A Painted Gate FINAL

A PAINTED GATE : FINAL

PRE-NOTE:

Kindly excuse correct the grammatical mistakes. Thanks in advance. :-)

PART 12:

There was a little tap at the door, and before Vijay could say "Come in" it was pushed open and Indhu entered. He half crossed the room to meet her, and kissed her tenderly.

"I didn't know you were back until—" she said; linking her arm in his.

"Until you saw the horrible mess my mackintosh has made," he smiled. "I know your methods, Watson!"

She laughed, but became serious again. "I am very glad you've come back. We have a visitor," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "A visitor? Whoever came down on a day like this?"

She looked at him a little strangely. "Mr. Gowtham," she said.

"Gowtham? How long has he been here?"

"He came at four." There was nothing enthusiastic in her tone. "I can't understand why you were mysterious about something; do you two know who really killed Jason?" rallied his wife.

"Maybe," he replied, a little curtly for him. "Anyway," said Vijay, after a moment's thought, "his arrival is rather opportune. Where is he?"

"He is in the drawing-room."

The Priory drawing-room was a low-ceilinged room. Cozy armchairs, a grand piano, an almost medieval open grate, faced with bright-green tiles, a brand new carpet and two big silver candelabras were the principal features which attracted any newcomer. There was in this room a harmony, a quiet order and a soothing quality which made it a haven of rest to anyone.

Gowtham rose to his feet, as Vijay entered and crossed the room with an easy carriage. "I had to talk to you,” he said, "so I thought I'd run down on the off chance of seeing you." The two men shook hands warmly.

"You'll stay to dinner?" asked Vijay.

Gowtham glanced round with a smile at Indhu. She sat uncomfortably upright, her hands loosely folded on her lap, her face devoid of encouragement.

"If Mrs. Vijay doesn't object," said the Advocate.

"I should be pleased, if you would," she said, almost mechanically; "it is a horrid night and you won't get anything worth eating this side of Chennai and I doubt very much," she smiled a little, "if the meal I can give you will be worthy of that description."

"What you can give me will be more than sufficient," he said, with a little bow, and turned to her husband.

In a few minutes they were deep in a discussion of cases, and Indhu seized the opportunity to make her escape. From cases in general to Vijay's cases in particular the conversation flowed. "I've read about every one of them, you know," said Gowtham.

Vijay made a little face. "Poor devil," he said sardonically.

"On the contrary," said Gowtham, "I am not to be pitied. There is a great criminal lost in you, Vijay."

"Thank you, I guess" said Vijay.

"I am not being uncomplimentary, am I?" smiled the Advocate. "I am merely referring to the ingenuity of yours. But unfortunately lawyers are being ungrateful."

Vijay looked at him in surprise and was somewhat piqued. "I hope now is the time that you will tell me the purpose of your visit," he said.

“It’s my conscience. Did I really send an innocent behind the bars? I have never done so before and so I’d like to verify it.”

“Will you do something about it?”

“Yes, if you convince me with a better answer for my questions.”

Vijay nodded. There was the light of interest in his eyes and he would have pursued the discussion further, but at the moment dinner was announced. It was not a particularly cheerful meal because Indhu did not as usual join in the conversation, and it was left to Gowtham and to her husband to supply the deficiencies.

After the meal, she got up and shrugged. "You will have your coffee in the study, I suppose," said Indhu, "and I know you'll excuse me; I have to see my maid on the mundane subject of laundry."

She favored Gowtham with a little nod as she left the room and touched Vijay’s shoulder lightly with her hand in passing.

Vijay’s eyes followed her graceful figure until she was out of view, then: "I am ready to take your questions," he said, "if you will give me five minutes."

"You can have five hours, if you like," said the other, easily.

They went into the study together; the maid brought the coffee and liqueur, and placed them on a little table and disappeared.

Gowtham sat and said casually, “The police missed important evidence like the morphine bottle itself. I began to question their efficiency for the first time. Yes, all the others have alibi. But why not? The police must have missed something.”

“Yes, they did.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Tell me again: why everyone has an alibi?”

“Because they could not have mixed the poison. It was a very well established fact.”

“Yes, they could not have mixed the poison in the prawns and in the champagne before Jason’s death.”

Gowtham widened his eyes. “Wait, what? You mean that it was done after Jason’s death? What’s the point?”

“To frame Sravya. Those things wrote a story itself, didn’t they?”

“Then how did Jason die?”

“The police didn’t bother to examine the other food items, did they? They got what they wanted already. They had a case already. Why to look for more evidence?”

Gowtham snapped his forehead. “I didn’t even think that way. It is possible. Yeah, it is a party and he’d have tasted something else as well.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a very simple crime then.”

“Simpler than any crime. The killer mixes the poison in his own food, passes on to Jason at some time during the meal and clears the plate. Then he proceeds to do a little setup after he chokes to death which is mixing the poison in the only two things that would’ve sent Sravya straight to the hanging.”

“How did I not see it?” asked Gowtham, surprised.

“You didn’t want to.” The host retorted.

“Now I can. You addressed the killer with a pronoun that means our poor male gender. But you should be wrong.”

“How?”

“Karthick doesn’t have the guts. Vimal should never have framed Sravya.”

Vijay smiled a little. “Oh yes, it’s a woman.”

“You didn’t turn in that woman to the police yet. You chose to live with your guilty conscience and you would not do that for Priya. It can’t be Indhu as she doesn’t have motive. It’s Vrunda, isn’t it?”

Vijay gave a tiny nod, looking at Gowtham.

“WHAT?” They heard a stunned voice at the doorway and turned around to find Indhu staring at them. “That’s one thing that I’d never believe. “I’ll never believe Vrunda framed Sravya for Jason’s murder. I couldn’t be wrong. She is a member of her own family. It just can’t be, Vijay.”

“Wow, calling me by my full name? I should be in trouble.” Vijay smiled a little.

“Oh yes, you are in big trouble, Vijay, if you don’t give a proper explanation for that accusation.” She crooned.

“Look,” said Vijay, trying to pacify her. “A friend may become a greater enemy than an enemy. Sravya was Vrunda’s family, and Vrunda was Sravya’s. When Jason fell, she was furious with Jason; and so long as she thought Sravya was Jason’s victim, too, she remained her friend.”

“But on New Year’s eve, Sravya and Jason were talking about money. Yes, Sravya was sarcastic but Vrunda didn’t know, did she? She simply overheard their conversation and was not watching them. She went mad; after all the trouble that Vimal went through, it was the moment that all of them fell flat or well, she thought so. She didn’t think Sravya as family. Not if she doublecrossed them by pretending to be broke while she had always been in touch with Jason and had 500 millions to keep her warm against a rainy day. Vrunda is a primitive soul and she didn’t stop to ask questions. In her mind they two became—two crooks who had defrauded her of her life’s savings.”

He continued. “She planned things then and there. I asked her to administer morphine to Caesar as he was sick and so she carried some with her in her handbag. That’s how she managed to…”

"How did you manage to find out?"

"The painted gate."

“But ever since Sravya was sent to jail,” cried Indhu, “she’d been so damned, so damned solicitous! She couldn’t have been acting.”

“She wasn’t. She knew that she had made a terrible mistake immediately after the crime. I proved that Sravya was innocent. Vrunda saw what an awful thing she’d done. But it was too late. The crime, the frame-up, were faits accomplis. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t give herself up. No, she just had to sit and take it. Every emotion of her since then has been genuine. That's why she tried to create doubts in Gowtham's mind by sending the morphine bottle to him.”

Indhu was speechless for a few minutes and then finally nodded. “I think she had to live with that guilt for years and that is enough punishment. I am just gonna pretend that I never found out that she did it.”

Vijay smiled. “Me too. I don’t want to cause more pain to Vimal and Sravya.” Indhu hugged him and sobbed against his chest.

Gowtham stood up. “Well, you two love birds, I won’t keep you up for long. I have work to do, remember? I gotta work on a sensational case to defend a poor girl. The public would spit on me though, for attacking her last time and defending her now. I don’t mind. I will win.” He extended his hand. Vijay rose and shook it, knowing that he would win.

The End. :)

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A Painted Gate - Part 11!

A PAINTED GATE

PRE-NOTE:

Kindly excuse correct the grammatical mistakes. Thanks in advance. :-)

PART 11:

Gowtham showed no emotion when Rajeev told him that Sravya denied it when he asked her to plead guilty. “Fine. She’ll serve a life sentence for all I know.”

On the other hand, Vimal’s whole manner changed. A bright confidence crept into his eyes which began to infect the judge. Judge Bhaskaran looked more interested than he had appeared for days.

On the last morning, after several sessions with relatively unimportant defense witnesses, Vimal came into court with a squareness to his jaw that was remarked by everyone within eyeshot. He was pale, but not so pale as he had been; and there was a truculence in the glance with which he swept the courtroom that made Gowtham look thoughtful.

The summations after the short session of rebuttal testimony had been swift. Vimal, summing up first, had made out a strong indictment against Gowtham personally. He contended that not only had the defense reasonably explained away all the accusations of the prosecution, but that Gowtham had been criminally remiss in his sworn duty. Gowtham, he thundered, had suppressed important evidence—the missing of the morphine bottle in the scene of the crime and how it later found its way towards Gowtham’s house. It was the function of the public prosecutor, he pointed out, not to persecute, not to hold back any facts, but to sift for the truth. They had not been explained by the prosecution counsel and certainly had not been connected to the defendant.

Finally, Vimal outlined the defense theory. Sravya, he said, had obviously been framed for the murder of her boyfriend. The powers of wealth, of social position, he cried, had picked a poor defenseless victim—the woman who had received nothing from Jason but his love. Someone was offering her up as a victim.

Starting from this, Vimal argued—in line with the fervent discussion he had had with Vijay the night before—it was child’s play to reconstruct the devilish frame-up. In support of his theory, he explained that if we eliminated that the morphine bottle was from Vrunda’s bag, it would be easy for anyone to have mixed it with anything that was consumed by Jason – even a glass of water.

“If this defendant, my sister,” he roared, “were the criminal, why did she use morphine? She would simply pick the weed poison or rat poison. But the real criminal had every reason to use the morphine if he/she were framing Sravya!”

“Furthermore, if Sravya were the criminal everything she did was almost unbelievably stupid. Would she leave an open trail to her own gift, would she leave impressions of her fingers in the medical kit, would she permit them to be found, would she make doubts in others’ mind by talking about the dog, would she make no attempt to fix an alibi for herself, would she handle the champagne bottle without the precaution of wearing gloves? Stupid, stupid! So stupid that its very stupidity cries out,” shouted Vimal, “her innocence. But a man/woman framing Sravya would have every reason to leave such a plain trail!”

It was an impassioned summation, and it left a visible impression on the judge. Vimal concluded more quietly on the note of reasonable doubt. If there was a single member in the court, he said, who could honestly and conscientiously declare now that there was no reasonable doubt of the defendant’s guilt . . . He flung up his hands and sat down.

But Gowtham had the last word. He derided the “obvious” defense theory of a frame-up . . .  “the whimper,” he said, “of every weak defense.” As for the defendant’s stupidity, he remarked with a significant and open glance at Vijay and Indhu, any practical criminologist knew that all criminals were stupid; it was only in books that criminals were master-minds. This defendant, he said, was not a habitual criminal; her motives had, as usual in the case of the vengeful woman, betrayed her into blind actions; she had left a trail without realizing that she had done so.

The prosecution had amply proved, he said vigorously, her movements on the day of the crime up to its actual commission. She had been packed the medical kit. She had been aware of the poison’s presence in the kit. She had been cooking the food that was eaten by Jason. She had been handled the Champagne before it was opened by Jason. This had placed the defendant, he went on, as the criminal circumstantially. And, he pointed out, if there was any doubt concerning the morphine bottle, it was completely and irrefutably dispelled by her fingerprints on the food plate, champagne bottle, glasses and the kit.

“Fingerprints,” he said ironically, “aren’t framed—except, perhaps, in those books I mentioned.” The judge grinned. “This defendant had her hands on that morphine bottle, I bet. The State, then, has led her to the corpse.”

That was sufficient connection, he went on, in a circumstantial case to remove all doubt. What was the answer of the defense to this all important question of motive? That they made out in their place the night before! But where was the proof of this transparent story? There was not a single witness to support her explanation. Even the video wasn’t clear enough . . . . And when was this video taken? After it was brought out that there was a bank account in France! Didn’t that show all the evidences of a hastily trumped-up story to explain away a damaging fact?

“I give you my word,” said the prosecutor earnestly, “that my heartfelt sympathy goes out to this poor young man who has so ably defended his sister in this trial. He has toiled long and tirelessly to make the best of a bad, bad case. We are all deeply sorry for him. But that should not sway you, my lord, in your judgment of this case. A judge determines facts and ignores its sympathies. You must not permit yourselves to be influenced in your verdict by emotions which would defeat the ends of justice.” Moreover, he added dryly, the defendant had been wholly unable to prove an alibi for the night of the crime.

His peroration was a masterpiece of shrewd persuasion. Then he sat down, quietly rubbing his neck with a handkerchief. Judge Bhaskaran nodded at them both and postponed the verdict after lunch.

Indhu held Vijay closer forgetting that it was court and not a park. The summons to the Court House sobered her like a cold shower. They left on the run.

Vimal, waiting for Sravya to be brought back into the courtroom from the adjoining jail, carefully looked around. Then he slumped back in his chair.

“All over but the shouting,” he sighed to Vijay. “Well . . . I see the Karthick bunch has skipped.”

“Remarkable eyesight,” said Vijay dryly; and just then Sravya was led in and they both became too busy for conversation. Sravya was barely able to drag her legs to the defense table. Indhu stroked her hand while a doctor administered restoratives, and Vijay talked to her so naturally and easily that her eyes became almost normal again and a faint color returned to her cheeks.

There were the inevitable delays after the lunch. Gowtham could not be found. Then someone managed to get hold of him and he was hustled into the courtroom. The cameramen became involved in an argument with Rajeev. Somebody was ejected from the room. The bailiffs shouted for order.

The judge filed in at last. From the instant he saw his face Vimal stiffened in his chair. His own face whitened. In a silence so profound that the ticking of the big clock on the front wall was clearly audible, the foreman of the judge arose and in an emotionless voice announced the verdict.

He had found Sravya guilty of murder in the second degree and was sentenced to fourteen years.

Gowtham raised his hand and highfived Vaishali. Sravya fainted. Vimal did not so much as move a finger; he seemed frozen to his chair.

To be continued. (Next one is the climax)

Comments and criticisms are welcome lavs_m26@yahoo.com

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A Painted Gate - Part 10!

A PAINTED GATE

PRE-NOTE:

Kindly excuse correct the grammatical mistakes. Thanks in advance. :-)

PART 10:

“Srav…”

“Jason, am sorry. Please wait for some time before you have to meet Vimal. He is not in his right mood.”

Jason looked disappointed. “You care more about your brother obviously…”

“Come on, Jason. His anger is right. He has lost all his money and he never trusted you. How would you expect him to shake his hands with you within a minute? He needs time.”

“You conveniently forget to mention that he cares a lot about money than people.”

“You make him look like he is very selfish. Then why did he help me out in first place? He could’ve let me suffer in the jail. He does what he has to do.”

Jason raised his voice. “So he has to hate me because I am from a poor background?”

Sravya’s decibel increased to a new level as well. “Listen. Just tell him that you’d make it up for everything he lost. But you really don’t have to.”

Jason’s lips curved sarcastically. He opened an empty bag that he carried along with him and showed it to Sravya. “Oh yeah, I am gonna give him all this money that I stole from chit funds. Dream on it.”

Sravya smiled. “Come on, I just meant…”

Jason shrugged. “I know what you meant. I should give you 500 million and your brother 500 million. I actually owe it to you. I forgot.”

“Ah, forget him for a minute, will you? Think about me. I need…”

“500 million dollars? Yep, I am writing you a cheque straightaway.”

“Jason…” Sravya’s lips trembled.

He caught Sravya’s shoulders and turned her towards him. He said in a very low voice which was almost inaudible. “Srav, honey, I hate it when he says that I brought it on you. I’d just say that we both were unlucky to be in this hard situation. And I just wish that you’d stand up for me as much you stand up for him.”

“You’re more important to me, of course, Jason. I am going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Thank you, darling. Let’s go out and join our friends, Srav.”

“Jason, am sorry again. Only you matter to me, nothing else and no one else.”

“Thanks,” Jason smiled finally.

Karthick found Vijay pausing the video thoughtfully, sitting on a bench behind their Beach House overlooking the ocean. “This video is both advantage and disadvantage. Jason was simply mocking about the money but Gowtham could manipulate it for his case. That’s why I didn’t show it to you earlier.” Vimal simply nodded and continued patrolling the walk before the bench with a ceaseless and inhuman energy. The night sky was smoky with heat.

“So there you are,” Karthick said cheerfully, dropping beside Vijay. “Vimal, you’ll wear your soles away. In this swelter, too! And I don’t mind telling you that every news hawk in the world is looking for you. Eve of the defense, and what not . . . . I suppose,” he said suddenly seeing the look on Vijay’s face, “I ought to shut up.”

There was a gaunt and indrawn look imprinted on the yellowed skin of Vimal’s face. His eyes were two sullen lights at the bottom of red-rimmed wells. All afternoon and evening he had been calling in experts, sending out investigators, rounding up witnesses, conferring with colleagues, making innumerable telephone calls. He should have been reeling with fatigue.

“You’re not doing yourself or Sravya any good, going on this way, Vimal,” said Vijay in a subdued voice.

Karthick nodded in agreement. “First thing you know you’ll wake up in a hospital, and then where will the poor thing be?”

Vimal’s legs continued to pump. Karthick sighed and crossed his legs. Vimal flung his hands up suddenly and waved them at the smoky sky. “If only she had told me!”

“What does she say?” murmured Vijay.

Vimal made a snorting, desperate sound. “Simplest explanation imaginable—so simple no one will believe it. Jason thought that she cared more about me getting the money back and they were fighting on their own. That’s why he must’ve suddenly made that cheque in the name of Sravya despite the fact that he was supposed to send it to his father’s account which will eventually be Karthick’s. Beautiful, eh?” He laughed shortly. “And the only witness who can corroborate her statement is dead!”

“Oh, come now, Vimal,” said Karthick in a light tone, “that does sound reasonable. And I am yet to testify. If you want me to…”

“You heard Vrunda on the stand. Sravya packed the medical kit and so she knew that the morphine was there. Can I disprove that? No! True, Vrunda would told the court that it was the usual contents, which implies that everyone knew it; but implication isn’t proof and, considering the source, it’s biased testimony. No one could’ve touched the food or the drinks. No one but Sravya, and you can’t expect a prejudiced judge to believe the unsupported word of a defendant.”

“Judge Bhaskaran is not prejudiced, Vimal,” said Vijay quickly.

“Good of you to lie. How the hell was I to know that? He’s sore at the world. Ah, nuts.” Vimal waved his arms. “It’s going to be a fight, all right. Karthick, can you cut a deal with Gowtham?”

“What?”

“Don’t come to the witness box. After all, Gowtham wants no fuss, right?”

“That can be easily arranged as my father isn’t very happy about me standing in the box.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent, finding nothing to say. After a while Vijay asked quietly, “You’re putting Sravya on the stand?”

“Heavens, man, she’s my only hope! I can’t dig up a witness to support her cheque theory nor one for the fingerprint business, so she’s got to testify herself. Maybe she’ll make a sympathetic witness.” He dropped onto a bench opposite them and ruffled his hair. “If she doesn’t, God help us both.”

“But, Vimal,” objected Vijay, “aren’t you being too pessimistic? I’ve pumped some of the legal talent floating around town, and they all think Gowtham’s got a poor case. It is circumstantial evidence, after all. There’s certainly enough reasonable doubt . . . “

Vimal said patiently: “Gowtham’s a crack prosecutor. And he has last whack at the Judge, don’t forget that—prosecutor sums up after the defense. Any experienced trial lawyer will tell you that he’ll concede half his case just to leave the last impression on the mind of the Judge. And then public opinion—” He scowled.

“Never mind the public opinion,” said Karthick and Vijay together.

“You to bring out discrepancies unaccounted for by the prosecution.—You’ll do that, of course, Vij?” Vimal asked suddenly.

“Don’t be a greater ass than you can help, Vimal,” Karthick said.

“There’s one angle you can be of service on, Vij. The questions.”

“Questions?” Vijay blinked a little. “What about them? How?”

Vimal jumped off the bench and began pacing again. “You had three questions about the case, right? Why would the murderer want to use the morphine and not just rat poison? You proved to us that the murderer’s motive is to frame Sravya.”

“That’s completely illogical,” said Vijay slowly.

Vimal halted. “What’s that? Illogical?” He seemed bewildered; his eyes had sunken even deeper into his head.

Vijay sighed. “Those aren’t facts. I simply have an explanation for what happened and what could’ve happened. Besides Gowtham won’t let me get that far. He would taunt me and…”

“Vij, please, you’re my only hope.”

“Okay, Vimal. For you,” said Vijay in a thoughtful voice.

***********

Gowtham was more than relieved when Karthick announced that Vimal wouldn’t call him as a witness. “I am fine with that,” he said casually. “It means that my witnesses are over. Is he calling Sravya next?”

“Yes,” nodded Karthick.

“That’s the worst decision. I’ll rip her apart,” said Gowtham, smiling.

Sravya, it is true, had made a poor witness. From the first, she was nervous, jumpy, scared. While Vimal led her through her testimony she was quiet enough, answering readily, even smiling faintly at times. Through his sympathetic questions she told of her life with the man she had known as Jason Antony, his kindness to her, their love, a detailed account of their meeting, courtship, relationship, daily life.

Gradually Vimal worked her around to the period just before the crime. She related how Priya and she had discussed having a party for New Year, how Indhu had promised that she’d take care of things, the day before his death, how she had bought the champagne bottle and she had wrapped it as a gift. She explained how she had no access to the morphine at that time. She said that just because no one else could’ve done it meant that she was the killer.

She was on the stand during direct examination for a day and a half which was the longest, and by the time Vimal had finished with her she had explained everything and denied all of the Court’s allegations. Vimal had showed the video to the court and explained that Sravya had no motive to kill Jason. After all they didn’t talk anything about betrayal as the prosecution counsel had pointed out.

Then Gowtham sprang to the attack. He assailed her story with consummate vicious-ness. The man was a human question-mark, with savage gestures and infinite variations in tonal insinuation. He sneered at her protestations of honesty. He derided her statement that she had never known or even suspected her lover’s embezzlement, pointing out that no Judge would believe that a woman could believe a man to that level especially the one who took care of his finance—without coming to learn everything there was to learn about him. His cross-examination was merciless; Vimal was continuously on his feet shouting objections.

At one point Gowtham snarled: “Ms. Sravya, you had an opportunity to make a statement—a hundred statements—long before today, did you not?”

“Yes . . . .”

“Why haven’t you told this story about how you two made up just before the dinner? Answer me!” He hit the rail on the witness box hard that made Sravya shiver.

“I—I—no one asked me.”

“But you knew that he was talking about 500 million dollars exactly, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t realize—”

“You do realize, though, don’t you, what a bad impression you are making by suddenly pulling this flimsy explanation out of your bag of tricks—after you know how dark things look for you and have had an opportunity to talk things over with your counsel?”

The whole question was stricken out at Vimal’s enraged objections, but the blow had told. The Judge was frowning. Sravya was wringing her hands.

“Wait a minute. You also say that Karthick asked you for Aspirin?” His eyebrows were knotted.

“Yes, that’s why I opened the kit…”

“That’s your excuse then.”

Vimal shouted at the top of his voice. “Let her answer before you jump into conclusions.”

“Did you give it to Karthick?”

“No, Jason took it…”

“How come this was not in anyone else’s testimony but only in yours?”

“I don’t… please, am sorry, I don’t know.”

“You have also testified,” snapped Gowtham, “that you know that the dog was allergic to prawns, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“But it was Indhu’s dog and she wasn’t aware of the allergic reaction?”

“She was… She must’ve forgotten… She must’ve…”

By the time Gowtham was through with her, despite all Vimal could do to have accusatory questions stricken out, Sravya was completely unstrung, weeping, at times flaring into anger, and constantly—through the traps of pure language Gowtham set—contradicting her own testimony. The man was very clever about it; his ferocity was all on the surface, a calculated emotion nicely adjusted to the instability of the witness. Beneath he was as cool and relentless as a machine.

It was necessary to recess until Sravya could recover from hysteria. Vimal smiled doggedly at the Judge and plunged ahead with the defense.

He summoned witness after witness—neighbors, friends, family —to corroborate Sravya’s claim of untroubled felicity with the dead man until the very eve of his death. All testified that there never had been a suspicion in their minds concerning Jason’s double life, that Sravya had never evinced the slightest sign of knowledge. Through all this Gowtham moved with calm and sure interference, quick to catch a weakness in testimony or a predisposition to bias.

He spoke about the morphine bottle that was sent to Gowtham and that did not have any fingerprints meant that someone else must have used it as no one could’ve worn gloves at a party. He mentioned that the champagne bottle was packed long back but the poison was mixed very recently. So it wasn’t her intention of revenge. Now Vimal put a succession of experts on the stand to bring out that very point—all attacked in business-like fashion by the prosecutor, either on the score of the expert’s unreliability, poor previous trial record, or outright bias.

Finally after a war that was worse than the war with guns and bombs, he put Vijay on the witness box.

“Mr. Vijay,” said Vimal after Vijay had sketched a little of his semiprofessional background, “you were on the scene of the crime before even the arrival of the police, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“You examined the scene of the crime thoroughly, out of a purely professional interest in the case?”

“Yes.”

“What struck unusual at first?”

“The morphine. It wasn’t necessary. Our kitchen had rat poison and Sravya was alone in the kitchen with the food. It was a very easy thing to do. First of all, how many of common people know that morphine could kill?”

“Exactly. In fact, as a witness, even I can say that her first reaction was a surprise moan. ‘What was morphine? Why would I use it?’ Such is her medical knowledge.”

Gowtham let out a wicked grin. “Do you have any medical knowledge, Vimal?”

“Yes, I have,” snapped Vimal.

“Are you confessing that… Oh sorry, go ahead…”

Vimal gave a furious look to him and turned away. “Vijay, what else was disturbing you?”

“I could not understand why a poison has to be mixed in both food and drinks.”

Gowtham leaped to his feet. “Your first question nullifies your second question, Vijay. She doesn’t have any medical knowledge – that’s why she didn’t know what she was doing.” Then he faced the judge. “This witness should be called off, my lord. Just because someone is a detective doesn’t mean that he can question the efficiency of our Police department.”

Vijay said sharply. “I didn’t do that.”

“Yes, he didn’t.” And for next five minutes he and Vimal argued before Judge Bhaskaran. Finally Vimal was permitted to proceed.

“Mr. Vijay, you are well-known as an investigator of crime. Have you anything to offer this court in explanation of the morphine bottle without fingerprints so carefully ignored by the prosecution?”

“Oh, yes.”

There was another argument, more protracted this time. Gowtham fumed. But Vijay was permitted to go on. He went through the reasoning he had outlined to Vimal a few nights before concerning the logical impossibility of Sravya carrying the morphine bottle along with her as she was searched thoroughly by the police.

“Is there anything you found on your examination which explains to your own satisfaction where the morphine bottle was hidden?”

“Indeed yes. It must be on one of the other persons who weren’t searched. This is a big miss from the police of course. This case shouldn’t be settled till there was a logical explanation for the bottle.”

There was another argument, more violent this time. After a bitter exchange it was settled by the Judge, who permitted the morphine bottle to be placed in evidence as a defense exhibit.

During cross-examination, Gowtham asked the same questions again and again to trick Vijay but he answered clearly every time. For an hour Vijay and Gowtham sparred across the rail of the witness box. It was Gowtham’s point that Vijay was a poor witness for two reasons: that he was a personal friend of the defendant, and that his reputation was based on “theory, not practice.” When Vijay was finally excused they were both dripping with perspiration. Nevertheless, it was conceded by the press that the defense had scored an important point.

**********

Rajeev clicked his tongue. “The situation that we did not want to face was faced. The public opinion says…”

“Crap. Talk to Sravya and don’t allow others to talk to her,” said Gowtham with a malicious grin.

Vaishali looked up. “That’s like your last weapon. Why do you use it now?”

“Just to stir things up a bit, Vaishu. So Rajeev, will you?”

Rajeev narrowed his eyebrows. “What to talk to her?”

“Tell her that you might release her and bring Vimal in.”

“Goddamn it, Gowtham. You’re so cunning,” chuckled Vaishali.

“And don’t forget to record the statement, sir,” he said. “Tell her that if she agrees to confess, the judge will only give her seven years.”

Rajeev nodded. “Okay.”

To be continued.

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