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

afterwards when I arrived at six,’ Thinsuk chimes in. ‘The weights, the bottle, the towels. Apart from my regular duties – which are dusting and sanitizing the machines, laying out fresh towels, and setting out the water, and apples and juice.’

Unlike Thampi, Thinsuk’s voice is matter of fact. He doesn’t seem to mind that Leo hadn’t helped with these duties. Bhavani nods, then asks casually, ‘Why did the Club feel the zaroorat for a third trainer, waise? Don’t you two know how to Zumba?’

This time resentment flares simultaneously on both the young faces. ‘Of course we do!’ Thampi asserts indignantly. ‘But President Bhatti hired Leo because he has 1.01 million followers on his YouTube channel and Zumba training qualifications from Brazil. So President Bhatti felt he would be a better teacher.’

‘And he was? Good? Effective? All the ladies were taking his class?’

Thampi says sullenly, ‘The ladies just liked him because he knew good English and had trained abroad and all. They let him park his bike right here next to the gym veranda, but we have to park outside the main gate and walk such a long way!’

‘But that may be because he only needed parking for one-two hours,’ Bhavani Singh says tolerantly. ‘And you fellows have what, nine-hour shifts?’

They nod.

‘So now that he is dead what will happen? Perhaps President Bhatti will promote you to the post of Zumba instructor?’

Thampi laughs scornfully. ‘Not if those women have a say!’ he scoffs. ‘They’re much too snobbish to attend our class! D’you know Thinsuk and I are not even allowed to use that swimming pool outside because we may contaminate it?’

‘I’m not saying they’re unhygienic on purpose, babe,’ Thinsuk mimics in a bitter tone, ‘they just don’t get enough water in the jhuggis to bathe daily, poor things.’

The imitation is cruel, but accurate.

Bhavani chuckles. ‘That is pretty good!’ he says appreciatively. ‘You could be an actor – good-looking boy like you!’

Thinsuk goes a little pink.

‘Tell us something,’ Bhavani continues conversationally. ‘This gym is new, is it nat? Who decided what-what equipment to buy for it?’

‘President Bhatti, sir,’ Thinsuk replies. ‘And some of the members who use the gym regularly. And us.’

‘O really?’ Bhavani says blandly, even as his mind immediately starts to pluck on the possibilities of kickbacks and commissions. Had Thampi and Thinsuk received some money for recommending Precor over the others? Had that little Sardar ji been in on the deal? Had the supplied material been substandard in anyway? Was that what had caused the accident?

As he is considering these possibilities, his phone rings. He extracts it from one of his roomy trouser pockets.

‘Hullo?’

‘Jai Bhavani,’ comes a deep, well-modulated, south Indian drawl.

Bhavani’s square face splits into a wide smile. He is very fond of the Tamilian head of forensics.

‘Daaktar sa’ab!’

‘What a good-looking corpse you’ve sent us this time, Bhavani. The girls are quite excited. Makes a change from the usual desiccated specimens we get.’

‘My pleasure, my pleasure! So what information do you have for us?’

‘Well, on the face of it, it looked like accidental traumatic asphyxia.’

‘Speak English, daaktar sa’ab,’ Bhavani entreats.

‘A sudden force has compressed the neck and cut off the oxygen flow,’ Dr Krishnan explains. ‘I’m guessing that was the barbell.’

‘Yes.’

‘That seems to be the cause of death, but—’

‘It was nat?’

‘No, it was not.’

‘A heart attack, or a tumour of some sort?’

‘Nothing so innocent, I’m afraid.’

‘Then?’

‘Your man was drugged, Bhavani. He’s awash with a particularly filthy sort of drug cocktail called “Pinko Hathni” that’s been doing the rounds lately, though in areas far less posh than the Delhi Turf Club. No wonder he dropped a loaded bar on himself.’

‘Pinko Hathni?’

‘It derives its name from the fact that the extremely swift hit it delivers is like being kicked in your central nervous system by a sexy female elephant.’

Bhavani Singh isn’t often at a loss for words, but all he can manage in response to this is a strangled-sounding ‘Wah’.

‘Could he have taken it himself?’ he asks after a beat. ‘As a … a performance enhancer, of sorts?’

‘It’s not that kind of drug. If Usain Bolt took the dose your chap did before a race, he would speedily strip himself naked when the starting pistol went off, amble dreamily down the track marvelling at the contingent of psychedelic gorillas copulating in the stands, then go suddenly limp and drop dead.’

‘Understood.’

‘We checked the flask you sent with the body. It was empty, but it had traces of Creatine Monohydrate. That’s a common pre-workout drink – a lot of these body-builder types take it just before they lift. It was laced with Pinko. So find out who filled it. That’s your man. Or woman.’

Krishnan disconnects. Bhavani lowers his phone.

His face is entirely expressionless as he turns his genial eyes on Thampi. ‘You mentioned preparing a drink at midnight and leaving it in that fridge for Leo.’

Thampi’s face grows apprehensive. ‘Yes, sir.’

Bhavani’s voice is very gentle. ‘Tell us how you did it.’

Thampi licks his lips. ‘The way I always do – three tablespoons of the Creatine powder in water. It mixes really easily.’

Very conversationally Bhavani Singh asks, ‘And Pinko Hathni? Does that mix easily in water too?’

‘Pinko what?’ Thampi’s jaw sags ludicrously. ‘No, I didn’t, sir! I didn’t!’

Bhavani spreads out his hands. ‘No, no, it is completely understandable – the fellow is no better than you – your muscles are just as good, we can see that! But he gets paid so much more – he is making lakhs and lakhs and parking his motorcycle inside and flirting with the pretty ladies, while you stack his weights and clear his dirty towels. Over the months, resentment and khundak is building up and so one night, while you are making his wretched pre-workout drink, you take a tablespoon of Pinko Hathni and you’ – he twists his wrist graphically – ‘drop it into the flask!’

Thampi is now staring at Bhavani in horrified fascination. ‘You’re mad!’ he says. ‘Of course I did not! I’m not insane – I’m perfectly happy with my job – and