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

Khurana eyes bulge fearsomely. ‘I don’t even know where the camera is, damnit! I was doing my workout!’

Bhavani sighs. ‘Well, sir, it doesn’t look very good for you, frankly!’ He holds up his fingers one by one. ‘Your wife is rumoured to be having an affair with the victim; you had an argument with him yesterday; he knocked you down—’

‘I hit him too!’

Bhavani continues inexorably. ‘And then you were the only person in the gym, alone with the prepared protein shake, during the time when there was no camera visibility.’

Khurana leaps to his feet, snapping his suspenders threateningly. ‘That doesn’t prove anything!’

Bhavani continues to sit, looking up at him serenely. ‘Agreed, sir. But you have to agree it looks bad.’

‘Well, I didn’t poison the bugger,’ Mukki blusters. ‘I’m a straightforward man – if I ever wanted to finish off a fellow, I would shoot him in the chest, while looking him in the eye! I would definitely not tiptoe about, stirring a damnfool drug into a water bottle like a woman!’

Overall, Bhavani is in agreement with what Khurana is saying. The fellow has all the symptoms of someone with high blood pressure in any case – Bhavani can visualize him firing a gun, swinging a club or even throttling somebody at the spur of the moment … but not this simple, cool, almost elegant murder.

He says pleasantly, ‘Sir, please don’t misunderstand. We don’t think you committed the crime—’

Mukki grips the table hard. ‘Then what do you think, Inspec— What was your damn rank again?’

‘ACP.’

‘Ya, so what do you think, ACP?!’

‘We think somebody is trying to frame you, sir.’

Khurana goggles at him for a moment, then collapses dramatically on the opposite seat.

‘Thank you!’ he declaims gratefully.

‘You’re welcome, sir,’ Bhavani replies.

There is a small silence.

After a little while, Khurana sits forward. ‘Do you how tough the CA exams are?’ he demands. ‘They are much more difficult than getting into the bloody army! Or the police, for that matter,’ he can’t resist adding, a little snidely.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And yet this fool Mehra thinks that I’m the fool! That just because my wife is beautiful, he can pull off a poora-ka-poora Othello on me! He’s trying to play that over-smart Narad muni-type character – what was his name?’

Bhavani grimaces with the effort of trying to remember. ‘Oho, our wife would’ve supplied the name at once,’ he rues. ‘We know who you mean, of course. Aago? Ego?’

‘Ego! Ya, he’s been trying to play that chap Ego, and now he’s trying to make it look like I killed my wife’s so-called lover in a fit of jealousy. But I’m too sensible to do that! I know my wife has eyes only for me.’

‘Of course she does, sir. And you may not be a pretty boy, but you have a nice manly way about you, sir.’

Mukki pinks up and says ‘Thank you’ with so much surprise and sincerity that Bhavani feels a twinge of remorse at resorting to such blatant flattery.

‘So then, sir, who killed your wife’s lov— Er … we mean Zumba trainer?’ he asks the accountant. ‘Gen. Mehra himself? Isn’t that rather far-fetched?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Mukki says at once. ‘These damn faujis have no respect for human life. Killing a human being is like slapping a mosquito for them.’

Bhavani, who has spent a troubled night after seeing Leo’s lifeless body, and who knows many men in uniform who feel the same way, manages to stay unprovoked.

‘Motive is a bit weak, sir,’ is all he says, mildly. ‘He wouldn’t kill Leo just to frame you and prevent your wife from getting elected! There would have to be something else. Do you know of some other issue between them, sir?’

‘My wife thinks Mehra’s preying on the girl in the Daily Needs.’ Mukki offers doubtfully after a longish pause. ‘She’s been quite vocal about condemning it. But then she …’ He sighs, ‘She can be a little too protective about these young girls sometimes.’

‘But it’s an avenue worth exploring,’ Bhavani suggests.

Mukki nods. ‘Oh, yes.’

8

Selective Hearing

‘This whole thing is terribly unfortunate.’

Dressed in a natty, tightly tailored blazer with monogrammed buttons and a baby-blue cravat that sets off the hazel of his eyes, Lt General (‘Behra’) Mehra, PVSM, AVSM, Yudh Sewa Medal is definitely an improvement, aesthetically speaking, on Bhavani’s previous interviewee.

‘Terribly unfortunate,’ the general repeats.

Bhavani, who has chosen to adopt a slightly stupid expression for this encounter, agrees at once. Beside him, Kashi Dogra, inducted into the meeting to be a social lubricant, nods soberly as well.

They all maintain a minute’s silence for the departed soul, then Mehra looks up, his hazel eyes keen.

‘Chap was poisoned, I hear?’

The other two nod again.

‘Fine thing to happen at the fag end of Bhatti’s tenure! He must be so cut up. But why have you asked to speak to me? I didn’t even know the fellow!’

‘O really, sir?’ Bhavani says innocently. ‘He had your number saved on his phone, actually!’

‘He must’ve had a thousand numbers saved on his phone, ACP,’ Mehra says testily.

‘Mehra uncle!’ Kashi leans forward. ‘Can I just mention that the ACP is a big fan!’

Slightly mollified, Mehra cocks an eyebrow at Bhavani. ‘Seen me on TV, eh?’

Bhavani beams. ‘Of course! During the surgical strikes briefings – and afterwards. Why, sir, you did all the work – you were the brains and the balls of the whole operation! The IJP just took credit for all your hard work!’

Mehra strokes his moustache modestly. ‘That’s the army way, ACP. We don’t hog credit. Never have, never will.’

‘Amazing! Sir, to answer your question, we are speaking to you because Leo Matthew sent a few people this song on WhatsApp, and we feel it may have a bearing on the case.’

Mehra frowns. ‘A song? What song? The chap sent me a song?’

Bhavani nods. Kashi, who has ‘Secrets’ cued, plays it on Leo’s phone.

Behra Mehra listens with polite curiosity, humming a little at the catchier parts. When the song ends, he cocks an eyebrow at Bhavani.

‘Yes? It’s a very old