“Oh, it’s a hundred percent batshit. But so is Farah. So keep going.”
But this information was too distracting. Geeta shook her head as though to clear it. “Wait. You think Farah is…？” She twirled a finger near her temple.
Saloni snorted. “That woman has serious snake eyes. Like Dipti, from school? Remember, she kept telling everyone that her real father was Anil Kapoor?”
“Yeah, but we were just kids.”
“No, see, this is why the gandos always flock to you, Geeta, ’cause you use reason where there is none. What made Dipti batshit wasn’t that she was lying, it was that she actually believed it.”
“She did?”
“Yes. So are you going to finish the story or what? I don’t have all night. Karva Chauth is tomorrow, you know.”
Geeta began, taking pains to be honest about her culpability in Samir’s demise, but omitting the Karem portions. “And then, today, she put mosquito coils in my samosas.” She looked at Saloni’s impassive face in the weak porch light.
“That’s kind of lazy, isn’t it? Doing it the same way to you as she did to him?”
“I think it was more a kind of, you know, message.”
“A message? We’re talking about Farah. She may be batshit, but she’s also an idiot. She can’t string two sentences together without falling over her feet. She’s hardly some don sending you a ‘message.’？”
“Why aren’t you more surprised?”
“I am. I mean, I can’t believe you’re actually a real murderer.” Saloni’s voice held no censure, just awe. For her tone, she could have swapped the word “murderer” with “prime minister.”
Still, Geeta bristled. It was the truth, but hearing it from Saloni’s smug lips was unwelcome.
“Well, so are you.”
Her brows arched. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, wow. You forgot about Runi already?”
Anger and guilt competed across Saloni’s face. Her lips pulled in, souring her beauty in a way Geeta recognized immediately. It was odd realizing that sixteen years later, they were the same people they’d always been. Saloni’s green eyes went dark, but that could have been a trick of the weak bulb mounted near the lintel. That the power was still available this late was unusual.
Saloni’s lips pursed. “I didn’t murder anyone. Runi hung herself.”
“And why did Runi hang herself?”
“She couldn’t repay her loans.”
“Saloni, you tell yourself whatever you need to. But I remember the things you said to her. As if it wasn’t enough to humiliate her, you even brought people with you. And the very next day? We found Runi’s body.”
“I didn’t know she’d do that,” Saloni said, eyes flaring. “How could I have known? The panchayat just wanted her to stop borrowing from every bank that offered! She was ruining herself. We were concerned.”
“Concerned?” Geeta shook her head in disgust. “You don’t even care about the loans! Your pottery is a hobby. What’s-his-face makes loads of money—”
Saloni clenched her fists. “Saurabh. You don’t know anything about it. The council said I had to take people with me to talk some sense into her. I didn’t know she’d decide to—”
“Oh, very nice. She ‘decided.’ Some choice you gave her. You were mean for mean’s sake because you’re a bully. You always have been.”
“I’m a bully?”
“Obviously. Why else would I be here? I need a bully to save me from a bully. I need you to take down Farah like you did Runi, before she kills me.”
“I didn’t ‘take down’ Runi! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so just shut up.”
“Maybe you didn’t kick the chair from under her but I didn’t poison Samir myself either. We can’t wash ourselves clean with technicalities.”
“What a lousy detective you’d make. Runi killed herself because her son stole all her loan money for heroin, dumbass; so you can leave the heavens and join us mortals now.”
Geeta balked. “What?”
“She thought he was going to school, but he wasn’t. And then he borrowed money, but not from a bank, if you know what I mean. They were going to kill Runi and her boy if she didn’t pay up. So excuse me for trying to scare some sense into her. That boy took advantage of her left and right, but she gave him every bit of her until it killed her.” Saloni’s head tilted back. She looked at the ceiling, where the swing chains were secured.
Geeta’s posture sagged, unsure of any new argument or even why she’d devolved into accusations in the first place when she was there seeking help. Saloni had a way of milking poison from her in a Pavlovian manner. And if Saloni could shed her guilt, why couldn’t Geeta? Runi had been far more blameless than Samir.
“I didn’t know,” Geeta said. “Sorry.”
Saloni shook her head once, her voice tight as she said, “Forget it.”
Mosquitos formed halos overhead. After the summer swelter, October evenings were comfortable, and it would be many weeks still before winter nights necessitated shawls and balaclavas. With one foot, Geeta pushed the floor away, setting the swing into motion. Saloni lifted her feet so as to not impede. It was, Geeta, recognized, a tentative truce. They rocked in silence. The contrived breeze disturbed the mosquitos and the grey hair near their temples.
Geeta’s parents’ home had a swing, or at least used to. She missed the place too much to visit, taking longer routes to avoid its frontispiece. “Hey,” she suddenly asked. “Do you know if anyone lives in my parents’ old place?”
Saloni nodded. “The Handa brothers bought it.”
Geeta’s nose wrinkled. “The Handa brothers? Didn’t they used to eat each other’s boogers?”
“I think they still do.”
Geeta laughed. “Any ideas about Farah?”
Saloni tapped her soft chin. “If you produce Ramesh, then it’s proof you didn’t kill him. And if you aren’t a killer, no one would believe you helped Farah.”
Geeta glared at her as they glided forward. “That’s the best you have? ‘Produce Ramesh’？ No one’s seen the guy in five years and I’ll just ‘produce’ him? Sure. And after that, I’ll just ‘produce’ five lakh rupees. Or I’ll ‘produce’ a cure for cancer. Or a Mercedes. Or—” She cut herself off. “Wait. How do you know he’s alive? I mean, I assume he’s alive. I’ve always assumed, but you and the entire town gossip about how I—”
“Fed him to the dogs?” Saloni’s smile was sanguine. “I’ve also heard that you didn’t kill Ramesh, you just drained the life out of him and now he’s the old, senile guy in the next village who lets pigeons eat out of his mouth.”
Geeta remained unamused. “And?”
“Geeta, you can’t even kill a lizard. Only an idiot would think you could’ve killed a man.” She cocked her head. “Though I guess now you actually have…”