Club You to Death by Anuja Chauhan (books to improve english .TXT) 📕

Leo raises his hands, curls them around the bar, and lifts it smoothly off the stand. He brings it down to his chest grimacing slightly. His chest expands, his arms ripple. His back and buttocks do not rise even a centimetre off the bench. He is completely in control of the movement as he performs his reps. One … two … three … four …

‘Excellent technique!’ the tiny sardar pronounces approvingly.

Ram Palat grips Bhavani’s fat wrist urgently.

‘Watch carefully now, sir. Here it comes!’

With a sense of impending doom, Bhavani watches as Leo pushes smoothly upwards again.

It happens really quickly. The trainer’s arms are extended to the max, his elbows are locked. Then, inexplicably, the bar wavers and drops with sudden, sickening neatness to his chest. His body jerks up, then flops back. The loaded bar follows the pull of gravity, rolls down to his neck and settles against his straining windpipe. Slowly, the struggling stops and the powerful body goes still.

Bhavani frowns. ‘Again.’

He pulls a chair to the monitor, and puts on his glasses.

‘In slow motion.’

Ram Palat twiddles the knobs and they watch the clip intently three more times. Then Bhavani sits back with a dissatisfied grunt and takes off his glasses.

‘Accident ho gaya rabba rabba …’ he hums musingly. ‘What do you say, sardar ji?’

‘Accident caused by human error, sir,’ says the little Precor representative definitely. ‘There was no gadbad with the equipment. I’ve checked it already. The bar, the bench, the plates.’ He pauses, frowning, then admits, ‘But I see nothing wrong with his technique either. Ekdum textbook correct hai!’

Bhavani frowns. ‘Then …’ he looks around the smelly little room. ‘Where’s Padam? We need to chase forensics on this …’

Devendar Bhatti has assigned Guest Cottage No. 5 to the investigative team. It is a large, airy, high-ceilinged suite with heavy, white-painted teak furniture, its own veranda and garden. Floral curtains are drawn back to offer a view of flowerbeds blooming with rich maroon coxcomb, sweet-pea and dahlia.

When Bhavani hurries back to it, in search of the inspector, he finds him sitting upon the floral sofa, behind an old-school stainless-steel tea-tray and a plate of Marie biscuits, chatting cosily with a rugged young man, who looks vaguely familiar.

‘This one is nice too!’ the young man is saying, peering down into the screen of what Bhavani immediately recognizes from the virulence of its yellow cover to be Padam’s phone. ‘She has a karate black belt, and she can play Spanish guitar! Sounds like you’re spoilt for choice, inspector!’

‘She’s not as fair as the one who can speak French and German, though,’ Padam points out seriously. ‘And she is two years older.’

‘But that one had too many brothers, you said,’ the young man reminds him just as seriously. ‘They may create hassles.’

‘That is true.’ Padam frowns. ‘What about the Chandigarh girl, sir?’

‘She is nice too. Frankly I think they’re all lovely!’

‘You’re too lenient a marker, sir.’ Padam gravely rebukes the young man. ‘After all, this is not a date, it is a question of my whole life. And my family’s life. I’m the only son. Fair, six foota, police afsar – I can pick and choose, which means I have to choose carefully.’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ Much abashed at this reprimand, the young man bends over the phone with even greater concentration.

Padam sips his tea, mollified, then sights Bhavani standing in the doorway and does a double take, almost dropping his cup.

‘Sir!’

‘No, no, take your time, PK,’ Bhavani says sardonically. ‘We had asked you to chase forensics at RML, but we see you are busy with more important matters.’

‘Yes, sir, no, sir! This is Mr Akash Dogra, sir! Lawyer of the deceased. He is waiting for you!’

The young man puts down Padam’s phone and leaps to his feet at once, hand extended.

‘Call me Kashi,’ he says, his eyes twinkling. ‘Inspector Kumar has been calling RML constantly, but in the middle, the Chandigarh party phoned, insisting on an immediate final answer, so PK enlisted my help.’

‘O really?’ Bhavani grasps the proffered hand, liking the young man instinctively and wondering again where he’s seen him before. Then he turns to the hovering Padam. ‘We need Dr Krishnan’s report at once, PK!’

Padam exits, a little red-faced.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Bhavani gestures towards the sofa.

‘Not at all, you must have a dozen things to do,’ Akash Dogra says easily as he sits down. ‘But do tell me – was it an accident?’

‘Most probably.’ Bhavani nods, taking a seat too. ‘We are still figuring it out. You were the deceased’s lawyer, we hear?’

‘I didn’t know him too well, actually,’ Akash admits. ‘I do some pro-bono work with juveniles – a bunch of boys were gathered up for underage drinking and rowdiness in Gurgaon once and Leo came to pay their bail and organize their release. He was an old boy from their orphanage and he still took an interest in its affairs. He said it was the closest thing he had to a home and a family. I liked how he handled them – he was kind, but also tough – I studied in an all-boys boarding school so I can appreciate these things. The boys really looked up to him.’

He pauses, looking down at his empty teacup and frowning. Bhavani senses he isn’t done.

‘And?’ he prompts gently.

Kashi looks up. ‘Only his name wasn’t Leo that night. I thought about it after I went home yesterday and I’m pretty sure they all called him Lambodar bhaiya.’

‘That is understandable, no?’ Bhavani suggests softly. ‘Lambodar is perhaps nat as … upwardly mobile as Leo.’

Kashi nods again. ‘Yeah … yesterday when I saw him at the club, I realized he has a public persona here, which is different from the one I’d seen earlier. Smoother, suaver, sexier. He’d even told the ladies at the club that he was part Jamaican. But that night he spoke full-on Bhojpuri.’

‘And you did nat like that,’ Bhavani states. ‘You feel people should have just one persona all the time. Their true persona.’

Kashi