Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery) (4 page)

Sanjay paused to seriously consider the question. “That’s not a very good riddle, Jaya,” he said. “Tamil writing can easily be translated.”

“It was.”

Sanjay stared at me. “We’re talking about a real guy and a real map?”

“My great-granduncle Anand,” I said. “My mom’s grandfather’s brother.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about your mom’s family.”

“I didn’t know much until an amateur treasure hunter came to see me today,” I said. 

The head chef, Juan, poked his head into the break room and handed us a plate of steaming samosas. “Extra-extra spicy,” he said with a big smile.

“You’re a lifesaver.” I accepted the plate and took a large bite of fried potato goodness. He wasn’t kidding about the level of spice. My tongue and lips burned as I chewed. It was heavenly.

Someone called for Juan and he rushed back to the kitchen, leaving the door open. I offered a samosa to Sanjay, knowing he’d decline. Though he refuses to admit it, Sanjay hates spicy food. He shook his head and hopped up on the counter next to the staff lockers.

“A real treasure map?” he said. “That’s why you looked so upset when you arrived tonight?”

I had too much nervous energy to sit down. Standing in front of Sanjay with my plate of spicy samosas, I went over the details of Steven Healy’s visit. As I did so, I replayed the key facts in my mind, trying to make sense of them. Steven’s grandparents knowing Uncle Anand, his story about how he found the treasure map in his grandmother’s possessions, and his theory that Anand’s letters would shed light on how to find his missing family treasure. Sanjay’s eyes stayed transfixed on mine as I told the story, and he interrupted only to take the empty plate. He said it looked like I was going to drop it due to my enthusiastic gestures.

“He told me,” I concluded, “that Uncle Anand stole this treasure from his family.”

“Wow,” Sanjay said. “That story is really—”

I didn’t get to hear what Sanjay thought. He broke off at the sound of someone quietly clearing their throat.

“Grace,” he said, hopping down from the counter. “What are you doing here?”

Sanjay’s magician’s assistant stood in the doorway of the break room, a look of distress on her face.

“Your phone was turned off,” Grace said to Sanjay. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her thin shoulders were slumped in a way that suggested she was trying to make herself invisible.

That was normal for Grace. She was painfully shy. You’d think a stage magician’s assistant wouldn’t be a good job for her, but it suited her perfectly. The stage allowed her to become a completely different person. Multiple reviews of their show had called her fearless. While Grace’s tentative words and body language didn’t surprise me, there was something else going on. Something was off. Grace clutched her purse in her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white.

“I knew you’d be on break around now,” she continued, pulling her eyes from the floor to look up at Sanjay. “I needed to talk to you.”

“What’s going on?” Sanjay asked.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she whispered, looking back to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Sanjay said, squeezing her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Grace came to life at his touch. Her thin body straightened up and her eyes widened as she looked up at Sanjay. I suspected she was in love with her boss, but Sanjay was clueless.

“There was a death in my family,” she said.

“I’m so sorry,” I said at the same time Sanjay murmured something similar. I knew that Grace had a large extended family, many of whom had come to the U.S. from Thailand after having trouble with corrupt authorities. From the pained look on her face, this was someone she must have known well.

“I need to go out of town for the funeral,” she said.

“Of course,” Sanjay said. “You didn’t need to come here to tell me that.”

“The thing is,” she said, “the funeral is the same day as that benefit show we agreed to do.”

“Don’t worry,” Sanjay said without missing a beat. “Jaya can cover for you.”

“I can do
what
?” I said. Grace and I were about the same size, but there was no way I could do the contortions Grace did as Sanjay’s assistant. She’d been a gymnast before being sidelined by an injury as a teenager. There was no way I could come close to replicating what she did.

Sanjay shot me a sharp look. “I think Grace’s family emergency is kind of important.”

“Of course,” I said. “I didn’t mean Grace shouldn’t go. But I’m sure there’s someone else who can cover—”

Grace’s gaze darted between me and Sanjay. “Jaya can’t cover for me!”

Even though I didn’t think I could cover for her, I was surprised she felt the same way. Sanjay kept telling me how Grace idolized me, but apparently he’d been mistaken.

“We’ll skip the levitation,” Sanjay said. “It’s not a problem. We weren’t planning on doing a full show anyway, since it’s not our full setup from the Napa theater.”

“But—” Grace and I protested at the same time. 

“Children!” Raj cried, popping his head into the break room. “You have no sense of time tonight.” He tapped his wristwatch. “The diners are waiting.”

“That set nearly killed me,” Sanjay said when we were done with our second set of the evening. Grace had gone home to pack, and Sanjay and I were back in the break room.

“No kidding,” I agreed.

During our set we played a raga that made me think of northern India, and by association, my thoughts had returned to Lane. Earlier that summer, his research on northern Indian art had been instrumental in piecing together the history of an Indian artifact with a mysterious history.

“You have to show me that treasure map,” Sanjay said.

“First you have to tell me why on earth you thought you could volunteer me to be your magician’s assistant.”

“You’re the same size as Grace.”

“Why does that matter? I can’t do the contortions she does.”

“I’m used to working with someone her size,” Sanjay said, “and I planned these acts around having an assistant.”

“But—”

“It’s a great cause, Jaya. A benefit for a San Francisco homeless shelter.” On his phone, he pulled up the website with details about the benefit and handed it to me so I could read about it.

“You know why it’s important,” Sanjay said.

I did know. Sanjay had dropped out of law school to become a magician. His parents hadn’t been pleased. For the two years it took him to establish himself, Sanjay lived in a fleabag motel. A lot of his neighbors from that time never made it out of there. Because he knew what it was like to live so close to homelessness, he was exceedingly generous and also didn’t have any guilt about enjoying life’s luxuries.

I scrolled through the information, but I wasn’t retaining anything I read.

“Isn’t there a magician’s guild or something you can go to for emergencies like this?” I asked.

“I trust you,” Sanjay said.

He spun his bowler hat in his hands as he spoke, then flipped it back onto his head and met my gaze. “I trust you with my secrets.” His almost-too-large dark brown eyes had won over many an admirer. But I know the true Sanjay, the one with the maturity of an eight-year-old boy.

“No need to be so dramatic.”

Sanjay fiddled with the collar of his shirt. A nervous habit from the days when he was starting out as a magician, he told me once. He never did it on stage anymore, but I’d seen him tugging at his starched white collar a few times.

“There’s nobody else,” he said.

“You mean besides Grace.”

“I made her sign a confidentiality agreement when she came to work for me.”

“Seriously?”

“I told you there’s no one else.”

My resolve started to waver. Time to change the subject.

I was about to get the map out to show Sanjay when Raj walked in. He was there to retrieve us for our next music set. He ushered us out of the break room onto the little stage, muttering about how there was something in the stars that made us forget all sense of time that day.

By the time we finished our final set of the evening, the kitchen was winding down for the night. Juan and his staff turned on the TV in the kitchen.

“The suspense is killing me,” Sanjay said, but I barely heard him. On the TV screen in front of me was a photograph of Steven Healy.

I pushed my way past the kitchen crew and turned up the volume on the set to hear above the rain that had started to fall outside. The rain sounded like a tin drum as it hit the kitchen vents.

“What are you doing?” Sanjay asked.

“That’s him.” I swallowed hard. “The man in the photograph on TV. That’s the man who came to see me today.”

A fair-haired reporter with carefully styled hair stood in front of an upscale San Francisco Victorian house, holding an oversized black umbrella in one hand and a microphone in the other.

“Steven Healy was found dead in his home this evening,” the reporter said. “His death is an apparent homicide.”

Chapter 5

Kingdom of Travancore, South India, 1900

Five years after Anand Paravar nearly died of typhoid, he made the decision to leave Travancore to travel the world. He had been working in Kochi for two years where he met supporters of the controversial Indian independence movement. He realized he had been too vocal in support of their ideas, for he heard the maharaja was not pleased with the work he was doing. Though he was not afraid, as he was told he should be, Anand nevertheless thought it a prudent time to follow his heart and see more of the world.

Anand had seen glimpses of life beyond the Kingdoms of Travancore and Kochi -- and he wanted more. Although the British did not technically control the southern kingdoms, which were princely states under the control of local rajas, the foreign influence could be felt. Men left their villages to work in the tea plantations. Children learned English. Strange-looking women with golden hair wore clothing puffed out from their lower bodies. Light-skinned men in military uniforms told stories of dangerous sea voyages. There was a strange and fascinating world to see -- and it could be seen by traveling across the ocean. 

Before he could depart, Anand almost changed his mind about leaving. On this day, he was returning to his village of Kolachal, in southern Travancore, from Kochi. The rains fell more heavily that day, or so it seemed to Anand. He was going to share his plans with his mother and little brother.

Anand’s white tunic clung to his thin body as the rain soaked the fabric through to his skin.

The monsoons had always struck the kingdom of Travancore twice each year. During the hot season, the waters swelled and the people resigned themselves to being as thoroughly soaked as if they had fallen directly into the ocean.

The kingdom wouldn’t be nearly as prosperous without the rains, Anand knew, but still he wasn’t happy about it as he extracted his feet from the muddy road.

He had been away in Kochi building and fixing boats, as his Paravar caste had always done. Throughout the coastal southern kingdoms, the easiest way to travel was by boat. Foreign traders came by large ships in the Arabian Sea and local men traveled through the backwater lakes and canals. There was enough work for him near Kolachal, but he’d grown restless. His friend Faruk Marikayaer, from the Muslim caste of merchants and boat builders, invited him to work with him in Kochi. A rough season of high winds had left the port underserved by skilled workers. The men in Kochi had not been like the men in Travancore. Muslims from the north and Chinese from the east worked alongside the Hindus and Christians. Anand had learned to speak some Arabic and improved his Hindi, but Chinese remained a mystery.

Almost a mile from his home in Kolachal, Anand stopped to adjust the sodden bag he carried over his shoulder.

As he did so, he spotted his little brother Vishwan. Vishwan was too far away to call out to, so Anand turned off the main road to get closer. Vishwan wore no sandals on his feet, and ran quickly through a cluster of coconut trees in spite of his lungi being tangled by the rain. A coconut fell on the ground a few meters away from him.

Anand looked up at the coconut tree. The rain was light, almost done for the day. It wasn’t falling hard enough to dislodge coconuts.

“
Anna
!” the little boy shouted upon seeing Anand, using the affectionate term to hail his big brother.

“What are you doing,
thambi
?”

Another coconut fell to the ground, this time accompanied by the familiar screech of a monkey.

“I’m helping Mother gather food,” Vishwan said proudly. “I sold our sick chicken at the market, and bought Mother spices. I wanted to bring some fruit to her, but the tree was too high and too wet to climb. I did not wish to hurt myself, so I did as you said.”

The rain had finally stopped falling. Vishwan wiped his face with his shirt, which was as wet as his skin.

Anand saw a small rhesus monkey jumping up and down at the top of the coconut tree. Vishwan knelt down to pick up the two coconuts from the muddy path.

“What do you mean you did as I said?” Anand asked.

“I followed your wisdom,
anna
. I saw the monkey go up the tree, where I could not go, so I threw rocks at him until he wanted to throw things back at me. He had no rocks up in the tree, so he needed to use coconuts. You told me the story with betel nuts, but I thought coconuts would be the same, no?”