Some days, I didn’t get any respect.
~~~~~~~~
I put off lunch with Kirin because I arranged a much grander outing for us. When I asked him if he felt like doing a bit of amateur sleuthing, he leapt at the chance.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I said, surprised at his enthusiasm. “You never were before when...uh....”
“I wasn’t. But I’ve never seen you in action and I...uh...always kind of wanted to.”
“Kirin.”
He smiled reassuringly, all teeth and crinkly eyes. “It’s okay, Javen. I’m not trying to recreate anything. You know I have a bit of a thing for cops.”
I relaxed. “I remember. I’d like you to take Vik. I’ll take Prachi.”
“Sure. Why that way around?”
“Everyone knows my preferences, so if I take Vik, people will assume I’m sleeping with him, and he doesn’t need the attention.”
“But you don’t mind if people think I’m sleeping with a lovely indigenous boy who looks about fifteen.”
“He’s twenty, and you’ll survive. I’ll pick you up from the house at seven.”
“It’s a date,” he said lightly.
I’d asked Jyoti to accompany Shardul, who’d requested to use one of the spare invitations, much to my surprise. I hoped he wasn’t going to cause a scene, but he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And I confessed to a little curiosity myself as to what he was up to.
I arranged a party taxi for our group, collecting Shardul and Jyoti from Roshni-ji’s house. I pressed the door bell, and stood by the taxi to wait. A few moments later, Shardul emerged, and I blinked. He wore a jaunty beaded hat that glittered in the street light, an embroidered open, sleeveless vest equally extravagantly decorated and nicely setting off his muscled chest, and a pair of purple light cloth trousers, cut tight and low around his hips, and hanging in generous folds around his legs. They drew attention to his crotch as effectively as if he’d hung an illuminated sign on it. After staring for a bit, I realised he was also wearing beaded slippers.
“Sainted reason,” I breathed.
“Is there’s a problem, Javen?”
I swallowed. “Not at all. Is Jyoti ready?”
“Yes. My dear?”
She stepped out of the doorway. “Bloody hell!” I whispered.
She shimmered. Her outfit was far more modest than Shardul’s as far as covering her, but her arms and neck glittered with beads and polished stones, the cloth of the flowing skirt over her loose trousers, and the long shirt shot through with reflective thread. It could have been gaudy, but instead, looked magnificent. Her braids, usually tied up in a coil behind her head, flowed around her shoulders like a fantastic mane, each tail terminating in a tiny, shiny ornament.
“You look like a queen,” I said to Jyoti, bowing to her. “And quite stunning.”
“Thank you, Javen. I’ll have the company of two handsome men tonight.”
“Pity our loveliness is wasted on you,” Shardul quipped, taking her arm and guiding her to the taxi. “At least no one’s likely to mistake us for the help.”
The driver baulked when he saw them, locking the doors so they couldn’t get in. “Hey, I didn’t agree to picking up anyone in fancy dress.”
“You didn’t agree you wouldn’t,” I said, leaning into his window and speaking in a soft tone. “Be quiet, be polite, and I’ll be generous with a tip. Make a scene, and I’ll make sure you lose your job and your carriage license. Now lower your voice and treat these fine people with respect, or I’ll kick your arse.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Yes.”
He glared at me, but I stared back until he lowered his eyes. “Tell them to get in.” The door locks clicked.
“Sushri Jyoti, Sri Shardul, would you care to step inside?” I called.
Jyoti would have sensed the little prick’s hostility, and Shardul would have guessed it even without the overheard insults. Now I wished I’d brought my own vehicle.
“Sorry,” I mouthed at Jyoti.
She shrugged. Shardul patted her hand, and gave me a dirty look. “Sorry,” I said to him too. This wasn’t what I’d planned.
We collected my trainees from their homes. To my amusement I found formal clothes made Vik look even younger. Kirin would have a fit. “You look very fine,” I told him. Jyoti hid a smile.
“Good evening, Shardul,” Vik said.
“Nice to see you again, Vik. How’s working for the evil oppressor going?”
Vik smiled brightly. “The beatings have stopped and he’s feeding us every other day now. So it’s good.”
Prachi giggled. I whacked my insolent assistant on the arm. “Quiet or the shackles go back on, beto.”
“Come the revolution, Ythen, you’ll be the first one we hang from the ramparts.”
“Yeah, yeah. All talk, Shardul.”
The driver glanced at me in the mirror. I gave him a broad grin. Shardul, leaning back in the shadows, smirked. I owed him that.
Kirin looked a lot better in evening wear than I did, and even though we weren’t together any more, I felt proud to be with such a good-looking guy. Three of them, for sure. Shardul was probably the prettiest person in the taxi, but Kirin reminded me of when I’d first met him and had been bowled over by the handsome geek.
I kissed his cheek. “You look quite edible.”
“Thank you. I’d offer you a nibble but...children, don’t you know.”
“He’s twenty.”
“I want to see some ID.” He smiled as he got in the taxi. “Hello everyone. Jyoti, my goodness, you look simply gorgeous.”
“I hope some Kelon socialites drop dead out of pure envy,” Shardul said. “Sri Nel.”
“Shardul-ji,” Kirin acknowledged. I rolled my eyes. It was a wonder Shardul didn’t lower his pants and wave his dick in Kirin’s face to show who was boss. Kirin had no idea why Shardul didn’t like him. Neither did I, to be honest. Shardul had been hostile from the minute he’d met him. Men.
At the residence, I gave the taxi driver a tip though I felt more like reporting him. Easier to just send him away without a fuss, so the evening wouldn’t be tainted further by his attitude.
I’d been to exactly one Governor’s Ball since my father won the position, while I was still a police officer. I’d gone in uniform, alone, and been pictured with Yashi, also then single, and my parents, the perfect image of the perfect family. I’d hated every minute of it. Yashi had since gone with Tara a couple of times, but the novelty had worn off, and now they’d rather spend the evening at home with the kids. Didn’t blame them at all.
But now I was here with such attractive and congenial companions, I could almost enjoy the prospect. We walked in with men in richly embroidered coats and sharp trousers, and women dressed in flowing silk sarees and gems on hands, ears, necks and in their hair. None outshone our Jyoti. Heads turned, and people murmured in surprise as Shardul led his beautiful companion into the ballroom. I was certain very few, if any, had ever seen any Nihan in full finery before. Certainly, none had ever entered the ball as a personal guest of this governor either. Shardul radiated excitement. He was up to something, but what?
Conversations stopped, though the music continued, and dancing couples slowed to a halt to stare at our little group. I rolled my eyes. “Anyone would think they’d never seen you guys before. Prachi, would you like to dance?”
“Yes, boss,” she said, eyes twinkling.
Shardul led Jyoti behind us, and Kirin, throwing caution and reputation to the winds, took Vik’s hand and joined us on the floor.
My mother would have organised everything for the ball. I recognised her exquisite taste in the large flower arrangements emitting a subtle scent through the air, and in the slowly twisting ceiling decorations, sending sparkling light and colour over the crowd. The music was live, of course—no recordings for Mum—and the instruments impeccably tuned. The familiar popular tune playing now was irresistibl
e to anyone who loved to dance.
But even so, for far too long, we were the only people on the floor, while my Kelon countrymen showed a complete lack of manners, staring and muttering to each other. But then, either sick of staring, or unable to resist the lure of the lively music, another couple joined us, and another, and soon the floor filled again, though with a conspicuous distance kept between Shardul and Jyoti, and the other dancers. Did people think they could catch being indigenous or something?
Shardul danced beautifully. Of course he did. He did everything beautifully. Kirin had learned to dance at his private school, same as I had. But where had Shardul? And where had Jyoti? I suspected shenanigans, and grinned to myself.
“What’s so funny, boss?”
“Call me ‘Javen’ here, Prachi, or ‘sir’ if you must. Just wondering what Shardul’s doing?”
“Poking people in the eye, sir. Like you are.”
“Not so obviously. We do have to look for this bracelet.”
“Yes, but can we have some fun first? And a drink?”
When we finished the dance, I bowed to her and took her hand. “This way, my lady,” I said, and headed to the bar.
My mother found us while I was ordering Prachi a glass of wine, fruit juice for me, damn it. “Javen, what on earth do you think you’re doing bringing those people here in those outrageous outfits?”
“Good evening, Mother. Mother, this is Prachi Abhay, one of my able assistants. My friends are here to help me.”
“Dressed like that?”
“You have a problem with cultural displays, Mum? Half the women here are wearing indigenous jewellery.”
“Yes, but not....” She fell silent as Shardul and Jyoti came over.
“Shardul, Jyoti, let me introduce you to my mother, Shrimati Ythen. Mother, Sri Shardul Hema Rishabh, one of Hegal’s finest lawyers, and Sushri Jyoti Tejal Hiranya.” Jyoti bowed a little. Shardul nodded politely. “Jyoti works with Kirin. He’s here too.”
“Oh, is he?” Mum liked Kirin, which is why I’d mentioned him. “Er, nice to meet you both. Er, Sushri Hiranya, that’s a very striking costume.”
“Traditional celebratory wear among our people, Shrimati Ythen,” Shardul said. “Sadly it’s rarely possible for a full display these days.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” She wasn’t really interested, but politeness made her keep on with the conversation.
“Because the trade in the beadwork and jewellery has pushed the prices up too much for our people to acquire new work, and those who haven’t already sold their inherited pieces to be traded to your people, find they are targeted by thieves and muggers who steal the goods and pass them to illegal artefact merchants. It’s a great loss to the Nihan and our culture.”
He fixed her with those laser bright eyes and she flushed. “Er...I’m sure. Javen, dear, do excuse me. I must speak to your father.”
She rushed off, relieved to get away. I turned to Shardul. “You’re evil.”
“Yes, I am. Did any of that penetrate?”
“To be honest, I doubt it. But keep telling people. Don’t forget we came here for a reason, though.”
“You came for a reason. I came for entirely different reasons.”
“Fine, but keep an eye out for the bracelet. We should circulate. If nothing else, you two will form such a distraction, the rest of us will slip by unnoticed. Jyoti, I claim a dance later. Shardul, same for you.”
He couldn’t refuse, but he narrowed his eyes. “You may regret that, Ythen.”
“I count on it. Now, to work, boys and girls.”
Kirin was still dancing, and Vik did his best to keep up. They looked delicious together, despite the apparently huge age gap. I had to give Kirin credit—the idea of not being seen with an indigenous companion had obviously never entered his head, and he treated Vik like any other date, determined to give him a damn good time. But Vik was here to work, so as Prachi and I joined them briefly on the dance floor, I whispered, “Bracelet” into Kirin’s flushed left ear.
“Oh. Now?”
“Soon. But you can dance as well. Don’t forget to feed and water him. These young things have needs.”
“I’ll get you for that remark, Javen.”
“Good. People are taking pictures.”
He grinned. “Excellent.”
I smiled at Vik and gave him a discreet thumbs-up. My assistant grinned back toothily. I hoped he didn’t think investigative work would always be this glamorous.
One of the women watching the dancing recognised me, and smiled. I wandered over. “Good evening, Shrimati Ceral. May I introduce Prachi, my assistant?”
“Welcome, Prachi, and Javen, dear, called me Hita. How are you? I’ve heard nothing of you for years. What are you doing now?”
I settled into conversation with my mother’s old friend. Prachi pretended to listen attentively, but like me, she scanned the other women for signs of the distinctive bracelet.
Nothing so far, but I used Hita’s welcome to insinuate myself in conversations with other women. One of their husbands was bold enough to ask Prachi to dance while I talked to his wife. The resulting jealousy and attention from the women onlookers let me move unnoticed among them and check out their wrists.
Vik and Kirin were busy too, at the bar and buffet. Kirin had always attracted female admiration despite being as openly homosexual as me, and every time I looked over at the two of them, a woman was talking to him, gazing up at him with unrealistic lust in her eyes. Everyone ignored Vik, though I noticed a few men giving him thoughtful looks.
Shardul and Jyoti were heading back to the dance floor. I moved alongside and insinuated myself between them. “Ah, may I claim my dance now, Jyoti?”
“Certainly, Javen. Sorry, Shardul.”
Shardul made a face. “Then I shall have to claim another companion.” He marched straight up to Hita, bowed, and asked her to dance. Even at this distance, I felt her utter shock. I was sure that was the only reason she let Shardul take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.
I smiled sweetly at Jyoti. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?”
“If her husband doesn’t have a heart attack.”
Sri Ceral stood bug-eyed at the edge of the dance floor. If Shardul gave him the least excuse, the man would march over and drag his wife away, but Shardul was much too smart for that.
Dancing with Jyoti was like dancing with a man. She was tall as me, and obviously had taken the male part when learning, but she moved with such regal grace that any awkwardness disappeared in moments. “Everyone’s watching you,” I whispered.
“Those who aren’t watching Shardul.”
“The men are watching you. And half the women, probably hoping to scratch your eyes out.”
“Fortunately, I don’t care.”
I grinned, and twirled her around.
When that dance ended, Shardul handed Hita back to her frowning husband with a flourish. Hita fanned her flushed face and gave Shardul a flirtatious smile, which only made Sri Ceral frown more ferociously. Shardul turned, and asked the woman next to them to dance.
For the next hour, he danced with nearly half the female guests in the room. I danced with Jyoti, and then Kirin, and Prachi again, once her latest consort let her go. She nodded at Shardul, sweeping an elderly dowager around the floor like a teenager. “What’s he up to?”
“I have no idea, but I’m enjoying the show.” I discreetly pressed my earpiece. “Vik? Any sign of the bracelet?”
“No, sir. We’ve checked most of the women now.”
“Keep going. We can’t be sure the purchaser exists or is here. Oh, and Vik? Ask Shardul to dance.”
“Yes, sir.” I heard his grin.
“You’re the evil one, sir,” Prachi said.
“Stick with me and learn my methods, my dear.”
When the dance finished, I saw my mother watching us, and out of politeness, I figured I should ask the old girl to dance. Kirin had already done so, though Shardul point
edly had not.
“Mum, would you care to?”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know, Javen. You and your friends seem to be enjoying yourselves a little too much.”
I took her hand. “Only because you know how to throw a great party. Come on, let’s show this lot how it’s done.”
She was naturally an excellent dancer, but she felt stiff and awkward in my arms. “Relax, Mum.”
“I can’t.”
“Are you expecting Timin Veringe to turn up?”
“Oh, no. We sent an invitation, but he’s unable to attend this year. He usually does though.”
“Right.” Of course a purveyor of dodgy merchandise was welcome at the governor’s house, but Induma Kly hadn’t been invited, even though her late husband would have been. Mum would never get it.
She tensed again. “Javen, what are you and your ‘friends’ up to?”
“I can’t tell you, except it’s about your case. When we find what we’re looking for, I’ll tell you.”
She made a face, and then her frown deepened. I followed her gaze. Shardul, dancing with Vik. Both of them obviously enjoying themselves.
“Disgusting,” she said. “He’s only a child.”
“He’s twenty. And Shardul’s a year younger than me. Both adults.”
“Yes, but.... That man was revoltingly rude to me, and you let him.”
“Shardul? He wasn’t rude.”
“He was. All that nonsense about banis jewellery.”
“He was only telling you the truth, Mum. And politely too. If he’d been rude, he’d have left you in tears. Trust me on this.”
“He’s a dreadful man.”
“He’s a lawyer. They’re paid to be dreadful. But he’s actually a very good person.”
“He’s been flaunting himself all night.”
“Asking your friends to dance? Why is that wrong? The ladies enjoyed themselves. Ask Hita. Or are you mad because he didn’t ask you?”
“I’d never dance with—”
“A banis?”
She went stiff. “Someone that rude,” she said coldly. “Are you accusing me of racism, Javen?”
“No, Mum,” I said with a sigh. “I just don’t know why Shardul bothers you.”
“I don’t like show-offs.”
Different Senses Page 22
