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

technique wouldn’t have worked with a cold corpse. But clearly you got there just minutes after he died.’

She shivers. ‘I still can’t quite believe it. Somebody we know … sneaking into our happy little balloon-filled gym, tip-toeing to the fridge we drink out of every day, clutching a lethal drug in their sweaty hands, opening the flask with their hearts thumping hard – because surely your heart must thump hard when you pull this kind of a stunt, officer?’

He nods soberly. ‘O yes. Murder is always stressful, madam. Even for the most hardened killer. Let no one tell you otherwise.’

‘One must burn a lot of calories while killing somebody, I suppose,’ Roshni says thoughtfully. ‘Your BMR must go through the roof! I wouldn’t be surprised if one lost a few kilograms out of sheer stress!’

‘I should probably kill somebody then!’ her friend replies, staring ruefully down at her empty plate. ‘Why did you let me eat all those cutlets? Especially after we missed our morning workout!’

‘Cooks, we’re going to have to find a new trainer, fast,’ Roshni says seriously. ‘I can feel the fat crawling up around my thighs already.’

And it’s back to business as usual, Kashi thinks to himself. A man’s dead, for fuck’s sake, but they’ve already moved on. Wow! Is that an old person thing, a rich person thing, or a DTC member thing?

‘You should start the Canadian army’s XBX program for ladies, madam,’ Bhavani tells the women meanwhile. ‘It’s just an eleven-minute workout and we do the gents’ version of it every day! It can be done anywhere – no need for music or special equipment or an instructor!’

Cookie blinks at him. ‘Well, music and equipment and a qualified instructor are kind of the point actually,’ she replies. ‘I mean, we’re not some Hanuman bhakts doing rote exercises in a colony park!’

The old policemen blinks at this careless barb, yet continues to smile. But Kashi has had enough.

He says, rather sharply, ‘Of course, now that we know that it was a murder, your handling of the phone amounts to evidence tampering, auntie.’

Roshni sticks out her tongue contritely, in a child-like gesture that looks odd on a woman in her fifties. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she says.

‘Who did you phone, by the way?’ Bhavani asks.

Her eyes widen guilelessly. ‘The number one name on his speed dial. ‘Rax something. But he didn’t pick up. And there was no “mum” or “dad” or “babe” saved in the contacts.’

‘That sounds so lonely!’ Cookie remarks, with belated sensitivity. ‘Poor Leo! How can you have no one to notify when you die? We should’ve gotten over his hotness and talked to him more often, Ro.’

‘We just thought of him one-dimensionally,’ her friend agrees. ‘But clearly he was a whole person … and we have no idea who that person was …’

6

Cheeky Peaches

‘Was that a good interview?’ Kashi asks Bhavani after the ladies have tottered away to their cars, escorted by Padam. ‘Did I help? Or make things worse?’

Bhavani sighs. ‘No, no, you did well, vakeel sa’ab,’ he says. ‘But the main thing is that the good ladies were correct. We know nothing about Leo, or the person he was. There is no point talking to anybody else till we figure that out. And the answer to that question is right here.’

He gestures with one stubby finger to the black mirror surface of Leo Mathew’s latest model iPhone, lying open and defenceless amongst the tea things on the cluttered study table.

‘You wanna do the honours?’ Kashi asks.

The old ACP sits forward, sighs, sends up a wordless apology to the dead man whose privacy he is about to violate and taps the phone gingerly. The screensaver blooms to life. A zoomed-in shot of Leo Matthew’s torso, smooth, alive and rippling with muscle. The words ‘BODYBUILDING IS CHARACTER BUILDING’ are tattooed into his sternum in simple black type.

‘Hmm.’ Kashi tilts his head to one side and considers the motto. ‘I’m not sure I agree entirely. I mean, sure, bodybuilding teaches you discipline and is a great stressbuster. But it doesn’t make you a kinder person, or a more empathetic person or even a more intelligent person.’

‘It is an ape’s motto.’ Bhavani grunts succinctly. ‘We are nat impressed by it at all! Now, what else does Matthew sa’ab have to say for himself?’

He fishes out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket, puts them on, then presses the Gallery icon and peers down at the screen.

‘Not too many photos,’ he murmurs. ‘Now that is very odd. Such a vain man must have taken a lot of pictures of himself!’

‘Maybe he was vain enough to have a fancy camera as well,’ Kashi suggests.

‘Hmm.’ Bhavani considers the suggestion. ‘Maybe. Let us see what he has on WhatsApp.’

There are eight groups with new notifications.

*Golf Links Girls

*Panchsheel Ladies Zumba

*Sundernagar Zumba

*Def Col Body Combat

*Vv Ladies Bollydance

*Saket Ladies Zumba

*Gulmohar Park Evening Zumba

Bhavani raises his eyebrows. ‘Quite the little Kishan Kanhaiya!’ He presses his big square finger to the screen and randomly opens Golf Links Girls.

The other groups are all full of similar messages.

Kashi’s forehead wrinkles. ‘They’re so polite,’ he says. ‘Except for that one terse lady. When I’m late for a consultation, everybody bites my head off.’

Bhavani opens the group he’s most interested in. *Dtc Girls Zumba, last active at 5.40 this morning. He scrolls upwards to the beginning of the month.

Bhavani Singh lets out a low, impressed whistle. Five thousand rupees a month? This is a pricey class! And what is the full class strength anyway? He clicks on Group info.

There are sixteen women in the group. From the pictures, they seem like a mix of young and old. Going back to the chat, he can see that ten have put thumbs ups and confirmed for February.

Quickly, he does the math.

‘Look at this, vakeel sa’ab! Your friend was taking eight different classes every month – charging each lady a fee of five thousand rupees. With