Chapter Seventeen
Chapter
Seventeen
Thankfully, Naina and Tejas’s press release statement on Preethi’s behalf, sharing her respect for Pai and acknowledging his loss to the film industry as a veteran actor/director, had pacified most of the gossip-hungry cinephiles and the paparazzi who’d assumed her silence meant guilt.
Nobody liked the thought of saying it, least of all Preethi and Naina, but Tejas knew they had to put their own opinions aside and do what was best for the case.
And it had worked: There were fewer anti-Preethi sentiments on social media now.
But proving her innocence was far from over, and Tejas hoped speaking to key witnesses would help.
“Ready?” Tejas asked as he and Naina stood before the producer’s front door.
Wikipedia had said his last name was Gowda, but cinema fans and the media only ever referred to the fifty-year-old veteran actor-turned-producer by his fan-given name from his acting heyday: Superstar Jagannath.
That wasn’t the end of his résumé, since he was also making his foray into politics now.
“Ready,” Naina said.
Tejas rang the doorbell, and seconds later, a short man dressed in white opened the door, bowing to them.
“You must be the lawyers,” he said, ushering them inside.
Jagannath’s house was a sprawling three-story mansion in Koramangala, one of the more expensive neighborhoods in Bangalore.
Tejas had noticed the impressive front yard with a grand five-spout fountain in the center of a well-maintained rose garden, but nothing compared to the resplendent and regal interiors of Jagan Mansion.
Four large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, sending sparkles of light dancing across the cream-colored walls.
Sunlight streamed through the shimmery curtains over the French windows and the balcony, and the seven-seater couch faced a fifty-five-inch television.
On the couch sat Jagannath and a woman who looked like she was in her mid-forties: his wife, Tharini, Tejas presumed.
“Hello, sir, ma’am,” Naina said, folding her hands in namaste. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Jagannath said gruffly, standing to shake their hands, though his tight grip and the frown on his face as he greeted Tejas said otherwise.
He led them to the couch. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Mani,” he said sharply to the man who’d opened the door, “hurry up, make some coffee for our guests.”
Once they’d sat down on the couch, Tejas smiled. “We’re sorry to impose on your time, but we had a few questions about Rohith Pai’s murder and what happened that night.”
“Right, since I was the person who saw your client killing him,” Jagannath said matter-of-factly. He manspreaded in his seat, his burly arms folded, like he was trying to assert his dominance and authority over them.
Nope. Tejas didn’t like him one bit, and neither did Naina, clearly, because he caught her rolling her eyes as she took out her iPad, all set to take notes.
Tejas simply kept his hands in his lap; he had a half-decent memory and believed a conversational approach was always better than an interrogative one in cases like these.
“How long had you known Rohith Pai?” Tejas asked.
“Decades,” Jagannath replied. “We worked on a number of movies over the years, both while I was an actor and now as a producer. He was a masterful director.”
“The morning of his death,” Naina said, “did you notice anything off or weird between Pai and Preethi during filming?”
Before Jagannath could answer, a quiet, concerned voice sounded from the hallway. “What’s going on?” A young woman stepped into the living room, looking at Naina and Tejas in confusion.
Jagannath stood, his eyes wide. “Sandhya, I thought I told you to stay in your room.”
This must be his daughter, Tejas surmised.
Twenty-one-year-old Sandhya Gowda, rumored to be making her acting debut in the Sandalwood film industry later this year, no doubt thanks to her good looks and, of course, her father’s connections.
She had been seen following Jagannath around on the sets of many of his films to get hands-on experience.
“Is this about Rohith’s death?” Sandhya’s brow wrinkled. “I knew him too, maybe I could answer any—”
“You shouldn’t be involving yourself in these messy things,” Jagannath said, scowling. He pointed toward the hallway. “Go to your room and don’t come out until I say so.”
Head bent, Sandhya meekly did as she was told.
“Sorry about that,” Tharini said hastily once her daughter’s footsteps had faded. “She really looked up to Rohith and his work, especially since our families are close, so she’s been a little…affected by this case.”
Jagannath’s mustache quivered. “Let’s focus on what I saw instead of going on these useless tangents,” he said, steering the topic back to what they’d come here for.
“It is what it is. I was enjoying a good night’s sleep in my trailer after supervising a thirteen-hour shoot when I heard a woman’s screams from the direction of Rohith’s trailer. ”
“And the Krishnans’ trailer too, right?” Tejas chimed in.
“Yes, that,” Jagannath said, waving his hand in dismissal.
Naina paused, scrolling on her iPad. “Do you remember what time this happened?”
Jagannath let out a scoff. “No. Obviously I didn’t think to check my watch.
I simply rushed out to make sure everything was okay.
And then…” He stiffened. “The trailer door was wide open, and I saw Preethi from the doorway, crouching beside a body. Rohith’s body.
I knew immediately what she had done; the guilt and shame were written all over her face. ” He shook his head disgruntledly.
Tejas nodded, as Naina jotted everything down. “And then what happened?” he asked.
“I yelled for help, and Gopal Krishnan showed up—our lead actor. He’s always been quick on his feet.
He dialed the emergency number. We decided to stay there so Preethi wouldn’t be tempted to run, but she barely even looked our way until the cops arrived.
She was just sobbing uncontrollably and hugging the body of the man she’d killed, like the good actor she is.
” Jagannath’s face darkened with rage. “Despicable woman.”
Tejas cleared his throat. They also needed to confirm what the maintenance worker had told them. “Was there anything else you noticed that might help us? Any tensions between Rohith and…anyone else that day?”
“Nothing of note.” Jagannath shrugged. “Well, if that’s all—”
“One more thing,” Naina said, her eyes narrowing the slightest amount. “You’re producing three other movies this year alongside Pai’s, and you’re also getting involved in politics, right?”
Jagannath’s jaw tightened. “Yes. How is that relevant?”
“Producers don’t always need to supervise filming on set, especially not when they’re as busy as you,” Naina said. “Was there any specific reason they needed you on location for such a small set?”
“I’m a very hands-on producer. Now, if you’re done…” Jagannath rose, reaching forward to shake their hands. “My wife and I have some personal matters to attend to.”
“Right,” Tejas said, pursing his lips. They hadn’t even had time for coffee yet. Why was he rushing them?
Jagannath escorted them to the front door. Just as he unlocked it, Naina stopped. “You said Gopal ran over to Pai’s trailer to help you. Where was his wife, Bina? She was on set too, as the assistant director, and I believe they were both sleeping in the same trailer?”
Jagannath gave a shake of the head. “No idea. I only saw her around once the cops arrived.”
“Right. Thanks for your time.”
Tejas and Naina stood by the street, waiting for the auto rickshaw that would take them to the Krishnans’ residence in Richmond Town. “I can’t tell if he’s hiding something or if he’s just an asshole,” Naina said.
“Right?” Tejas laughed. “Also, good catch with Gopal’s wife’s absence. I wonder whether either of them could be potential suspects. If Gopal managed to hear Preethi’s screams, being in the trailer closest to Pai’s, wouldn’t his wife have woken up too and rushed out with him?”
Their auto rickshaw arrived. Naina climbed in after Tejas, clenching her teeth. “Let’s get some answers,” she said.
Gopal and Bina Krishnan, in stark contrast, welcomed them with pleasant smiles and even made small talk with them until their housekeeper brought out some coffee.
Tejas had had three cups at the office already, a mandatory requirement to get through the mountain of work he had, even excluding this case; he was suddenly grateful Jagannath had driven them away before the coffee was ready.
Any more coffee would have been overkill.
Gopal lamented about Rohith Pai’s unexpected death and what a loss it was to the cinema industry for at least ten minutes while his wife nodded in agreement, her face ashen.
Gopal’s version of that night lined up exactly with what Jagannath had said.
He made no mention of waking up his wife before rushing to Pai’s trailer, either, but when Naina brought it up, Bina frowned, patting her husband’s knee.
“Oh, I take medication for insomnia, and I’m out for the night once I take it. ”
“Trying to wake her before morning would have been futile,” Gopal said, nodding toward his wife. “I recognized the screams as Jagannath’s and knew something must be wrong, too wrong for me to waste any more time.”
Tejas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But you didn’t hear Preethi’s screams?”
Gopal thought for a moment, biting his lip. Then he shrugged. “I might have, maybe that’s what woke me up enough to hear Jagannath shouting. Honestly, I don’t remember. It was a traumatizing night, and you see, trauma distorts the memory.”
Tejas met Naina’s dubious gaze. “Right,” she said, then turned to Bina. “Ma’am, do you have anything else you’d like to add?”