Chapter 47
The caution tape still fluttered at the top of the driveway down to the Lake Tarawera house, but the scene looked a lot different from when I’d last been here. Flowers, masses of them, lay on the grass shoulder along the road on either side of the drive.
Thankfully, however, there were no looky-loos or media vans—I’d been planning to just drive on past if that was the case.
This remained the biggest crime that had taken place in Rotorua in a decade or more.
Even the national media was continuing to update the public—though right now, those updates just consisted of reporters finding new ways to say that “the two survivors of the tragic incident remain in the ICU.”
My history hadn’t yet leaked. Possibly because of the prevailing view that the deaths and fire must have resulted from a family issue—the few times where I had been mentioned, it had been as Diya’s “American fiancé,” a man who was newly in the country and thus an outsider to the family drama.
The fact that Bobby had been the CEO of a major company, while his parents were both senior doctors, had given the media more than enough meat to chew on—add on Diya and Shumi being two beautiful women in critical condition, and they had plenty to fill airtime and column inches.
It helped that pretty much no one had my contact details, so the reporters couldn’t get in touch with me unless they staked out the hospital. Which, so far, they hadn’t been crass enough to do—that, or I’d managed to avoid them due to the erratic nature of my visiting schedule.
Whatever the reason, I knew it wouldn’t last much longer.
Some reporter no doubt already had the goods on me but was waiting until it would no longer be considered bad form to report what might otherwise be seen as tabloid gossip.
I had to use what little time I had to clear my name.
If Ackerson refused to listen, then I had no hesitation about leaking the information to the reporters.
I’d watched my father wield information like a scalpel, knew it could sway far more than juries.
Parking the car on that thought, I walked over to read the cards attached to the bouquets.
I didn’t know you, but I’m praying for you. May God in heaven bring comfort to those left behind.
Dr. Prasad, you saved my baby’s life along with my own. I’ll never forget you.
You were such a kind and generous family. I’ll always remember our days at the beach together when the kids were younger. I’m sorry we drifted apart as they grew.
That last one was just signed with a single name: Janet. But I made note of it nonetheless before crouching down to read more of the notes pinned to the array of bouquets.
The oldest flowers had begun to curl and wilt…though if they’d been out in the sun for days, they should’ve been in worse condition. Maybe someone was coming around and cleaning up the dead bouquets.
Hey, Dee. Stay strong. Love you to the moon, babes. —Kalindra
A honey-skinned and curvy woman with freckles across her nose, Kalindra hadn’t been at the party, but Diya had pointed out a photo of her in the collection she had on the wall in her old bedroom.
They’d been friends in high school, but Kalindra’s move to Wellington for college had gently frayed their friendship until it was now more a case of fond memories than day-to-day reality.
Still, I’d see if I could talk to her, since she would’ve been around when Bobby was younger.
I’d also touch base with the three friends of Diya’s who had come to the party; though she’d met them through her work, the friendships not deep like the one she had with Shumi, it was possible she’d mentioned something to them that might help.
Dr. Prasad, thank you, thank you, thank you.
You treated me with warmth and dignity and just the most incredible kindness when I needed it most, and you will live forever in my memories.
I’m so sorry for what happened to you and your family, and I hope the surviving members manage to come out of this with whole hearts.
There were several other notes in a similar vein, and for most of them, I couldn’t tell to which Dr. Prasad they were addressed.
The more specific ones were evenly scattered, which just confirmed that Sarita and Rajesh, whatever their shortcomings as parents, had both been well respected by their patients.
Diya, I only got to spend time with you when you organized my twenty-first, but I thought you were the sweetest person ever. I’m hoping with all my heart that you recover quickly. —Mackenzie
Bobby, fuck, man. I can’t believe it. I know you’re kicking ass up there. —Dan
I began to notice a pattern. While many of the notes referred to the entire family or specifically named Diya, Bobby, Sarita, or Rajesh—either as doctors or by name—I’d found no mention of Shumi so far. Not by name. Only in terms of her relationships to the others.
Bobby, you were a great boss—I’m rooting for your sis and wife.
Diya, I’m praying for you and your sister-in-law.
Sarita & Rajesh, I promise I’ll be there for Diya & Bobby’s wife.
The woman who’d joined endless clubs during high school seemed to have made no real connections in her adult life.
It fit with the picture I was building of her relationship with Bobby.
Stay-at-home wife. Controlled by her husband.
Kept inside the home and not allowed any friendships except with her husband’s family.
Another small thing to add to the pile of evidence against Bobby.
“I thought that was our car on the road.” Tim’s voice, the slap of his flip-flops against his heels having announced his presence before he spoke.
“It’s nice, all these flowers, don’t you think?
Joseph comes over every afternoon and weeds out the ones that are wilting.
Just started doing it on his own. Makes me proud, that boy. ”
Grateful the other man had initiated contact, I rose from my crouch. “He comes from kind parents.”
“How’s Diya?” His eyes searched my face in a way that made me wonder if he’d been doing some online searches of his own.
My chest tightened. “She’s fighting.”
“Good, that’s good.” He shifted from foot to foot.
Yeah, Tim knew something.
Keeping my expression tired, just a man in a tough situation, I said, “I’m trying to put together a few things for the funerals in case the police release the remains soon.” Charred remnants of people I’d celebrated with less than a week ago.
The other man stopped fidgeting. “Is there anything we can do to help? Just ask.”
Whatever he’d heard, he remained too much a good guy to hang me out to dry.
“I was hoping to get in touch with family and friends,” I said.
“I don’t suppose you remember any names?
I already have Rajesh’s and Sarita’s hospital colleagues—the ones who have access to the ICU have been by to see Shumi and Diya, and they’ve passed on the wishes of the others.
“Many other folks have left flowers and cards at hospital reception, but usually with no contact details. People…they don’t realize that no one in the family who has that information is alive or conscious.”
Tim blew out a breath. “Oh Jesus, I never even thought about that.”
“It’s not a normal situation,” I said. “Hard for any of us to process.”
“I’ll ask Hannah about any contacts she might remember, but to be honest, we were just neighbors.
Don’t get me wrong—we were good neighbors, always helped each other out, but it wasn’t a deep friendship.
Frankly, I was surprised to be invited to the engagement party, but then I saw how proud Sarita and Rajesh were and I figured they just wanted to share that with everyone. Was nice.”
“So you didn’t really talk otherwise, except for neighborhood chat?” There went my chance to track down Bobby’s rugby-playing friend.
“A little more than that,” Tim corrected. “Like when they found out Joseph was good with mechanical things, they suggested he think about engineering. Sarita said he should talk to Bobby’s wife—well, that knocked me for six. Never would’ve pegged her as an engineer!”
“I didn’t know myself until recently.”
“Joseph said she was lovely, supersmart. Talked him through options and possible pathways.” He stared at the caution tape. “She told him she wasn’t practicing because she and Bobby were planning to have kids and they’d both decided the kids should have one parent at home.”
He shifted his feet again. “I mean, he grew up with a mum who worked all the time—you have to, don’t you, when you’re a young doctor? I can see how he would want different for his kids, but real shame about his wife giving up a good career.”
I thought of Shumi’s cheerful presence melded with her absolute inability to refute any request or decision made by Bobby. If he’d asked her to quit, she’d have written her resignation letter that night.
“Sorry I couldn’t help with any contact info,” Tim said.
“What about Bobby’s friend Richard?” I persisted, trying my luck because—quite frankly—I was desperate. “I thought I remembered you talking to him at the party.”
Tim’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Fishing, we were discussing fishing. He’s an electrician, gave me his card when I mentioned we were looking at getting a few electrical upgrades.”
Five minutes later and I had that card in hand and was back in the car.
Tim hadn’t invited me inside this time.
The first thing I did once alone was search for my name online. Hits populated the screen…but they were all from back home. Nothing local.
“Ackerson,” I muttered, certain that she was the reason for Tim’s sudden change in behavior. It didn’t matter. I had what I needed.
I called Richard.
Answering on the first ring, the other man told me to come to a place called Sulphur Point.
“It’s just around the way from my jobsite at the Government Gardens.
I’ll take a break so we can talk. Been working nonstop since it happened,” he said.
“Helps to keep my mind busy. Otherwise I start spiraling, thinking of how it could happen to anyone. Partying one day, gone the next.”
It didn’t take me long to drive to Sulphur Point—per my phone’s GPS, it was only five minutes from the hospital.
I’d been here before, I remembered when I parked in the small empty lot beside the wooden walkway that led people on a path that passed mud pools, native birdlife, and smoking craters in the earth.
The thick smell of sulfur filled the air as I stepped onto the walkway.
A large red sign to my left listed the dangers in the area, including hydrogen sulfide gas and fumaroles—holes in the earth that emitted dangerously hot steam—but when I walked further along the path, I found myself gazing out at the edge of Lake Rotorua, this part a thick, misty blue that looked unreal: white paint stained by a droplet of blue.
Steam curled up from it, betraying the heat in the water.
Birds sat on the water much further out, where the temperatures were no doubt more normal.
Diya had brought me here, eager to show me her city.
“Sorry about the smell, but this place is incredible!” she’d said, holding her nose before she released it with a laugh.
“I swear you go nose blind after a little while, barely even smell the sulfur. Still, I’m glad Mum and Dad built over by Lake Tarawera even if it is a little bit of a drive! ”
I’d chuckled at the idea of that scenic roughly thirty-minute drive being considered anything but a pleasure cruise. “Babe, you’re talking to someone from LA, the land of freeways and gridlock.”
Her eyes had sparkled at me as she reminded me of a drive we’d taken in LA—she’d wanted to go to one of the big outlets. That part had been fun. The return trip, however, had ended up with us sitting in traffic for three hours…while Diya pulled snacks out of her purse like some magician.
Never before had I enjoyed gridlock.
Hearing the crunch of gravel, I turned back and reached the little parking area just as Richard was getting out of his work van.
His hair was matted down as if he’d been wearing a hard hat, and dust coated his upper arms and the part of his legs visible between the end of his work shorts and the thick socks he wore with steel-toed boots.
“I took a minute to grab us a couple of cold Cokes, and pies since it’s time for morning tea anyway.”
“I’ll take the Coke, but I haven’t quite gotten into meat pies, so I’ll leave that to you.”
A sharp grin as he handed me the soda. “You’re missing out. A good meat pie is a real treat.” He grabbed his own drink and one of the pies before nudging the door shut and locking up the van. “Lot of expensive gear in there, can’t be too careful.”
“I can hold your drink while you eat,” I offered, but he shook his head.
“Nah, let’s walk to that bit with the view of the lake.” Opening up the Coke, he took a long swig, then held it in one hand while—having folded down the brown paper bag halfway—he ate the pie with the other.
“Sorry I haven’t been to see Diya,” he said as we walked past the warning sign. “I wasn’t sure they’d let me in.”
“They wouldn’t. She’s still in the ICU.”
An easing of those big shoulders.
“I’m trying to put things together for the funerals in advance, help Diya. But I only really met people at the engagement party…”
“Oh, no worries. I can help you with that. Bobby and I still play the odd game of rugby with a social team, and I can round them up to help with whatever you need. I might also have a few contacts for his parents’ friends—met some of them when Bobby and I hung out as kids.”
“Thanks.”
We stopped at the spot with the view to the lake, arms braced on the wooden railing. “Look, Richard.” I held his gaze. “Thing is, the police are investigating, and they’re saying some stuff.”
His jaw tightened. “About the Prasads? That’s bullshit. They’re a good family!”
A good family.
For whom reputation was everything.
“I know. But they’re insinuating things about Bobby. About him being violent.” I didn’t imagine it—that slight flicker in Richard’s eyes.
He knew something.