Page 52 of His Accidental Princess

“Fine.”

She looked a little surprised that I had agreed so easily. But I wasn’t going to leave her out of this. As she had put it so eloquently, this washerlife. She had every right to know what was going on. Besides, she would be safer with me than with anyone else.

CHAPTER19

TASHA

It was a bit of an anticlimax when DV capitulated so easily. I had anticipated a bit of a fight. But he seemed willing to allow me into the investigation. Our side of it, that is. Not the official one.

We drank our tea in almost complete silence, and since neither of us had any appetite, we skipped breakfast. We took turns showering and filed out of the door just as silently. There was extensive police bandobast outside the gates, and it looked like the cops had driven the reporters away.

DV drove down a narrow dirt road that I had never seen before.

“We better avoid the main road because I have a feeling there might be some reporters lurking near the big junction that leads to Panjim,” he explained.

I held on to the small handrail above the passenger door as we went down the bumpy road. We emerged on the other side almost twenty minutes later, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything because I would have brought it all up on that disgrace of a road.

When we drove into the parking lot of the police station, a constable was waiting for us. He led us into Inspector Sawant’s office, where there was a cop in plain clothes cowering in front of the boss.

He cringed when he saw us and turned to the Inspector with joined hands.

“Don’t let them hurt me, Saheb. I’m a loyal officer,” he wailed.

DV put his hands on his hips and glared down at the man.

“Shahane, stop embarrassing yourself. Pull yourself together, man!” snapped the Inspector. “As if I’d let anyone mess with my officers. Mr Singh just wants to talk to you.”

The man finally sat up straight and met DV’s eyes.

“Sorry, Saheb,” he began.

DV waved that away.

“Tell me all about that journalist. Who is she? And why the hell did you tell her about the child?”

The man gulped audibly and turned an ugly shade of red.

“Her name is Kirti Mehta, Saheb. She’s… she’s very friendly…”

“I bet she is,” said DV savagely.

“No, no, Saheb… nothing of that sort. She’s just nice to us. She brings us snacks and chai sometimes. She came to the station yesterday and was very sad that no one wanted to talk to her about the case. She even brought dinner. I felt sorry for her, so I tried to explain to her that it was a very sensitive case and that we weren’t allowed to talk about it. That’s when…”

He stopped and looked around like a hunted animal.

“Go on,” said Inspector Sawant sternly.

“Well, that’s when she said that she only wanted to talk about the child.”

DV leaned forward and placed a foot on the edge of the constable’s chair, getting in his face.

“Think very carefully about what you’re saying, Constable Shahane. Did you mention the child first, or did she?”

“She did, Saheb! That’s what I’ve been saying all morning. She already knew that Tasha Ma’am had paid off a child. She just wanted to confirm that and… well, she wanted to speak to the child.”

He looked away then.

And DV stepped back as he stared at the man with contempt.

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