A Big Fat Adventure

(continued)

Sundarbabu said, “Hmm. Jayanta, we must be heading towards a big fat adventure.”

Manik agreed with him and said, “Yes, a dangerous adventure. We don’t know what the real issue is, yet there’s excitement right from the beginning. Here’s a bunch of bananas even before the tree is climbed!”

Sundarbabu asked, “Jayanta, why are you silent?”

Jayanta said, “Just thinking of a few things.”

“What things?”

“A group of people, for reasons known best to themselves, wish to remove you from their path. They will not even spare anyone who assists you. They have kept a sharp eye on each of our activities. They’re clever, perhaps too clever for their own good. Otherwise, they wouldn’t announce their presence in such an archaic manner. Having said that, there’s no doubt that they’re a deadly lot. We now also have proof that they have a woman in their group. But who are they? Why do they wish to target us? I think Sundarbabu has the answer to these questions.”

Sundarbabu placed his heft on a chair and said, “Perhaps there is, perhaps not. I cannot say anything for certain.”

“Why were you in such a flurry when Surenbabu mentioned Singapore?”

“Listen to what I know so far. As you two know, I had to travel to Singapore a few months ago to arrest a forger.”

“We know that. But we don’t know much about the case.”

“Let me tell you in brief. Birendralal was an educated man from an aristocratic family. But thanks to his degenerate ways, he quickly ran through his father’s bequest and in an effort to make ends meet, became a professional forger. He had no equal when it came to replicating notes. He made a lot of money from flooding the market with his fake notes. But eventually, members of his gang were captured, and he too, disappeared. This was around two years ago.

Then a few months ago, I got word that there was a big problem with fake notes in the Singapore region. My spies told me more, they said a Bengali babu from Calcutta has moved to Singapore and become the kingpin of a gang of forgers! The members of that gang do not just forge notes, they don’t shy away from killing either. We suspected that the Bengali babu in Singapore and the missing Birendralal in Calcutta were one and the same.

I landed up in Singapore with Inspector Charubabu to ascertain if our suspicions were correct. After due investigation, we learnt that we were right. We had nearly arrested Birendra as well, but he narrowly escaped again, having blown dust in our eyes. We ransacked his place and found only his diary and his photograph. The diary was full of nonsense, of no use to us at all, but getting our hands on his photograph has proved to be very useful.”

“How has it proved useful?”

“I have learnt that Birendralal has graced the city of Calcutta once again.”

“And how did you learn that?”

“From what your Surenbabu said! The description he gave of Tarapada is an exact match for Birendralal.”

Jayanta asked, “Do you have nothing else to add?”

Sundarbabu said, “Aare, I have not even come to the main point yet. A lot of the darkness obscuring our vision has cleared now that we know Biren is in Calcutta. Listen! About a fortnight ago, a case of willful murder lands at my desk. The deceased person’s name was Mukundalal Mukhopadhyay. Not much has been unearthed about him. From the neighborhood I have only gleaned the fact that about six months ago, he came in from elsewhere and started living here in Calcutta on rent. Mukundababu is fifty or older. He is a widower. He has two sons. The elder is called Sanatkumar and the younger one is named Ashokkumar. They’re about twenty-six and twenty-four years old. Both bachelors. Father and sons shared the same nature. None of them liked to mingle with their neighbors. They tried their level best to avoid new acquaintances.”

Jayanta asked, “What was their occupation?”

“The surprising thing is that none of them had any occupation! No bank stores Mukundababu’s wealth either. Perhaps he had reserves of cash in hand, and that took care of the household expenses.”

“I supposed he employed the usual maid-manservant-cook at home?”

“No manservant, no cook either. A daily help would come in twice a day to do the household chores and leave. Their meals would come from a hotel.”

Jayanta said, “Mysterious family! Did you not find any letters form friends or family when you searched Mukundababu’s house?”

“I found just the one fragment from one single letter. But I’ll come to that in a bit.”

“Mukundababu isn’t a wanted criminal, is he?”

“There’s no proof of that.”

“The perhaps Mukundababu was hiding out in Calcutta because he feared some formidable enemy.”

“It’s most probably that.”

“What do his sons say?”

“Aare, even they are untraceable as well! Since the murder, they cannot be found anywhere.”

Jayanta sat up straight and said, “Are you suspecting them of patricide?”

“Tell me, what else can I do? Why did they run away? Why would an outside person come in to commit a murder in a house where there’s no coming and going of outsiders?”

“This rationale of yours won’t stand at all; maybe the terror that made Mukundababu to conceal himself was the same terror that forced his sons to run away.”

“And is this not an assumption on your part?”

“Let it be. Now tell us how Mukundababu was murdered.”

“The fact that Mukundababu had slept on his bed that night was corroborated by one look at his bed. But his corpse was found quite a distance from the bed, near a table. The murdered had used a sharp, heavy weapon, for his head was nearly severed from his body. We found no weapons or footsteps inside the room. The furniture in the room consisted of a bed, an almirah, a table, a chair and an easy-chair. Everything inside the almirah had been found in a mess, the same had happened to the things inside the two desk drawers. I cannot say for certain if anything had been stolen, because we don’t know what the almirah and the desk drawers contained. However, two one-hundred rupee notes and twenty five ten rupee notes have been found inside the drawers. The room held nothing else that was valuable.”

“How did the murderer enter the room?”

“Don’t know that either. But Mukundababu’s bedroom door as well as the front door were both ajar until morning.”

“You were saying something about a fragment from a letter?”

“This scrap of paper has been retrieved from the dead Mukundababu’s fist.”

Jayanta took it and read it once. His two eyes lit up with excitement.

He said, “This is a torn section from a letter. It’s very likely that when the murderer was trying to make off with it, Mukundababu tried to snatch it back and lost his life in the attempt. The second thing to observe about this is that it was written in the English year 1946, on the 13^th of May, and sent from Singapore. Sundarbabu, would you like to see what the third thing to observe is?”

Sundarbabu said, “Is there any more to notice here?”

Jayanta fished out the other two letters from his pocket, kept them on the table next to the letter fragment and said with a smile, “Here is your torn letter fragment. And the other two – here, the first one which came with the arrow, and here, the second one which arrived by a woman’s hand. Now do compare the handwriting in all three letters!”

Sundarbabu stared at the handwriting on all three letters, his eyes widening gradually.

“But all three were written by the same hand!” exclaimed Manik.

Jayanta said, “Exactly! I can’t tell if Biren murdered Mukundababu, but there’s no doubt about the fact that it was he who wrote to Mukundababu from Singapore.”

Sundarbabu leapt up and said, “Hmm, I’ll nab him – this time I’ll nab Biren for good! Do you think I come to you just like that, Jayanta? You took the weight off my shoulders for two cases in one shot. Let me go and arrest Biren on the forgery case first of all, then we can figure out how connected he is with Mukundababu’s murder. Jayanta, Manik! You are both cordially invited to the program at the ‘National Service Association’ this evening.”

*

(to be continued)

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