Five

All day long, Byomkesh remained distracted. In the evening, Satyabati tried once or twice to bring up the subject of the Kashmir trip, but Byomkesh did not seem to hear her; he lay stretched out in the easy chair, gazing up at the ceiling beams.

I said, “What’s the hurry? Let this business be settled first.”

Satyabati replied, “It won’t take much longer. Can’t you tell by looking at his face?”

Whether Byomkesh heard Satyabati or not, I could not say. Lost in his own thoughts, he sighed and murmured, “The tinsel disc.”

Satyabati glanced at me, nodding meaningfully, a sly smile on her lips.

We were supposed to phone the police station after dusk. When I reminded him, Byomkesh said, “You call, Ajit.”

I found the number for the thana and made the call. Bhabanibabu was present; he said, “The report just came in. Time of death is between midnight and two a.m. The bullet was from a .45 revolver, entered below the left scapula, pierced the heart, and lodged in the third rib on the right. The bullet’s trajectory was slightly upward from below, and from the side towards the center. —No other marks of injury. —And yes! There was some alcohol found in the stomach.”

I relayed this to Byomkesh. He stared at me in astonishment for a moment. “The trajectory of the bullet—what did you say?”

“Slightly upward from below, and from the side towards the center. That is, whoever fired was sitting in the bushes to the left of the road, and shot from a seated position.”

Byomkesh looked at me for a while longer. “He fired crouching? Why?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t consult me before pulling the trigger.”

Byomkesh reclined again in the easy chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling beams. Then, slowly, he said, “Think it over. You all suppose the assailant was hiding inside the gate from before. Satyakam entered through the gate, walked twenty or twenty-five feet, and knocked at the main door. Only then did the assailant shoot him. My question is—why? Why didn’t the assailant shoot Satyakam the moment he entered through the gate? That would have been easier—he could have fired and slipped out through the gate at once. There would have been no risk of missing the shot.”

“What’s the answer, then—you tell me.”

Byomkesh said, “Perhaps the answer is that the assailant did not fire from that direction. But what’s even more puzzling is: who placed the tinsel disc, when, and why?”

I asked, “So it wasn’t accidental?”

“The more I think about it, the more it seems it wasn’t accidental. There’s a hidden meaning to it. If we can uncover that meaning, the whole mystery will be solved.”

I sat and pondered—what could be the significance of the tinsel disc? If the assailant placed it, what was the purpose? If not the assailant, then who? If not someone from the house, then who? Satyakam himself? But why?

Suddenly, Byomkesh sat up with a