The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(49)

While one road gave way to another, from tree-lined avenues to highways running through slums, the silence between them hardened, grim and brittle.

“You don’t have the balls to answer me,” Shinde said after a while, shattering the quiet.

Arnav fixed his gaze on the road ahead. “Let me look after my life, you worry about yours. I’ll stop by your office tomorrow morning to hand over the case.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Shinde said. “You’re refusing a promotion for no reason, you’ve been ignoring my calls about the case, and now you’re carrying on with a bar girl.”

This was one thing Arnav couldn’t stand about Shinde—his tendency to twist matters to suit his narrative. Arnav had answered each one of his calls. At work, the man was his senior, not a friend. Besides, the term “bar girl” rankled Arnav. Tara was a choreographer now.

“I’m waiting for an update on the Versova case today.” Arnav sped up on the narrow road near Shinde’s place. “If I hear a word, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I never receive updates these days. Not about work, not about your women.”

“I told you about the forensic conclusions: the drug used on the victim. I also have a lead that might help us find the van,” Arnav said.

If they found evidence, Arnav aimed to be the one to conduct a raid. For all his bluster, Shinde was still recovering from his operation. The doctor had recommended taking it easy for two weeks before he started physiotherapy.

“You’re a fine one. Arguing with me over a dhandewali.”

Dhandewali. A woman who sold her body. Arnav stopped the car, thankful they had reached Shinde’s apartment building.

He helped Shinde out of the vehicle, and noticed his children waiting in the lobby.

“We can talk when you’re ready to speak about Tara with respect.” Arnav greeted the children, then left without looking back.

Having spent time with Tara, he’d been forced to accept two facts. She brought him joy, and he should have pursued her when she left.

He drove slowly, giving himself time to calm down. A dozen traffic horns blared when he cut onto the main road during rush hour. Bristling at no one in particular, Arnav collected himself. Logically, Shinde was right. Tara had abandoned him once and was likely to leave again. She hadn’t told him about her life outside Mumbai. What he wanted, though, was to keep seeing her.

Nandini took care of him, had stood by him. It was strange that it was Tara, who’d dumped him years ago without ceremony, that made him come undone. He’d never staked out the place where Nandini lived, never worried if she was doing OK, or chased her till she gave in.

Arnav slowed down near a turn. A bent old man stuffed a huge cart with flower garlands and stalks. A stray calf stood next to him, chewing away at the leaves he discarded. Arnav beeped the horn and waited for the man to make way.

His phone rang.

“This is about the black van, sir,” Naik said.

“Yes?”

“The constable who chased it at Versova has taken a look at the photo you sent me. He’s sure it’s the one, sir.”

Ali had come through again.

“Make a record of the reason to search the premises,” Arnav said. “Send it to the magistrate’s office. We’ll enter the garage on a good-faith basis. Text me the coordinates.”

“Right, sir.”

“Pick a team. I’ll join you there. Alert the control room—we might need forensics.”

Arnav turned onto a back road, hoping to avoid traffic before he caught the Western Express Highway that led to the garage. Flanked by tall trees and dense scrub jungle on both sides, this stretch had broken into potholes, and avoiding them took all his attention.

He dialed Shinde, but clicked off. Maybe he should give his friend some time to cool off. In any case, the man couldn’t come for the raid. He left Shinde a voice message instead, giving him the details, keeping one eye on the road.

He must bring Tara out on empty roads like this one—maybe on Sunday, when the Blue Bar was closed. He could take her with him to Rehaan’s movie set at Filmistaan—she’d enjoy that. From there, he’d drive outside Mumbai, on a road surrounded by lush forests. A farmhouse restaurant near Lonavala, perhaps. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven a car for fun—maybe once with Shinde and his family, years ago, when Shinde’s son had thrown up all over him. During their trip, Tara might insist he play old Hindi movie songs. It would annoy him, and he’d grumble, but he’d play them all the same. He pictured that little girl, Asha’s lookalike, in the back seat.

Arnav recalled the face on Tara’s phone screen. Couldn’t be younger than ten or eleven, but definitely not older than fifteen. Tara had stayed away fourteen years. All of it pointed to one answer. To his surprise, instead of running from it, he hungered to learn more. He wasn’t great at family or commitment. With Tara, though, neither seemed like a bad idea.

He could easily imagine Tara had never left, that it was routine to hold her in his arms. He’d stroked her hair last night as she slept, and it had felt like being home for the first time in years. The last two nights had made his current life recede into a mirage, a distant thing. Tara alone was real.

By the time he noticed the black truck speeding up right behind his car, it was too late. He scrambled to brace for impact as his car hurtled off the road toward a tree in slow motion. After a few seconds of excruciating pain in his shoulders, the universe went dark.