"Accha," said Kasliwal, once the waiter had finally withdrawn. He leaned forward in his armchair. The furrows on his brow deepened. "Firstly, Puri-ji please understand one thing. I'm not a man to panic easily. Not at all."
He spoke English with a strong accent and "not at all" was rolled into one word as "naataataall."
"Believe me, I've faced many obstacles and challenges in my life. This I can say with utmost confidence. Also, I'm one man who prides himself on honesty. That much is well known. Ask anyone. They will tell you that Ajay Kasliwal is one hundred and fifty percent honest!"
He went on: "Puri-ji, I understand you are a man of integrity and discretion, also. That is why I've come. Frankly, I'm facing a serious situation. A crisis. It can be my ruin, actually. That's why I've air-dashed here to see you."
"You are a lawyer residing in Jaipur, is it?" interrupted Puri.
Kasliwal looked taken aback. "That's correct," he said. "But, how…Ah, Bunty told you, I suppose."
Puri enjoyed impressing prospective clients with his deductions, despite the simplicity of his observations.
"I've not spoken with Bunty, actually," he said, plainly. "But from your Law Society of India monogrammed tie and type of briefcase, I deducted you are a man of the Bar. As to your hometown, traces of red Rajasthani sand are on your shoes. Also, you mentioned air-dashing to Delhi. You arrived here thirty minutes back. So should be you came by the five o'clock flight from Jaipur."
"Amazing!" exclaimed Kasliwal, with a clap of his hands. "Bunty said you were a gifted fellow, but never would I have believed!"
The lawyer edged even closer, looking from side to side to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. The waiters were at a safe distance behind the bar. None of the other members appeared to be paying Puri and his guest any attention.
"Yesterday I was paid a visit by the cops," he said. "Someone has lodged an FIR against me."
Kasliwal handed Puri a copy of the "First Information Report." The detective read it carefully.
"You're ordered to produce one female named Mary within seven days, is it?" he noted once he'd finished, passing back the document. "Who is she exactly?"
Before Kasliwal could answer, the waiter returned with their drinks and snacks. Slowly, he placed them on the table one by one and then presented Puri with the bill. The club did not accept cash, so all purchases made at the bar or in the restaurant had to be signed for. This system produced piles of paperwork, which kept at least four clerks employed in the club's accounts department. Puri had to sign one bill for the drinks he'd ordered, another for the double Scotch Kasliwal had downed earlier, and another for the food. Naturally, the guest book required a signature as well.
It was several minutes before Kasliwal was able to answer Puri's last question.
"Mary was a maidservant in the house-did cleaning, laundry and all," he said.
"And where is she now?"
"I'm not having the foggiest! She left two, maybe three months back. Just disappeared one night. I wasn't home at the time. I had work to attend to."
Puri tucked into a slice of chili cheese toast as he listened.
"My wife says Mary stole some household items and ran away. But a rumor has circulated that, well…" Kasliwal took a swig of his whisky to fortify his nerves. "There's no truth in it. You know how people talk, Puri-ji."
"Most certainly I do. India is one giant rumor mill, actually. Tell me what all they're saying?"
There was a pause.
"That I got Mary pregnant and did away with her," admitted Kasliwal.
"By God," intoned the detective.
"This has been the complaint made against me and, as you know, in case of FIRs, the police are obliged to investigate."
There was a silence while Puri retrieved his notebook from his inside pocket and then pulled out one of the four pens he kept tucked into the breast pocket of his safari suit.
After jotting down a few details, he asked: "Any body has been discovered?
"No, thank heavens!" exclaimed Kasliwal. "The police searched my house and grounds and some media persons have been on the doorstep asking questions."
"Sounds like someone's trying to ruin your good name, is it?" asked the detective.
"That's it! You've hit the nail on the head, Puri-ji! That's exactly what they're trying to do!"
The lawyer went on to explain that in the past few years he had launched a number of public litigation cases in the Rajasthan High Court. This was something many honest lawyers and individuals were doing across India: working through the legal system to bring inept local and national authorities to account.
"I've had some success tackling the water mafia. I've managed to stop a lot of the illegal water drilling in the driest parts of the state," he explained. "But with so much corruption in the judiciary itself, it's been a tough innings. So earlier this year, I decided to take on the judges themselves. I've launched a public litigation case calling for them to declare their assets."
Puri sipped his whisky. Out of the corner of one eye he registered Major-General Duleep Singh and his eldest son leaving the bar.
"Must have made a few enemies along the way," he said.
"At first they tried to buy me, but I'm not a bowler to do ball tampering. I turned them down flat. To hell with them. So now they're gunning for me. They've seized on this missing servant to muddy my name."
"It seems there's no hard evidence against you, so surely you've got nothing to worry-" said the detective.
"Come on, Puri-ji, this is India!" interrupted Kasliwal. "They can tie me up in knots for years to come."
Puri nodded knowingly; he knew what a long, drawn-out court case did to a family. The similarities between the Indian legal system and the Court of Chancery as described in Dickens's Bleak House were startling.
"The circumstances are certainly unusual," he said, eventually. "What is it you want from me?"
"Puri-ji, I'm begging you, for God's sake, find this bloody Mary!"
"You have her full name?" he asked, biting into a piece of chili cheese toast.
Kasliwal shrugged. "She was there for two months. I believe she was a tribal."
"You have a photograph, personal possessions, copy of ID?"
"Nothing."
Puri's tone became measured. "She was a verified domestic, registered with the cops at least?"
Kasliwal shook his head.
"Sir, allow me to understand," said Puri. "It is your suggestion I locate one tribal-type girl called Mary with no second name, no idea where she is coming from, no idea where she is alighting?"
"That is correct."
"Sir, with respect, I think you must be some kind of joker."
"I can assure you that while I'm enjoying a good joke, I am no joker," objected Kasliwal. "Such an accomplished private investigator as yourself should have no difficulty in such a matter. It's a straightforward thing, after all."
Puri's eyes bulged with incredulity.
"It is certainly not straightforward locating one missing female in a population of one billion plus personages," he said. "It will take time and resources and all of my considerable skills. Looking in Yellow Pages will not suffice."
Puri explained that he worked on a day rate and would require two weeks in advance, plus expenses. The total amount caused Kasliwal to gag on his Scotch.
"So much? Surely you can do better than that, Puri-ji! We can reach some accommodation. Funds are a bit tight these days, you know."