Vanished

by Sheela Chari

  Pavi scooted next to Neela to get a look. “Her husband was Indian?” she asked.

  “Yeah, remember the article?” Neela said. “They both died in the train wreck.”

  Pavi looked at the pictures some more. “Veronica is pretty,” she agreed, “though she looks a bit chunky in the second photo.”

  “Pavi!” Neela said.

  “Chunky?” Sudha Auntie repeated. “What are these strange expressions you use?”

  Pavi looked embarrassed. “Forget it. I was being mean.”

  Sudha Auntie looked at the second photo. “Oh, I see what you’re saying. She was expecting, that’s all.”

  Neela looked carefully at the photos, both of which showed Veronica posing in front of a stage with people milling around her. “Do you have other pictures of her? Or CDs of her music?”

  Sudha Auntie shook her head. “Those are the only two photos I have. I’m surprised I even remembered about them.” She nibbled on another samosa. “And believe it or not, Ronnie didn’t record much. I think she only had one CD out before her death.”

  “Did it have a picture of her veena on it?” Neela asked hopefully.

  Sudha Auntie finished chewing. “Hmm…You want to see if her veena is the same one as yours? First of all, there was nothing on that CD cover—just some traditional Indian design. Second, forget about whether her veena was the same one. Who cares? That veena is gone. And it’s just the kind of thing that will distract you from what’s important.”

  “But it was my grandmother’s veena,” Neela said.

  “And Lynne’s neighbor shouldn’t have stolen it,” Pavi said. “It isn’t fair.”

  “And…” Neela stopped. She looked at them both. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

  “What?” Pavi asked.

  Neela thought about her grandmother playing wordlessly in the evenings on the old veena. “When I practiced on Lalitha Patti’s veena, I sounded so much better. I thought it was because her veena brought me luck.”

  “Some luck,” Sudha Auntie said, unimpressed. “Ever since that instrument entered your life, you’ve had nothing but misfortune. Maybe your grandmother’s veena is the maya veena. So you have Parvati’s bad luck stamped all over it. Maybe it’s the one Ronnie died with on a train. More bad luck. I say good riddance. It’s practice that makes you a great musician, not the instrument.”

  Neela scowled. Sudha Auntie was lecturing her to practice—again?

  By the time Mrs. Krishnan came to pick up Neela and Pavi, the samosas were all eaten. As the girls were leaving, Sudha Auntie pulled Neela aside. “I saw that look on your face a while back. The one where you were mad enough to wring my neck.”

  “I was just thinking about Hal,” Neela lied.

  “Don’t think you’re fooling me. Anyway, before you do wring my neck, just remember what I said: it’s practice, not the instrument.”

  In the car, Mrs. Krishnan asked, “So, how did lessons go today?”

  “Fine,” Neela muttered. She stared out the window, still feeling angry at her teacher.

  “I’m so happy I got all my shopping done,” Mrs. Krishnan said. “I even got a wedding gift for Arun. Too bad we’ll miss the wedding. At least Lalitha Patti will be able to go. Which reminds me, I have to get those gardening books for her. She hasn’t told me what she wants us to bring her, and since she isn’t home, I can’t ask her.”

  Neela looked up. “Lalitha Patti’s not home?”

  “She’s in Bangalore. Remember, your cousin is getting married. Do you listen to anything, I wonder.”

  So that’s why no one had answered the phone. “When will she be back?”

  Mrs. Krishnan sighed. “The same evening we arrive. Isn’t that crazy? How will she ever swing it?” She went on, still wondering about Lalitha Patti “swinging things.”

  Neela stopped listening, disappointed by this unexpected news. With Lynne gone, the veena gone, and now her grandmother out of town, Neela felt as if she was running out of options. Not to mention her patience.

  Maybe it was time to take the matter into her own hands.

  That night, after what seemed like an eternity, the Krishnan household became still, as everyone but Neela fell asleep in their rooms. Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs to the office. She stopped in the kitchen to look at the clock, which read eleven thirty, and get a bag of potato chips. The crunching would help her work up the nerve.

  Now that she was actually downstairs, she was getting cold feet. Also, she wasn’t sure who would pick up, Govindar or someone else. If only she could talk to Pavi or Matt. But not at this hour. And if she waited until the morning, her parents would be awake.

  She chewed on a few more potato chips, recalling the first time she had tasted them in preschool at a birthday party. She could still remember the sensation of something hard and crunchy turning soft inside her mouth, until all that was left was the salt. It was that feeling that comforted her now, the soft, buttery salt flavor, and the memory of preschool, back when life was simple.

  Finally she wiped the crumbs from her palms on her pajamas. It was just one simple phone call. She could do it. From her pocket she pulled out the small slip of paper on which she had copied down the number for the Chennai Music Palace from the Web. Then she picked up the phone. The call went through on the first try. On the other end, she heard the crisp, double-staccato ring of the telephone: dring-dring ... dring-dring.

  A man’s voice answered. “Chennai Music Palace,” he said with a heavy accent.

  Neela cleared her throat. “Can I speak to Mr. Govindar?”

  The man’s answer was immediate. “This is Govindar speaking.”

  Neela’s stomach lurched. She didn’t know where to begin.

  “Is someone there?” he asked.

  “Yes, hello. I am Lalitha Krishnan’s granddaughter.”

  “What?”

  Neela began to think that calling was a bad idea. She repeated herself.

  “Lalitha Krishnan, what? Please speak up,” he replied.

  She decided to switch to Tamil. Maybe he would understand better. “I’m her granddaughter, and—” She took a deep breath. “I’m calling about the maya veena.”

  There was a silence on the other end.

  “Are you there, sir?”

  “Yes, I am listening. So you are Neela Krishnan.”

  How did he know her name? “Uh, that’s right. According to the curse, the maya veena always returns to your store. So then, um, has my veena come back?” Said out loud, it seemed ridiculous. She felt as if Govindar would start laughing any minute and tell her the whole thing was an elaborate joke.

  Instead there was a pause. “As a matter of fact, it arrived just yesterday to the store.”

  Neela’s heart started beating. “Really? The veena? Someone brought it?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “Yes, the package was delivered to our store.”

  Delivered? “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Isn’t that why you are calling? To see if the package arrived?”

  “What package?” Neela said. “You mean…the veena? Someone mailed it to you?”

  It was Govindar’s turn to sound surprised. “Of course. The veena was shipped from Boston…by you.”

  “Me?” Neela’s voice came out as a squeak. “But I didn’t mail it.”

  “That’s the name on the package. I admit I was surprised, because I mailed the veena to you only eight months ago. Only, I didn’t send it to a Boston address. I sent it somewhere else.”

  “Arlington.”

  “That’s right. Did your family not mail back the veena?”

  “Of course not,” Neela said. “It was stolen from us.”

  “Stolen!” Govindar said.

  “I’ve spent the last two months trying to find out what happened to it,” Neela went on. She was still digesting what Govindar said. Obviously, whoever had stolen the veena from Hal was the one who sent it and then used Neela’s name to disguise his
identity. But why? And why would the thief send it back to the Chennai Music Palace?

  Govindar sounded equally surprised. “I assumed you did not want the instrument anymore. I called your grandmother right away. But no one answered.”

  “She’s at a wedding,” Neela said quickly. “But my family and I will be there in a week. Can you hold the veena until then?”

  “This is strange, so very strange,” Govindar murmured, as if he was talking to himself.

  “It is strange. But can you hold it for me? Just for ten days?”

  “Yes, okay.”

  “Thank you! I felt so bad to lose the veena. I didn’t want another one, even though my parents are buying me a new one.” She was blabbering, but she was so relieved, she hardly cared.

  “But there is one problem. I want to tell you, but you talk so much.”

  “You’re scared because you think the veena is cursed. That it might be bad luck?”

  “No, no. Not that. But you see, you are not the only one.”

  Neela didn’t understand. “I’m not the only what?”

  “You were not the only one to call.”

  Neela became very still. “Another person called?”

  “Yesterday. A man.”

  “Hal,” she whispered.

  “He wants the veena, too. And he is coming in a few days to get it.”

  “But it’s my grandmother’s instrument,” Neela cried. “It belongs to us.”

  “He seems to think that it’s his,” Govindar said.

  Neela had been so happy for about thirty seconds, and now things were worse than before. Hal still wanted the veena, and he was going to India to get it.

  She could hear the sound of someone talking behind Govindar. “Neela, we have a customer here who needs my attention. But I suggest that when you come, you and Lalitha resolve the issue with this man, yes?”

  “Please don’t give away the veena,” Neela begged. “We’ll be there, December twentieth.”

  “December twentieth,” Govindar repeated. “Okay. Let’s meet on that day. But so you know, there are no guarantees.” The next sound Neela heard was a click, as Govindar hung up the phone.

  It had been three days since Lynne was first absent from school. Every morning, Neela would ask Ms. Reese about Lynne, and every time her teacher would shake her head. “Still sick. That’s what the office tells me.” She sounded like she didn’t quite believe it, either, but there wasn’t much she could do.

  “How long can she be sick?” Neela wondered.

  Mrs. Reese wasn’t sure. She mentioned something about “going through the proper channels,” which, as far as Neela could see, didn’t amount to much.

  At recess, Neela told Matt about the phone call to Govindar.

  “Why does Hal want the veena so bad?” Matt asked. “Even if it belonged to Veronica.”

  “I’m not sure,” Neela said. “But he’s going to be in India in a few days. Unless I can figure out how to stop him.”

  “There has to be a way to get his phone number from the church. Do you have any clues—anything?”

  Neela thought for a moment. “Well, there’s that photo Julia e-mailed me of Hal. But I’ve looked at it a gazillion times, and I still haven’t found anything.”

  Matt took out his cell phone. “Do you still have it on e-mail?”

  Neela nodded. “Sure. You want to see it?”

  She logged on to her e-mail account with Matt’s cell phone and clicked open the photo.

  Matt looked at it for a moment. “He looks so normal.”

  “I know,” Neela agreed. “He doesn’t look at all like a veena thief.”

  Matt grinned. “Is there a way that veena thieves are supposed to look?”

  Neela studied the photo again over Matt’s shoulder. She had seen it so many times, she had it practically memorized: Hal balancing a paper plate in one hand while half turned to Mary, the two of them looking as if they were discussing the weather, the Boston Red Sox, or something else just as ordinary. Why couldn’t there be some clue she had overlooked?

  “Can you zoom in on his plate?” she asked, without much hope. “Maybe we can tell something by what he ate.”

  “Sure.” Matt zoomed in. “Hmm…Watermelon, corn on the cob, pasta salad. Yep, seems like a pretty devious meal.”

  But then something caught Neela’s eye. “Zoom some more to where the picnic tables are behind them.” She waited as Matt zoomed. “Look!” she said. “See that person?”

  Matt leaned in. The screen on his phone was small, but they could both make out a girl standing in the food line with glasses and curly hair, wearing…a feathered shirt.

  “Lynne,” Neela said.

  After school, Neela’s toes felt like marbles inside her boots as she and Matt trudged through the snow on their way to the church. Once they realized that Lynne was a member of the church, Neela knew that the only way to find Hal was to go back there.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she said to Matt. “It’s freezing.” It had started snowing early in the afternoon and continued steadily as drifts began to build along the sides of streets and in people’s yards. Her hat was pulled down as far as it would go, and she had wrapped her scarf around her face so only her eyes showed.

  “Nah.” Matt had on a light jacket with his bare hands stuffed into the coat pockets. “You’re sure Julia will help?”

  “Positive. She let me look at the address database last time. If Lynne is part of the church, her address will be in that database.”

  “So then we can find Lynne?”

  “Forget Lynne. I want to find Hal. But if they’re neighbors, maybe I can still get to him by finding her.” She noticed his teeth were chattering. “Are you sure you’re not cold? Do you want my hat or something?”

  Matt looked at her pink woolen cap with a silvery tassel on the end. “Uh, no thanks,” he said, his teeth still chattering. “But maybe we should hurry up before my fingers fall off.”

  After that, they didn’t talk anymore until they rounded the corner and the stone church came into view at the end of the street.

  When they got inside, they were greeted by the sweet, sharp scent of pine from the Christmas tree in the foyer. Neela and Matt shook the snow off themselves as drops of water clung to their hair and eyelashes.

  “How about some cocoa?” Matt said.

  “Ha-ha.”

  Neela peered around the Christmas tree. She didn’t want to run into Mary. She gestured to him. “Come on.”

  They walked down the hall to the church office. She was so happy Matt was coming along with her to talk to Julia. She didn’t even have to ask; he decided to come as soon as he heard her plan.

  When they reached the office, Neela said, “Mary might be there. Let me check first.”

  She gingerly opened the door. Mary’s chair was empty, which made Neela open the door wider. But what she saw next was completely unexpected. Before she could react, a person who was not Julia, but sitting at her desk, saw her and said, “Can I help you?” She looked like a teenager, with lots of hair and big teeth. But she wore bright red lipstick and tons of mascara, which made Neela think she was older.

  “Is Julia around?” she asked.

  “No!” The girl seemed very excited by this. Or maybe that was just the way she talked. With exclamation marks. “Julia is away on a health emergency!!” More exclamation marks.

  Neela paled. “Health emergency?” Was she dying? In a car accident?

  The girl’s face altered only slightly. “Impacted wisdom teeth! She had to get those suckers out!” She said it as if she were reporting sun in the forecast for the week.

  Neela and Matt glanced at each other.

  “If it’s important, Mary Goodwin is here. I’m on my way out, but she’s just downstairs—”

  “No, that’s all right!” Neela said quickly. Darn. It was so disappointing. “When will Julia be back? Maybe I can leave her a message.”

  “Sure thing!” The girl looked at Julia�
��s desk, puzzling over where the Post-its could be. She pushed around the papers and miraculously found a stack. Then she pulled out her handbag. “Just leave the note on her desk. She’ll get it when she’s back after the holidays!”

  “After the holidays!” Neela exclaimed. She was starting to sound like the girl, but this piece of news was a disaster—it meant Julia wouldn’t be back in time to help. Neela was about to say more when she saw Matt shake his head slightly. “All right. Thanks,” she said instead.

  After the girl was gone, Neela said, “That was kind of irresponsible of her, leaving the office with strangers still here.”

  Matt nodded. “Exactly.”

  She looked at him and then at Julia’s computer. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? But that’s…Mary will be back any minute.”

  “I’ll stand watch.”

  “You don’t know what she looks like!”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Uh, gray hair in a bun, plump, looks pissed, and her shoes squeak.”

  “All right. Go for it.” He walked to the door.

  “Matt,” she called.

  He stopped. “What?”

  She wanted to say it was wrong to look at Julia’s computer without asking, and that she didn’t do things like that. But the thought of being so close, the thought of the veena being so close, gave Neela a bolt of energy she had never felt before. So she said, “If you see Mary, say you’re looking for the clay class. She’ll show you, and it will buy us more time.”

  “Yeah.” He turned to go, then said, “Just in case, let’s have a warning system: two raps if the coast is clear, three if she’s coming back, and four if it’s someone else, like the police.”

  “Huh?”

  “Two raps after she leaves, three if…”

  “Okay, okay,” Neela interrupted. Honestly, how many raps did they need?

  After Matt went out, Neela slipped behind Julia’s desk. She looked down and found the main unit of the computer underneath, next to the chair. Surprisingly, the computer had not been turned on. Maybe the lipstick girl was only there to help with the phones? The computer hummed to life as soon as Neela pressed the button. At first she worried about needing a password to get in, but a few moments later, a window opened on the monitor, displaying everything. Neela was amazed by how easy it was. It was like being in a detective movie, she thought, where everything was going right. Until something went wrong, of course.