Side Trip to Kathmandu (A Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery Book 3) (8 page)

So that’s where they had lunch
, I thought.
Adam and Jasmine.
Better forget about that guy, dummy
, I told myself as I entered my room and closed the door quietly behind me.

Forget about him, girl. Don’t waste another minute. He’s not meant for you
.

L
ate that afternoon, Mohit led the way with his wooden staff into Agra Fort, rushing us through the ever-present gauntlet of insistent salesmen and heart-wrenching beggars into the relative serenity of the courtyard. This visit was more hectic than our previous visits to tourist sites. Rahim had stayed behind at the hotel arranging the evening entertainment, leaving Mohit to be both guide and guard.

Even though he was physically small, Mohit accomplished both tasks easily, shouting admonishments to the crowd in Hindi and making grand gestures with his stick. I had no idea what his words meant, but they were effective, for the crowd fell back to let us pass.

Sharma had bustled off somewhere the moment we arrived at Agra Fort, saying that he would join us later.

Sharma had not asked for any assistance whatsoever from either me or Jay. We had expected to be given some sort of duties on the trip. After all, our agency was being fully paid for us to accompany the group. But so far, absolutely nothing had been asked of us by Sharma. We were treated as minor members of the group rather than tour leaders, and our input was clearly not welcome.

“This whole setup is so strange, isn’t it?’ Jay said in a low, exasperated voice as we followed the others through the entrance. “I mean, what’s the point in us even being here?”

Justin had just asked Jay a simple housekeeping question for which Jay had no answer. On any normal tour we would have known such facts; however, Sharma had not seen fit to share any information with us.

“I don’t know,” I replied, taking his arm to slow him down as the group filed past us through the gate. I didn’t want any of the others in earshot because I could see that Jay was about to blow. He was running his fingers through his red hair the way he does when he’s upset.

“Well, it’s embarrassing to be introduced as a tour leader and then be totally clueless,” he said fiercely. “I hate it. I mean, I’m enjoying the trip, but it is all so awkward just because Sharma hasn’t seen fit to share with us. Now Justin surely thinks I’m the biggest dumbass on the planet. Am I a tour leader or not? He doesn’t know. I don’t know. You don’t know. I feel so stupid. I can’t stand being made to look like an idiot when I’m a qualified professional. It stinks. This is the strangest gig we’ve ever worked.”

“Yes, it is,” I agreed quietly, trying to soothe the volcano that was clearly on the verge of erupting, “But Jay, Brooke says she only wants our eyes and ears, not our travel skills, so I guess it’s okay. She’s paying the bills so she calls the shots. And Silverstein said our main job is just to keep her happy. Still, I’m sure he must have expected us to do far more than we’re doing. Do you think we should give him a call to touch base?”

He shook his now-wild red head.

“No. Bad idea, Sidney. No phone call. We wouldn’t get him. He’s off on a trip himself, remember? We’d only get Diana. Do we want to hear her advice?”

“No ….”

“Well, then, a phone call is out. I’ll shoot Silverstein an email tonight, fill him in, and ask him to clarify what he wants us to do. But in the meantime, before I hear back from him, I think I’ll just have a private chat with Mr. Sharma.”

He smiled a strange little smile, an intense look in his eyes.

“Jay,” I said, recognizing that look, “you aren’t going to get rough with him, are you?”

“If you mean, am I going to thump him, the answer is no. At least I don’t plan to. But after our talk, Mr. Sharma will definitely understand that I won’t be made to look stupid again, that’s for sure.”

And with that, he shook my hand off and marched on to join the group, leaving me to resolve not to be anywhere near when Jay had his “chat” with Sharma.

I followed him through the gate, joining the others just as Mohit began his introductory speech.

“Agra Fort, this most beautiful and strong fortress, was first built by Akbar, the great
Shah Jahān’s
grandfather, in the middle 1500s,” Mohit said, gesturing toward the massive walls with his stick. “This strong sandstone fortress defended the Mughal dynasty for the succeeding generations, who added to it, building magnificent pavilions, audience halls, and private quarters within. It was also where
Shah Jahān
died after being imprisoned here under house arrest for the last eight years of his life. His jailer was his own son, who had overthrown
Jahān
and taken control of the kingdom. I will show you where
Shah Jahān
lived while he was imprisoned in this most beautiful of jailhouses. Follow me.”

Mohit told us the end of
Jahān’s
story from the windows of the ruler’s own personal apartment.
Shah Jahān’s
beloved Taj Mahal, directly across the river, was framed by the window opening.

“Because of his son’s treachery,
Shah Jahān
could no longer personally visit his finest creation, the Taj Mahal. He could only view it from afar, from this very window, until it was time for him to join his dear Mumtaz forever. It was an exquisite torture. And as you saw only this morning, he lies there with her now.”

Everyone moved toward the window opening to fully experience the view that had been the deposed king’s.

“What a wretch that son must have been!” Brooke said, gazing out the window opening with a faraway look in her eyes. “Betrayal by someone so close to you, someone you love, someone you trust. How bitter that is!”

Jay and I exchanged glances, knowing that she was not likely just speaking of the ancient Indian ruler.

Jay moved closer to her, and putting his big arm around her shoulders, bent to whisper something in her ear. Her sudden peal of laughter let me know that his words had been, as usual, outrageous.

There was no comment from the others, most of whom seemed unmoved by Mohit’s sad story and Brooke’s reaction to it.

Near the doorway stood Justin and Lucy with their heads together. They were murmuring in French and obviously impatient to leave. Jasmine was smiling up at Adam as usual, chattering away, twirling a strand of her shiny blue-black hair around a jeweled finger. For once, Adam paid little attention to her. He alone seemed lost in thought, staring over Brooke’s head at the view of the Taj across the river, now glowing pink in the setting sun.

A sudden movement from the doorway caught my eye and I looked back just in time to see Sharma hand Justin a wad of paper, which he immediately crammed into his pocket without looking at it. Was it money? The movement was so quick I couldn’t tell.

Justin glanced instead at Lucy, as if to see if she had noticed the exchange. She hadn’t, for she had stepped forward to chat with Brooke and Jay.

Mohit had noticed, though, and seeing that I had as well, he gave me a slight smile and a shrug.

Sharma pushed back his coat sleeve to peer impatiently at the big faux Rolex strapped on his chubby wrist. “Ladies and gentlemen, we must go,” he said. “The sun is setting. Follow me, please, to the cars, which are waiting out front. It is time to return to the hotel. Cocktails will be served in the garden.”

I turned to follow, and as I went down the steps, Mohit quietly appeared at my elbow, saying, “Curiosity killed the cat, my lady. You have very big eyes. Perhaps it is better sometimes not to be so observant.”

Startled, I opened my mouth to reply, but he was gone. I saw him moving swiftly ahead to the front of the group, pushing past Sharma, waving the big stick to ward off interlopers.

I’
ve never put any faith in good luck charms and fortunetellers, but the turbaned seer Brooke and Justin had hired for the evening certainly lived up to his billing.

Between the wine and the fortune-telling, there was a lot of laughing under the Indian moon. Everyone loved having their palms read, though my prophecy was a bit disturbing.

“I say, this is all rather fun, isn’t it?” Lucy said, emerging from the candlelit curtained alcove where the mystical swami was reading palms. “He said my third husband would bring me great wealth. I don’t know how he knew I’d already had two husbands. I didn’t tell him. Did any of you tell him?”

She peered at the group but no one admitted giving out Lucy’s inside information.

“He told me my new husband would be a tall handsome man from a faraway land,” Jasmine said, tossing her hair and looking meaningfully at Adam. “Why don’t you go next, Adam, and find out what this wise man predicts for your future?”

“It’s not my turn,” Adam replied smoothly, sipping his drink. “We drew numbers, remember? Jay is next, then Sidney.”

We were all comfortably seated with drinks in a pavilion in the courtyard of the hotel. It was a beautiful evening, fragrant with the scent of flowers and a faint whiff of sandalwood incense.

“Okay, I’m next,” Jay said, draining his glass and heading for the seer’s table. “Hope I get great riches too. I could sure use some.”

“He never has any money, does he?” Brooke commented as she took Jay’s seat next to me.

“No, never,” I laughed. “He spends every penny he can scrape together. He would rather have a designer belt than food. If his apartment wasn’t rent-controlled he likely couldn’t afford to live in Manhattan.”

“Jay went with me and Rahim for a quick visit to the gem studio this afternoon prior to the tour of Agra Fort,” she said. “I’m sorry you didn’t go with us, Sidney. Jay really has a discerning eye. He helped me choose this amethyst pendant. Lovely, isn’t it?”

I leaned forward for a better look.

“Yes, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two chose well,” I said, admiring the deep purple stone enhanced by an intricate setting of fine gold.

“Agra is known for bargains on semiprecious stones. If you change your mind and would like to go there in the morning, I think there will be time before we leave for Varanasi. All you need to do is tell Mr. Sharma. He can arrange a car for you.”

“Thanks, Brooke, maybe I will,” I said, knowing full well that my limited budget had no room in it for any jewelry buying, even at a bargain. That’s why I hadn’t gone along with them. I didn’t want to be tempted.

“You should go,” Brooke persisted, “Lucy and Jasmine each bought several things. Even Adam made a purchase. Now if that stingy Scot bought something, Sidney, so can you.”

“Did he buy the jewelry for Jasmine?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. Now that Felix is out of the picture, Jasmine certainly seems to be trying to attract him. She was clearly on the outs with Felix. There was a quarrel the night before you arrived. Quite a public one. Spats involving Jasmine are usually pretty public.” She laughed, her eyes dancing. “I’m sorry you missed it. She put on quite a show.”

These glamorous people and their relationships were so convoluted. I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure it all out.

Instead of shopping, I’d stayed by the pool after lunch with Justin. He swam laps for a long time while I read
Strange Gods
, Annamaria Alfieri’s new romantic mystery, set in Africa. Her fine book brought memories of my last trip to Africa to mind, and the narrow escape I’d had there.

Finally emerging from the pool, Justin toweled off and stretched out on the chaise next to my chair. He brushed his straight black hair back from his face, took a long pull on a bottle of water, and said, “Ah,
merveilleux
. You see, at home I swim in the sea every day.”

Justin was not a big man. He was slim, really fit and just under six feet, and he appeared to be quite strong. I thought the regular swimming might have had a lot to do with that.

As I sat with Brooke in the evening breeze of the courtyard waiting for Jay’s fortune to be over and mine to begin, I watched Justin stroll smoothly around the pavilion. As usual, he was impeccably dressed, although the overall effect was casual elegance. I couldn’t overhear his words, but I knew from other encounters with him that he always had a clever quip on the tip of his tongue. That these comments were delivered in perfect English grammar and in a heavy French accent made him seem even more sophisticated.

Justin chatted easily with one group before moving on to another, moving with the grace of an athlete or a dancer. Our friends were not the only hotel guests having drinks in the courtyard that evening; Justin mingled with everyone. Politicians call it “working the room.” Watching Justin’s polished performance, I thought he would have made a good politician. On the surface he was a really attractive man, but I sensed an underlying coldness.

Thinking of the afternoon’s conversation with Justin at the pool, I suddenly realized that even after talking with him for over an hour, I hadn’t really learned anything about him. Also like a politician, he kept his private life truly private without seeming to. There was clearly a public Justin and a private Justin. I wondered what the real man was like. I didn’t think Brooke truly knew much about him either, for he had only been invited into the circle of friends a year earlier by Lucy, his neighbor at his vacation home in France.

I was just turning to ask Brooke more about him when Jay parted the curtains of the alcove and headed in our direction. From the satisfied look on his face, it was easy to see that he was pleased with what he’d been told. He plopped down next to Brooke and signaled the waiter.

“It’s your turn, Sidney. You will love this guy, whether you believe in fortunetellers or not. The man is uncanny, an absolute genius, a true seer. How he can know these things is beyond me.”

“What did he say that makes you think him so wise?” Brooke asked.

“He said a lot, Brooke. Good things. But the most remarkable thing he said was, ‘You will always be unappreciated. It is your lot.’ You both know how true that is, especially you, Sidney. Not at the agency, not anywhere. No one ever truly appreciates me. You see? The man is brilliant. Like I said, a real seer. Go. He’s waiting on you. You’re the last to go before dinner, I don’t see Adam. Hurry, listen to what he has to say to you.”

So I headed for the future waiting for me behind the tasseled curtain, my stomach aching from trying to hold in my laughter at Jay and his “fortune.” I didn’t dare look at Brooke. If I did, I would lose it. Always unappreciated.
Please
.

Entering the dim alcove, I took a moment to let my eyes adjust until I could clearly make out the little man sitting so still and silent beside the tiny table. The aroma of sandalwood was strong; it emanated from inside a brass burner suspended from a chain just behind him. The faint white smoke it emitted seemed to curl around his head, as if he were a genie. Small and ancient, he wore a shabby white robe and turban. His eyes were sharp and piercing under bushy gray brows in a brown wrinkled face. When he smiled, I could see that he had just a few teeth left. Those that remained were stained red with betel juice. A jar filled with money was the only object on the table.

At his gesture I sat on the stool opposite him, stuffed some bills into his jar, and somewhat reluctantly extended my palm toward him across the table.

Still smiling, he took my hand gently in his and bent over my palm, tracing its lines with his gnarled finger.

Expecting the usual patter about husbands and money, I was surprised at his silence, and unnerved when he placed my hand palm down on the table and gave me a searching look. His smile was gone, replaced with a serious look of infinite sadness and concern.

I couldn’t ignore an eerie feeling that he had seen something in my palm that he did not want to share.

Finally he said, in a deep, slow voice, “You must be oh-so-careful on your journey, lady. One man has died on your path already. Others may follow. Evil surrounds you. But from the depths of the jungle, God will come to rescue you. Now go please, ma’am, go with God, for that is all I can say.”

And then he rose, and turning, disappeared between the curtains behind him, taking his tip jar with him.

I sat alone for a moment in the scented dimness, stunned and frightened, wondering about the puzzling prediction that was not at all what I expected.

#

By morning the uneasy feeling left by the fortuneteller was gone and I was feeling my usual cheerful self.

How ridiculous of me to be unnerved by the tiny man with the red teeth! It was all just an amusement, a parlor game to entertain the tourists. Everyone knows how these people make a living, right? The swami must have heard the talk of Felix’s death and used it to scare me. And he had done a good job of it. It had worked well until daylight, when good common sense had swept the booger bears away.

I said as much to Jay over breakfast, along with a bit of an apology for being so moody and distant the previous evening.

“Oh, it’s okay, Sid. I know you can’t be Little Miss Ray of Sunshine all the time. I’m just glad you’re out of your mood.”

“It was silly of me. I can’t believe I let it bother me so. In my rational mind I know better than to trust a fortuneteller. Nothing to be alarmed about, right?”

“Sidney ….” he said, his brown eyes crinkling.

“Yes?”

“Just what exactly is a ‘booger bear’? It sounds pretty bad to me.”

“You might not have them in the North, Jay,” I smiled. “In the South, booger bears are just about the scariest things ever for little children. They live outside, in the night, and they get after you if you’re bad. You can’t see them, but they’re there. Sometimes they can even get after you if you’re not bad, but are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Oh. I see. So you want to try to steer clear of booger bears then.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, we don’t have anything quite like that in Pennsylvania, but if I ever come home to Mississippi with you I’ll watch out for them.”

“They can be anywhere, Jay, even in India.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Following this intelligent conversation, we finished our breakfast and loaded into cars for an excursion to Fatehpur Sikri. After that tour stop, the plan was to go directly to the airport for a flight to Khajuraho, famous for ancient Hindu and Jain temples featuring erotic sculptures and listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Our bags had been sent on ahead.

We were travelling in three cars. Lucy, Brooke, and Rahim were assigned to the first car, with me, Jay and Adam in the second car, and Jasmine, Justin and Mohit following. Sharma said he had some personal matters—family business—to attend to so he would skip the excursion and travel separately. He gave no other details except to say that he would see us later at the airport for the flight to Varanasi.

Jay, riding shotgun next to the driver, was not particularly happy with our seating assignments, and Jasmine looked fairly put out as well when she saw that she would not be riding with Adam. I caught a flash of anger distorting her beautiful features, but it passed quickly. As we loaded into the cars she was already smiling and cooing to Justin in what Jay assured me was faux French.

Adam held the door for me as I settled into the back seat. Then he climbed in next to me and the car rolled away. I couldn’t have been more pleased.

The journey to our next stop, Fatehpur Sikri, was not long, but it was long enough for Adam to spin several tales of his former travels in India. His stories were warm and funny, all told in his deep Scottish burr. I loved listening to him, but Jay didn’t. At first he joined in the conversation, but the more I laughed, the quieter Jay got. Before long, there was no comment at all from the front seat. After a while I noticed that Jay was pretending to sleep.