The Pearl of Bengal (8 page)

L
ittle Parama darted back and forth, balancing breakfast trays like a professional acrobat. When she brought the pot of chai tea to their table, Agatha gave her a generous tip. Then she raised her face to the morning sun, inhaling the cinnamon scent of the sweet, frothy drink.

At 7:30 in the morning, the village of Chotoka was peaceful. The fishermen had left at dawn, and the other villagers quietly went about their business, unhurried and smiling.

It was like a little corner of paradise.

Without warning, the hotel’s bell began
ringing wildly. Parama went to the gate and returned with Uncle Rudyard.

Rudyard Mistery was red-faced from running. “Have you heard the news?” he gasped.

“What?” asked Dash with his mouth full of stuffed dosa pancakes.

Uncle Rudyard gestured toward the river. “One of the forest guards just came to order me to move my seaplane away from the dock,” he panted, bending to catch his breath. “And do you know why?”

“No,” the three Londoners replied in chorus.

“Captain Deshpande has sent for the police from Kolkata,” he continued. “A boat will arrive by midday to pick up Naveen Chandra!”

“You’re joking!” said Agatha. The teacup shook in her hand. But one look at Rudyard’s face told her he was all too serious. “There’s no time to lose. We have to help Naveen!” she declared.

“Why don’t we tell Deshpande his alibi’s
valid?” asked Dash. “And that we can prove it!”

“It’s not going to work, cousin. The captain’s convinced himself that Naveen is guilty. All he’s waiting for is his confession!”

Dash ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve only got four hours!” he cried, on the verge of panic. “What can we possibly do in such a short time?”

Chandler raised an eyebrow. “Find the real culprit?” he asked drily.

“Well, duh! But we’re groping around in the dark!” Dash moaned.

Agatha rushed to the reception desk and came back with a map of the Sundarbans National Park. She spread it on the table and studied it for several minutes.

Meanwhile Dash paced in circles, repeating, “We don’t have a clue! Literally! How can we catch a thief with no evidence?”

Agatha stared at her cousin, then back at the
map. Intuition lit up her eyes. “Dash, you’re a genius!” she chortled.

He froze in his tracks. “I’m a genius?” he asked in a strangled voice. “I’m the worst detective in history!”

“No, you’re a genius!” Agatha said. “We’ve been following Deshpande’s list instead of conducting a real investigation based on evidence and clues. We need to fix that immediately!”

“But the Temple of Kali is under surveillance,” Dash said. “How will we get inside it?”

“I have an idea,” whispered Agatha, pulling them closer and pointing at a spot on the map. She quickly explained her plan while the others nodded with growing enthusiasm. Then she asked, “How long will it take, Uncle Rudyard?”

“Ten minutes by plane to get there, an hour and a half to return overland.”

Agatha checked her watch. “Perfect! All right
then, let’s meet at the Temple of Kali at ten on the dot!”

Uncle Rudyard handed her one of his many cameras, equipped with a zoom lens. Then he and Chandler sped off to their secret destination.

As soon as the two men disappeared, Dash voiced his doubts. “This is our last hope. Are you sure it’ll work?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Agatha.

“So what do we do now?”

“We relax. And I’m going to finish my chai while we wait,” she said with a smile.

The minutes passed slowly, like sand trickling through an hourglass. Dash paced around the garden, every so often casting an eye at the street. Agatha sat at the table, stroking Watson and jotting down notes in her notebook. No more words were exchanged till she picked up her purse and calmly announced, “Time to go.”

Putting on a brave front, Dash strode through
the village with confidence. But as soon as they were surrounded by jungle, he slowed down, flinching at shrieking monkeys and rustling leaves. Just before they reached the temple, he stopped short and turned to face Agatha. “Is this close enough?” he asked nervously.

“These tree ferns offer excellent cover.” His cousin nodded. Crouching behind a bush, she took out Rudyard’s camera, using its long lens as a telescope like the housebound photographer in
Rear Window
. She zoomed from the small group of pilgrims at prayer and the guard at the door. It was amazing how close they appeared.

Cautiously Dash crouched beside her.

“What time is it?” Agatha asked, and he glanced at his EyeNet.

“Five to ten. Think they’ll get here on time?”

“Calm down, Dash. It will all go according to plan!”

Just at that moment, a bloodcurdling roar
echoed through the jungle. The devotees stopped chanting, and the guard swiveled, pulling a pistol out of his belt.

Another roar sounded, much closer this time.

The pilgrims bunched together, asking one another what was happening. Suddenly a tiger appeared on the steps of the temple. Everyone screamed in terror.

It was a mighty, lithe, majestic beast.

The tiger stepped forward hungrily.

When it roared for the third time, the pilgrims fled toward the village, practically flying past the cousins’ hiding place. The guard scrambled after them, too scared to shoot.

Watson emerged from the bushes, bravely stepping forward to meet the wild beast.

The Siberian cat and the Bengal tiger sniffed each other with curiosity. Then Uncle Rudyard strode out of the jungle, grinning from ear to ear. “Good girl, Maya, well done!” he said to the tiger,
giving her a gentle pat on the neck. Agatha and Chandler joined him in praising the tiger, while Dash kept a safe distance.

“Did your colleagues at the tiger reserve give you any trouble about this?” asked Agatha.

Uncle Rudyard winked. “I just said I was taking my girl for a little walk,” he chuckled. “And now it’s time to go back home, right, Maya?”

He pulled out a collar and leash, but the tiger thought it was a game and bounded away, disappearing into the lush vegetation. “She’s feeling frisky. I’d better go get her, kids,” their uncle said. “Go on into the temple without me!”

He didn’t need to tell them twice.

The lock was still broken, and Chandler nudged the door open with his flashlight. They slipped inside, pulling the door shut in case someone came back and noticed. It was pitch-black and the thick, dusty air smelled of incense.

The circular beam of the flashlight skimmed over the walls, illuminating colorful tapestries, inlaid wooden carvings, bronze vases filled with scented oils, and countless other offerings.

The atmosphere inside the temple was rich and mysterious.

The roaming flashlight beam suddenly fell on the gigantic statue of Kali behind the altar.

“Arrrgh!” yelled Dash. “What kind of monster is that?!”

He instinctively jumped behind Agatha, who stared at the statue in wonder.

It was easily twelve feet tall. The goddess
was depicted as a fearsome woman warrior with four arms, and her tongue was sticking out in a hideous grimace. Her skin was black, her robes sheathed with a layer of gold. Three severed heads hung from her belt, and a garland of miniature skulls fell across her chest.

“Don’t be fooled by her looks,” whispered Agatha. “Kali the Black is a goddess of war, but that’s only one of her many aspects. She protects humankind from demons.” She cast a bright smile at her cousin. “And she’s very vengeful with people who act like cowards.”

Dash pulled himself together. “Quick! Look for clues!”

He and Chandler began scouring the room while Agatha took her flashlight and pointed it up at the statue’s four hands. “If memory serves me correctly, Kali wields a sword, a shield, a cup, and a snare,” she said aloud to herself.

The cup was missing.

Kali’s right hand, held highest in the air, was empty.

“The Bengal Pearl was taken from there,” she told her companions. “Can someone please help me up?”

“Right away, Miss!” replied Chandler.

The butler laced his fingers together and boosted her up. Agatha tried to steady herself, touching Kali’s face. “If I could just reach that top hand,” she said feverishly. “But it’s too far away!”

“How could they have taken the pearl from way up there?” asked Dash.

Agatha suddenly froze. She was touching the tip of Kali’s nose, her thinking position.

“What’s wrong, Miss?” asked Chandler.

The girl didn’t reply. Her mind was working overtime.

“What’s going on?” asked Dash. “Did you find a clue?”

Agatha muttered along with her racing thoughts.

“Twelve feet high…No room for a ladder…No way to climb up the statue…” Then she exclaimed, “Oh, of course!”

“Of course what?”

“The thief used some sort of a tool to push the cup out of her hand…something long!” She picked up the camera, zooming in on Kali’s hand. There were a few green wood shavings in the statue’s palm. “I’ve got it!” she cried joyfully. “I know who committed the theft!”

Just then, the door swung open and someone advanced on them.

Agatha’s first thought was that it must be Uncle Rudyard, but one glance at the man’s swirling robes told her it wasn’t him.

The pilgrim stepped forward. Pointing his pistol right at them, he pulled the hood from his head.

His face was familiar. In fact, it was all too familiar.

The face of an actor.

“Naveen Chandra?!” they all yelled in amazement.

A
gatha’s mind reeled. So that was the face she thought she’d recognized among the devotees praying at the temple last night!

Flowing black hair, strong chin, elegant bearing…it was definitely Naveen Chandra!

But wasn’t he locked up in jail?

Steadying herself against Kali’s hand, Agatha carefully climbed down to join Chandler and Dash, who were standing stock-still with their hands raised in the air. “Naveen?” she said softly. “Put down the gun. We know you didn’t steal it.”

The man gestured with his gun, signaling that
they should all exit the temple. He did not say a word, but glared at them with menacing rage.

Dash obeyed, edging along the wall of the dark room.

In the narrow space, Chandler bumped into a brass vase, spilling essential oil over the floor. Just as Agatha started to follow him out, the temple door was flung open again.

“I collared that smart-aleck Maya!” said Uncle Rudyard as he stepped inside.

The assailant spun around, pointing the gun at him.

As he did, Chandler leaped at him as if he were back in the boxing ring. “Face me, you scoundrel!” he shouted. “I never hit someone from behind!”

The man swiveled in terror, stepping into a knockout right hook. It was just a single punch to the jaw, but with all the power and skill of an experienced heavyweight boxer. The poor man
slumped to the ground like a sack of rice.