before he died, we might have already known who the bastard was.
28
Neel
Mrs Fernandes did not look any happier to see us the second time.
It was just Sara and me. Omar had dropped out. He said he had a headache. It was probably better that way.
‘Come in. I was half-expecting to see you again.’
Sara and I looked at each other quizzically. We sat on exactly the same chairs as last time. Mrs Fernandes brought out three glasses of chilled kokum sherbet on a wooden tray. I took a sip of the purple drink. It was delicious.
‘The police were here again, you know,’ Mrs Fernandes said. ‘They’ve reopened the investigation into Rachel’s death.’
Sara nodded. ‘I hope they now find out what really happened.’
Mrs Fernandes sighed. ‘I don’t know. I had resigned myself to the way things were. Nothing will bring back my Rachel anyway.’
I asked, ‘What did the police tell you?’
‘There was a different officer who came this time. He sounded much more competent. Not like that idiot Gomes. His name was…D’Costa? No, it was something else…’ She paused to think.
‘D’Mello?’
‘Yes, that was it—D’Mello.’
Thankfully, she didn’t ask me how I knew.
‘He said that Rachel was doing a story on that poor Russian girl who was murdered…’
I cut in. ‘Anna Grishin.’
‘Don’t interrupt me, young man!’ Mrs Fernandes glared at me. ‘Yes…Anna Grishin. What was done to her was terrible. I could never imagine something like that happening here in Goa. Anyway, I don’t know how D’Mello found out but he was quite confident about it. He must be right, I suppose.’
Sara looked at me, and then asked, ‘Did D’Mello say if he has any other leads on Rachel’s death?’
‘No. He asked me a lot of questions and promised that he would get to the bottom of it. I think he will, too. That man reminded me of a bulldog. But what I don’t understand is why Rachel would be writing about crime, especially one like this. It wasn’t her line of work at all.’
I found the comparison of D’Mello to a bulldog really apt. He even looked like one.
‘That’s what we were thinking as well,’ said Sara. ‘By the way, are Rachel’s personal effects still here? I mean her computer, notebooks and things like that. They could hold clues to her research.’
‘Her laptop was surprisingly missing. The police took away everything else.’ Mrs Fernandes paused. ‘But I didn’t tell him about the box which Melvin, Rachel’s brother, sent over to me after he cleared out her place.’
I could barely suppress my excitement. ‘What was in the box?’
‘Rachel lived alone in a small rented flat, and didn’t have too many possessions. I really wish she had settled down with some nice man. Then all this wouldn’t have happened.’ Her voice choked for a moment. ‘Melvin gave away her clothes and the furniture but he packed a few other items and sent them to me. He said they were memories of Rachel which should remain with us.’
Sara asked, ‘Can we have a look?’
Mrs Fernandes looked uncertain. There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘I suppose there’s no harm,’ she finally conceded.
She brought out a small, sealed carton. ‘I know this sounds strange but I haven’t had the heart to open this so far. You kids go ahead and see if there’s anything in it that will help you.’ She went inside.
Sara pulled out a Swiss army knife from her bag, and cut through the packing tape. We examined the contents of the box. Right on top was a framed photograph of Rachel and her mother. Seeing a smiling, happy, living Rachel made me realise again how much we missed her.
There was a stuffed brown dog with floppy ears and one plastic eye ripped off. A watch with a red leather strap and Roman numerals on the dial. I recognised it as the only one I had ever seen Rachel wear. A jewellery box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It contained miscellaneous earrings, necklaces and brooches. A frayed map of Goa I
28
Neel
Mrs Fernandes did not look any happier to see us the second time.
It was just Sara and me. Omar had dropped out. He said he had a headache. It was probably better that way.
‘Come in. I was half-expecting to see you again.’
Sara and I looked at each other quizzically. We sat on exactly the same chairs as last time. Mrs Fernandes brought out three glasses of chilled kokum sherbet on a wooden tray. I took a sip of the purple drink. It was delicious.
‘The police were here again, you know,’ Mrs Fernandes said. ‘They’ve reopened the investigation into Rachel’s death.’
Sara nodded. ‘I hope they now find out what really happened.’
Mrs Fernandes sighed. ‘I don’t know. I had resigned myself to the way things were. Nothing will bring back my Rachel anyway.’
I asked, ‘What did the police tell you?’
‘There was a different officer who came this time. He sounded much more competent. Not like that idiot Gomes. His name was…D’Costa? No, it was something else…’ She paused to think.
‘D’Mello?’
‘Yes, that was it—D’Mello.’
Thankfully, she didn’t ask me how I knew.
‘He said that Rachel was doing a story on that poor Russian girl who was murdered…’
I cut in. ‘Anna Grishin.’
‘Don’t interrupt me, young man!’ Mrs Fernandes glared at me. ‘Yes…Anna Grishin. What was done to her was terrible. I could never imagine something like that happening here in Goa. Anyway, I don’t know how D’Mello found out but he was quite confident about it. He must be right, I suppose.’
Sara looked at me, and then asked, ‘Did D’Mello say if he has any other leads on Rachel’s death?’
‘No. He asked me a lot of questions and promised that he would get to the bottom of it. I think he will, too. That man reminded me of a bulldog. But what I don’t understand is why Rachel would be writing about crime, especially one like this. It wasn’t her line of work at all.’
I found the comparison of D’Mello to a bulldog really apt. He even looked like one.
‘That’s what we were thinking as well,’ said Sara. ‘By the way, are Rachel’s personal effects still here? I mean her computer, notebooks and things like that. They could hold clues to her research.’
‘Her laptop was surprisingly missing. The police took away everything else.’ Mrs Fernandes paused. ‘But I didn’t tell him about the box which Melvin, Rachel’s brother, sent over to me after he cleared out her place.’
I could barely suppress my excitement. ‘What was in the box?’
‘Rachel lived alone in a small rented flat, and didn’t have too many possessions. I really wish she had settled down with some nice man. Then all this wouldn’t have happened.’ Her voice choked for a moment. ‘Melvin gave away her clothes and the furniture but he packed a few other items and sent them to me. He said they were memories of Rachel which should remain with us.’
Sara asked, ‘Can we have a look?’
Mrs Fernandes looked uncertain. There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘I suppose there’s no harm,’ she finally conceded.
She brought out a small, sealed carton. ‘I know this sounds strange but I haven’t had the heart to open this so far. You kids go ahead and see if there’s anything in it that will help you.’ She went inside.
Sara pulled out a Swiss army knife from her bag, and cut through the packing tape. We examined the contents of the box. Right on top was a framed photograph of Rachel and her mother. Seeing a smiling, happy, living Rachel made me realise again how much we missed her.
There was a stuffed brown dog with floppy ears and one plastic eye ripped off. A watch with a red leather strap and Roman numerals on the dial. I recognised it as the only one I had ever seen Rachel wear. A jewellery box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It contained miscellaneous earrings, necklaces and brooches. A frayed map of Goa I
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