The Bandit Queens (76)

Saloni nodded. “It’s true.” She whispered to Trivedi, “Not enough people like her. So…” She put an elbow on the table and leaned forward with prurient interest. “What’s this about a rape? Don’t tell me Darshan…” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “O baap re. Shame, shame.”

ASP Sushma Sinha looked like she might stamp her foot. “Lies! That one just now said that Darshan attacked Priya!”

Geeta blinked. She arranged her face into a suitable expression of benign confusion. “No…oh, I see how you’re confused. Preity. He threw acid on Preity many years back. You must have that in your notes?” Geeta flipped the red folder over to review notes in English she could not decipher. Still, she pretended, sharing the book with Saloni as they both hummed in feigned scrutiny.

“Get away from those!” ASP Sushma Sinha screeched like an injured monkey, yanking the book back. “That is official police business.”

Saloni carried on, stage-whispering to Geeta: “Poor Preity, na? Hasn’t she suffered enough? Wait ’til the group hears—”

“Not Preity! Priya! He attacked Priya and she killed him!”

“Oh?” Saloni perked with curiosity. “Really?”

“Very good, Sinha,” Trivedi said caustically. “Why don’t you just take out an ad in the paper?”

“Sir, these two are definitely up to some hera pheri. I just need a room—”

“We don’t have the extra space for you to play cop, Kali Maa. Maybe one day you’ll have an entire police department for your hysterical conspiracies.” His hairline had crept behind his ears, occupying the liminal space between more bald than not. His eyes went to the women, then stayed on Saloni. Geeta could always pinpoint the exact moment someone—man, woman or child—noticed Saloni’s green eyes. Split seconds of denial, confirmation and appreciation, all in neat succession.

Flicking both hands, he shooed away ASP Sushma Sinha and sat down. “I’ll take these ladies’ statements myself.”

“Sir—”

“You’re dismissed, ASP.”

She sighed, deflated. “Yes, sir.”

Geeta almost felt sorry for her. Didn’t she know too well how it felt to be dismissed? Underestimated and shelved? Saloni had been right, they might get away with this after all.

Trivedi rolled his eyes at Saloni, inviting her into a private joke. “Quotas, you know? ‘Hire a woman,’ they said. ‘Hire a scheduled caste,’ they said. ‘We need diversity,’ they said. Blah blah blah.” He smiled at Saloni. “Did she even offer you water or tea?”

“Er—no.”

He shouted for the office boy, the call like a very long belch, but no one came.

Saloni said, “No matter. It’s really very simple. We went for dinner—”

“No, no.” He extracted his mobile. Shortly after dialing, he began screaming. “Where? Huh? Again? Every time I call you, you’re either shitting or eating. Bey yaar. Get here quick. Shit on your own time. Bring tea and biscuits.”

Geeta grimaced. Saloni raised a finger and said, “Not necessary,” but was ignored.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward Geeta’s lap.

“Oh, for you!” Saloni said and Geeta extended the gourd. “It’s just the right amount of soft. Your wife should make it tonight only, tomorrow it might be too mushy.”

He assessed it. “Nice.”

“It’s rude to come empty-handed, na?” Saloni continued. “And our village has the best gourds.”

“As I always say, ‘The future of India is in its villages.’?”

“Wasn’t that Gandhi—” Geeta started but Saloni was giggling, and eyelashes that were usually reserved for Varun the loan officer were now working overtime.

“You came up with that? So clever, na?”

Trivedi beamed. “Where was I?”

“Um, last night we went to have dinner at the twins’ place.”

“Twins? Which twins?”

“Preity and Priya.”

“They’re twins?” He squinted at ASP Sushma Sinha’s notes. “They have different surnames.”

Saloni did not laugh as Geeta nearly did, but instead patiently said, “They’re married, sir.”

“Oh, right, yes, I knew that, of course. And after dinner?”

“After dinner, we went to a local shop for snacks, and then I brought them to my husband by the water tank. He and his friends were there…socializing.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not here for petty things like bootleg booze. Victimless crime.”

That solved the mystery of whose rotis were being buttered by Bada-Bhai. Geeta snuck a look at ASP Sushma Sinha, who was down the corridor, gesticulating wildly and berating the office boy.

“Right. And then we each went home.” Saloni looked at Geeta.

“Correct.” Geeta nodded. “Straight home.”

“And you stayed there all night? Can anyone corroborate that?”

It was such a sharp turn of professionalism that Saloni blinked. “Er, yes, my children saw me. And my helpers.”

“And you?”

“No, I—I live alone, but—” Geeta was about to offer Karem as an alibi, but Trivedi did not appear interested.