Deceptions, by Deepti Nair

I rang the doorbell again. When I felt I couldn‟t stand another moment in the pouring rain, the door was opened by a young woman, who looked like she had just stepped out of the seventies. Her dowdy pinafore and faded scarf immediately got me wondering what I had got myself into. Maybe driving a hundred miles to get to this lonely house in the dead of the night wasn‟t such a good idea. But there was money in it for me and I could never say no to that.

“I‟m here to see Mrs. Carlos,” I said, in reply to the young woman‟s inquisitive stare.

“Mr. Vrijesh Kothari? Madam has been expecting you. Shall I take your coat, sir?” I
removed my wet raincoat and handed it to her as she led me inside the spacious
house. The house was decorated tastefully in a Middle Eastern style with thick Persian
carpets covering the marble floors and the walls adorned with famous impressionists‟
works. The woman led me into a luxurious study and asked me to wait for the lady of
the house.

I was just warming myself in front of the fireplace, a real fire, rather uncommon in
homes nowadays, in an overstuffed armchair, when she returned, this time carrying a
silver tray.

“Please help yourself to some hot tea, sir, while you wait. The cookies are freshly
baked.”

She closed the door as she exited and left me with my thoughts. If all else fails, at
least this has made the trip worthwhile, I thought, munching on the scrumptious
cookies.

I finished the cookies in record time, the rumbling in my stomach unappeased. It had
been hours since my last meal. Maybe once the deal comes through, they will ask me
to a late dinner. Quelling further absurd thoughts, the door opened and Mrs. Carlos
walked in; her sharp penetrating eyes scrutinizing me.

She was completely different from what I had imagined her to be. Dressed in a dark
blue dress which looked straight out of a Paris catalogue and a cashmere wrap around
her slender shoulders, she didn‟t look a day over forty. Was this really the woman
who called me, I wondered. But seeing her finally did confirm my suspicions.

“Hello Vrijesh. It‟s nice of you to come all this way,” She made her way in slow
purposeful strides to an armchair opposite to mine.

“Well, you left me with no choice, Madam.”

“There is always choice, Vrijesh. You simply must have the courage to choose.” She
spoke with an underlying accent that I couldn‟t immediately place.

“Well, tell me why you have got me here, then?”

“You know why,” she replied smiling menacingly.

“Mrs. Carlos, I have the information you wanted right here in my bag. But you have
to understand, she never meant to…”

“Please Vrijesh, spare me the melodrama. Just give me what I need, take the money
and leave.”

“No.”

“No?” she looked momentarily puzzled, her smile gone.

“No ma‟am. I have put my life on line to get the information for you. And I have to
know why.”

“What do you care? I hired you. Have you forgotten our agreement? Just take the
money and get the hell out.” The disdain in her voice was apparent, but I was
determined to surge through her icy exterior and get the answers I wanted.

“The terms of the agreement have changed. This is more than the investigative work I
was hired for. I am cheating a woman and I have to know why.”

“Oh, I get it now,” she said with a chuckle. “You have fallen in love with your charge.
Ha, I should have guessed. No man is immune to an attractive woman‟s charms,
definitely not an unsavory character like you.”

She now got up and stood in front of the fireplace, her back towards me. My eyes
unconsciously strayed over her bare and perfectly shaped legs which the hem of her
dress failed to cover. I noticed a dark reddish stain on her skirt which made me think
that maybe she wasn‟t all perfect as she made herself out to be.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “This woman you have been „befriending‟ for the
past few months to get the information I want, has been threatening to ruin my whole
family.”

“But, how can Kiera ruin your family. She doesn‟t even know you.”

Now Mrs. Carlos turned to face me. Steel in her voice, “You asked her about me?”

“I just mentioned you in passing and she didn‟t seem to recognize your name.”

“Just goes to show what a good actress she is. Enough small talk. Give me what I paid
you for.”

“Well, I have had a lot of time on my hands and couldn‟t help looking at the reports
and photos I stole from Keira‟s safe. And I noticed…” I paused to look at Mrs. Carlos
whose face was inscrutable. I knew I had to proceed with caution now. The strain of
the moment was having its toll on me as I started to feel the beginnings of a migraine.

“I noticed that the man in these photographs, who I‟m guessing is Robert;
incidentally I read the letters too, strikingly resembles you.”

“You are a sharp-eyed man, Vrijesh,” she smirked. “And how do you want me to
reward your keen sense of observation?”

“I think a million is reasonable.”

“You would think so, wouldn‟t you? And what do I get in return?”

“The medical reports, letters and photographs proving that your politician son -
Robert, is the father of the child growing in a local dancer‟s womb. Plus the guarantee
that Kiera and her child will forever be out of your hair.”

“Ah Vrijesh, you are not planning on marrying the woman, are you? Accepting a
woman with her illegitimate child, if that‟s not love, what is?” she laughed, her words
dripping with scorn.

The woman was ruthless. I had expected her to be shocked on hearing that I knew her
little secret, but she took it in her stride without even batting an eyelid.

“What do you care? You are rich. You have the money. Give it and I will take her and
go away. And your son can face the elections without any fear of a public scandal.”
Her attitude had shaken my resolve and I found myself babbling.

She stared at me silently for a while and then walked back to her chair and sat down
elegantly, crossing her legs. My eyes involuntarily went to her feet again and I noticed
another dark spot that looked like blood on her blue pumps.

“Do you know what happened to my husband, Vrijesh?”

She seemed unbelievably calm under the circumstances and that, coupled with the
searing pain in my head, was freaking me out.

“Didn‟t he die in an accident?”

“Ah, yes. A very tragic accident. He was a good man. Maybe a little too good,” her
voice sounded far-away as if she were remembering a painful time. “He had a lot of
ideals, morals, all the trappings of a loser. If it was up to him, he would have
destroyed my business, my money, everything. But then, he died,” she smiled now, a
smile that chilled my bones.

“And I got control of the business and have made it what it is today. When I decide, I
want something; no one can stand in my way. And now I want the best political career
for Robert. He will reach the highest office and no one, definitely not you or that chit
of a girl can stand in his way.”

I was starting to feel woozy, terrified of the finality in her voice. I was a fool to think
the deal would be done smoothly. I looked at the bag next to me which had all the
evidence. I had to bluff my way out of this place. I would plan my next move then.

“Listen Mrs. Carlos, let‟s finish this. Just give me the money and I will give you all
the evidence.”

“After all I‟ve told you, do you really think that I will let myself be blackmailed?”

“You have no choice.”

“Didn‟t I tell you there is always choice?”

The menace in her voice was unmistakable and all I wanted was to get out of there. I
stood up and stumbled as I took my first step. The room was spinning around me. I
fell to the floor unable to pull myself up. My head was splitting with pain. In the
background I heard Mrs. Carlos‟ sneering laugh.

“Flavia makes the most delicious cookies, don‟t you think. Her secret ingredient is a
generous dose of Diazepam, a very fast acting sedative. Now you can have a nice long
nap. And when you wake up, you will find yourself next to your beloved Kiera,
holding the knife that I used to kill her just a while back. Once the documents in your
bag are burnt, there will be no evidence that Keira ever knew Robert. And the police
will find enough evidence in her house to convict you. You are trapped, my friend.”

The last thing I heard before my mind drifted off to oblivion was the rustling sound of
paper burning in the fireplace.