A Dire Isle by RV Raman

Author:RV Raman [Raman,RV]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polis Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

The initial part of the discussion with Pratap yielded little by way of fresh information. He didn’t remember the precise time when he had returned to his room from the lawn. Nor did he know when he went to bed. All he could say was that he must have retired around 11:30 p.m. and had fallen asleep soon after. He had not been awake at midnight to hear the watchman’s rhythmic beat with his stick.

“Did you go out to the veranda after you returned to your room?” Athreya asked.

“No, I was pretty tipsy, you know,” he said offhandedly. But his eyes were wary. “After all, it was a Sunday night. I went to bed straight away. I didn’t hear or see anything.”

“What if I told you that someone heard your veranda door open and close?”

“My door?” Pratap exclaimed in indignation. “How did this person know that it was my door? It doesn’t have bells on it to make it sound any different from the other doors. It could have been any door.”

“The person is quite sure of it.”

“Then he or she is mistaken,” Pratap declared. But the guarded look in his eyes didn’t go away. “Honestly, you should verify such random claims, Mr. Athreya.”

“That’s exactly what I am doing, Pratap. Who better to ask than you? Do you suggest that I ask someone else about your door?”

“Oh, okay. I guess not.” Pratap seemed to relax slightly. “Did this person see me?”

“No.”

“Then?” Pratap challenged with a hint of a smirk. “Really, Mr. Athreya …” He left it hanging.

“Did you know Mrs. Markaan well?”

“I guess so.” Pratap looked at his hands as he spoke. “I guess she spoke with me more than she did with the others. She seemed to have taken a liking for me from the beginning.”

“Did you know her from before?”

“Yes, to some extent. We met at two or three conferences where both of us were presenting papers. We got talking. She was a knowledgeable lady, you know. Some of the stuff in her papers was very interesting. Quite varied, too. I was surprised at the breadth of topics she covered. I’ve been following her publications for couple of years now.”

“All of it was her own work, I presume?”

“I think so.” Pratap frowned in confusion at Athreya. “Why that doubt?”

“Well, one hears of people who take the work done by their juniors and students and pass it off as their own. I suppose Mrs. Markaan was not one such person.”

“I think not,” Pratap said sharply.

Athreya could see that thoughts were churning in the younger man’s mind. Athreya’s statement seemed to have triggered something. He let the silence grow.

“It’s interesting that you say that,” Pratap mused aloud at length. “In some areas, I found her depth of knowledge to be a little less than what I had expected. But then, nobody has deep knowledge in every area.”

“How did you feel when you learnt of Mrs. Markaan’s death?” Athreya asked.

“Sad,” Pratap replied immediately. “I was fond of the old lady, you know.

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