Murder in Bollywood Read online

  Yours truly

  The Ripper of Bollywood

  This particular letter, which arrived at the SCS headquarters late afternoon, caused quite a stir among the officers present in the building at that time, forcing ACP Kashyap to urgently summon Hoshiyar, who, along with Zagde, was just about winding up from Gulistan Studio. On examining the letter, Hoshiyar had no doubt that it was 100 per cent genuine, for its writer and the killer were one and the same. This fact was made obvious by the manner in which the writer described the four murders in that letter, mentioning specific details, like the use of the stun gun and the bar stool, which only the killer would have known about. Another telling factor was the mention of the hallucinogenic Dreamer’s Dust, which the killer claimed to have used in Mallika’s murder. The technicians at the forensic lab confirmed that Dreamer’s Dust was no myth and it really did exist. They called it a very powerful hallucinogenic, made by first drying and then grinding to a powder the petals of a particular flower, found at the foot of the Andes mountain range in South America. According to them, Dreamer’s Dust was fast emerging as one of the most popular new-age party drugs in Latin America, as well as the United States and Europe, although not too many people had heard of it in Asia, because of which it was not easily available in this part of the world, and if anyone here wanted it, they’d have to contact one of it sellers over the Internet. What made Dreamer’s Dust so popular was the fact that on its own, it was non-fatal and an overdose of it would only knock you out for a few hours, after which you’d wake up feeling nauseous, with a banging headache and unable to remember your own name for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. Although it was suspected that an over-indulgence in the drug would ultimately lead to the degeneration of brain cells, resulting in the user turning into a vegetable in due time, or maybe even ending up brain dead; however, if Dreamer’s Dust were added to cocaine or heroin, its chemical properties would be dangerously altered by the far stronger narcotics, turning the non-fatal hallucinogenic into a deadly poison, which could kill in a matter of minutes and all the post-mortem symptoms would scream ‘accidental drug overdose’, for until and unless a specific test for Dreamer’s Dust wasn’t carried out, that drug would go undetected, as it bore an uncanny resemblance to both cocaine and heroin, and was virtually tasteless when combined with any one of those drugs. After giving this information, the lab boys confirmed that on Hoshiyar’s suggestion, when they retested the cocaine that killed Mallika, they discovered that it was laced with a fair amount of Dreamer’s Dust, which didn’t show up in the test they had conducted immediately after her death, as they weren’t looking for that particular substance. With all of these facts confirmed, Hoshiyar sent a team of officers down to D.B. Charak Hospital and Medical Centre, where it was discovered that a teenager matching Rohan’s description had indeed been admitted to the ICU the previous night, when he staggered into the hospital calling for help, with a knife stuck deep in his back, and although he was still unconscious, his condition was stable and the doctors were confident that he would make a full recovery. Once it was established that the patient was indeed Rohan, a constable was posted outside the ICU for his protection round the clock. The next order of business for Hoshiyar was to have Rohan’s laptop, iPhone and iPad brought over to the SCS headquarters, where he had the chain-smoking professor Kulkarni, their in-house cybercrime specialist, analyse their data to see if he could find this Megan Morris that the killer had spoken about and determine how she was connected to the attack on Rohan. It turned out that Megan Morris was an eighteen-year-old girl living in New York, whose photograph and profile were stolen by the killer after he hacked into her account. He then used those photos and information to get in touch with Rohan on Facebook and befriended him over a period of two weeks. From their to-and-fro conversations retrieved by Kulkarni on examining Rohan’s laptop, it became known that at 7.30 on the night of the attack, Megan had contacted Rohan on Facebook and told him that she was in Mumbai for a couple of days and would really like to meet him that night itself. When an excited Rohan readily agreed, Megan asked him to come over to a place called Priya Bungalow on Gorai Beach after midnight, where she was spending the night with a few of her friends. When Rohan suggested that she and her friends come over to his place instead, because his security team might not like the idea of him suddenly venturing out that late, Megan taunted him relentlessly, until Rohan played right into the killer’s hands by sneaking out of Billimoria House unseen and coming over to Priya Bungalow at the appointed hour. However, in spite of accessing each and every bit of their Facebook conversation, the SCS had no way of tracking down the killer’s IP address and booking him, because the person they were dealing with had used TOR to conduct all his business on the Internet. Now, TOR, as Kulkarni explained, was a free software developed in the West, allegedly by a group of hackers, which guaranteed its users total online anonymity and freedom from any and all censorship. In other words, TOR was designed to make it possible for users to traverse the length and breadth of the Net under a cloak of invisibility, making it impossible for their activities and locations to be traced by the police. Needless to say, this particular software was extremely popular with freelance criminals and organized crime syndicates in both America and Europe, who would use it to communicate and relay vital information, secure in the knowledge that if the authorities weren’t tracking them real time, then they couldn’t be tracked at all. In fact, Hoshiyar was absolutely certain that the Dreamer’s Dust used to kill Mallika was bought off the Net by the killer, using TOR. So, all in all, whatever the killer had said in his letter turned out to be true, which in the eyes of the SCS and Commissioner Ghankar, who was also apprised of the situation, proved that they were dealing with a brilliant homicidal maniac with an overwhelming and intense hatred for people connected to the film business, who was one step ahead of the police at all times. In fact, Ghankar even proclaimed that he was certain that the killer was either a struggler or a flop actor, who was taking his revenge by bumping off famous Bollywood personalities one by one; then impressed with this brainwave, he declared that his team and the SCS should investigate this case separately, which meant that Meeta Kashyap and her squad were free to conduct the investigation their way, while Commissioner Ghankar would investigate the case in accordance with his theory and have his men round up all the strugglers and flop actors, then interrogate them until one or some of them confessed. However, through all of this brainstorming and confusion, Hoshiyar remained distant and detached. It was because his mind was unable to accept the theory that they were dealing with some sort of a madman, who had dashed off a letter to the police because he wanted appreciation and recognition for his crimes. It was Hoshiyar’s belief that the killer was far from insane, and was, in fact, a very intelligent person, who happened to be in complete control of his senses. The only reason he wrote that letter, in which he confessed to his crimes and described them in great detail, was not for the sake of acknowledgement or notoriety, but simply because he panicked when he felt that the Nikhil and Mallika case was being reopened, and realized that it was only a matter of time before the SCS discovered that they had been murdered. Therefore, in a bid to confuse and complicate the investigation, that all-revealing letter was created and sent to the SCS headquarters, for they were the new hounds on his trail. Hoshiyar also surmised that the letter itself was a desperate attempt by the killer to come across as more powerful and intelligent than he actually was so that he could wrest control of the investigation from the SCS and get the upper hand in their game of cat and mouse. But in doing so, the good inspector believed that the killer had committed a few significant blunders. Firstly, by referring to Hoshiyar by name in his letter and challenging him to a duel of wits, the killer had inadvertently shown that he felt threatened by Hoshiyar, which meant the good inspector was hot on his trail and moving forward in the right direction. Secondly, the fact that the killer had decided to write the letter now and not before, clearly indicated that he was afraid
of the SCS taking over the investigation and that his words of bravado were nothing but a smokescreen. And finally, the attack on Rohan was the biggest blunder of them all, for although it appeared that the killer had been planning it for a long time, the decision to carry out the attack on the very day that Rohan was questioned seemed like one taken in panic, and a lot sooner than the killer would have liked. The sudden Facebook post from Megan, saying that she was in the city for a short while and luring Rohan to a convenient spot, followed by a haphazard attempt to kill him, from which he escaped, all of this reeked of an ill-conceived, hurriedly put-together murder plot, which hammered home the fact that the killer now wanted Rohan dead immediately, because he was afraid that the boy knew something and it was only a matter of time before he would blurt it to the police. But the one aspect of this matter that Hoshiyar found most baffling was the killer’s inability to finish off an unsuspecting nineteen-year-old boy, in spite of having the element of surprise on his side. It was then that a thought entered Hoshiyar’s mind, which suggested to him that perhaps the killer’s use of the stun gun in two out of the four murders was not on account of convenience, but pure necessity. Maybe the killer was not physically strong enough to overpower and subdue his victims, hence he needed to sneak up on them and render them unconscious with his stun gun before killing them. Probably his lack of physical strength was the reason why he preferred to use his intellect to do away with his victims in such clever, complicated ways, be it the rigging of the light switch to make Nikhil’s murder look like an accidental electrocution, or adding Dreamer’s Dust to Mallika’s cocaine and making her death look like a tragic overdose. It was only in the case of Rohan that the killer felt confident of pulling off a murder without the need of a cunning plan, perhaps because he had the element of surprise on his side, apart from the fact that Rohan was just a nineteen-year-old kid. But in spite of this advantage, the killer failed in his attempt, and Rohan, although knifed in the back, managed to get away, which gave Hoshiyar the impression that either the killer was a physically weak man or a fragile woman. However, the good inspector also acknowledged the discrepancy that the same infirm person was strong enough to lift Nikhil Kapoor, who weighed 155 pounds, and put him on a bar stool, which he later pulled out from under the victim with some force, creating the possibility in Hoshiyar’s mind that perhaps the police was dealing with not one, but two killers, a fragile woman and a strong man. But Hoshiyar was also aware that mere conjecture and theories based on clever suppositions did not tantamount to facts. And if the facts were to be determined, then the place where Rohan was attacked had to be investigated, meaning, it was time to visit Priya Bungalow. That particular property was not very hard to find, although it was tucked away right at the end of a secluded by-lane, overlooking Mumbai’s famous Gorai Beach. The reason for Priya Bungalow’s lack of anonymity was the fact that it was at one time a hotspot for filming low-budget movies and television serials of all kinds; thus, Priya Bungalow would be booked 365 days of the year. But in the last one year, all filming on that property had come to a standstill and the place itself had been locked up and abandoned. This was because the owner, one Hasmukh Bhai Patel, had got himself embroiled in some scam on the stock exchange, and to make matters worse, had absconded from the country, because of which his bank accounts were frozen and all his properties attached. But all of this did nothing to placate the angry shareholders who had been duped by him, as they threatened his family with dire consequences if their hard-earned money was not returned, while some of the more dangerous and vengeful ones even tried to burn down a couple of properties. It was because of this that the government placed armed guards outside all of his properties, including Priya Bungalow, so that when the time came for them to be auctioned, they were safe from vandalism and in mint condition. However, as Hoshiyar and Zagde reached Priya Bungalow at around five in the evening, they were greeted by the site of a poorly maintained one-storey structure, with tall, wild grass growing all over its front lawn, and strips of paint peeling off its whitewashed facade, which had begun to discolour, turning mouldy green and black on account of the year-long neglect. Even the bungalow’s main gate, which was made of strong, dark wood, had turned weak from decay and the government notice declaring the property to be sealed, which was once nailed to that gate, could no longer be seen anywhere. It was then that a team of officers from the local police station, who were awaiting Hoshiyar’s arrival, informed him that there was a security guard on duty at the bungalow’s main gate the night before, who was attacked from the back, a little before midnight, and rendered unconscious by a sharp blow with a heavy object to the back of his neck. Needless to say, the guard couldn’t get a look at his attacker’s face. And just like Rohan, he was also admitted to D.B. Charak Hospital and Medical Centre, which was about a kilometre down the road. The police team also told Hoshiyar that the only thing they could understand from Rohan’s incoherent statement, right before he passed out, was that he was attacked from behind in the living room of Priya Bungalow and since it was pitch-dark, he never got a look at his attacker’s face. The officers then revealed that they hadn’t as yet visited the crime scene, as they had been instructed to let the SCS take the lead, after which they advised Hoshiyar that if he wished to examine the crime scene, he better do it quickly, since the house would get rather dark shortly as there were no lights inside, owing to the fact that the local authorities had cut off the electricity immediately after the place was seized. Fortunately for Hoshiyar’s investigation, there were a couple of flashlights in his police jeep for such emergencies, so Zagde and he grabbed one each, then entered Priya Bungalow to examine the crime scene. The place on the inside was cobwebbed and dusty, with all the furniture in the living room lying covered with plain white bed sheets. Hoshiyar noticed a broken coffee table and a smashed sheet of glass in the centre of the living room, indicating some sort of struggle, while there was quite a bit of dried blood on the front door, as well as on its handle, which in all probability came from Rohan, during his frantic scramble to get out of the house after he was attacked.

  ‘I want you to take photographs of the living room, including the broken coffee table, the shattered glass and the bloodstained front door. Also collect a sample of the dried blood from the handle, and call one, maybe two, officers, from the group that’s outside to help you dust for fingerprints. But don’t call anyone else inside, because too many men walking in and out of this place is going to contaminate the crime scene. If it begins to get too dark to work in here, tell the officers to arrange for a couple of flashlights for themselves, but I want all the evidence collected from this place today itself. In the meantime, I am going to have a look around the house to see if we have missed anything,’ Hoshiyar turned to Zagde and said, then moved towards the staircase leading to the first storey to begin his recce of the place.

  As he was about to ascend the staircase, some sort of a mark, a damage to the kitchen door, a few steps away to his right, caught his attention. As Hoshiyar went over and examined it, he realized that it was a deep indentation in the area between the door and its hinges, which was a little more than four feet off the ground, the sight of which, for some unknown reason, made Hoshiyar’s eyes grow wide and blood run cold.

  ‘Oh, dear God, what evil! What a cold, calculating mind to come up with a plan like this!’ Hoshiyar uttered, sounding afraid, then smiled to himself.

  8

  By ten o’clock the following morning, Rohan had regained consciousness, and by the time Hoshiyar got to the hospital, the boy had had a light breakfast and was ready to answer his questions.

  ‘I sneaked out of my house at around eleven o’clock without being seen by my security, and reached Priya Bungalow a little after midnight,’ Rohan began sombrely. ‘I noticed that the main gate was wide open and there was no security guard in sight. But the thing that I found the most odd was the fact that all the lights of the house appeared switched off from the outside and the place itself appeared prett
y much deserted. For a second I thought that I’d been punked. You know, like someone had played a prank on me. But then I thought I’d been chatting with Megan for around two weeks, and that’s a hell of a long time to be pulling a prank on someone, so I decided to go inside the house and see what the hell was going on. As I turned the handle of the front door, I found it unlocked, so I pushed it open and peaked inside, then called out to Megan as I entered, announcing that I had arrived, even as the door slammed shut behind me on its own. The place was pitch-dark and deathly silent, as if I was the only one there and it felt funny, as if it had been shut for a long time and opened up just minutes before I arrived. By now, I had moved into the centre of the living room, or at least that’s where I think I was, but I can’t be sure, because I couldn’t see anything. I was literally feeling my way forward groping for whatever furniture was around; it was all covered with cloth. By then I was scared and wanted to get out of there as fast as I could, but another part of me was curious, I guess, to figure out what I had gotten myself into, so I just stood there, trying to make sense of it all inside my head. Then came the moment that I’ll never forget for as long as I am alive. As I stood there absolutely still in the darkness, I heard a low, incessant whispering a short distance behind me, so I turned around quickly to try and make out who it was, but I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face, when suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the whispering stopped. Although I was really very unnerved by then, somewhere in my mind I began to get the feeling that my gang of friends had gotten together and pulled a fast one on me, to scare me out of my wits. Exactly at that moment, I heard a strange, almost effeminate giggle coming from behind me, and then I heard footsteps circling me round and round, like a bird of prey, even as that low, incessant whispering began once again. By then, many an icy shiver had run down my spine and I had broken into a cold sweat, for my heart was pounding at twice its speed; so I began calling out to my gang of friends by name, telling them that their little joke wasn’t funny any more and they should, like, cut it out that very instant. And that’s when it came, Inspector saheb, right out of the blue, that sharp, searing pain almost in the centre of my back, and then I remember staggering forward and falling on something that felt like a table, after which there was the sound of glass shattering all around me and then I remember running on to the road, although I can’t recall how I got out of the house, but I remember telling myself that it felt like I was in a video game, or maybe it was some kind of a dream. Then I saw a building with the word Hospital written above it in red neon light, and I remember walking towards it in a total daze, with people dressed in white charging towards me, yelling, “Call the doctor, get him in quickly, it’s an emergency.” And that’s when I heard someone saying that I had a knife stuck in my back and that’s when I realized what had happened to me. I am really sorry, Inspector saheb, that the details of the incident are not very clear in my mind. It’s strange that I remember everything so clearly until the moment I was attacked. But everything that happened after that is like a blur and I can only recall fragments of it. In fact, it almost seems like some kind of a bad dream, but the fact that I am lying in a hospital bed with a four-inch-deep knife wound in my back, answering a whole lot of police questions, clearly means that it wasn’t.’ Rohan smiled wryly.