Having unloaded the corpses from the gurneys, Mubeen began by carefully examining the necks of both victims with a dermascope.
“What are we looking for?” asked Zafar, as he glanced around the facilities, somewhat awed by the infrastructure available to Mubeen.
“Inflamed edges,” replied Mubeen, continuing to scan the skin surface with his dermascope and handing over another one to Zafar so that he could work in parallel.
“Inflammation is absent,” he said into the cordless microphone on his collar. “A clear sign that these victims were dead before being strung up.”
Next, Mubeen and Zafar loaded each body into the MRI machine. As the neck scans of the victims showed up on the bank of high-resolution monitors, the answer became apparent.
Once again speaking into the microphone, Mubeen said, “The neck’s hyoid bone usually breaks during strangulation but rarely during hanging. In both corpses the hyoid bones are found broken. It is my considered opinion that we are dealing with a strangler, not a hangman.”
Chapter 15
“Have we checked the cell phones that were discovered at both crime scenes?” asked Santosh, turning to Hari.
Private India’s core investigation team was seated in the conference room for a meeting and Santosh was reviewing their progress.
Hari cleared his throat before speaking. “Both phones were in working order. The phone belonging to Dr. Kanya Jaiyen was only used for conversations with two other numbers. On the other hand, the phone of the journalist Bhavna Choksi was used much more extensively.”
“You say that the Thai doctor’s phone only communicated with two other numbers. Do we know whose numbers they were?” asked Santosh.
“That was very easy to figure out,” replied Hari. “One of the numbers belonged to Bhavna Choksi.”
“So it’s evident that our two victims knew each other,” observed Santosh. He shot Nisha a gleeful look. “There’s our connection.”
Hari nodded. “Oh yes. Kanya Jaiyen and Bhavna Choksi had several phone conversations on the day that Jaiyen was killed,” he said. “The problem is that the other number that communicated with Kanya Jaiyen was from a prepaid SIM. The name and address provided to register the SIM are false and there is simply no way to trace the actual caller.”
“Given the fact that there was no sign of a break-in at either crime scene, it’s highly probable that the murderer knew both victims,” said Santosh. “It’s very likely that the second SIM showing up on Kanya Jaiyen’s call logs belongs to the killer.”
“Either that or the killer knew enough about their routine to be able to get into their living spaces,” said Nisha, looking up from her smartphone.
“Do we know whether either woman was sexually assaulted?” asked Santosh, directing his question at Mubeen. “Any indications of rape?”
“No sexual assault in either case...” replied Mubeen, “no traces of blood, saliva, or semen. At both crime scenes we have single strands of hair. The strands match under the microscope... They came from the same head.”
“Any luck with DNA?” asked Santosh.
“No roots present, hence no DNA,” said Mubeen. “I tried searching for nuclear DNA in the hair shaft but none was present.”
“What about time of death?” asked Santosh, closing his eyes to think. “Do we now have a precise idea regarding when these women died?”
“Kanya Jaiyen was killed between eight and ten on Sunday night,” answered Mubeen. “This can be further narrowed down by the CCTV footage, which showed the suspected killer going into her room at eight fifty-one and leaving at two minutes past nine.”
“And Bhavna Choksi?” asked Santosh.
“My medical estimate is between eight thirty and ten on Monday morning. Given the fact that the cleaning lady discovered the body at nine thirty, we can safely assume that time of death is between eight thirty and nine thirty.”
There was silence. Santosh got up from the table and began to pace the conference room, an action that made everyone else rather uncomfortable. He had an annoying habit of popping up behind them unexpectedly.
“Do you mind if I leave you for a moment?” asked Mubeen. “I was in the middle of a critical test and should have the results in a few minutes.” Santosh nodded irritably as Mubeen got up to leave the conference room.
“Why don’t we release his picture to the press?” asked Nisha.
“He is waiting for us to do precisely that,” said Santosh. “Look at the crime scenes and all the props around the bodies. Consider the fact that the second victim is a newspaper reporter. The strangler is hungry for publicity. Give the murders some extra column inches and you will see the body count increase. Yes, the body count will go up.”
“You’re right,” agreed Nisha. “It may also send the city into a panic. No one knows that there have been two women strangled in similar fashion. As of now, they are simply two unrelated murders in a city that is famous for its high crime rate. Any public disclosure could make the murderer that much more careful. We would rather have a careless perpetrator.”
“We also need to keep in mind,” said Santosh, “the possibility that the person in question may simply have been a visitor. We have no clear evidence linking them to the murder. On the whole, it’s better that we keep this under wraps.” He settled down in his chair. Within a few seconds he was up again and over behind Hari.
“For a moment,” he said, “let’s focus on the fact that both women were discovered with a variety of objects tied to their hands and feet with string.”
“I’m stumped on that one,” Nisha admitted. “A lotus flower, a dining fork, and a Viking helmet at the first scene; a rosary and a bucket of water at the second. The murderer is obviously trying to tell us something but I wish I knew what.”
“Have we contacted Dr. Kanya Jaiyen’s relatives?” asked Santosh.
“We have informed her husband in Thailand,” replied Nisha. “Her body will be sent home via a Thai Airways flight to Bangkok this evening.”
“What about the suitcase in her hotel room? Anything of importance?”
“Just personal effects — clothes, shoes, toiletries, jewelry, makeup, and medicines,” said Hari. “We found her passport, some cash, and her American Express credit card. The card had not been used in Mumbai except to guarantee her reservation at the hotel.”
“Have we checked relatives and employers of the journalist?” asked Santosh.
“No family. Just a boyfriend,” replied Nisha. “He’s an investment banker and has been out of the country for the past five days. We’ve ruled him out as a suspect. I’m scheduled to meet Bhavna’s boss at the Afternoon Mirror in the next hour.”
Mubeen strode briskly back into the conference room. “I have some important information,” he interrupted. His face was flushed with excitement. “The fiber and dye analysis that we ran on the two garrotes used for the killings. Both are made from handwoven cotton. In both, the yellow dye is a natural one that has been used for centuries in India — Acacia nilotica.”
Nisha looked questioningly at Mubeen. “What exactly do the fabric and dye tell us?” she asked.
Santosh cut in before Mubeen could speak, his encyclopedic memory having been spurred into action. “Handwoven cotton or silk — dyed using Acacia nilotica — was used by an ancient Indian murder cult called the Thugs.”
Chapter 16
“Thugs?” asked nisha incredulously. “Didn’t the British wipe them out from India entirely?”
“Yes, but while it’s easy to destroy a cult,” replied Santosh, “it’s far more difficult to destroy the ideology that spawns it — an ideology that has thrived for five hundred years.”