A Murder In Delhi

By Anil Malhotra

This mystery begins with the murder of Ravi at a posh club in Delhi. Amal, his friend is determined to find and bring his killer to justice. He finds a coded message left with his wife and when he deciphers it, it leads him gradually to the killer. While the body is found at a dinner party, no one know how the killer got away with the murder till Amal discovers an important clue. Forensic science lends a hand and with his friend Kao and code expert Pinto, Amal is able to prove that this murder was no ordinary murder but the result of careful planning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312436237

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A Murder In Delhi

A Murder in Delhi

Anil Malhotra

Copyright © 2014, Anil Malhotra

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-312-43623-7

1. A Death in the family

Amal Mallick looked at Ramesh Khanna with dismay as their friend of five decade, Ravi Mehta collapsed in front of them in the Chinese restaurant of the Delhi Gymkhana. He was hale and hearty only a moment ago but now lay unconsciousness before them. No attempts of the hastily summoned hospital doctor could revive him.

So what happened? Was it a heart attack or was it some bizarre accident? Nobody seemed to know. The plaintive wailing of Ravi’s widow turned their attention to her.

Rina was Ravi’s wife and a beauty. Slim and fair, she turned heads wherever she went. She was still beautiful though she was pushing fifty. With raven hair, green eyes and a fair complexion, she looked like a film star. Rina had been a beauty queen during her youth and won many a title. She still carried herself as a queen with a poise and dignity befitting a queen. She was a charming hostess and had hosted many a party that Amal and Ramesh had attended in the past. Amal like her flirtatious manners and would often joke with her about her various swains floating around.

Amal remembered how Ravi had been a confirmed bachelor till he set sight on Rina. Once he saw her he had chased her months, lavishing her with roses and expensive perfumes he brought for her from Paris. Rina had finally given in and they got married some five years ago. Now she was dressed all in white, as widows were required to do. But despite her tear stained face, she still looked lovely.

Amal thought they had a happy marriage despite the gossip that Rina was a flirt and not averse to occasional flings with the various bachelors that always used to surround her. But Amal knew Rina and did not believe any of the gossip.

Amal was now a distinguished looking 65. His luxurious beard now almost all white with a few streaks of grey made him look like a junior Santa Claus. His twinkling eyes added to the illusion. He had a spritely gait and he walked with care that the formally obese normally adapt. He had shed his middle age potbelly but his clothes still draped loosely on him. He was too lazy to go for a new wardrobe despite his daughters nagging. I am too old, he would say laughingly, to become a clothes horse.

Amal had had an interesting career before he retired. After graduating from an engineering college he had looked for a job. But jobs at that time were scarce even for engineers since the economy was at low ebb. He in desperation had accepted a job as a permanent way inspector (PWI) in the Indian railways to escape the life of a lecturer that he had taken on graduation. As a PWI, he inspected the tracks and made sure the carriages had a smooth ride. Looking back he was happy that the job had taken him all over the country from the small towns in Rajkot in the west to Bangalore in the south. He had visited big cities like Bombay and Calcutta and obscure ones like Bandikui. He felt he knew his country better for those four years he spent on the railroad.

Then his luck turned and he won a scholarship to one of those small universities in southern Texas. It was next to the oil fields and many of his contemporaries worked in the oil industry. Graduating he had no trouble finding a job on the offshore rigs that dotted the Gulf of Mexico. Starting as a roustabout, he rapidly worked his way to be a driller. Soon he was picked up by one of the oil companies to man their rigs, which were moving to newly discovered oil fields off the coast of Africa. He had spent a decade in the oilfields in Asia, Africa and the Mideast always in remote locations. Amal like the 12 hour on and 12 hour off shifts that these offshore rigs practiced since he could use the rest time to catch up on his reading. But ten years of this nomadic life was enough, and when Shell Oil Company offered him an assignment in London, he had grabbed it eagerly. Some years later his eye caught an ad that India's oil company was searching for experienced oil field hands to man their rapidly growing offshore fleet. He put in his papers and was selected to manage one of the new rigs the oil company had recently bought. His expertise, past experience and international exposure made him stick out and soon his colleagues dubbed him as doc. And that name had stuck. And now everyone only knew him as doc. When the interview committee for the post of a director in the oil company saw him, they were amazed to find that not only he had practical experience, he had also worked all over the world and had an encyclopedic knowledge of the oil industry. He was selected over the expressed desires of the oil minister. He had entered the bureaucratic world, which was far away from the oil industry that he was familiar with.

It was there that he had met Ravi again after a break of almost a decade. Ravi had followed a different path joining the private sector. His expertise in computers had landed him a job with IBM right after he graduated and he had risen rapidly in the hierarchy till IBM decided to pack up and leave India. Ravi, then in his mid thirties, decided to branch out on his own and formed a Computer software company providing technical assistance to the public and private sectors. He had contacted Amal, who was then a senior executive in the oil company, and Amal had been very helpful in the early days of his venture.

Ramesh was completely different from his two close friends. He had left college but had drifted from job to job despite his engineering degree. He had become a man about town. His good looks and suave manner charmed women and he had gone through three marriages by the time he turned fifty. His friends called him a Romeo and were always keen to find out about his latest conquests.

But now when they met at the restaurant after a lapse of a few years, he was in a serious mood and not his usual jovial self. A celebration had turned into a tragedy.

I told him not to go swimming in his condition. But you know your friend he would not listen to anybody. a weeping Rina told his friends.

Ravi had had a heart attack a few years ago requiring the insertion of stents but he had recovered fully and resument an active life. And as happens with heart attack patients, he seemed determined to prove that the heart attack was an anomaly and that he was back at full steam, with a full regime of excercises. Swimming had been one of his passions and he had resumed it after the doctor had cleared him.

What else happened today? Did he take any medications  or anything else that disagreed with him? asked Amal curiously.

He finished his four laps at the club pool and was in the bar having a drink. We then moved to the Chinese restaurant at the Gymkhana club and were having dinner when he collapsed, wept Rina. What am I going to do without him?

Amal consoled her the best he could. He promised to stay with her till everything was sorted out. The police had been summoned and they insisted on taking the body away for an autopsy before releasing him to the family.

Later that day, Amal and Ramesh sat down in Ravi’s elegant drawing room. It was indeed a beautifully furnished room with paintings hanging over most of the walls. Amal recognized a few rare Hussains and Jehangirs and some unknown painters that Rina used to sponsor. She had become quite a society woman as Ravi had climbed the corporate ladder and kept an elegant house. There were curios and gifts from all over the world as they both loved to travel and had a wide variety of acquaintances in Europe. Her cuboards were full of the finest sarees each wrapped in muslin and there was a whole cabinet full of jewellary. A retinue of servants attended the house. One of them sidled upto Amal and Ramesh and asked:

Sahib, what will you have to drink?

Amal waved him away all the time wondering if the servants information network could tell him anything more about Ravi’s death. It seemed strange to him that Ravi who was in the prime of life would just up and die after a swim in the pool. Just then he espied Mario D’souza, the police commissioner whom he had met a few years ago when there was the terrorist attack in Bombay, walk in the doorway.

Hello , Mario how are you? Amal greeted him sadly.

Mario had joined the Bombay police force straight from the elite police academy and had shot up the ranks with his hard work and willingness to go after the thugs in the city. He had made his mark with his capture of Sultan gang that had terrorized the city for a number of years and now was in the process of cleaning up the smaller gangs that had survived under the Sultans regime. Tall and a little beefy, he still had an imposing presence. His crew cut hairstyle gave him a military bearing and his piercing eyes often frightened the criminals he was interrogating. He was jovial with his friends.

Good to see you again Doc Amal. I did not know that you were friends with Ravi.

Oh, we have been friends for over five decades. We were in college together. But since he lived in Bombay and I in Delhi, we have not met for some time.

Mario examined Ravi’s body and seemed in deep thought as if he was wondering if he should share some information with Amal. But then he though be`tter of it and turned his attention to the grieving widow.

Amal knew there was something the matter and resolved to tackle Mario after they left the house. They decided to go to a nearby hotel for a cup of coffee after leaving Rina and promising to come back the next day.

What is eating you, Mario? asked Amal as they settled in their seats.

Mario moved uncomfortably in his chair.

‘No, no, Mario I know you too well and you are transparent. I know something is going on and I want to know if Ravi and Rina are somehow involved."

How well did you know Ravi. Asked Mario still a trifle cagey and unwilling to speak at length.

Well, we were in college together and were close friends. But I have not seen him for a number of years and so have not kept in close contact. Why?

Well, said Mario a little slowly, Ravi had come to our notice, in a peripheral way when we were investigating a really big scandal involving the use of Swiss banks for stowing black money. There are some who suspect that Ravi was involved in some way in this racket.

Amal was disbelieving of this information.

I can’t believe that. Ravi had a cushy job with his company and was tipped to take over as the managing director of the company. Why would he be involved in any shady deals?

Mario reluctantly spoke in a whisper. We believe that Ravi had incurred major debts and had gone to one of the godfathers in Bombay to seek his help. The godfather, Wazir Ali had loaned him a considerable sum of money from his past drug deals that he had hidden in the Swiss bank. Ravi, it seems, had promised to pay it back from a major deal he was involved in but that deal had fallen through. Wazir Ali was demanding his pound of flesh. The things had come to such a pass that Ravi feared for his life.

Amal made Mario promise that he would keep him informed of any new developments. A week later Amal received a phone call. Mario had just received the autopsy report.

Yes said Mario, it was as I suspected. Ravi did not die of natural causes. It was murder.

2. Who done it

In a murder case the first suspect is always the spouse. So it was no wonder that Rina was called in for questioning by the police.

Fortunately Mario was able to arrange to be present when she was questioned.

They had begun very gently expressing their condolences.

We are very sorry at your loss, Mrs. Mehta they said.’ But there are some few things we need to clarify if you don’t mind."

Did you know that your husband had some dealings with a man named Wazir Ali? they asked.

No" replied Rina. She could not recall any of her friends knowing anybody named Wazir Ali.

Are you sure? they insisted.

Yes. She was sure.

Madam, we have with a court order seen your husbands bank accounts. He seemed to have received an amount of over Rs 10 lakhs from one Wazir Ali last month.

Rina was nonplussed. Ravi had told her last month that she needed to curtail her expenses as he was going through a lean period. How could he say that and have Rs 10 lakhs in his account?

Madam, has he been travelling during the past months? they asked.

No more than usual for his job.

"But did he go to Switzerland in the past few months?

Yes but that was always for his job.

Did he have an account with any Swiss bank? they persisted.

Not to my knowledge. Replied Rina but her mind was awhirl. Ravi had given her an address of a bank and a long number and swore her to secrecy during one of his dark moods.

You must promise me not to speak of this to anybody he had said, this is your heirloom. Rina had kept that little piece of paper in her jewellary box and forgotten all about it. This conversation brought that little colloquy to her mind and she determined to ask Amal about it when he next came to visit.

I am sorry to subject you to this but we need to know exactly what happened during the dinner when your husband collapsed. Can you take us through that in some detail? Take your time. Interjected Mario.

We had planned a celebratory dinner for Ravi that night. It was his fiftieth birthday. I had planned to meet them at the club but was running late. So I had rushed to the bar where Ravi was talking to someone and signaled him to meet me in the restaurant.

How many of you were there at the dinner? asked Mario.

There were six of us- Ravi, Amal, Ramesh, and Mantosh. And there was a guest of Ravi’s from Switzerland – someone called Muller. He respresented the Whistleblower foundation and was in negotiation with Ravi about something.

What happened at the dinner?

" All of us ordered our favourite dishes as we generally do when we have