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

by Marie Moore

  Before too long, Jay and I were seated aisle-across on a small, dingy airplane bound for Khajuraho. Jay’s seat was broken and wouldn’t remain fully upright. The seedy, smelly old aircraft certainly didn’t meet the standard of Sharma’s promised “luxury tour.” I wondered what Brooke was thinking.

  After takeoff, a flight attendant in a worn uniform came down the aisle pushing a tiny cart laden with small foil-wrapped lunch trays. She offered a choice of entrée, so I asked for the veg meal and Jay chose the beef.

  He stripped off the foil, took a look at his food, and showed it to me,

  “ ‘Look, madam, cow sits.’ ”

  Then he tried to steal my lunch.

  I wasn’t swapping meals, but I did share mine with him. My food was pretty bad too, but it sure looked a lot better than his. I didn’t think my meal would kill us, but from the smell of it, there was a good chance that his meal might.

  “Speaking of food,” Jay announced, “I decided this morning that I can stop being so careful about my meals. I haven’t felt sick at all and I’m tired of being so cautious. It’s boring. I had the whole buffet at breakfast and washed it down with a big glass of iced water and I feel just fine. I think I can tell just by looking if something is bad or not. From now on, I’m eating and drinking whatever I want. I think all the precautions we’ve been taking are unnecessary.”

  Following longtime travel habits, we had both so far stuck to our normal rules for meals where food safety may be a concern. That is, we didn’t eat anything that wasn’t cooked or peeled, and we drank only bottled water, bottled soft drinks, coffee, wine, and beer. No ice.

  We are also pretty careful about buffets, where food might sit out unrefrigerated for too long or be contaminated by improper handling or insects. We never eat street food.

  “Are you sure about that, Jay? You really think that’s a good idea?”

  “Yep. I think the danger of Delhi-belly is over. We both know that’s not what killed Felix, right? And if the meal we just ate doesn’t make us sick, nothing will.”

  “Do as you wish, Jay, but I’m not chancing it. I am sticking with the rules.”

  “Somehow I thought you would, sweetie. Always want to play it safe, don’t you? What about that guy on television who goes all over the world eating weird stuff? He makes it okay.”

  “Only on camera. He’s probably sick as a dog later.”

  “Well, I’m going to eat what I want from now on. Truly experience an adventure in the native cuisine. You know I’m a real gourmet.”

  “Whatever you say, Jay. Whatever.”

  I thought Jay was making a mistake, but I am not his mamma, so I let it go. And he was correct in that thus far on the trip we both had remained healthy and so had everyone else. Everyone, that is, except poor Felix. I just hoped the real gourmet wouldn’t suffer the same fate.

  Chapter 13

  I cornered Sharma during cocktails.

  Rather than joining the group for drinks at sunset, I waited in the alcove outside Brooke’s room until I heard him tell her good evening, close the door, and bustle down the hall toward the elevator. I caught him just as he reached it.

  “Mr. Sharma, could I speak with you for a moment, please?”

  “Ah, Miss Marsh!” he said, turning toward me with a wide grin, gold tooth glinting. “Of course, of course. I am at your service. Always at your service. However, I fear that I am very busy just now. I am late for another very important business meeting.”

  “Well, your important business meeting this morning with the police is what concerns me now, Mr. Sharma. Why were we not told the truth of the cause of Felix’s death? And why did you lie to us about where you were going today?”

  His surprise at my awareness of the facts showed briefly in his eyes, but he covered it quickly.

  “Because I did not wish to cause you unnecessary distress, Miss Marsh. That is all. A pretty lady like yourself should not be concerned with these things. As I have told you before, I am in charge here and I will handle any problems that occur. Do not worry. Everything is taken care of. The details need not concern you at all.”

  “Murder is not a detail, Mr. Sharma.”

  “Murder? Has anyone mentioned murder? An unfortunate case of food poisoning. That is all it was. Such a sickness can happen to anyone in this hot climate. Unfortunately, sanitation here is not always what we wish it to be.”

  “Cerbera odollam poisoning is not food poisoning, Mr. Sharma.”

  Once again, the shock of my insider knowledge registered in his black eyes. They narrowed, belying his wide, toothy grin. I wondered if, should his body somehow disappear, his grin would remain, like the Cheshire Cat’s.

  “The toxicology report was wrong, Miss Marsh. A mistake was made by the lab. It has been corrected, just this morning. It now reads that his death was due to food poisoning. Salmonella, I believe, not suicide tree. Something contaminated that he ate. That is all. So sad, but nothing of concern to you.”

  Now it was my turn to be shocked. Was there truly a mistake? The poison of the suicide tree was said to be hard to detect. I knew that, because Jay had looked it up on his computer. Or had Sharma and his black briefcase somehow managed to have the report altered?

  “I must go now, Miss Marsh,” he said, pushing the elevator button. “As I said, I have an important meeting. Please go and enjoy the drinks with the others and do not give these distressing details another thought. It is all too much for your pretty head. All is well. There is nothing further to do. Do not worry. I have taken care of everything.”

  The elevator door opened and he entered, then turned and said to me with a sharp look as he pushed the lobby button, “But be careful, beautiful lady, of what you eat and drink from now on. Such an unfortunate illness can happen to anyone.”

  Then the door closed and he was gone with a wave of his pudgy hand.

  #

  “I have to tell you that I hope Sharma’s story is true,” Jay said. “The last thing we need on this trip is a murder. We’ve got enough to figure out with Brooke’s little puzzle. A real murder would sure complicate things, to say the least. I prefer Sharma’s version. Food poisoning sounds good to me.”

  Jay took a sip of his drink, leaned his red head back on the sofa, and closed his eyes. We were seated in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby.

  My first move after my little chat with Sharma had been to find Jay pronto and tell him all about it. I had snagged him from the cocktail party, knowing that I couldn’t simply wait until after dinner to tell him the news.

  “I know that, Jay, and I agree, but I also don’t trust Sharma’s word for one minute. I even think his little warning to me about watching what I eat and drink could be a veiled threat. What if he is somehow involved in Felix’s death? He’s sure working hard to cover it all up. ”

  Jay sighed, opened his eyes, and gave me his best benevolent grandfatherly look, which I hate.

  “Sidney dear, I say we just let sleeping dogs lie in this case. The police are in charge. And poor Felix has his relative to go to bat for him if he’s unsatisfied with the news. He doesn’t need you. The case is officially closed. Chill out, babe. If Sharma and the police say that there was a mistake in the report that is now corrected, fine. Silverstein will be more than pleased with this resolution. Brooke might even be too. Nobody wants it to be murder. Nobody. Move on.”

  I didn’t answer. He knew as well as I did that it was quite likely that the whole thing was a big cover-up, made possible by a wad of cash from Sharma’s greasy black briefcase. We had seen it in action plenty of times already, though only behind hotel desks and airline counters, not with police or lab techs or whoever had made the “correction.”

  “Sidney,” he tried again, “you know full well what Silverstein said to you before this trip began. Last chance, he said, remember? Do you really want to run point on this, knowing what you’re up against? This is a brick wall, girl. There’s no way you can undo that report even if you try. Do you think
the Indian police are going to listen to you, a foreign woman, over Sharma? No. Give this up, babe. What will it gain you? Nothing. Felix will still be dead, the official report will stand, and you will be out of a job.”

  “But Jay—”

  “No. We’re leaving this alone.”

  He stood, straightened his jacket and brushed his red hair into place in a lobby mirror. Heading for the dining room, he added, “Don’t be too long, sweetie, worrying over this. Just come on to dinner and put it out of your mind. It’s the smart thing to do. The only thing to do.”

  But could I?

  Long after Jay had marched off to dinner, I sat in that chair, mulling and stewing. Then I went to my room and ordered room service. I simply couldn’t face dinner on the chance that Sharma might be there. I knew I had to get my head around it all before I saw that dirt bag again.

  Plus, nothing makes me angrier than being “now, now little ladied.” I can’t stand the patronizing “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that” speech that I’ve gotten all my life when I’ve poked my nose in where some say I shouldn’t.

  My beloved homeland is known for that sort of thinking, but the mindset doesn’t only exist below the Mason-Dixon Line. I had just experienced it halfway around the world, in India. In some countries, who knows what might happen to a woman who speaks her mind? I thought I knew the answer to that question.

  After thinking it all out, though, I realized that Jay was right. I had to let it go. There was no other choice.

  But from now on, I resolved, I would be on guard. I would be watching. And if anything else funny happened, I would act, no matter what it cost me.

  Chapter 14

  Jay was late coming to breakfast the next morning. I went to his room to check on him and heard him groaning through the door. The hotel had thin walls and was nowhere near as nice as the ones we had enjoyed in Delhi and Agra. Perhaps it was the best to be had in the smaller city, or maybe Sharma was cutting corners. That would be no surprise.

  I knocked on Jay’s door.

  A feeble voice answered. “Who is it?”

  “Sidney. Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m not. I’m sick. I think I may be dying. Please come in. I thought you’d never come. I need help.”

  “Well, open the door and let me in, then.”

  “I don’t know if I can make it to the door. I’ll try.”

  Have I mentioned that Jay is a big hypochondriac? The tiniest sniffle can send him into a tailspin. That’s why I wasn’t really worried as I waited for him to open the door.

  When he finally did, I was worried, and I felt bad for doubting him. He really did look awful. He was beyond pale and had to hold on to the furniture to get back in bed. I could tell it was real this time and not just one of his dramas.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Jay,” I said gently, pulling the covers back for him to settle back on the bed. I was truly concerned. “Tell me what I can do for you. Do you want me to call a doctor?”

  “No. I think I’ll eventually be all right, but it’s going to take a while. I spent most of the night lying on the bathroom floor. I was a fool, Sidney. I should never have eaten all that stuff.”

  I felt his head. His forehead was cool. He didn’t seem to have any fever. I went to the bathroom for a damp washcloth and wiped his face, then straightened his twisted bedcovers. He lay perfectly still in the darkened room, groaning.

  It was hot and unpleasant in the room. The dumpy hotel’s air conditioning didn’t seem to be working very well. I opened the windows, adjusted the shutters to let in air but not much light, and turned on the ceiling fan.

  “I’ll be right back, Jay. I’m going to get you something to help you feel better.”

  I usually carry this pharmacy in my bag whenever we are headed to countries where the Duane Reade is not on the next corner. Before long I was back with some tablets my druggist had given me against just such an occasion. I had powdered Gatorade as well, which I mixed with bottled water and brought to Jay’s bedside.

  “Drink this if you can, Jay. Tiny sips at first.”

  Before long, he seemed better, enough so that I was no longer alarmed. He said he was too weak to go on the day’s tour, though, in the heat. I thought that was wise.

  “Do you want me to stay here with you, Jay? I don’t mind one bit missing the tour.”

  “No. You go on ahead, babe. I’ll manage. I’ll have them bring me some toast and tea later. I’m going to sleep now. I think that will help me most. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Well, okay. If you’re sure you’ll be all right—”

  “I’m sure. Really.”

  I turned toward the door.

  “Sidney?”

  “Yes, Jay?”

  “Turn the radio on to some music, please. Some soft music would be nice. You may have noticed that there’s no TV in this dump. Sharma should be ashamed, booking Brooke’s nice tour into a place like this. Hope it doesn’t blow back on us.”

  I fiddled with the radio dials. The best I could do was a local station playing sitar music.

  “At least our agency won’t be blamed for it, Jay. Brooke knows who made the reservations. Sorry about the music. It’s not exactly Brahms’s Lullaby, but it’s all I can find.”

  “It’s okay, Sid. Thanks. Have fun on the tour. Take some pictures for me.”

  I felt really sorry for him. I knew he hated to miss any of the exotic sights on the schedule. The very fact that he told me to go on without him showed how bad he felt. This was real. If he is having one of his swoons, he wants all the attention anyone will give him. When he doesn’t put on a big show, it’s serious.

  I grabbed my camera from my room and headed down the stairs to the front of the hotel, where our tour van had just pulled up and was waiting. I was lucky that it hadn’t already left.

  “Where’s Jay?” Lucy asked. “Isn’t he coming? Oh, dear, I hope he’s not ill.”

  “As a matter of fact, he is ill,” I said, as Nigel hopped out of the van and opened the doors, “but not seriously. Something he ate, I think. He should be fine in a few hours.”

  Brooke shot me a sharp look, brows raised. “Are you sure he doesn’t need a doctor, Sidney?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I think he’ll be feeling better soon.”

  “Good. Rahim is not going with us this morning. I will ask him to check on Jay while we’re gone,”

  Justin made room for me on the seat next to him. Jasmine and Adam were in the back seat, then Brooke and Lucy, then Justin and me. Mohit was in the front with Nigel. Rahim closed the door, and we were off, bumping down the rutted lane toward the monument complex.

  The Khajuraho Group of Monuments, built between 950 and 1150, was overgrown by the jungle and known only to locals until discovered by a British engineer and a British general in the nineteenth century. Today, Khajuraho is one of the most popular tourist sites in India and a World Heritage site.

  The temple complex is huge, covering some eight square miles in its entirety. There were originally eighty-five sandstone buildings but only twenty-six remain in a fair state of preservation. The complex is divided into three sections. About ten percent of the temples are covered in erotic carvings. Those carvings are the main attraction.

  It didn’t take long to reach the temple complex, unload, and march through the gates in Mohit’s wake.

  The day promised to be another hot one, but there was a freshness in the air that morning, making me doubly sorry to have left Jay behind.

  Mohit, standing in the shade of a purple umbrella, described the Chandela monarchs, builders of the complex, who preceded the Mughal invaders in ruling this part of India. He pointed us in the direction of each temple group and announced our meet-back and departure times. Then the group split up, with Brooke, Lucy and Justin heading in one direction and Adam and Jasmine in another.

  I stayed for a while with Mohit, asking questions, trying to get a better handle on the Hindu gods. There are
so many that it’s hard for the uninitiated to keep them straight, even the main ones, but I was getting there. I really wanted to understand at least the basics in this ancient religion, which is followed by the majority of India’s citizens.

  He was pleased with my questions. He smiled, and through his thick round glasses, he fixed his intent stare on my face and said, “It is written, ‘The goal of mankind is knowledge.’ ”

  As was his custom, he told me more than I wanted to know, though it was all fascinating. When he finally wound down, I thanked the curious little man, then headed down the path that Brooke’s group had taken.

  The architecture of the temples was different from any we’d seen thus far, reminding me of a jungle adventure movie. It was so exotic that I almost expected to meet Harrison Ford dressed as Indiana Jones on the path. I wished Jay was with me. I felt so bad for him, ill and stuck in the shabby hotel room.

  “Are you shocked by these images, Sidney? Or do they please you?”

  Justin’s heavily accented voice startled me. I hadn’t realized that he was standing there watching me, in the shadow of the Lakshmana temple. I had been wandering alone for a while, staring at the intricate stone carvings, some depicting explicit sexual life during medieval times. The one directly in front of me was X-rated, for sure.

  I could feel the heat rising in my face as I looked from a carving of an exuberantly entwined foursome and a horse into Justin’s smiling eyes. Those eyes raked my body as he stepped closer. I’m used to looks from guys, but this bold appraisal made me extremely uncomfortable.

  “I’ve been waiting here for you to come along, chérie, so I could explain all this to you. I am an expert in such objet d’arts. Would you like to hear my explanation?”

  He was now in my space and the silent invitation in his eyes was clear.

  I stumbled backwards, into the darkened, cave-like entrance of the deserted temple, causing him to laugh. There was a look of triumph in his eyes. I still hadn’t said anything, hadn’t answered him. It was as if I couldn’t speak. He knew how uncomfortable his movements and words had made me and seemed to revel in it.