Side Trip to Kathmandu (A Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery Book 3) (6 page)

The glass slid shut. Rahim got out of the front seat and stood beside the fancy car, waving away would-be salesmen.

Brooke heaved a big sigh. She had our full attention.

“I had a large cocktail party followed by a small dinner for Valentine’s Day,” Brooke said, in a small voice, for once looking her age, “at my house in New York. Valentine’s Day is one of my favorite holidays and I always have a party. My Valentine’s party has become a tradition among my friends. There were many guests invited for drinks, but only the people who are with us on this trip remained for the dinner.”

She stopped, again staring out the window, then continued, a faraway look in her eyes.

“As always, marking the place of each guest at the table were delightful little boxes of chocolates—tiny red satin boxes—tied up with silk ribbon. I order them from that fine candy shop on Lexington Avenue as favors. The dinner was a great success. Everyone had a good time and exclaimed over the chocolates, but they did not open them, not then. They all took them home at the end of the evening, as you do with favors. Now you both know that I love chocolate. All of my friends know I love chocolate, even though I try not to eat much of it because it’s so fattening. After everyone had gone, just before going to bed, I opened mine, took a nibble from one piece, and before long became violently ill.”

“Brooke!” I said, shocked.

“Yes. Fortunately, I was able to reach the phone and call the doorman, who called my doctor, Dr. Rosen. He actually lives in the building, so he came right away.”

“Were you taken to the hospital?” Jay asked.

“No, at the time we thought it might have been the seafood appetizer—I don’t always do well with that—or a virus. Neither of us suspected the chocolate. I was, as I said, quite ill, but Dr. Rosen treated me, stayed with me, until I was better. He felt that I would be all right by morning without going to the hospital and he was correct. But the next day, I thought about it and decided to have the remaining chocolates tested. Two of them were poisoned, including the one that I had nibbled. I am extremely lucky that it was only a nibble and not a bite. Had I eaten the whole piece I might not be here with you today. It was cleverly done. A tiny hole on the underside of each piece showed where it had been injected.”

“What did the police say?” I asked.

“I didn’t call the police,” she replied, lifting her chin and defiantly squaring her shoulders, red hair flaming in the light from the car window. “I decided to handle it myself, and eventually I devised the plan for this trip. I didn’t want policemen prying into my business and investigating.”

“You didn’t want the publicity either,” Jay said.

“Exactly. The tabloid press would love it, wouldn’t they? Just the thought of the headlines makes me shudder. I used a private lab to have the candy tested and the box examined, and paid enough to ensure that the result would remain private. The police were not involved.”

“But Brooke,” I protested, “this is so dangerous. As you said, if you had eaten the whole little box instead of a nibble—”

“I might have died. Yes. I am well aware of that, Sidney.”

“Were any of the others sick?” Jay asked, frowning, exchanging glances with me.

“No. Only me.”

She paused, remembering, then continued in a stronger, more determined voice, “I don’t want any recommendations from either of you about calling the police. That’s not why I told you this long story. It’s too late anyway; I destroyed the evidence. I did keep the lab report, however. It is in my safe, just in case something does happen to me. This is why I arranged the trip, and why I wanted you two to come along. I know I can trust you. What I want from you two are your eyes and ears and good brains.”

She smiled and patted each of us on the hands. “I want you to help me discover who did this. And when you have something to report, I want you to bring it directly to me, not the police. I hope I’m clear on that.”

“Brooke,” Jay said, “what about fingerprints? Wouldn’t those have told the police who the culprit is?”

“I thought of that, and the box was examined when the candy was tested. There were no fingerprints other than my own.”

“Gloves,” I said.

“Yes.” She squared her shoulders and picked up her purse, pulling out big round Chanel sunglasses. “There now. We’ve talked quite enough about this miserable business for one day. I say, no more conversation, no questions, no lectures. Come along, we’re going shopping!”

And with that, she reached past me and opened the car door. We climbed out into the bedlam of the street and headed off at a rapid pace. She’d left us with no choice other than to follow her into the market, with about a million questions unanswered.

“Y
ou said this morning that your beard needed a trim, Jay. Why not give this guy a try?”

Jay shook his head and gave a thumbs-down on my suggestion as we watched a sidewalk barber lather a customer’s face from a tin bowl held under the chin. He began to rapidly scrape the guy’s cheeks with a long sharp straight razor, wiping the blade with each stroke on his apron.

“Pass,” he said. “Don’t want anyone with a knife like that near my throat. Come on, Sidney, enough of soaking up the atmosphere. We’ve got to hurry it up if I’m going to buy my turban and still have time to shop the spice market.”

We had bargained our way through the bazaar, dodging weaving cycle rickshaws, motorbikes, chicken trucks and cow patties. Our distress over Brooke’s dilemma and ours had eased somewhat when she left us on our own in the Pul-Ki-Mandi, the flower bazaar. She returned to the car, followed by Nigel, whose arms were laden with flowers. As she left she pointed us toward the Kinari Galli bazaar. She said that there we could haggle over saris and turbans. The car would return for us in an hour.

“Rahim will show you the way. Then he will leave you to wander on your own and return to the hotel to help me prepare for the evening. Nigel will return with the car and wait for you just on the other side of the spice market near the far end of the Chowk. He will take you from here to tea at the Imperial Hotel then back to our hotel.”

“How will we find Nigel in all this?” I asked, waving my arm toward the crowded confusion of the market.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “he will find you. Just keep an eye out for Felix and Lucy. I think they’re in here somewhere and perhaps by now some of the other lazy ones are too. They may have roused themselves enough to come on their own. Goodbye. See you at tea.”

We waved goodbye and followed Rahim into the market. He led us at an easy pace past stalls selling everything imaginable, pausing whenever we wanted to stop for a closer look, helping us bargain.

Rounding a corner, he abruptly halted, grabbing my arm, to steer me around a large, steaming pile of cow dung.

“Look, madam,” he said, “cow sits.”

Behind me, I heard Jay snickering and repeating the phrase. I knew he was committing it to memory, storing up future cocktail conversation. He does that.

The sacred cows have the right-of-way. There are a lot of cows, so … you get the idea.

When Rahim saw that we were comfortable with shopping in the Chowk, he pointed us toward the exit where, he said, Nigel would be waiting for us in an hour. Then, with one of his formal bows, he left us to return to Brooke and the hotel. We continued shopping our way through the market.

The lovely gold and silver embossed silken saris, in every color imaginable, were irresistible. I couldn’t stop myself from buying a blue and silver one, even though I had no absolutely idea where I would wear it once we returned home.

The chances of Jay wearing the giant red turban he bought were much greater. In fact, he immediately clapped it on his head. Already taller by far than most of the people in the market, he looked like a crazy Western genie with the added height gained by the turban. It wasn’t a real wound turban, but a tourist one. Little children stared at him as we passed and small dark women hastened to gather them out of his path.

The experience of the market was exotic, delightful, and only slightly spoiled by the distant glimpse we caught of Jasmine and Adam in a jewelry stall, shopping for earrings. She hung on his arm, laughing up at him. He carried several shopping bags stuffed full of purchases.

“Guess they decided this market isn’t so touristy after all,” Jay said. “They sure look like they’re enjoying themselves.”

He shot me a triumphant glance which I totally ignored.

Before we could catch up with them, however, they had moved on from the jewelry booth and were lost to sight in the maze of people, animals and merchandise. It was impossible to tell which way they had gone.

The spice market was fragrant with barrels, bags, and packets of every kind of spice, herb, and traditional medicine. Scents of cinnamon, curry, and cloves filled the air as sari-clad housewives bargained energetically with shopkeepers for small packets of the precious spices. We were nearing the end of it when we heard wailing and saw a commotion up ahead.

“Can’t quite see what’s going on up there, Sidney,” Jay said, peering above the crowd. “I think there’s a guy lying on the ground with everyone else gathered around him. We need to backtrack or find another route through. This one is blocked.” He turned to head back the way we had come.

I was turning to follow him, but still looking back toward the commotion, when I suddenly glimpsed someone I recognized.

“Jay, stop!” I shouted, grabbing for his hand. “Come back, stop! I see Lucy in that crowd. Lucy’s there! We have to see what’s wrong.”

We fought our way through the jostling onlookers and found not only a shaken, sobbing Lucy, but Felix as well, lying in the dirt. He was not conscious, and apparently not breathing either. His eyes were almost closed and his formerly ruddy face was ashen. A policeman was kneeling over him in the dust, attempting CPR.

Jay wrapped his arms around Lucy and shoved the looky-loos out of the way, shouting, “Move back, move back, give them some room, do you hear? Give them some air.”

The crowd parted to allow the arrival of a team of EMTs with a stretcher. They began working on Felix, placing an oxygen mask on his face and strapping him to the stretcher. Then, with obvious effort, they picked it up and headed out as fast as their still, heavy burden would permit toward a waiting ambulance. I realized that the ambulance siren must have been wailing for some time. Up until that moment, with all the other noise and the shock of seeing Felix like that, it just hadn’t registered.

Jay put his arms around Lucy and, following the EMTs, led her to the street in time to see the ambulance roll away, lights flashing. As soon as it was gone, the policeman took out his notebook and began questioning Lucy and the bystanders as to what had happened.

Distraught though she was, Lucy somehow managed to gather herself enough to give the officer a coherent account. Her low, soft voice seemed to calm the excited onlookers as they strained to catch her words.

“He had been complaining all day of the heat and was extremely red in the face, although he had stopped sweating,” she said. “I knew he had a bad heart, so I convinced him to sit at this gentleman’s table in the shade of his shop and take some tea. For a while he seemed better, but then he suddenly started shouting wild things and jumped up as if to run. That was when he grabbed his chest and collapsed.”

“He called us filthy little yellow men,” the owner of the stall added, “When this nice lady tried to hush him, he said she was yellow too. But then he said she was an angel with a halo.”

It was clear that the owner of the tea shop felt little sympathy for Felix and a lot of sympathy for Lucy.

We were just thanking the kind shopkeeper for his assistance and turning to help Lucy to the car park when Nigel suddenly appeared, as promised, to lead us to the car.

There would be no high tea that day at the Imperial. We were heading straight back to our hotel to take Lucy to her room, and then we were going on to the hospital to find out what had happened to Felix.

“Thank goodness for you, Nigel,” I said. “It’s simply amazing to me how you could find us in this crowd. Simply amazing.”

Nigel grinned and shook his head.

“Not amazing at all, madam,” he said. “Easy.” He pointed at Jay’s red turban towering above the crowd, heading for the car.

#

Much later that evening Jay paced back and forth in Brooke’s suite until I thought he might wear a path in the carpet. Jay always paces when he’s upset, and he was certainly distressed over Felix’s sudden exit from this world. Rahim had greeted us at the hotel entrance with the bad news that Brooke’s investment manager hadn’t made it.

Jay ran his hands through his unruly red hair and said, “I mean, anyone could see that the guy was not exactly fit, but he looked basically okay to me. I think an autopsy should be done, don’t you? I realize that Sharma is really in charge here, not us, but at the same time ….”

Brooke looked up at Jay and patted the sofa, motioning unsuccessfully for him to settle down and sit beside her. She had been shaken and saddened, of course, at the news, but she surprised me with her calm, matter-of-fact view of Felix’s demise. While the rest of us were merely acquainted with Felix, Brooke and Lucy knew him best, had known him the longest prior to the trip. Most of the others had met him in New York through Brooke.

The evening plans for the group had all been cancelled. Instead Brooke invited me and Jay for a room service dinner in the dining area of her suite. Lucy had taken a sedative and gone to bed.

Brooke decreed that there be no mention of Felix’s death until after dinner. Even so, the atmosphere was certainly not festive and the dinner conversation strained. Following the somber meal, we moved to the living room for coffee. I sat facing the window and the spectacular view of Humayun’s Tomb, with its great dome gleaming in the moonlight.

“Felix had been living with a serious heart condition for many years, so this is really not unexpected,” Brooke said, calmly stirring her coffee. “Everyone who knew him was well aware of his heart problems. Lucy was remarking on it just yesterday, and Jasmine sent her assistant to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for him this morning.

“We were all concerned, but while Felix loved to give advice and orders to others, no one could give
him
advice about anything. He ignored the warnings of his doctors, refused the surgery that was offered to him, smoked, and ate and drank far too much. He said loudly and often that doctors were quacks and fools. I am saddened by his death. I shall miss him and his expert advice, but I am not surprised at all by what has happened.”

“His temper didn’t help, either, did it?” said Jay, with a grimace. “I heard him yelling at the maid after breakfast for disturbing his briefcase. Accused her of pilfering his papers. The poor woman was in tears.”

“Felix was a hard man to like. While I admired his abilities, he was not pleasant and we were not exactly friends. But I shall miss him and certainly miss his guidance in my investments. He was superb with numbers. He really understood money and how to make it work. It is a shame that he could not have made himself more likable.”

Jay persisted, “But don’t you think an autopsy should be done?”

“Perhaps.” Brooke shrugged. “I agree that an autopsy would give us a definitive cause of death, but if the doctors and the police think an autopsy unnecessary, we are hardly in a position to object. Things may change when his relatives are consulted or they may not. In any event, I don’t see how a massive heart attack could be connected in any way to our other mystery.”

“Brooke is right, Jay,” I said. “It’s sad, and I’m sorry about Felix, but I don’t believe it has any bearing on Brooke’s problem. His death, though sudden and shocking, can’t be about Brooke. For once, I am grateful for S.L. Sharma. He has taken charge quickly and made all the required arrangements, thank goodness. He even called our agency and personally informed Silverstein. This is out of our hands.”

“What about his family?” Jay asked. “Were they able to locate them?” Jay had stopped pacing and was calmer. He took a seat next to Brooke and reached for the coffeepot and a cup.

“Felix had no close family, Jay,” Brooke answered. “He had three unsuccessful marriages, no children. He was the only child of elderly parents, both of whom died long ago. I think perhaps a cousin was listed as his next of kin. Mr. Sharma is still trying to reach someone.”

“I think the only child thing may help to explain his personality,” I said.

“Yes,” Brooke said, “I agree. He was terribly spoiled. His mother doted on him, thought he could do no wrong.”

“Well,” Jay asked, “where do we go from here? Are you canceling the tour because of this, Brooke, or are we going forward? What do you think?”

“We will continue as planned,” she said firmly. “Mr. Sharma is making all the arrangements, both for poor Felix and for us. Tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp we will leave the hotel for the train to Agra. Agra and the Taj Mahal.”