Side Trip to Kathmandu (A Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery Book 3) (4 page)

“T
here are three reasons why I wanted the two of you to come with me on this trip,” Brooke said in response to our questions. She was smiling, but her lovely blue eyes, reflected in the mirror, were serious. She brushed aside her flaming red hair so she could undo the clasp of her necklace.

We were sipping coffee in the seating area of her suite’s master bedroom, watching as she sat before the mirror at the dressing table, removing her emeralds and placing them in a velvet case. Rahim took the case from her, bowed, and left the room. Then she joined us, kicking off her Manolos and stretching out on the silk chaise lounge.

“In the first place,” she said, with her brilliant smile, “you two are so much fun. You make me laugh! And you really are excellent tour leaders. Your presence will add a lot to my little excursion party.

“Secondly, it pleases me to thwart the intentions of those in your agency who would diminish or terminate you. For purely selfish reasons, I want you to remain in the employ of Itchy Feet Travel for a long, long time. I like you both and I enjoy traveling with you.”

Then she sat up and reached over to pour herself a cup of coffee from the silver pot. Her charming face grew serious, and she looked intently and directly at each of us. For once, she looked her age. Brooke has to be in her late seventies or early eighties, though she certainly doesn’t look it.

There was no laughing tone in her voice when she said, “But the real reason that I want you along, my dears, is that I know I can trust you.”

Brooke breathed a deep sigh, took a long sip of the coffee, and placed her delicate cup back in its saucer. She stood, walked to the window, and gazed out at the moonlit night. With her back to us, she said, in a low and deliberate voice, “I think one of my friends, one of my guests on this trip, may be a thief and possibly a murderer. I want you to find out which one. It shouldn’t be too difficult, as there are only five to consider.”

We “ ’bout fell out dead” as my cousin Earline would say, on hearing Brooke’s words. Jay looked as stunned as I’m sure I did, but then he recovered and laughed.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you, right? Good job, Brooke! You really had me going there for a minute!”

When she turned to face us, she was not laughing. Her face was sad, forlorn, and not a little angry.

“I can assure you it is no joke, Jay. I am deadly serious. There have been incidents that I will tell you all about. And accidents as well. Deeply disturbing accidents. I will only give you the basics now and explain further when you are better rested and we have more time.”

Jay and I exchanged glances.

“Brooke,” I said, “you know that as far as we can, we will always help you with anything you ask. But for something like this, shouldn’t you be talking with the police?”

She shook her head. “I can prove nothing and have no clear suspect, so I have not gone to the police. But I felt that I must do something or forever regret my inaction when the worst happens. And something terrible
is
going to happen. I know it. I can feel it, feel the malevolence. It’s here. I’m just not sure where it originates. Something is wrong. Someone is rotten. I know this. But with no proof, the police would only laugh at my fears and suspicions and think me just another crazy old rich lady.”

“We know you’re not nuts, Brooke,” Jay said, with his easy smile, “and anyone who meets you would immediately see how sensible you are, even a stranger.”

“Perhaps,” she said, “but this conviction of mine seems so far-fetched that it will require much more than mere speculation to be believed.”

I took a sip of my coffee but set it aside, for it had grown cold during Brooke’s startling speech.

I looked up at her.

“Of course we believe you, Brooke. We trust your judgment,” I said. “Tell us how we can help.”

She smiled her sunny smile for the first time since our conference had begun.

“Sidney, I knew I could count on you. I have thought of this, night and day, for weeks, turning it over in my mind. And finally my thoughts began to gel into a plan. But to make my plan work, I knew I must have help. I needed someone I could trust implicitly, someone who would believe me, who would not think me paranoid or senile. I wanted someone with curiosity and a bit of experience in this kind of thing. An amateur detective. After several sleepless nights, I thought of you.”

She sat in the chair beside me and gave my hand a pat.

I didn’t comment. I was in shock.

“So what’s the plan?” Jay asked.

“This trip,” she said, “I decided to invite all the friends involved to come along as my guests on a luxurious excursion to an exotic destination—sort of a moving house party. It was my hope that the guilty one would not be able to resist the invitation.”

“And make a slip, letting you know who they are,” I said.

“Yes. And it worked. They have all come. They are all here, all five of them, in this hotel, on this trip, including the thief and murderer. And you two can help me catch them.”

“Oh, boy,” Jay said, standing and beginning to pace, “Here we go again!”

#

“Why did you agree to help Brooke with this insane scheme, Nancy Drew? We need to be leaving on the first plane headed back to New York. You actually like playing detective, don’t you, even though last time you tried something like this you almost got yourself killed!”

Jay had waited to vent until we were out of hearing distance of Brooke’s suite and headed down the marble corridor toward our rooms.

“What choice did I have, Jay? Brooke’s been good to me. She has never refused me when I needed her. Remember Africa? She saved my job. I can’t walk away when she asks for my help.”

“But this is a harebrained scheme, possibly a dangerous one. It’s hard to believe a woman as sensible as Brooke could have cooked this idea up. She doesn’t need us. If this is real, she needs a real detective, or the police. A pro, not Lucy and Ethel!”

He ranted all the way to my room. It was late and the hallways were fortunately deserted. We saw and heard no one else until we reached my door.

I fished my keycard out of my pocket and opened the door. Then I turned to look up at him.

“We’re in, Jay. We’re in unless you want to head back to New York and ask Diana for another assignment. Why don’t you do that? Tell Diana you refused to help our agency’s best client when she requested your assistance.”

“I don’t think our job description includes detective work, Sidney,” he said. His brow was furrowed and his mouth set in a pout, a look that meant he wouldn’t budge easily. “I know you love this stuff. I know you think you can solve this mystery, just because you’ve solved two others, no matter what the cost to us and our careers. You are just
aching
to solve this one too. I can see it in your eyes. But I also know that you are extremely lucky to even
be
here after your last little attempt at sleuthing. That curiosity of yours almost took you out, didn’t it? And you were specifically warned, babe, by both Silverstein and Diana, to stay out of this kind of thing from now on, remember?”

Now I was pouting. “Well, I don’t care about them. I care about Brooke, and if she asks for my help, she gets it. We won’t be doing anything dangerous. All she asked us to do is watch and think and report back to her if we figure it out or see anything strange. That’s not risky. We can do that. You can do what you want, Jay, but I’ve decided to help her. I don’t think it will be dangerous for me to do that. And it’s not dangerous for Brooke either. She will be safe. She has Rahim to protect her.”

“And who’s going to protect you, Sid? Who’s going to protect you?”

“You are,” I said, closing the door. “Goodnight.”

#

Later, lying in the big bed in the darkened room with the pale Asian moon shining through the silk curtains, I did not feel so brave.

Jay was right, of course. The sensible thing to do was refuse Brooke’s request, thank her for including us in her party, figure out a way to reimburse her for our expenses thus far, and return to New York. But I really didn’t want to do that. Brooke had asked for my help and I wanted to help her. She has certainly been there for me in the past in a big way, and I am grateful for that.

Plus, bailing out would be awkward at best. Abandoning Brooke’s plan could have a pretty bad economic effect on Itchy, which Silverstein wouldn’t like either. Feeling that we had let her down, Brooke could angrily end her business with our agency. Although I’ve rarely seen it, I know a fiery temper comes with that gorgeous red hair.

And selfishly, I have to admit, I hated to give up this once-in-a-lifetime experience. I had never been to India before, and certainly would never again get to travel in such luxurious style. I was thrilled just thinking about seeing all that India had to offer, and especially looked forward to the following side trip to Nepal and mysterious Kathmandu.

I rolled over in the cool, silken sheets, plumped the downy pillows, and closed my eyes.

My last thought as I slid into sleep was that I was not going home, no matter what Jay decided to do. I was up for the challenge.

Not quitting.

Not bailing out on Brooke.

Not heading back to New York and Itchy.

Not going home.

No way.

“W
ell,” I began, cutting into a slice of golden mango, “What’s it going to be, Jay? Are you going or staying?”

He made a face and appeared to be giving my question some thought as he sipped his coffee.

We were seated near the window in the hotel restaurant, enjoying the morning sunshine and blue sky. Birds flew from branch to branch in the massive banyan tree just outside the window, and the light was bright, even at such an early hour. Though the sun was barely up, it looked as if the day would be a hot one.

“Staying, I guess. It’s a long ride back, even though I gotta tell ya I’m not at all sure about this Pandora’s box of a trip. But, after all, I guess someone’s gotta look after you.”

“Right,” I smiled. “Good. Somehow I knew that would be the reason.”

I tasted my omelet. As expected, it was delicious. I took a slice of crisp toast from the basket, passed the basket to Jay, and looked around the big room. No one else from our group seemed to be up and about yet. Jay and I were both early risers.

“If you’re looking for the others, Sid, don’t bother. I saw Adam MacLeod in the lobby first thing this morning and he said all the others were having breakfast in their rooms. All except Mohit, the seer, that is. He is seated cross-legged on the pool deck, facing the dawn. Some kind of meditation, I guess.”

“Where is Adam MacLeod now?” I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Well, wouldn’t you just like to know, Missy?” Jay laughed. “I saw you checking him out at the dinner last night, don’t think I didn’t.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were, and hanging on his every word. Bet you were super-disappointed when he bailed on you.”

I
had
been attracted to MacLeod, and sorry when he left. If Jay had read me that easily, wouldn’t MacLeod have done so as well? Now that was embarrassing.

I could feel the heat in my face.

“Now, now, pumpkin, stop blushing. Don’t worry about it,” Jay said, laughing harder and giving my hand a pat. “He likely isn’t as tuned into you as I am. I’ve had lots of practice. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you where he is. He’s gone for a walk. Said he couldn’t wait half the morning for the others to rouse.”

“I wish I had gone for a walk,” I sighed. “I always see a lot more when I am walking in a new place instead of whizzing by in a car.”

“That’s true. But given some of the violent crimes against women here that have been reported in the news recently, I don’t think a solitary stroll would be too smart. You are obviously a young female tourist. Not a good idea to go rambling through deserted streets in a strange city by yourself. It would be all right, I guess, if you were escorted by a tall Scotsman. You’d be safe then—from the muggers, I mean.”

His eyes were dancing as he spoke, and he would have delighted in saying more, I’m sure, but our Indian tour leader, S.L. Sharma, had just bustled into the room and was fast approaching our table.

“Uh oh,” Jay said. “Sharma alert. Here he comes. You know, I have no real basis for it, but there’s just something about that guy I can’t stand.”

“What time are we supposed to meet the others?” I asked, rummaging in my bag, glad for even a visit from Sharma as a reason to distract Jay from his teasing. “I don’t see my schedule. I must have left it in my room.”

“Ten o’clock in the main lobby. If you need another schedule, I’m sure Mr. Sharma will be happy to give you one, though he’s likely to add it to Brooke’s bill. Finish your coffee. I don’t want to linger over breakfast with this guy.”

Sharma was wearing the same suit he had worn the night before, though with a different and even louder tie. The knot was as big as an apple. He wore a fresh lavender silk shirt with his belly straining the buttons and must have abundantly re-oiled his black hair. His strong cologne preceded him and made me glad I had already finished my meal.

“Please, may I join you?” he said. He pulled out the chair opposite Jay and sat without waiting for a reply. He carefully placed his bulging black leather briefcase on the empty chair.

“Good morning, Mr. Sharma,” I said. “We were just talking about our plans for the morning. I seem to have misplaced my schedule. Ten o’clock in the lobby, is that right?”

“Yes. Ten o’clock. Ten sharp. We will go all together in a small coach for an orientation tour, pausing at India Gate for photographs. Then will stop at Red Fort for a guided visit. This afternoon there is free time for optional tours. And Mrs. Shyler has asked that cars be available for anyone who would like to go shopping.”

He gave us both an insolent stare. His barely concealed hostility toward us was puzzling. I couldn’t imagine how we might have offended him, since we had only met the night before. It didn’t take long to discover his thoughts.

“You should have all the information in the tour leader packet you were given,” he said. “It includes particular details that were not included in the packets of the special guests. I have been told by Mrs. Shyler to coordinate all the planned activities with you, though I believe that to be totally unnecessary. I do not understand it. Totally unnecessary.” He shook his oily head. “There is no need for this,” he said, his voice rising higher. “All the arrangements were made weeks ago, and the itinerary especially designed by me and my staff. I do not need or want your assistance.”

Jay leaned forward into Sharma’s space, towering over the chubby little man. “Look here, S.L.,” he said in an even voice, “we know you didn’t plan to work with us, and we didn’t exactly ask you to dance either. But whether you like it or not, we are in this together. Because that’s how Mrs. Shyler wants it. She pays the bills and she calls the shots. And things will go a lot smoother if you lose the attitude. We don’t intend to disrupt your tour or alter your arrangements. We haven’t run the numbers on what you are charging Mrs. Shyler for your services either. Not yet, anyway. And we likely won’t, unless you make her, and us, unhappy. We all want her to be happy, right? But if she’s not, if
we’re
not, then it’s a whole different ballgame. Understand?”

Sharma’s face broke into a phony, toothy grin, but his little black eyes remained hard and glittering.

“Of course, of course,” he said. “We must all work together in harmony. I desire nothing more, my friend.”

He picked up the leather bag, opened it, and removed another tour packet, which he handed to me “with my compliments.” Then, without another word, he rushed away from the table and out of the room, as fast as his chunky little legs could go.

“That was fun.” Jay said, as we left the dining room and neared the elevator. “I’d really love to thump that little slime ball, Sidney. I know that between them, he and Silverstein are charging Brooke out the wazoo for this fancy little excursion. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that there is an extra big piece of the pie just for old S.L.”

“Did you see all the cash stuffed in that bag when he opened it?” I asked.

He punched the elevator button.

“Yep. But that’s normal, nothing to get excited about.
Baksheesh
. Bribe money. Hard to do business in this part of the world without greasing the wheels. Sharma is an expert at that for sure. If I play my cards right, maybe he’ll give some of that cash to me.”

“Jay, you wouldn’t!”

“No, babe,” he said, laughing, “I wouldn’t. But it was worth trotting the idea out there just to see the shocked look on your face. ’Bye. See you at ten sharp.”

#

The hard black eyes of the snake reminded me of Sharma’s as it rose erect out of its basket to face the small brown man sitting cross-legged in the dust. The snake charmer was seated just out of the reptile’s strike zone, though any distance would have been too close for me. I hate snakes.

A shiver ran down my spine as the scaly beast spread its hood and began to sway in time with the motion of the
pungi
, a bulbous, flute-like instrument made from a gourd and played by an orange-turbaned man.

We had just unloaded from our coach at the Chandni Chowk market stop, directly in front of the massive red sandstone bulk of Red Fort. Seeing us disembarking, the snake charmer had come running, his snake baskets swinging from a wooden pole across his thin shoulders, and hastily set up his gig. He was just out of sight of the fort’s guards, for the Indian government has mounted an effort to stop the practice in response to pressure from animal rights groups. Laws had been enacted that were intended to protect the snakes.

“He is a member of the
Sapera
caste,” Mohit murmured. “His father and grandfather were likely snake charmers before him. The
Sapera
are worshippers of Kāli, the Goddess of Time and Change, who is the consort of Lord Shiva
.
Her name conveys death.
It is written, ‘At the dissolution of things, it is Kāli who will devour all.’ ”

“I’ve had rather enough of this,” said Lucy, who was standing next to Brooke. “Gives me the shivers!”

Lucy was a compact little woman with lovely blue eyes that crinkled when she laughed. I recalled how she had spent most of yesterday evening conversing with the Parisian filmmaker. Her precise British speech and erect posture spoke of her boarding school background. She was short, for her silver-blonde head only came to Brooke’s shoulder as they stood together in the sunlight, watching the man and his snake.

“I agree,” said Brooke, “let’s walk to the fort and out of the sun. It’s time to move on anyway. We seem to be attracting quite a bit of attention.”

Peddlers and beggars surrounded our little group. We walked briskly toward the gated entrance, with Mohit in the lead and Rahim and Sharma shooing away the more persistent of the salesmen.

“Bloody pests!” said Felix, the big English money manager. “Filthy bugger! Get out of my way! Someone ought to arrest the lot of them.”

His face, under the warming sun, was getting redder by the minute. In the sun’s strong golden light I could see through the thin blond strands of hair to a scalp that was reddening too. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the sides of his beefy face. His overheated condition was probably made worse by the number of drinks he’d consumed at the hotel bar after Brooke’s dinner and the hair of the dog he’d had for breakfast. His hangover may have added to his bad temper as well. No one else seemed to be particularly bothered by the crowds or the temperature.

Red Fort loomed above us as we filed through the entrance gate. Once inside, the morning was suddenly calm, quiet, and pleasant again, for the teeming mass of peddlers and beggars are not allowed inside India’s national monuments.

Red Fort, like many of the other forts and palaces, was first built by
Shah Jahān
in the fifteenth century. A World Heritage Site, it was the seat of power for the Mughal rulers of India for two hundred years. We entered at the Lahori Gate, which has emotional and symbolic meaning for the people of modern India. Every year on India Independence Day a flag is raised here and a speech given by the prime minister.

Just inside the outer wall we picked up a local guide, a pleasant, gray-haired man named Dave Patel. Dave led us though the first courtyard, explaining the history and traditions of life under the Mughal rulers, who were descendants of Genghis Khan.

I stood with Jay and watched our group gather in the shadow of the ancient Hall of Public Audience. With a pleasant breeze blowing and a bird singing from his perch on the dazzling marble pavilion before us, it was hard to concentrate on the complex history that Dave was rattling off in his sing-song voice. Numbed by his rapid-fire delivery of facts and figures, my mind wandered back to Brooke’s startling revelations and suspicions.

I could hardly wrap my brain around the idea that one of my companions might actually be a thief and murderer. I looked at them, now lounging on the marble steps in the sunlight as they listened politely or pretended to listen to Dave spout facts. Yet it must be so. Brooke certainly believed that it was and was spending a lot of her treasure to prove it.

As Dave droned on at length about the military history of India, I mused over the puzzle, wondering how or if I could solve it. I knew that it would be difficult. All my fellow travelers were rich, smart, and sophisticated. Plus, the culprit must be very skillful to have eluded discovery thus far. It seemed an impossible task, especially since Brooke hadn’t yet explained what had happened to make her suspect them.

I looked my new friends over as carefully as I could without appearing to stare. There was Adam, the interesting green-eyed Scot; Jasmine, the beautiful Indian movie star; Lucy, the tiny blonde expat Englishwoman; big Felix, also a Brit, who was unpleasant but hardly struck me as criminal; and Justin, the slim, clever Frenchman. Some were more attractive than others, but none seemed capable of the horrendous acts Brooke had described. Each appeared to be a normal, ordinary person just like Jay and me. Except, of course, that they were all extremely wealthy and we were definitely not. I intended to talk with Brooke further, as soon as I could, to learn more about her reasoning and the facts that led her to such a startling conviction.

“Please follow me now,” Dave said finally, “as we enter the inner sanctum of the great Khan. The public was not allowed past these gates. This inner court was only for his personal pleasure and that of his courtiers, family and trusted advisors. Here we will see the Hall of Private Audience, once the location of the fabled Peacock Throne, the ruler’s private mosque, and his harem.”