The Blue Bar (Blue Mumbai #1)(67)

Arnav dialed Ali, who picked up immediately.

“What have you heard about a supari on me?” Arnav said.

Arnav had learned the term supari before he joined the police force, thanks to Bollywood movies. To a layman, it was a betel nut; to the denizens of the underworld, a contract to kill.

“Sorry about the locha at your station, saab. Not from my Bhai.”

“Tell your contacts—this will mean a big reward.”

“It is a little strange, saab. If you are the target, why attack the station? So much harder.”

Arnav wondered about that, too. “Find out all you can.”

He cut the call. He couldn’t bring Shinde back, but he could ensure Shinde’s family received closure. Shinde’s corruption was not Vaeeni’s fault, nor that of the two children.

Despite protests from the team, he booked a car and strode out. Shinde dealt with men like Shetty. He must have kept a dossier of information that would bring others down. An insurance of sorts.

Once Vaeeni returned home, it would be rude and unnatural to focus on Shinde’s papers rather than support her to organize Shinde’s last rites, but if he moved now, he could use Shinde’s spare key. If Shinde’s papers threw up any names, he’d call Ali and get him to dig further.

At Shinde’s place, he felt like a robber, rifling through a bereaved family’s drawers, tables, and closets, but he persisted. The longer he took to chase the culprits down, the harder it would be to nab them. He’d set his team to track down leads from the shoot-out at the station, but only he could carry out this search. His arm and shoulder throbbed as he bent and straightened, looking through the house as unobtrusively as possible. His mind spun. He would never see Shinde again. Was he cursed to lose the people he loved? Asha had committed suicide, Tara had left, and Shinde had taken a bullet meant for him. Or maybe he himself was a curse to those he loved, the harbinger of misfortune.

His exhausted brain played those final minutes with Shinde over and over, but it became increasingly blurred, like a scrambled video with scratchy sound.

Asha’s last words were Get me a sevpuri and a pao bhaji? Extra tamarind chutney. He couldn’t recall what Shinde said to him. All he remembered was the warm spatter of Shinde’s blood on his face, its raw, metallic smell, the way his fingers had slipped over the hot, gaping wound. What were his parting words to Shinde?

A litany of curses. He recalled their heat and heft inside his mouth as he spat them out. Shinde was family, but he’d betrayed both Arnav and the Mumbai Police Force. Before Arnav could sort out the work situation with Shinde and hammer out his personal sense of betrayal, Shinde had flown beyond the pale of questions and answers. Death. Familiar yet remote. Shinde’s gurgled words came back to him, Avi, dojo.

By the time Arnav arrived at the dojo, the morning karate classes had begun. His tall and wiry sensei had the face of an ascetic, and despite being well into his sixties, his body retained the limber movements of youth. When Arnav took him aside and told him about Shinde, he looked stricken.

“Stay the week, until this blows over.” The sensei gestured him toward a chair. “You live alone. I worry about you. Students often take up the dojo rooms upstairs.”

“No reason to worry. I’ll be fine.”

“No harm in being careful, either. Your accident, and now Shinde gone. I taught him since he was eleven years old, years before this dojo was built. He brought you here. Stay with me for a while. For me, if not for yourself.”

Arnav choked down the emotion in his throat. A staff member brought him a warm drink. Arnav could taste the ginger and turmeric. He wasn’t a fan but, with the sensei watching, he downed it all.

“Come back here after you’re done for the day.”

Arnav nodded. “Can I bring a guest? A woman. She’s a witness on a case.”

“Yes.” The sensei smiled. “Just a witness?”

“For the moment.” Arnav rose.

“Ah, yes, your friend Rehaan left these here,” the sensei said. “He wasn’t here for very long, I heard. I didn’t remember I’d picked them up.”

He handed over a pair of sunglasses in a paper bag.

“I’ll need your help,” Arnav said. “I don’t know if I can train him, with my injury. Will you come with me?”

Arnav didn’t want to miss the opportunity to speak with Rehaan, or Kittu if she showed up. Taneja and Kittu were out of town, but they were to return soon.

“All right,” the sensei said. “Why don’t you rest upstairs for a while?”

“Somewhere I need to be.” Arnav pocketed the paper bag, thanked his sensei, and headed to the lockers.

When he heard a step behind him, he thought the sensei had followed him there, only to find Naik and a constable on her team.

“Sorry, sir, but we couldn’t let you leave alone,” Naik said, her brows creased. “Your teacher said we’d find you here.”

Arnav felt too exhausted to ask them to buzz off, but he gave them a look, hoping they would understand his need for privacy.

“We’ll wait for you at the entrance, sir,” Naik nodded and left, and Arnav sighed at the task that lay ahead.

Arnav and Shinde kept each other’s duplicate keys. Arnav had never used Shinde’s because he never carried anything for his friend. Shinde dropped boxes off in Arnav’s locker when their work schedules clashed. Vaeeni sent him snacks, and occasionally a small gift on his birthday. Arnav swallowed. At the dojo, Shinde’s locker was the place to search.