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

by Marie Moore

  “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.”

  Chapter 9

  Wow. Unquestionably a huge wow.

  The Taj Mahal, one of the world’s most recognizable buildings, can only be fully appreciated when seen in person. And I was there. In person. Me, Sidney Lanier Marsh, all the way from Mississippi, standing smack in front of the Taj Mahal.

  Wow. I mean wow.

  As when you experience the power of Niagara Falls, no words, no photograph—no matter how skillfully or artfully done—can fully describe it or possibly do it justice. Its beauty is unspeakable, visceral, and compelling. The sight of the Taj drove all the sad thoughts of Felix right out of my head.

  I stood just inside the massive red sandstone gate of the entrance, mesmerized by my first glimpse of this ancient monument to lost love. Even Jay, who is far worldlier than I, was stunned into silence at the sight.

  We had arrived at the New Delhi station before dawn to board the train for Agra and the Taj Mahal, stepping gingerly around and over the slumbering figures of dozens of people. Whether they were waiting for trains or simply sleeping on the stone platform was unclear.

  Our early departure was necessitated because of the light.

  The seamless Makrana marble of which it was constructed causes the view of the Taj Mahal to change with the light. It appears rosy in the dawn, a stark, blinding white at noon, and golden pink in the sunset. In moonlight, it glows an ethereal white. To get the full effect, everyone who comes to the massive monument wants to view it all throughout the day as its aspect changes under the different lights. This is why multiple visits are common.

  After a guided morning tour of the central structure, we would have free time to wander at will through the other buildings and gardens. Lunch at our hotel followed, and the afternoon featured a tour of Agra Fort. The following day we might even return to the Taj for a last look before leaving Agra for Varanasi.

  The Taj was completed by a grieving Shah Jahān in 1659 as a monument and tomb for his beloved wife, Mumtaz, and its perfect symmetry amazes from a distance. Close up, the workmanship and beauty of the intricate designs of gold, silver, and precious and semiprecious stones embedded in its walls are staggering. It is impossible to stop staring. You simply cannot tear yourself away.

  “Worth the trip, isn’t it?”

  I looked up from my trance to find Adam MacLeod’s green eyes smiling down at me. The others apparently had gone on ahead. I could see the group following Rahim, snapping pictures, strolling alongside the marble reflecting pool toward the great dome.

  “It’s amazing,” I babbled. “One of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. The guidebook says it took twenty-two years and over twenty thousand workers to build it. Can you imagine? Isn’t it wonderful? I can’t believe I’m actually here to see it. But I was in such a daze, staring at it, that I’m about to be left behind. Now I’ll have to hurry and catch up or I’ll lose the group in all this crowd.”

  With a wry laugh at my idiotic yammering, he took my arm to prevent me from bolting down the path. I didn’t know why this attractive man made me so nervous. I just knew that he did.

  “Slow down, lass, there’s no hurry. I told them I’d come back for you. Take your time. There’s no rush. I’ll see that you’re reunited with the group. Easy now, easy.”

  Hearing his words, I did slow down, taking a deep breath and resolving not to act like a fool. I looked up at him as we walked together but he was not watching me. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. His handsome face looked sad, and in the sunlight, for the first time, I noticed glints of silver in his dark hair.

  “It’s beautiful, yes, but so sad,” he said in his deep burr, staring at the dazzling marble as we neared the great dome. “She died bearing his child, you know. He never recovered from it. Losing the love of your life in such a way, so suddenly … tears your heart in two.”

  I didn’t comment, watching him carefully as we walked. I was thinking of the sudden death of his own wife, and I knew that he must be thinking of her as well. The lines in his tanned face deepened as he clenched his jaw. Had he loved her as this ancient king had loved his queen? Did he love her still? Brooke had said she’d heard mention of other women in Adam’s life since the wife’s accident, but none appeared to be lasting or serious.

  Then his dark mood seemed to pass. He pointed to a grassy lawn on our left where a white ox pulled a mowing machine, guided by a turbaned workman.

  “I’ll wager you’ll not have mowers like that in New York,” he laughed.

  I smiled, standing beside him as we watched the odd, old-fashioned contraption clip the bright green grass.

  “Nothing here is like New York,” I said. We resumed our stroll along the path beside the reflecting pool. “Except maybe some of the modern buildings. I’ve never seen anything like India before. Mohit says that India will change your life. I think he might be right.”

  “I agree. There’s no other quite like this country. You’ll not soon forget India.”

  “Have you been here before?”

  “I have business interests in Mumbai, so I’m here quite often. Some of the others do as well. Justin is starting an export business in Goa that he wants Brooke to invest in, and poor Felix said he would look into it for her. He was also consid
ering starring Jasmine in one of his films. I don’t normally get this far north myself, and never have the time for sightseeing. But I must say I was pleased when Brooke invited me to come along on this trip. Even though I didn’t really have the spare time, I’m quite fond of Brooke so I made it work.”

  The green gaze intensified and he took my hand in his as we climbed the marble steps of the monument. “I’m glad I did,” he said, smiling back at me.

  Woo-hoo! I thought. So am I.

  But before I could think up a good answer, I heard someone shouting my name.

  I turned away from Adam, dropping his hand, and saw Jay fast approaching. He had a big grin on his face that let me know I would hear more about Adam later.

  “There you are,” Jay yelled out before starting to fuss like an old hen, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Sharma wants to take a group photo, and I’ve asked him to take some individual ones too—in front of the monument—as we leave. Come along quickly, both of you, or there won’t be time.”

  “Sorry,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Afraid I don’t do photos. I’ll see you later, Sidney, Jay. Please tell Brooke not to wait for me. Tell her I’ll get back to the hotel on my own.”

  And with that, he was gone, striding away into the crowd.

  “Weird,” Jay said, watching him, watching me. “Not exactly chummy, is he? I guess you could say he marches to his own drum or maybe bagpipe. I don’t get him at all. But I can see why you hung back to be alone with him, holding hands and everything. He is definitely hot.”

  “I did not hang back to be alone with him,” I sputtered. “I was taking photos and he just appeared.”

  Jay grinned, pleased at having successfully pushed my buttons. “Whatever. Now come along, Sidney, let’s find Sharma’s photographer. You know we need a good shot of us both at the Taj Mahal!”

  Weaving through the crowd in Jay’s wake, I looked back over my shoulder, but there was no sign of the tall Scot.

  Jay was right, though. Adam did march to his own drum, and the man’s abrupt appearances and disappearances were weird. So was his obvious aversion to photographs.