Page 68

“It was Mr. Ravi,” Mr. Reddy says. “He saw us together one day in Central Park. Having lunch. You had a cold that day, Hakeem, remember? I brought you extra chilies for yourdal.”

The two men exchange a look. Hakeem is the first to look away.

A memory comes to me. Omi beseeching her husband, home during a hiatus. He was a handler for themahoots, the men who trained the elephants in a traveling circus. She had fallen at his feet, begging him to divorce her. “Let me marry someone else! Let me lie with a man as other women do.”

I hadn’t understood what I’d heard that day; I was then only a boy. I’ve been in the world many more years since then, and I’ve learned a few things. There were passions beyond our control, beyond what we had been taught to believe were normal.

I rub my eyes with the flat of my hands. “Look, I’m not interested in your private life. My intention is to clear Manu Agarwal’s name. I know those receipts for supplies were doctored, Hakeem Sahib. And there’s only one person who could have manipulated them.”

Hakeem picks at the bandage on his hand. He nods. “I got rid of the original receipts. If you look carefully, you’ll notice the ones I replaced them with are on a different paper. I had no choice.”

He looks at his lover, who comes to sit beside him on the cot.

Mr. Reddy gives me an imploring look. “It didn’t help in the end. They got me to say that I let too many people into the balcony. The palace is firing me.”

He covers Hakeem’s hand with his own. “We will find another way to stay together.”

“But your job is guaranteed, Uncle?”

The accountant nods. “That was the deal.”

“Are you willing to tell your story to the maharani?”

He shakes his head. “No, young Abbas, I will not. I cannot. My family needs to be protected. I cannot let my daughters’ lives be ruined by my failings. If word got out about what I am, they will never be able to marry. No one will have them. I will never confess any of this to Her Highness or to Manu Sahib or I will lose my job. In disgrace. I can’t afford that.” He looks directly into my eyes. “You would have to kill me first.”

His companion gasps and turns to him sharply.

Hakeem turns moist eyes to him. “Not even for you could I do this, BK, I’m sorry to say. My daughters are young. They have their whole lives ahead of them. Lives that won’t survive the scandal of our relationship.” He squeezes Mr. Reddy’s hand.

“What if I can guarantee discretion?” I have no idea if I can, but I have to try.

Hakeem scoffed. “You can’t. No one can.” He shook his head. “No, Abbas Malik. There is no solution here. I’m sorry for the families of the injured, but there is nothing I can do to change the outcome.”

His eyes are hard. I can see his mind is made up. Mr. Reddy looks at me hopefully, as if I had a prepared response that would make all this better. I hadn’t.

Of the three days Maharani Latika gave us to provide evidence of malfeasance, we’ve almost used up two. We have one more day to find enough evidence to clear Manu. I check my watch. It’s nine o’clock in the evening. The Singh family will have had their dinner by now. Thechowkidaris used to me (I always share a cigarette with him when I visit), and he lets me in without alerting the family.

The house servant greets me at the front door. I tell her I want to see Samir. She takes me to the library door, then knocks.

“Come in,” I hear Samir say. The servant opens the door for me and leaves.

Samir is seated behind his desk. He’s marking blueprints. When he looks up and sees me, the surprise in his face is evident. “Cinema house again?”

I nod.

“You’re like a badanna. I thought we were done with that.” He waves at the drawings in front of him. “There’s another project on the horizon. Everyone’s moved on.”

“Manu Agarwal hasn’t. He can’t.”

Samir throws his mechanical pencil across the desk. It bounces off the blueprints and lands at my feet. I pick it up and step up to his desk. I place the pencil on his blueprints, gently. Samir is angry, and I can see why, but I won’t let that deter me.

“When employees make tragic mistakes, they lose their jobs. It happens every day, Malik.”

“You’ve worked with him. He’s hired you for some of the palace’s largest projects. You know he’s above reproach. How can you let him take the fall for this?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Malik, if you keep badgering me, I may have to bar you from this house.” He’s looking at me with a charming smile, but he sounds annoyed.

I take a piece of brick and a chunk of cement out of my coat pockets and set them on the blueprints. I take out the telegram from Chandigarh and set it there also.