Such a Perfect Family, page 26
Wind chimes whispering down the hallway, a cold touch on the back of my neck.
I swallowed hard, my mind full of images of Rajesh’s powerful body cutting through the cold waters of the lake, Sarita putting on her jogging gear for a fast circuit.
Chapter 62
Private notes: Detective Callum Baxter (LAPD)
Date: Oct 30
Time: 11:07
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Chapter 63
After asking Ajay to keep an eye on Diya and message me if she woke and was looking for me—I still hadn’t managed to get her that phone—I left the hospital to meet Aleki at a small coffee shop by his work.
“Hey, my man.” He hugged me, a big wall of gentle, kind Samoan in a business shirt and pressed black trousers.
“Hey, Aleki. Thanks again for all you’ve done.”
“No thanks between us.” He picked up a coffee from the table. “I had our orders made to go. Gotta start walking back—still have that asshole manager who watches the clock to make sure we’re not a minute over our break time.” He took a sip of his own coffee. “You cool with walking and chatting?”
“Sure.”
“Glad to hear your missus is awake.”
It had taken me a few chats with Aleki before I’d figured out that “missus” in the local vernacular didn’t necessarily mean married, just together. “You have no idea how relieved I was when she opened her eyes.” I drank deep of the coffee—the ubiquitous Kiwi flat white, for which I’d acquired a taste after Diya introduced me to it.
Aleki slapped me on the shoulder. “I can imagine, man. So, you want to know about Violet Long, huh?”
I’d reached out to Aleki after all my online searches had come up blank—Violet Long’s business website was down, and she no longer had any social media presence. I didn’t even know if she was still in Rotorua, but I figured it was a small city, and with Aleki being around roughly the same age as her, they might’ve crossed paths. Or at the least, that he could point me in the direction of someone else who would know.
I had no intention of asking Diya for her friend’s information and bringing up that past trauma. Not here. Not now.
“My wife was close with her before the assault. I thought I’d see if I could touch base with her, see if maybe she’d want to visit with Diya.” It was a flimsy reason, but it was all I had. “She’s going to be moved out onto a ward soon.”
“It was brutal, what happened to Violet—it was in all the papers, how bad she was hurt.” He shook his head. “I don’t know her, but the papers mentioned that her dad is a plumber.”
Shit, I’d seen that in one of the articles I’d found and totally glossed over it when I’d already tracked one man down by his profession.
Aleki stopped in front of a building. “This is me. But anyway, my cuz’s mate Silas is a plumber, too, so I asked him if he knew about Violet Long’s dad.”
Digging into his pocket, he took out a piece of notebook paper on which he’d written the details of one Greg Long, Plumber & Drainlayer. “He said not to hassle Greg if he doesn’t want to talk,” Aleki said as he handed over the information. “Man’s still broken up about what happened to her—but I figured he’d be okay with you calling.”
“I promise I won’t push if he wants privacy.”
“I better go—but hope you get in touch with your missus’s friend.”
After saying good-bye to Aleki, I made the call to Greg Long. I’d have preferred to meet him in person to make my case, but he probably had no office and worked out of his van like a lot of independent tradespeople.
“Greg Long,” he said when he answered the call, his manner matter-of-fact.
Aware that he’d no doubt been hounded by reporters at one point, I said, “This is Diya Prasad’s fiancé, Tavish.” No one in Rotorua didn’t know Diya’s name by now, and Violet had likely mentioned her potential business partner to her family. “I’m trying to get in touch with your daughter. Diya’s regained consciousness and I know she misses Violet.”
I paused, but when the other man didn’t say anything, added, “No pressure at all for Violet to come see her—I just figured maybe they could chat on the phone. And honestly, I’m just trying to find something that’ll make my wife happy.” I might be a gold-standard liar, but the latter was a hundred percent true.
A rough exhale from Greg. “Ah damn, it’s awful what happened to that whole family. It meant a lot to Violet that Diya invited her to your engagement party even though my daughter’s retreated so much from the world.” Pain twisted through his words. “Her mum and I really thought she was going to go—we were ready to drive her, pick her up, the whole deal, but she backed out at the last minute.”
“Diya didn’t mind,” I said, though I hadn’t known that she’d invited Violet. “She just wanted Violet to know she still considers her a friend.”
“She’s been a good one,” Greg Long said. “I see the cards and little packages that come in—my girl always smiles when she sees that handwriting.” An added roughness to his voice. “Look, let me talk to Vi. I have your number now, will pass it on to her. Whether she calls or not…I can’t guarantee anything.”
But Violet Long did call, only ten minutes later. “I messaged her,” she said in a soft but melodic voice that was slightly slurred. Even as I wondered if she’d fallen into alcohol addiction after her assault, she said, “Diya. After I heard she was alive—but then they said she was in a coma? So I didn’t know if I should keep trying.”
“Her phone was in the house.”
“Oh God, of course it was. I didn’t think. Does she have a new number? I’m still in the process of working on my anxiety when it comes to going out”—a tightness there, an anger that I hoped was directed outward and not at herself—“but I’d love to talk to her.”
“I’m buying her a new phone today and will send you the number.” Having taken a seat on a bench beneath a leafy tree, I stared out at the late-afternoon traffic as I spoke to her. “Violet, I know you must’ve been asked this a thousand times over, but do you remember anything about the person who made the appointment?”
“Why?” A single sharp word heavy with new suspicion, no hint of alcohol intoxication, so maybe the slur was a speech impediment.
“I’m clutching at straws,” I said, flexing my hand on my knee. “It just seems too much of a coincidence to me that both you and Diya came under such significant attack within a space of, what, six months? Could someone have a vendetta against the two of you? An angry business rival?”
A gasp. “I didn’t even consider that.” Hearing the tremor in her voice, I knew I’d just set her therapy back months and felt like a shit.
But Violet rallied. “Honestly, I can’t think of anyone. We hadn’t officially started working together. I was much more established, so Diya was going to come on as a junior partner, and we were working out what that would look like.”
“So no meetings with clients, things like that?”
“No, it was mostly just the two of us getting together to hash things out. We already liked each other, but with a business, you need to have everything spelled out. We spent hours huddled over the table in my apartment, working on our long-term plan and where we saw the business going.”
“Why did you want to work with her when you were so much more successful?”
“I needed a partner to expand my capacity. Diya’s a bad businesswoman—and I say this with love—but as a creative, she’s a dynamo. I was prepared to handle all the business aspects for a larger share in the partnership, and she was happy to give me that larger share in order to increase her overall income.
“Please don’t think I was going to cheat her,” she rushed to add. “Diya would have tripled her income in the first year, just with the clients I already had lined up. And we’d agreed that we’d renegotiate the split three years down the road, once we saw the impact she had on the overall business. Not just a verbal agreement—it was to be part of our contract.”
Money again. Always money. Because money meant a lot of things. “Did you ever meet anyone else connected with Diya?”
“You mean her vendors? No, that would’ve come later, after we’d agreed. We’re all a little protective of our contacts.”
“No one more personal?”
“We ran into her mum once, while we were heading into a café. She seemed lovely, was excited when I mentioned how successful I thought we’d be together. It’s so sad, what’s happened.”
The teens didn’t see anyone but are sure they heard the sound of running feet.
An image flashed into my mind, of Sarita throwing me the keys to the Alfa Romeo while dressed in her running tights and top, an athletic woman who’d have no trouble outpacing a bunch of startled teens.
Chapter 64
Diya
Hi Rhi!
I can’t wait to see you! Only six more weeks! It’s going to be so fun. I don’t know if Mum will let you show me how to do makeup on myself, but I’m excited to watch you do it! It sounds so cool, the set you got for your birthday. Your mum is so nice.
I read the book you sent me. It was exciting and a little scary, but I read it every night till I finished. I like stories about secrets.
I have a secret. A really big one. I’ll tell you, though, because I know you won’t tell anyone else. We did the pinky promise. When we’re at camp, we can go for a swim together by ourselves, and I’ll tell you.
See you soon!
Love,
Your friend, Dee
Chapter 65
Shumi came to full consciousness the next day.
I didn’t see my sister-in-law the first day—given her groggy state, the doctors would only permit her immediate family. The second day, however, both Ackerson and I managed to get in—and with a few patients having recently been moved onto a ward after they no longer needed the unit’s level of care, Shumi was the only patient there.
I waited a short distance away while Ackerson spoke to her with her father by her side.
“I’m very sorry to tell you, Mrs. Prasad,” Ackerson said in a tone that was gentler than I’d ever heard from her, “but we believe we’ve identified your husband’s remains alongside those of his parents.”
The air whooshed out of me.
I’d been hoping he was still alive—because, no matter what, that gave Ackerson a perfect suspect and took the spotlight off me.
A soft feminine wail, while Shumi’s father demanded, “How can you be sure? There was so much damage.”
“The lab will attempt DNA tests, but the nature of the remains means that can’t be guaranteed. He was identified through dental records.”
Ackerson sounded truly sorry when she said, “There really is no doubt. Vihaan Prasad—Bobby—had an emergency root canal done in Japan while on a business trip five years ago. The dental experts tell me the Japanese style is visibly different to ours. His dentist also had more recent X-rays, which we were able to use for identification.
“Added to the fact that his car was on the premises, and the lack of any activity on either his business or personal accounts, as well as his phone, it’s conclusive that he died in the incident. But as I said, the team will make every attempt at a DNA match for the survivors’ peace of mind.”
Shumi was sobbing but trying to speak in between, nothing of her words making sense.
Ackerson was more patient than I expected but didn’t leave the room even when Shumi’s father asked her to. “I need to get your daughter’s witness statement while it’s fresh in her mind,” she replied.
At last, Shumi stopped sobbing. “Why didn’t Diya tell you?” A piteous question. “Why do I have to say?”
“I told you, beta,” her father said with an edge of impatience in his tone that made me want to shake him. “Diya is hurt. She can’t remember.”
“I don’t want to say.” Shumi’s voice was almost swallowed up by her tears. “I won’t say.”
“You have to,” her mother butted in. “We know what he did to you, beta.” Tears in her voice. “Please, Shumi. You don’t have to protect him anymore—I’m so sorry you thought you couldn’t come to me, but I’m here now. I’ll always be here.”
“No, no, I won’t.” Shumi’s breathing was fast and shallow. “We were so happy. We were all so happy.”
“I know,” Ackerson said in that same unexpectedly gentle tone. “But three people are dead, Shumi. Including Rajesh and Sarita, who I’m told treated you like a cherished daughter. And your best friend remains badly wounded.”
Sobbing, Shumi said, “Can I see her? Can I see Diya?”
I was ready for everyone to say no, but Ackerson instead stepped out to talk to the staff, and they made the arrangements to wheel Diya over from the ward for a strictly short visit. The two women both burst into fresh tears at seeing each other, but there was an edge of hysterical happiness to it, the relief of two survivors coming face-to-face.
“Shumi, what happened?” Diya asked after the tears had passed. “All I can remember is the fire…and…” She pressed a hand over her abdomen. “I hurt here. So much.”
Shumi just shook her head, keeping her silence.
“Please,” Diya begged. “Please tell me.”
Tears rolling down her face again, Shumi turtled in on herself. “I want to be alone now. I don’t want to talk anymore.”
* * *
—
No one stopped me when, two hours later, after Diya had fallen into sleep, I made my way to Shumi’s bedside. Everyone else had already attempted to talk to her, but she’d shut down.
However, she was awake—and alone right then.
“I know you’re protecting Diya,” I said in a soft tone between us alone, the realization having come to me when she’d looked at Diya with agony on her face after my wife pleaded for answers.
Huge brown eyes holding my own. “She shouldn’t know,” Shumi whispered. “She should have her memories.”
“She already knows deep inside,” I said. “And, Shumi? It’s eating her up to not have any answers.”
Shumi bit down hard on her lower lip. “I don’t want to say, Tavish. If I don’t say, it’s not real.” Her eyes moved around the room before settling back on me. “But it is, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I touched her hand. “You did everything you could to protect the family, Shumi.”
“I never told. I never said what Bobby did to me.” A rasping breath. “Everyone loved Amma and Pitaji so much, and most of the time, everything was perfect. He loved me, he did—he always wanted to know where I was, was always interested in my life, kept track of all my friends and called me throughout the day to say hi.”
To hear of her twisted view of a healthy love made me hurt for the girl she’d been, unloved and emotionally abandoned.
“It would’ve hurt Amma and Pitaji so much if I’d told. Brought such shame to the family.”
My stomach churned at the reminder of Rajesh and Sarita’s perfect image, but aloud I said, “They’re not around to feel that shame anymore…and Diya will drown in her thoughts if she doesn’t get answers.”
Our eyes met, a quiet understanding passing between us of Diya’s fragile mental state.
Then Shumi sighed. “Okay. Okay.”
I didn’t celebrate yet. She could still backpedal. “Shall I call Ackerson over?” I’d seen the detective talking to Ajay and the elder Kumars in the waiting area. Probably hoping to find some way to get Shumi to open up.
“Yes. Just her and you, not my family.” A hardness to her as she said the last.
Two minutes later, when she began to speak, I realized I’d been wrong about her on one critical point. There was something Bobby could do that would turn her against him, and he’d done it the night of the party.
“I was pregnant. I did a home test, then another, told Bobby straightaway and he hugged me and spun me around and brought me pink roses.” Rough, husky words. “I was so happy—and really doing my best not to show it at the engagement party because that was Diya’s moment and I wasn’t going to steal it.
“I thought we’d wait till I was past the first trimester to tell the family…though I’d probably have slipped up with Diya.” Her voice losing volume with each word. “Then Bobby hit me in the stomach that night, after we got home from the party, and I started bleeding. It had stopped by morning, but I knew my precious baby was gone.” It came out flat, as if her anger was so deep that she couldn’t bear to feel it.
“He still made me go to Amma and Pitaji’s that morning, pretend everything was okay. It was like he didn’t even care that he’d murdered our child, like it meant nothing to him.”
“Here.” I put the straw to her lips so she could drink some water, give herself a break from the emotional grindstone.
“Thank you.” An automatic polite response before she drank.
After she was done, she went right back to it, as if now that she’d started, she had to finish. “I was outside looking at the lake with Diya while he spoke to Amma and Pitaji. When we walked back in, they were lying on the floor, and he had a knife in his hand.” Her breathing sped up. “He shoved Diya so hard she fell against something—maybe a table?—and got dazed. That’s when he stabbed me.”
“Do you know why your husband turned violent?” Ackerson asked.
“I didn’t know till we got home the previous night, but his finance person had called him before the party, told him that he’d run all the numbers again but there was no choice—he’d have to file for bankruptcy.”
I thought I was good at wearing masks, but Bobby had given not a single hint of stress or panic that night, just a big brother there to celebrate his sister’s engagement. Making plans for a fishing trip, standing beside his father while Rajesh bragged of his accomplishments, kissing Diya on the forehead with protective tenderness.
