Fifteen

I had hoped to return to Calcutta together with Satyabati and Khoka; Satyabati too, after so long away, was desperate to come home. But it was not to be. After such a long stay in Patna, a proper household had taken shape, and I could not simply leave all the responsibility of packing it up onto Sukumar’s shoulders. We agreed that Sukumar would return with Satyabati and the others about a week later; we would go ahead and set up the house, arrange it to suit Satyabati. At dawn on the 13th of August, Byomkesh and I arrived in Calcutta. The sun had not yet risen. Alighting from the taxi in front of our house, we saw a crowd gathered at our main door. In the throng, I spotted Putiram. What’s going on! We pushed through the crowd and entered. A corpse lay on the pavement, a dried, clotted stain of blood on the left side of the back. The eyes stared wide open, sightless. There was no difficulty in recognizing him—Kestobabu. The police had not yet arrived. We stepped out of the crowd, called Putiram, and went upstairs. Byomkesh’s face had hardened like iron, a smoldering fire in his eyes. We sat together in our own sitting room. Who could have imagined that Kestobabu’s sudden change of fortune would end like this? I said, ‘I had a feeling—’

Byomkesh Samagra

The open conflict in Calcutta has come to an end.

Byomkesh said, “This was no open conflict. Kesto Das was stabbed from behind. Putiram, did you recognize him?”

Putiram replied, “Yes, sir, I did. He’s that Mr. Bhetki Fish. He came yesterday evening, asked about you.”

“He came yesterday evening?”

“Yes, sir. I told him I’d received your letter, that you and Babu would arrive the next morning. Then he left.”

“Hm. All right, Putiram, go make some tea.”

Byomkesh stretched his legs on the easy chair and frowned up at the rafters. I went to the window and peered out; the police had arrived on the footpath, the crowd had dispersed. They were trying to lift Kesto Babu onto a motor van. Whether the police had managed to learn his name or address, I could not tell. They took the body away.

Tea arrived. Byomkesh took a sip and said, “Judging by the body, it looks like Kesto Das was murdered late at night—around three or four in the morning. The first time Kesto Babu came to see me, it was also around three or four in the morning. But there was a reason then. Why was he coming here so late tonight?”

I said, “What proof is there he was coming to see you? He was a drunken, wild man—maybe he was just passing this way, a goon stabbed him—”

“No, such a coincidence is impossible. Kesto Das was coming to see me. He came yesterday evening, heard I wasn’t here, and left. Then, something happened at night that made him unable to wait until morning—” Byomkesh suddenly sat up. “I thought I’d forget about the Anadi Halder affair, but they won’t let me.”

“Is there a connection between Anadi Halder and Kesto Babu’s death?”

Byomkesh cast a look of pity in my direction, then stretched out long in the easy chair.

Around eight in the morning, Bikash Dutta arrived. He no longer had that hollow, deflated look; seeing us, he bared his teeth in a grin and said, “Ah, so you’ve arrived, sir! I was about to write you a letter in Patna, but thought I’d come see you first. There’s some new information.”

Byomkesh said, “Sit, let’s hear it. Tell us about yourself first. I’ve been away eight or nine months—did you have any trouble?”

Bikash said, “There was trouble, sir. But it’s nothing. I’ve managed now. I’ve leased three miles of grass, that’s enough to get by.”

“Three miles of grass!”

“Yes, sir.”

Bikash revealed the mystery of the three miles of grass. The grass that grows on either side of the railway tracks is apparently auctioned off by the railway authorities every year. Bikash had leased three miles’ worth and was selling it to the cowherds. Bikash had no trouble; the cowherds paid in advance to graze their cattle, and Bikash made a tidy profit.

Bikash said, “Besides, I think I’ll get my job back this time, sir.”

Byomkesh said, “Very good, very good. Now, what’s the new information? Didn’t you go to tutor your student this morning?”

Adimriphu 493

Bikash said, “Who am I to tutor now, sir? The bird has flown.”

“What do you mean!”

“That’s the news I’ve come to deliver. Should I start from the beginning, or from the end?”

“Start from the beginning.”

Bikash then sat down on the taktaposh with a certain gravity and began, “After the updates I sent you in my letter, there was nothing new to report. Things were crawling along, but I kept at it. No point in sitting idle, might as well earn my keep. About a month ago, I learned that someone had filed a five-thousand-rupee lawsuit against Dayalhari Majumdar. Judging by the old man’s demeanor, it seemed he was planning to make a run for it. A few days later, quite suddenly, Prabhat showed up. I’d never seen Prabhat before; this was the first time. The old man was refusing to let him in at first, but then brought him inside. They shut the door and spoke in private; I pressed my ear to the window and listened. Prabhat was saying, ‘I’ll give you five thousand rupees. I’ll pawn the shop, raise the money however I can—just settle the handnote debt.’ The old man, instead of taking the money, agreed to marry off his daughter to Prabhat.

“Meanwhile, with Gadananda—by the way, Jagadananda Adhikari’s nickname is Gadananda—something was going on between him and Shiuli. From what I could gather about Gadananda, his trade is trafficking girls, the scoundrel’s a broker. Anyway, about a week later, Prabhat arrived carrying a