four men had each a pitcher of beer in front of them, which they took a swig out of, every now on then.

“That was the first clue: his constrained body language. Secondly, the phone-call from ‘boss’. It was a very stupid mistake on your part, Imtiyaz; you said your boss had asked for you to be at the police station in an hour’s time, but you forgot all about it later on! That was when I was convinced that it had not indeed been, as you claimed, your boss on the other end. But then, who else could it be to whom you’d say something like ‘now’s better than ever’? But of course, it was a signal, a hidden message for someone to take the cue and intervene!” He took a sip from his pitcher, and went on.

“So I merely added two and two: Imtiyaz dropping by unannounced all of a sudden, his taking a call which was not from his boss (despite him claiming so), your synchronised arrival and very theatrical ‘death’…all led me to conclude that this was planned in advance by Imtiyaz.”

The three men sat dumbfounded, forgetting their drinks for the time being.

“But, how did you possibly know I was Imtiyaz’s fiancé? How could you possibly decipher that?! And how the hell did you know I was alive?” ‘Vinay’ demanded.

“Well,” explained Shiv, “those were the two most difficult inferences to arrive at. I admit it, there was a bit of luck involved. Remember when I was examining you and you were so accurately playing dead,” he pointed to Vinay, “I noticed a similar tan on your ring finger as I had seen on Imtiyaz’s hand. That ensured that you were married. Later on, when I left home and got printouts of your photograph, I made sure all my men on the streets had at least one copy of it. One of them recognised you for real, as the real you: Kailash Pratap Singh. I had him dig out as much information about you as he could in the shortest time, and he did; he told me that you had recently been engaged in secret, and that too to a man…A man, whose description uncannily resembled Imtiyaz! Again, I cannot take credit for this; my faithful network of grassroots level intelligence did it for me.”

He paused for breath, the silence he left behind not broken by any of the other three.

“As for how I knew you were alive, despite my having checked your vitals to be non-existent, well, it was a very, very hard nut to crack. I must say, that was the masterstroke of your plan. It kept me off-track for the longest time. I knew, despite my doubts regarding Imtiyaz’s motives, that he would never, I repeat, never let a man die just for bringing to fruition a plot to play games with me. The only thing I had going for me was noticing that he had a small article hidden in his breast pocket, which I first mistook for his engagement ring. But just before you arrived on scene,” he said to Kailash, “he had taken out the ring from his back pocket. That meant that there was still something in his pocket that he probably didn’t want me to know of. It could very well have been a harmless change or a random pin, but my interest was roused. I saw it as the missing link to the conundrum. Your vomiting and collapsing and lack of pulse pointed to a known rare condition of poisoning, but I had no way to prove my hunch. Except by getting that little something out of his pocket, by hook or by crook!”

He reached into the breast pocket of his own brown overcoat and his hand came out holding a small empty vial labelled ‘Atropine Sulphate’.

The revelation caused uproar all around the table: Imtiyaz spluttered his mouthful into his pitcher, checking his breast pocket and finding it, to his utmost horror, empty. The doctor only laughed bemusedly, patting Imtiyaz on the back. Kailash remained stupefied, looking at Shiv with wide, gaping eyes.

Imtiyaz’s surprise was evident when he spoke. “When the holy fuck did you—“

“Remember our unfortunate brush with the speeding taxi that tried to mow us down?” Shiv asked rhetorically, playing his ace.

“Bloody hell, why didn’t I see it?! He was one of your men, the driver!” Imtiyaz exclaimed, having a moment of epiphany.

“Indeed! I had it all arranged; my man, Prashant, a taxi driver, was waiting for our approach near the sidewalk. I signalled him covertly to brush past us, fast enough to scare the living daylights out you and ensuring that his license plate was not seen in the hullaballoo. When I pulled you and jumped forward, the vial of atropine sulphate dropped out of your pocket, which I conveniently palmed.”

Taking another sip, he continued, “It was a fairly easy deduction from there on: atropine is the prescribed treatment to increase blood pressure and revive the working of a failing heart. It can also be used to reduce the effects of grayanotoxin poisoning; a type of rhododendron poisoning which lowers the pulse to almost non-detectable levels and thus simulates death for a short period of time. Its side effects are, as we saw, vomiting, nausea, loss of motor control and so on. Having introduced a safe amount of the toxin in his system, Kailash had come to my house on your cue, making it appear as if he was dead for real. His ‘last’ words were enough to plant a reasonable doubt in my mind, ruling out the involvement of the authorities into your little game. Moreover, you were fully aware that I knew your closeness to Dr. D’Mellow, and were fairly certain I’d suggest his name to work on this. So you had it all pre-planned with him: he’d come as an outside medical authority and corroborate Kailash’s ‘death’, which would be enough to convince me that something was really afoot.”

He concluded his explanation and guzzled down the remaining bit of spirit in his pitcher, reeling under its bittersweet descent along his food pipe. The other three were too overcome with astonishment to add to his account and too drunk to stay shut up.

“You call yourself a detective, and you couldn’t even figure out that silly anagram?” Imtiyaz muttered, in-between hiccups. “It was lying there, ready for you to pick up.”

“The e-mail address it was,” added the doctor. “It was my creation…pat me in the back, will ya?”

“Yes, I missed that one. ‘dipesh_Vnay’, I should have cracked it; it’s my name afterall!” Shiv said, in mock dismay.

“One more thing, sir, one more thing…” Imtiyaz went on in his drunken tirade, “You can deduce all that you want from a vial of atropine or a tan mark of a ring, but you cannot decode human nature. You cannot shrug off the, the—overpowering diktat of right and fuckin’ wrong, the imposition of bullshit conformities of the powers that be.”

“What do you mean, Imtiyaz?” Shiv asked tenderly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. The doctor and Kailash looked on the mentor comforted his pupil.

“See, even you cannot work your magic when it comes to this,” said Imtiyaz, sounding out each syllable clearly and painstakingly. “They even chucked you away, tossed you out like an insignificant critter, with all your glories and all your brains left to rot. All your laurels, your achievements, your greatness reduced to a heap of dust...and your fault was? Fucking a dead person? And what of all the things you could have done for the living, had you risen through the ranks?! What of those people dead because you weren’t there to solve the case?”

“It’s alright, Imtiyaz,” said Shiv in a tone of reassurance. “I’ve gotten over the regret a long time back. All that is left is, perhaps a residual loss at not having the chance to serve my people the same way I could have if I hadn’t done what I did. Believe me; it doesn’t pain me a lot.”

Imtiyaz went on as if he didn’t hear him speak. “Do you remember the words I said in rebuttal to your justification of your necrophilia? ‘What do you mean “why should it matter?” Are you out of your mind? You think what you did was right?’ These were the exact words in which my boss reprimanded and suspended me, when I told him of my homosexuality a few weeks back…and then they talk of an open society and an accepting world…that was my real reason to come to you, to know from the only person in the world who has faced similar humiliation from the society how it feels to be at the wrong side of sexuality...I wanted to share both my distress and my happiness with you. I wanted to introduce you to my only pillar of support, Kailash, the only man who stood by me, heard me out, cared for me….and I wanted you to work your brains while at it…”

His final words lay hung in air for a long time. The city lights grew brighter, roads grew scantier and the behemoth of humanity went back to the comfort of home and family. The four forlorn men drank away their misgivings as another night descended on a mad, mad world…

THE END