Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery) (21 page)

Chapter 36

“Who was that?” Sanjay asked when I walked back into the hospital room.

“I have no idea.” I touched my fingers to my lips.

“He hugged you in the hallway like you knew him pretty well.”

“It’s a long story.”

“There seem to be a lot of those going around right now,” Sanjay said with a scowl.

Sanjay blackmailed me into getting him out of the hospital. He swore he wasn’t going to say another word to me about Samuel’s mysterious spirit cabinet until I sat him down at a proper restaurant and got him some clothes.

I was nothing if not resourceful. I returned within ten minutes after buying Sanjay a bright orange tunic and red lungi.

“This is a woman’s shirt,” Sanjay said, holding up the orange fabric lined with a design woven in red along the bottom.

“This part of town isn’t exactly a tourist destination. The guy only spoke Malayalam. I didn’t know how to tell him I needed a shirt for a man without making a very rude gesture.”

“You really are the worst Indian ever, Jaya.”

Sanjay refused the skirt-like lungi, insisting his jeans didn’t have
that much
blood on them, but accepted the orange shirt instead of his blood-soaked white dress shirt that the doctors had cut off of him. At least the shirt had been cut for a large woman, so it was big enough to fit over Sanjay’s broad shoulders.

We left the hospital with Sanjay looking more like a
hijra
—the Indian equivalent of transvestites—than I’d ever admit to him, with his well-cut features and large eyes that were perfect for performing on the stage. Luckily we found a restaurant quickly, before any passersby began pressing coins into Sanjay’s hands, as was the custom.

“Mmmm,” Sanjay said, licking the fingertips of his right hand after taking a bite of seafood biryani. “We should ask Raj to put this on the menu at the Tandoori Palace.”

“I don’t think he’s going to expand his menu to include South Indian food.”

“I wonder if I can get this back in San Francisco.”

Most of the foods thought of as Indian food in America were North Indian and Pakistani cuisines. Sanjay was right that there was something about the freshly caught fish surrounded by spicy sides eaten with our hands and served on a banana leaf that made the food more flavorful. There was also the fact that I hadn’t eaten in ages either.

If you’re not used to eating whole meals with your hands, it might sound unsanitary, especially in a country with as many diseases as India. But eating with your hands was done for that exact reason. You could wash your hands before and after eating, eat with your right hand, and use your left hand for anything “impure.”

“I promise I’ll take you to a good South Indian restaurant once we’re home,” I said. “Now can we get back to the matter at hand? You said you found the spirit cabinet Anand’s friend Samuel used during a fake séance.”

“Let’s order some more of this fried fish first,” Sanjay said.

I flagged down a waiter and ordered more of the bright red fish.

“When I hit a dead end with Tamarind at the library,” Sanjay said, “I called a guy I know who runs a magic supply store that specializes in antiques and memorabilia. I asked him about a spiritualist from the turn of the last century called Spiritualist Samuel.”

“I thought you said spiritualists were nothing like magicians.”

“Morally, yes. But they do use some of the same tools. Houdini did fake séances to prove how they were done.”

“Really?”

“It ruined his friendship with Arthur Conan Doyle, who believed in séances.”

“They let their spiritual beliefs ruin their friendship?”

“They were both strong-willed guys.” He shrugged. “But that’s beside the point. Back to Anand’s friend’s spirit cabinet. The dealer I know was able to track down Samuel’s spirit cabinet. It was in Las Vegas. I lucked out—it was for sale by a dealer, not in a private collection.” He paused. “I bought it.”

“You have it at your loft?”

“It should arrive by the time we get back. But I had a chance to study photos of it before I bought it, so I’d know what I was getting.” Sanjay paused to scoop up another piece of fish.

“And?”

“I know how he did it—and
why
. Based on what you told me about the Heart of India disappearing, this cabinet explains what happened.”

“People said the Heart of India
disappeared,
” I said, thinking of Abdul’s certainty, “not that it was stolen. Exactly the kind of illusion a spiritualist could pull off.”

Sanjay grinned. “Magic.”

“Anand was in San Francisco,” I said, “presumably being a pirate in the bay—while his accomplice Samuel left for India and stole the Heart of India.
Samuel
was the one who stole the Heart of India from Thoothukudi. But Anand wanted it for himself and his own family, so he stole it back.”

“It looks like it,” Sanjay said.

“This sucks.”

“I love it when you’re so eloquent. It’s good to see all those years of schooling paid off.”

“This
does
suck. Anand was a common thief.”

“Not a common one. Pirates have a certain cachet.”

“He was still a thief.”

“It certainly looks like it,” Sanjay said. “But you shouldn’t worry about that. You never knew your great-granduncle, so you shouldn’t care about what he was or wasn’t.”

I was no longer hungry.

“You don’t understand,” I said pushing aside my banana leaf. “He was a hero in my family. It’s the stories about his life that are the reason my mother had the courage to make her own way in the world and marry my father. If it wasn’t for Uncle Anand, I wouldn’t exist.”

“But you
do
exist, Jaya. You don’t need to live in the past.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, I kind of signed up to live in the past.”

“I don’t mean your job—”

“It’s more than a job. Aside from my dad and brother, I have no family. No one. This is my way of being connected to the world.”

“You’ve got
me,
you know.” Sanjay suddenly grew fascinated with his banana leaf and cast his eyes downward.

Sanjay’s brush with death must have given him a burst of sentimentality. He didn’t usually say silly things like that. I gave his forearm a little squeeze. He looked up at me.

“I used to have Anand, too,” I said. “The knowledge of his life gave me some semblance of a personal history.”

“You don’t need anyone to make you any more than you are. You’re the most—” Sanjay broke off.

“What?”

Sanjay cleared his throat. “Nothing,” he said, his face turning red.

“You were going to say something.”

“Nothing.” He coughed. “I think I swallowed a pepper.”

“You didn’t even have any food in your mouth,” I pointed out.

“Look, I know it’s not the news you wanted to hear about Anand. But what you should care about more is that there’s someone in your life right now who isn’t what they seem.”

“You mean the murderer,” I said, giving up on getting Sanjay to tell me whatever he was starting to say. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of hard to forget.”

“I have a theory.” He paused. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Since when have you ever held out on me?”

Sanjay gave me a cocky half smile, back to his old self. “There was someone else enquiring about Samuel’s spirit cabinet. Someone else is following all the leads that we are. The dealer didn’t have a name—but it was
a woman
.”

“A woman?”

“It’s got to be Tamarind,” Sanjay said. “She hit the same dead end as me at the library. I was thinking about how strangely she acted when she found that information about Samuel disappearing. And she had the research skills to pursue it.”

“You’re saying all amazingly competent librarians should be murder suspects?”

“Then forget that point. There’s more. She conveniently disappeared right before your mugging.”

“She was
working
, Sanjay. Some of us have real jobs.”

“But you can’t swear it wasn’t her who attacked you. She’s tall enough to be a man. She could have changed clothes quickly. It would explain the face covering.”

“I don’t think it was her. It felt like a man.”

“Even if your senses are to be believed—which I’m not sure about since it was a stressful situation—there’s more. You told her about the treasure
right before
Steven was killed.”

“Coincidence.”

“She was
the only one
who knew.”

“Anyone Steven knew could have killed him,” I said.

“You said his son and daughter-in-law have alibis.”

“Christine and Connor,” I said. “If they were covering for each other, I wouldn’t believe it, but there was a crowd at an art show.”

“Tamarind–” Sanjay began.

“My colleague Naveen was working with Steven
before
that night.”

“That makes my case even stronger,” Sanjay said. “Tamarind is the only one who would want to kill him
that night
.”

“But why kill him at all?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe she went to see him and something went wrong. She’s a strong woman. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill him. There’s more. Tamarind is your friend, even though she’s crazy. She wanted the map from you, but she didn’t want to hurt you to get it. I’ll give her that much credit. The mugger didn’t stab you or anything that would have gotten that bag from you much more easily. That also explains that attack on me—serious enough to look bad and to scare you off, but not serious enough to do any real damage.”

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. Not Anand. Not Tamarind. But who did that leave? Steven’s son and daughter-in-law had alibis. Could Lane be keeping something from me about his involvement, if someone from his past had forced his hand? And did Naveen’s involvement go deeper than I thought? Something wasn’t right with the picture Sanjay was painting. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt in my heart that something was very wrong.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” I said.

“That’s true when I’m on stage,” Sanjay said, “but not in real life. Anand stole a treasure, and Tamarind is after it now. Like it or not, she betrayed you.”

Chapter 37

San Francisco, 1905

“You’re sure?” Anand asked.

“Samuel didn’t go to Colorado like he told us,” Li said. “He didn’t leave to try his hand in a silver mine.”

“Why would he--”

“He wanted to disappear,” Li said. “He faked his disappearance with the spirit cabinet that night so he could go somewhere much further without debt collectors looking for him.”

“Samuel told us that much,” Anand said. “We know he faked his disappearance at the séance, leaving blood behind so his creditors would think he was dead and would not search for him.”

“That’s not who he was hiding from,” Li said. “He was hiding from us.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To journey to a land of riches that you’d told him all about.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Li said. “Samuel is headed for India.”

“There is no reason for him to go there.”

“He asked you so many questions about the treasures of South India,” Li said. “I heard him with my own ears.”

“That does not mean he is going to India,” Anand said. “We both spoke of our homelands over many evenings of whisky. I know much of Ireland, yet that does not mean--”

“He used details of India for his fake séances with Mrs. Lancaster,” Li said. “She collects many treasures. How would Samuel go to India if not with her financial backing?”

“I do not believe he would betray me,” Anand said. “Things are not always as they seem.”

“But you know what, Anand? Sometimes they damn well are.”

Chapter 38

Sanjay and I had been so focused on our conversation that I hadn’t realized the rains had begun again. Calling the monsoon “rain” wasn’t a particularly accurate description at any time, but it was especially true at that moment. The monsoon that day was a powerful force impossible to confuse with a shower of rain. It was a blanket of water that didn’t seem to consist of individual drops of liquid.

As Sanjay and I exited the restaurant and stood under the awning, sheets of rain obsured our view beyond a few yards. The water splashed back up from the ground, spraying our bodies with mist. Neither of us moved back inside. It wasn’t cold, and we both knew it was futile to fight it. Unless we wanted to stay inside the restaurant all day, there was no avoiding becoming soaked at some point
.

I had told Sanjay about everything that had happened in India.
Well, almost everything. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell him about my last encounter with Lane. I wasn’t sure why.

“Plan?” Sanjay said.

“We can go back to the hotel and see about flights.”

“Go home?” Sanjay said. “You’re joking. There’s no way we’re going home yet. Didn’t you listen to yourself about Naveen and the archivist?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re withholding an important letter. We need to see it.”

“How do you suppose we convince them?”

“You said the archivist who you suspect Naveen bribed is religious,” Sanjay said. “I can make him think the wrath of God is upon him.”

“That’s cruel.”

“Hey, he’s the one who’s holding Anand’s letter captive.”

It had been the middle of the day when we left the hospital, so we found Joseph still in his office. When he saw us, his reaction was not what I was expecting.

“Hindi Houdini!” Joseph said, clasping his hands together and rising to greet us. “It is truly an honor, sir. I was not to be recognizing you at first, not expecting you to be wearing...” He trailed off as his eyes stayed locked on the bright orange women’s tunic I’d purchased for Sanjay.

I stared dumbfounded at Sanjay. “You’re famous here?”

Sanjay shrugged.

“Indian MTV did a few shows about me a few years ago, featuring my magic tour. My agent tells me the ratings were pretty good. It was before I met you.”

Joseph’s face fell. “You are here with Professor Jaya?”

“I’m helping her with some research,” Sanjay said. “You must be Mr. Joseph.”

“Yes, yes, that is I.” His head bobbled as he blinked furiously, looking torn between nervous anxiety and boyish excitement. “You wished for my assistance, Mr. Houdini?

“Thank you, Mr. Joseph,” Sanjay said, shaking his hand.

“Anything I am able to do, I will do it.”

“We’re looking for some letters,” Sanjay said.

Joseph hesitated. “My most humble apologies,” he said. “The letters for Professor Jaya are not here. Anything else you would like? We have much information. Very much information.”

“You know The Hindi Houdini can read minds,” I said.

I’d been skeptical of Sanjay’s strategy, but now that it appeared Joseph was in awe of Sanjay, giving him the right prompting might just work. 

Joseph gulped. His moustache twitched.

“Yes,” Sanjay said, following along. He touched his index fingers to his temples. “I sense you are hiding something from Professor Jaya.”

“I did not know Professor Naveen was involved in murder!” Joseph said.

“So he did bribe you for the letters,” I said.

“He called me,” Joseph said, sinking into his chair, “speaking Malayalam. He told me I could not trust Professor Jaya. He mentioned he would be so very grateful if I would help him with his important research. He made a donation… But he said nothing of a man being murdered in America because of the letters! I do not want anything to do with that.”

“We know you did not think you were doing anything wrong,” Sanjay said. “Paying you to borrow the letters—”

“No, no,” Joseph said. “He did not take them.”

“He didn’t?” I asked.

“What do you think of me?” Joseph sniffed indignantly and adjusted his glasses. “The archives must not leave the property. No, the letters are here. Professor Naveen’s donation was made so he could
read
the letters with an understanding that no other scholars would be granted access.”