The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(12)

“You’re sure there’s no mention of a similar case at Dadar Police Station?”

“That case might be from before we computerized all entries. We might need to hunt down a physical copy.”

“I’m familiar with that station.” Arnav had begun his career as a constable-in-training there.

“We can send a constable, sir. Also, Mr. Taneja called our station. I think he’s spoken to Mhatre sir.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Arnav gathered his papers. “I’m done for this evening. I’ll head to Dadar.”

If he found this file, that would make it five nearly identical cases, spread over decades: Dadar, Azad Nagar, and the remains at Aksa.

“Who’s going to Dadar?” Senior Inspector Ravi Mhatre walked into the room.

At six feet two, Arnav’s boss Mhatre was easily one of the tallest in the Mumbai Police Force.

“Hello, sir.” Arnav stood up and cut a salute, as was expected of him. “I’ll be going.”

As a matter of procedure, Mhatre summoned Arnav to his room, so this was new.

“Good. I don’t have a car this evening, so you can drop me at my event.”

“Was there anything else, sir?”

“We can talk on the way.”

Arnav drove out of the station with his boss beside him in his trusty old car. Asha was learning to drive it the year they lost her. Ravi Mhatre didn’t comment on the state of the beat-up vehicle, letting his expression speak instead. He’d already refused Arnav’s offer to drop him home in Bandra after Arnav finished at Dadar Police Station.

In the last three years of working with him, Mhatre had proven to be more of a chess king. An indispensable official, but not an attack dog. Arnav couldn’t complain, though. Mhatre had backed him up more than once when he was on shaky ground after his transfer from the Crime Branch to the Malwani station.

For several minutes Arnav’s boss kept busy on the phone as he navigated the traffic out of Malad and into Goregaon, then Mhatre leaned forward to adjust the radio knob. Music burst forth. Akhiyon ke jharokhon se, of all songs.

The lilting number was about a couple’s love, an unlikely pair who married despite the odds. The movie ended with the woman’s death. That song had played a long time ago when Tara had flicked on the TV in his bedroom. They were cuddled together under the covers, her soft body relaxed against his, the scent of her freshly washed hair wrapped about him. He’d watched her staring at the screen, dreamy eyed.

“What’s wrong?” She was quick to catch on to his changes in mood.

“This doesn’t end well. Let’s watch another.”

He’d told himself he didn’t want her to waste time on a sad movie, but even then, he’d known that wasn’t the real reason.

“It ends well, I’m sure.” Tara’s heart-shaped face had seemed at peace for once. “They’re together.”

“Not in the end.” He’d gathered her close and changed the channel, hoping she’d forget about the movie, never watch the heartbreak. She suffered enough at work, and terrifyingly enough, he’d nearly killed her in his bed that afternoon.

He’d woken up to her fists beating against his chest. He’d been in the grip of another nightmare. Joshi. He’d battled to strangle Neelesh Joshi, but in his sleep had ended up grabbing Tara by the throat.

“Joshi sir would not be pleased.”

The words jolted Arnav back to where he was, in his car with the senior inspector, who did not look pleased. Joshi sir could be only one man, Joint Commissioner of Crime Neelesh Joshi, a top dog in Mumbai Police. The boogeyman from Arnav’s nightmares. Arnav arranged his face into what he hoped was an agreeable expression, and turned to his boss, placing his bet on Mhatre’s habit of repeating himself to drive a point home.

“Rahul Taneja is a trusted name in Mumbai business circles. A big supporter of Mumbai Police initiatives. Commissioner Joshi would be quite upset if he knew you’ve been bothering Mr. Taneja.”

During their weekly meeting, Arnav had given a brief on the Aksa case to Mhatre, including the fact that Taneja Estate Holdings was involved in the construction at the site, with no major reaction from his boss. Taneja’s call had clearly riled Mhatre up, worried him about the commissioner. Taneja probably kept Neelesh Joshi on speed dial.

The car sat trapped in a traffic jam, and the radio mercifully switched to a peppy dance number. Arnav turned the radio down so Mhatre could hear him clearly.

“Sir, I’ve spoken to Mr. Taneja just once,” Arnav said, “when he visited the crime scene. He hasn’t responded to any of my calls. I checked in with Forensics today. Dr. Meshram has found two more bodies at the Aksa site, resembling the first one.”

Arnav kept his eyes on the road ahead, but he could feel Mhatre’s glare burn a hole right through him.

Finally, Mhatre said, “Your report specified that the land was disputed and had laid abandoned for decades. Anyone at all could be involved with those bodies.”

“Right, sir. I’ve simply followed the standard process of investigation.”

“Never forget that we’re public servants, Rajput. Our role is to help people, not cause a bother.”

Arnav suppressed a smile. Help people, indeed. Mumbai Police was trying to revamp its image, make the force sound more public-facing, friendly, but the macho reputation created by decades of Bollywood movies remained.