Different Senses Read online

  “No, I bet. I’m doing a favour for a friend of mine, cousin of Sapna Sunil.”

  “You mean Sapna Aditi Janak? The poor girl who hanged herself?”

  “Yes, that’s her. Her parents are still pretty upset. Convinced themselves it wasn’t actually a suicide.”

  He shook his head. “I know. I went over it and over it with them, and we searched high and low for a note, but the doctor who did the autopsy was certain as he could be it was suicide. I didn’t know what to do for them. It’s the first suicide we’ve had in the area since I took up this position twenty years ago, and we’ve never had a murder in that time either. What do you think you can do for them?”

  “Only double check that everything’s been done that should be—which I know it has,” I added quickly because I didn’t want to insult this man. “It might not do any good but at least they’ll know I tried. Can I look at the reports? I’m a licensed investigator and they’re my clients, officially.”

  He checked my ID and authorisation because he might be rural but he wasn’t sloppy, then pulled out the file. “Just to warn you, the images are upsetting.”

  “I’ve seen hangings before, unfortunately.”

  “Well I hadn’t, and I hope never to again. The poor husband, seeing her like that. A terrible thing.”

  He readily gave me copies of the reports, including from the surprisingly thorough autopsy, and when I asked about Sapna’s baby, he produced that file just as happily. “I felt bad for that family. They’re honest people. Known them all my life.”

  “You grew up here? But you’re Kelon.”

  “Half,” he said with a grin. “No pure bloods here. Mother is Nihan, my father’s three-quarter Kelon. There’s been a biracial community here for about a hundred years. Every so often someone marries in from Jirnin Rocks or thereabouts. Most of the indigenous you see are mixed too.”

  There wasn’t anything in his features to indicate mixed heritage—his hair, eyes and skin brown like mine—but then there often wasn’t. “The family said her husband was Kelon.”

  “Nope, he’s like me. Can’t tell by looking but he’s mixed, grew up here too. But he uses a Kelon-style name and went to mechanic school in Usartel, so a few folks think of him as more Kelon than Nihan. His family were Reformed Deists, so the indigenous udawatha don’t like to claim him. It’s a bit complicated,” he added, scratching his jaw.

  “Sounds it. So you investigated the deaths of mother and child, and nothing raised your suspicions?”

  “Not a thing. I’m very sorry for the family, but I couldn’t see it as anything but bad luck.”

  “No. Do you think this Doctor....” I squinted to read the complicated signature. “...Nihar, would speak to me about this?”

  Girilal chuckled. “Sure he will. Doc Nihar can talk under water. Once you get him going, you won’t stop him. Just leave yourself plenty of time. He loves company.”

  I grinned. I knew the type. “Sure. Thanks for the help, Constable. If I want to find Ranjit’s Equipment and Seeds, and the husband’s business?”

  “Both down that road back towards Hegal. The seed store is on the left fork on the Usartel road, and Sri Kamlesh’s place is before you get to that junction, on the right. You’ll see them a way off. They’re on raised land, like this. The doctor’s clinic and house is behind the station.”

  “Amazing community you have here, Constable.”

  “Thank you, sir. We do our best.”

  Since I was there, I figured I may as well see if the doctor had time to talk to me. I could spare an hour or so, if he did.

  Standing outside the station, I appreciated how massive a project it would have been to build such an extensive raised area with proper drainage, and strong enough to withstand yearly flooding. The height gave me a view down to the river, brown and sluggish. I imagined the land below the hill covered with muddy water, and the foetid odour of damp and weed that even now, hung faintly in the air. Not my idea of a place to live.

  Like my grandfather, a family doctor, had done while he was still working, Doctor Nihar had his clinic attached to his house. An elderly auto sat in the garage, so I hoped that meant the owner was home.

  He was, just saying goodbye to a mother and toddler as I walked in. All three gave me wide-eyed looks of surprise. They really didn’t see many strangers around here. “Good morning, sir. Are you Doctor Nihar?”

  He looked to be my granddad’s age, short and spry, green eyes and high cheek bones a sign of his mixed race, and with a cheerful smile that invited trust even as he radiated a little suspicion of the stranger turning up so suddenly. A good doctor face. “I am, and who might be asking?”

  The mother and her son left hastily. I waited until the door closed before answering. “Javen Ythen, from Hegal. Do you have a minute or five, doctor?”

  He looked around the empty room and grinned. “Oh, I think I can. Take a seat. Don’t have a receptionist today, but I expect it’ll be quiet now. All the rush is in the morning. What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been hired by the family of Sapna Janak to enquire into her death. They’re not satisfied it was suicide.”

  “Well, now that’s going to take some time to talk over. Come over to the desk so I can spread the notes out for you.”

  If I’d thought I’d be able to talk about Sapna’s death right away, I was wrong. Before he’d discuss that, Doctor Nihar wanted to know what my job was, and how I’d left the force, winkling the fact of my empathy out of me, along with my family background and the fact Granddad was a doctor and my twin a vet. I had to explain in detail how I’d met Jyoti and the case at Kirin’s lab too. Only when he knew everything about me excluding my preference for topping and bottoming during sex, could I drag the conversation back to why I’d come. “Sapna? You did the autopsy?”

  “I did, and before you give me any nonsense about me just being an ignorant country doctor, my qualifications are just as good as any of those fancy pants in Hegal or Kardil or even back on Kelon. That girl killed herself, I’d stake my savings on it. Unless someone talked her into it by threatening someone close to her, she put the rope around her neck voluntarily. There were no drugs in her system, not a bruise on her, not a scrape or cut. No one knocked her out or held her down. You can check all my records and images, Sri Ythen. I sent them to a colleague at the University in Hegal and he agreed with me completely. I didn’t want to make a mistake with this.”

  His green eyes blazed with determination, and I doubted him not at all. “But you’d given some thought to the idea of murder?”

  “Well, sure I did. The poor lady had recently lost her baby, and postnatal depression is no joke, but suicide’s very rare out here.”

  “It’s higher than average among the banis in Hegal.”

  He made a sour face at me. “Because they live among you fellows, no offence. Being a minority, always being reminded of their place, puts a stress on people. Here, we’re the majority.”

  “You see yourself as Nihani?”

  “I’m udawatha, that’s the important thing. The Spirit doesn’t care what colour my skin is. Nihan and Kelon all come from Niken originally. Genetically, there’s barely a speck of difference between you and me.”

  “I never really looked into it. I know we all came from Niken but that’s a long, long time ago.”

  “Over a thousand years for my people here on Uterden.”

  “But the paranormal ability....”

  “Ah.” He leaned in confidentially. “Fascinating history there. Goes back to before our people colonised this planet.”

  “Ah.” I started to wonder how quickly I could make a graceful exit.

  “I’ll send you some information on it with the files, if you like.”

  I smiled politely and humoured him. “Sure, that’d be interesting. Uh, but I need to visit Sapna’s husband before nightfall, so can I just ask about her child...the death was definitely an accident?”

  His erratic mind came back to the sub
ject in hand. “Oh, now that’s a terrible thing. If she’d gone into labour with her mother there, or me, or anyone with any basic midwifery skills, the baby might have survived, but then again, it might not have. The fellow who found the two of them tried to resuscitate the baby, and of course I did, but the little one wouldn’t start breathing.”

  “How does that happen, exactly? I know exactly nothing about birth.”

  “The umbilical cord sometimes wraps around the baby’s neck while it’s still in the womb. When the baby comes out and needs to breathe, it can strangle unless someone can manage to loosen it or cut it, and even then the baby can die. Deaths from intrapartum asphyxiation are pretty rare these days, but they do happen, particularly when the woman gives birth unattended.”

  “How come she couldn’t loosen the cord?”

  “No way she could do it while she was pushing the baby out, and the young fellow who found her was too late to save it. I had to sedate the poor girl, she was so distraught. I did what I could to help her through her grief and I know her family supported her, but.... No, there was no murder in either case, Sri Ythen. Doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy. I hope you can convince the family to let it go. I don’t want to see any more people die, and when there’s a suicide in a family, the risk’s increased eightfold that someone else in the family will do the same.”

  I didn’t know that. “Are you helping the husband?”

  He blew out his cheeks as he shook his head. “Spoken to him a couple of times, and I’d be happy to talk to him as often as he wants, but I don’t think he’ll ask. He’s an angry, grieving man, and Sapna’s family aren’t helping. They blame the poor fellow without the slightest reason. I hope you can help him too. You might do more good than I ever can.”

  “Do my best. Thanks for talking to me, doctor.”

  “Stop by again. I always like to talk to smart city folks. Makes me sharpen up.”

  I grinned and waved goodbye. The community were lucky to have him, even with his tendency to wander like a drunk all over a topic. What would happen when he retired or died, though? Doctors—even banis doctors—weren’t exactly queuing up to work in the boonies.

  Could I really stop someone in Sapna’s family killing themselves if I could prove she’d been murdered? Or if she hadn’t? Seemed to me the grief would be just as hard to bear even if they had someone to blame. My job was to find the truth. I’d have to leave it to people like Doc Nihar to deal with the psychological fall out.

  I’d missed lunch and it was now mid-afternoon. I hadn’t seen anywhere to buy food or even a cup of chai, but I didn’t feel I could just turn up at Jyoti’s family’s house and ask to be fed before I went out again. I’d just have to wait for supper. I had Sapna’s husband to visit.

  The raised area on which Nikhil Kamlesh’s house and business stood wasn’t as elaborate as that of the police station, but it was just as high. I figured a mechanic’s workshop would take a lot more moving than a household of people. No autos or tractors waiting outside, but I heard the sounds of metal upon metal from inside the shabby, darkened building. I walked over to the door and called. Eventually the hammering stopped and I yelled again.

  A man in dirty coveralls carrying a long metal tool came out of the gloom. “Yeah?”

  “Nikhil Kamlesh?”

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “Sir, I’m a friend of Sapna’s cousin, Jyoti. I’m helping her family—”

  “Get off my land. I ain’t talking to you or anything to do with them.”

  “I understand you’re angry—”

  “I said ‘get out’!” He raised the tool. “Don’t make me use this.”

  I pulled out my gun, and pointed it. “Don’t make me use this. Put it down, Sri Kamlesh. I just want to talk.”

  He blinked in shock a few times, but then did as I said. “Who the hell are you?”

  “A private investigator and a former police officer.”

  “They tell you I killed my wife?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  His face contorted. “Go ahead and shoot me. Go on.”

  “Now why would I do that, Sri Kamlesh?”

  “Because it’d feel better than living without my Sapna. Why did she do it? Why did she leave me?”

  He covered his face with one grimy hand. I lowered my gun, but kept it at my side. “Can we talk?” I said quietly. “I’m not here to accuse anyone. I spoke to Doctor Nihar. He knows she wasn’t murdered.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone! I’d kill myself before I laid a hand on her.”

  I put the gun’s safety catch on and pocketed it, then took him by the arm and led him over to a rusty metal seat near the workshop. He sobbed uncontrollably, and though I’d seen murderers put on a pretty good act before, he wasn’t acting. My empathy couldn’t be fooled. He hadn’t killed his wife.

  “Sorry,” he said, smearing his face with snot and tears as he used his sleeve to wipe it. “I try to keep it all bottled up but....”

  “Been tough, I bet, not having her people’s support. What about your family?”

  “Only me left. Dad died six months ago of a heart attack. Mum died when I was ten. I’m the only kid. Now Sapna is gone too.”

  “I’m very sorry.”

  “I tried, you know? I did what I could because I knew she wasn’t dealing with the baby dying, but everything I said made it worse.”

  “It’s very difficult dealing with someone that sick, Nikhil. Even people who are trained find it hard.”

  He nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t believe me. Not in his heart. “Funny thing is, a few days before she died, she seemed a bit better. A bit more peaceful. She even hugged me that morning before she went to work, told me she loved me and that she’d do better in future. I told her she didn’t need to do better. I loved her anyway. But she meant....” He stared off towards the river as tears dripped down his face.

  “Sometimes the decision to kill themselves makes people feel calmer,” I said. “Heard things like this a lot from families, friends. You couldn’t know.”

  “Found her. I was the one, I mean. She looked...it wasn’t my girl. Don’t want to remember her like that.”

  “Don’t. Remember her the way she was before. What she looked like after, wasn’t her. She’d gone by then.”

  “You a believer, Sri Ythen?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “Not really. Was raised in one religion and married into another. I don’t figure any god worth the name would kill a baby and its mother for no reason. But I keep thinking, will she come back? Maybe I might meet her again. I’m only twenty-four. I could maybe see her and I’d know her....”

  I put my hand on his shoulder, my head aching like a bitch from his emotions, wishing I could somehow draw them out of him a little. But it was strictly one way, this talent, and about as useless as a paper chai pot right now.

  “Doc Nihar would be happy to talk to you, you know. He lost his wife a few years ago. Not the same, but...you need someone to help you.”

  He sneered. “I need to get out of this shit pile and go where no one spits ‘Kelon bastard’ and ‘Guko’ at me, or thinks I killed my wife because I don’t believe in the Spirit or the teachings of their self-satisfied bastard Seeker.”

  “You’re thinking of selling up? The family said something about insurance.”

  “You mean the insurance that doesn’t pay in the event of suicide? Sure. I killed Sapna for money I didn’t want at that price and wouldn’t get anyway. Her father’s an idiot.”

  “But you’re in some financial difficulties.”

  “Everyone here about is in ‘financial difficulty’. We ain’t exactly rich folks, any of us. But I didn’t kill my wife!”

  “Settle down. Nikhil, I’m an empath.” He jerked in surprise. “I know you’re not faking this. I can tell her family you didn’t do it.”

  “Fat lot of good that’ll do.”

  “Maybe. But that’s three people who know for sure you didn’
t—Constable Girilal at the station, Doc Nihar, and me. The doc did say that he couldn’t tell if someone had talked her into it though—you know, by threatening someone she cared about. Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt her? Or hurt you?”

  His eyes went wide with disbelief. “Enough to kill her? You’re kidding. Not unless you count her parents, but they’d just run me over, not hurt her. Everyone loved Sapna. She was sweet, and so gentle. Nobody killed her. I wish they had. Then I could hate them instead of.... Is it wrong I hate her for doing that?”

  He sounded so lost. “Don’t see how you couldn’t. But you love her too.”

  “Sometimes I just want to wake up dead. A lot of the time I feel that way.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “Do me a favour, and go see Doc Nihar. Talk to him. Tell him about feeling that way. Don’t end up like her, thinking there’s only one solution. Even if you’re planning to move, talk to him.”

  “Why do you care what I do?” he mumbled.

  “I used to be a cop. I don’t want to see this tragedy become a worse one. Will you talk to him?”

  “Might. Will you really tell them I didn’t kill her?”

  “Of course I will. Thing is, they’re not really in their right minds just now. They want someone to hate too. They don’t want to hate her any more than you do. You’re the best target they have.”

  “If she’d just left a note....”

  “She might have. I’ll be looking for it. But she said goodbye to you, just...you didn’t realise. Don’t hate her for that.”

  There was nothing more I could do for him. If Sapna’s family hadn’t got this idea into their heads, they could have been support for him and he for them. What a damn bloody mess.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Before I returned to Jyoti’s family, there was one more thing I wanted to do. Using Constable Girilal’s meticulous map, I drove to the place where Sapna and her baby had both lost their lives. I didn’t expect to find anything there, not now. But I wanted to have a sense of her, of what it had been like for her. Probably a bad idea—I already felt too emotionally involved in this—but I felt I had to. For the girl herself, and for her family. Nothing I could report to them would be good news. She would still be dead, and somehow they had to accept that.