Narrowing Down the Suspect
The chemical analysis came back at noon on a Wednesday.
The whisky glass residue contained Digitalis lanata glycosides, specifically digitoxin, not digoxin, which was Rajiv’s prescribed medication. Digoxin and digitoxin were different compounds with overlapping effects. A careless toxicologist might have recorded it simply as ‘elevated digitalis levels’ and moved on. The AIIMS lab had been more thorough.
The important information was that digitoxin was not commercially available in India as a standalone pharmaceutical compound. It was available, however, as a research-grade chemical from certain scientific suppliers. Radha’s team pulled the procurement records of scientific supply companies in Delhi and Gurugram over the previous eighteen months.
Ravi Goyal’s engineering firm had purchased research-grade digitoxin eight months ago. For ‘material stress testing,’ the purchase order said.
“Material stress testing,” Vinod Kumar said with a grim smile. “It certainly was.”
Phone records showed a call from an unregistered SIM, a burner phone, to the Mehta farmhouse two days before the death. The call had connected to an extension in the kitchen. Cell tower triangulation placed that call as originating from a location 400 meters from Ravi Goyal’s South Delhi office.
Radha called for his arrest on a Thursday morning. She did it methodically, with warrants in order, documentation airtight, a legal team briefed, and a politely impenetrable expression that she had perfected over fifteen years of watching people try to talk their way out of evidence.
Ravi Goyal, when confronted with the toxicology report, the purchase records, the cell tower data, and Shyla’s precise summary of how the compound had been administered, most likely dissolved in the whisky glass in advance of the victim’s evening drink, sat for a long time in the interview room without speaking.
Then he said: ‘He destroyed my life. Twenty-two years I built that company with him. He threw me away like I was nobody.’
“That is not a confession,” his lawyer murmured.
“It is, actually,” Radha said pleasantly.
It was. With that statement, combined with the physical evidence, the case crossed the threshold of prosecutorial confidence. The charge sheet was filed. The court granted remand. The machine of justice, slow and occasionally infuriating, began to turn.