The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(36)

Nandini entered in a faint cloud of her usual perfume. She wore a clingy black dress, her hair down, high heels. She leaned over to kiss his cheek, and they drove off.

“You should wear plain clothes more often,” Nandini said.

“Women prefer a man in uniform.” Arnav smiled at her as they took the road to Bandra West.

“I like you fine in uniform, just not on duty.”

Arnav wanted to tell her that he was on duty twenty-four hours, that the calls never stopped unless he switched off his phones, but he was too tired to make conversation.

“I heard they’re promoting you to senior inspector?”

He didn’t need to ask her how she knew. Shinde.

“Not taking it up.”

“What? You’ve been promoted to work under Commissioner Joshi.”

Shinde could turn the screws with such ease. They were inspectors together for a while, but Shinde hailed from the Scheduled Caste. His promotions came in faster under the quota system protecting lower castes. Four years from inspector to senior inspector, while it took twelve years for someone like Arnav, from the general category.

“Told my boss I wasn’t interested.”

About ten days to leave his desk at the Malwani station. He didn’t know what to do next, but that was another matter.

“You can do that? Refuse an order?”

“Technically, no. He’s within his rights to transfer me without a promotion.”

“Why are you refusing?” Nandini sounded intrigued. “This could be your chance to nail Joshi like you’ve wanted for years.”

He’d once told Nandini all about his sister, and Joshi’s role in the entire tragedy, after they’d finished a bottle of red wine between them.

“I don’t want to leave behind the case I’m working on.”

“You could tell them that. Accept the promotion after you solve the case in hand.”

“Not that simple. Can’t talk because it is an open case right now. Someday you could write an article on it.”

With the stand Mhatre had taken, Arnav must bring the details to her sooner rather than later. Might as well give her an indication now.

“What do we know about Rahul Taneja?”

“Taneja Real Estate Holdings?”

Arnav nodded.

“The word is, he’s into kinky stuff. No judgment there, but he’s also a creep—probably groped all the women he’s worked with.”

“Yes, I saw the MeToo allegations. But what does your grapevine say?”

“He’s joining the Virani family because that will solve a few of his headaches.”

“Namely?”

“You didn’t hear this from me—this is from a man who covers the real estate beat at work. Kind of has a crush on me, you see.” She waggled her eyebrows in a good-natured, exaggeratedly saucy gesture.

“With good reason,” Arnav laughed. “Anyone would crush on you the way you look tonight.”

He had to make an effort, keep her happy so he could handle the evening ahead. This was a new Blue Bar, new bar girls, and Nandini the antidote to the ache of memories.

“Quit flirting.” Nandini grinned back. “You already have me. But back to Taneja—he’s been receiving death threats, though he doesn’t talk about it. He has the police in his pocket, but marrying into Bollywood would give him additional protection. They all have deep connections.”

“Kittu Virani?”

“She knows everyone.”

“And what else?”

“Kittu’s company has decorated the homes of most of Bollywood, and many others besides. She’s a bigger social media influencer than her movie star sons, and she would work for him now—eliminating any competition for TEH’s new interior design arm. She’s not much to look at, but she’s calling Taneja her first real love. Win-win for him. He can get his women anywhere.”

“I see.”

“Are you investigating him?”

“I can’t confirm or deny that.” He turned to glance at her face, alight with curiosity. That brightness, the questioning look reminded him of Tara—why was it Tara he kept returning to?

Traffic had thinned. The car sped till they hit a signal near a corner tobacco shop, casting a white light on its rows of masala packets and canned drinks. The portly owner stood surrounded by his customers, joking with them while handing out his wares, his hands a blur as he applied pastes or supari, folded the shiny green paan leaves and accepted payments, all at once. Arnav wished he could excel at this sort of mechanical, repetitive job. No complexities or politics.

“I’ve noticed a curious fact about your Joshi.” Nandini broke the silence in the car.

“Yes?” Arnav had asked her to keep a lookout for any news about him.

“You know how I write articles on up-and-coming businesses?”

“Of course.”

“In the last year, Moringa Consultants seems to have skyrocketed. I haven’t figured out who the investors are.”

That sometimes meant an influx of cash from the shady underworld—the Mumbai dons who kept up fronts while they ran their drug and arms cartels outside the country.

“Is Joshi mixed up in this?”

“His sister-in-law is one of the owners.”