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

unusual meeting here. Hopefully the medical staff will continue to tolerate our presence—’

‘My husband is on this hospital’s board of trustees,’ Roshni says in a low voice.

‘Ah!’ Bhavani smiles. ‘In that case, all is well! Or rather, all will very soon be well!’

Khurana cocks an eyebrow. ‘You know who it is, then?’

Bhavani nods respectfully. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘About time.’ Khurana snorts scornfully. ‘After all the nautanki that played out on the TV yesterday, I’m surprised you can show your face anywhere!’

Padam Kumar, standing unobtrusively by the door, winces at this public takedown of his superior. Bhavani, however, appears unmoved.

‘Yes, sir,’ he replies pleasantly. But the quality of his voice has changed now. It is still genial, but somehow, harder. His kind eyes seem to glint with a steely light. ‘We will nat have any more interruptions, please. Speak when you are directly addressed or nat at all.’

And such is the authority his chunky figure suddenly radiates that a room full of highly influential and volatile people pipe down and listen quietly.

‘We will begin from the beginning. But what is the beginning of this story, really? Did it begin almost two hundred years ago, when the DTC was established, a symbol of oppression, conspicuous consumption and class privilege? Did it begin when a little girl and a little boy met and fell in love and made vows about forever? Did it begin with an incorrigible storyteller drinking whisky in the sunshine, spinning stories which get wilder and more improbable with every retelling? Or with a very young woman who has foolishly followed her heart and ended up in trouble? Or with another young woman, eager to be independent, who encounters predators wherever she goes?’

He lets his words hang, his eyes moving from person to person as he speaks, observing their reactions to particular words or phrases, making mental notes about who flinches, who stays blank, who goes just a little too still as he speaks.

‘But we will keep the timeline linear. When we were summoned to the DTC the day after Tambola Sunday, we were an outsider at the gates. Rather like Leo Matthew. He too was an outsider, a boy from an orphanage, growing up on scraps and hand-me-downs tossed his way by people who wanted to ease their guilty conscience and buy some good karma. Father Victor will understand.’

The priest nods silently. Seated next to him, uncharacteristically quiet and odourless today, Randy Rax nods too.

Bhavani continues. ‘Let us have no secrets in this room. Several of you received a song via WhatsApp message from Leo Matthews. This song.’

He presses his phone lightly.

An insistent backbeat fills the plush, high-ceilinged suite. A husky, knowing female voice croons tauntingly.

You think your secret’s safe,

You think you left no trace

You’re sure that no one knows

You’re smelling … like a rose

But fate has a way of catching up with sinners

At the end of the day there are no free dinners

And I will make you pay

Oh, I will make you pay

P p p p p pay

P p p p p pay

Pay, pay, pay and stay worried,

‘Cos I know where the bodies are buried

Stay, stay, better stay worried,

‘Cos I know where the bodies are buried

The music hits climax and dies away.

The suite stays silent. Unnaturally silent.

Bhavani looks about sombrely. ‘What made us zoom in on this particular song, from the many songs and videos on Leo Matthew’s phone, was the fact that this song was followed by a link to the Badshahpur Children’s Village website. And everybody who had received this song, and that link, had made a donation to the BCV. This, to us, suggested blackmail.’

‘My goodness!’ Father Victor’s face is ashen with shock. ‘But I thought … he told me that … I mean, I marvelled and thanked God daily for the generosity of Leo’s friends and clients but I had no knowledge he was doing anything like this!’

Bhavani acknowledges this disclaimer with an impassive nod. It is impossible to tell if he believes it or not.

Plump little Cookie Katoch is horrified. ‘Haw! Dekho toh! And I had no clue! Whom-whom did he send that song to?’ She looks about the gathering wide-eyed, but suddenly everybody seems to be fiddling with their phones.

Finally, Bambi puts up her hand. ‘Me for one,’ she says lightly. ‘He had found out about Mammu’s little … er … problem somehow … and he used that to extract a tonne of money from me.’

Roshni’s tight, bony face softens with sympathy. ‘You silly girl! We all know about your mum’s little problem! Nobody holds it against her!’

‘What?’ Bambi gives an incredulous little laugh. ‘You guys know?’

‘Sure.’ Cookie Katoch shrugs. ‘So sometimes your mother absent-mindedly puts some things into her purse! What’s there? Everybody has mental health issues nowadays! Deepika Padukone, Winona Ryder! You were a fool to pay him, Bambi! How much did you pay?’

‘Oho, Cookie, how does it matter!’ Roshni snaps before Bambi can speak. ‘It’s not like you know a place that’s having a sale where she could’ve gotten a better deal!’

A few people giggle nervously. Cookie frowns. Bambi looks teary-eyed with relief.

‘Thanks, you guys,’ she mutters gruffly. ‘This mean a lot.’

‘No interruptions, please,’ Bhavani says pleasantly.

Everybody quietens down at once.

‘Bambi ji was unusually honest and came forward with her secret. Everybody else, perhaps because they were hiding larger, more complicated secrets, did nat cooperate with the police … so we initiated inquiries.

‘Leo’s modus operandi was to befriend drivers, maids, nurses, security guards, cleaners, anybody who worked in the homes of the rich. His rags-to-comparative-riches story was inspiring to them – the way he had started off as a waiter, then a waiter on a cruise ship, then a dancer on a cruise ship, until finally his current place as a famous trainer made them think they could make the same magical leap too. These people had no clue that he was living off the secrets they betrayed unknowingly to him …’

He looks around the room. Everybody is listening raptly.

‘Through this network he managed to infiltrate the homes of