by Gigi Pandian
“It doesn’t?”
“Nice work cultivating Wesley Oh to study history.”
Cultivating? That was an odd word choice for the dean. “He’s really enthusiastic and smart,” I said. “I don’t know if he’ll major in history, though.” Although Wesley did tell me he had ideas for how he might locate specific sunken ships under San Francisco. I could hardly wait to see what he’d find.
“He declared his major when he registered for spring semester,” the dean said. “It’s history. His mother is incredibly happy that he’s finally fallen in love with school. Apparently Wesley almost dropped out a couple of times. You’re the reason he didn’t. You know who Wesley’s mother is, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
The dean looked taken aback. “Really? That’s not why you helped him?”
“I hope I help all my students.” This conversation was getting stranger and stranger.
“Wonderful. Wonderful! I’m glad you’re the person I thought you were.”
The dean explained that Wesley Oh wasn’t exactly the starving college student I’d assumed him to be. His mother was a tech billionaire in the Silicon Valley, just south of San Francisco. Someone with so much money that of course she’d donate some of it to the university department and the professor who’d helped her son.
The dean sent me on my way so he could get other work done, leaving me to get the rest of the details from Wesley himself. Who luckily was on his cell phone every waking hour of the day, and probably while he was sleeping as well.
Wesley’s mom, Nina Oh, was a woman with brilliant ideas and some questionable business practices that Wesley wanted nothing to do with. Wesley accepted tuition money from his family but wouldn’t take anything beyond that. But since he’d never held a job before college, he was terrible at keeping one, so he was constantly broke. Wesley had grown up around computer engineers, which is where he’d gotten the naga bandham Cobra Lock idea for the project Naveen had rejected.
When Wesley told his mom about me, Nina Oh decided to donate money to the university to create a chair for real world historians—history professors who didn’t confine themselves to the halls of academia. After I submitted my tenure paperwork, I would become the first endowed chair. The deal was that I had to teach at least one advanced course per year to help the university attract top-notch students, but beyond that I wasn’t confined to a specific classroom schedule and was free to explore and see where history took me.
Now all I had to do was submit my tenure paperwork as a formality, and I’d be Associate Professor Jaya Anand Jones, Oh Chair of Real World History.
Chapter 50
I was dreading telling Nadia that I’d decided to move out. I knew she’d easily find another renter in spite of the not-quite-legal status of the apartment. The reason I didn’t want to have the conversation is that we’d become good friends. I wasn’t leaving an apartment. I was putting in motion the end of an era. Nadia had been there for me in tough times, and we’d solved a historical mystery together.
“Come on,” Sanjay said for the fifth time. He’d been trying to get me off the couch since he’d arrived for moral support.
“It’s not only Nadia I’m abandoning,” I said, “but the neighborhood.”
“You curse the parking situation on a daily basis.”
“True, but will I find another barista who doesn’t raise a pierced eyebrow when I order my favorite off-menu sandwich?”
“That gross peanut butter and egg thing? You need to move on from that.”
“Miles and Tamarind are only together because Miles lives down the street and they met through me.”
Sanjay flipped his bowler hat onto his head and pulled me up from my spot on the sofa. “Meaning your job here is done.”
“Fair enough.” I looped my hand around Sanjay’s elbow, and we headed downstairs.
“Come in!” Nadia called after Sanjay’s hearty rap on the door knocker.
When we stepped inside, she wasn’t alone.
“Jack!” I ran up to Nadia’s paramour and embraced him. The edges of his bushy mustache scratched my cheek. “I haven’t seen you around in ages.”
“Because you’re always jetting off somewhere new.”
I let go of him and laughed. “I believe that’s what’s known as the pot calling the kettle black. It’s good to see you.”
“You too, kiddo.” The lines around Jack’s eyes crinkled as his smile lit up.
Jack Dalton had been Nadia’s on-again off-again significant other for as long as I’d known her. I couldn’t remotely guess their ages—they could have been anywhere from their late fifties to their eighties. Their stories (which I wasn’t entirely sure were true, but I wouldn’t put it past them) led me to believe they were on the older side, but their joy for life kept them young. Sometimes I felt like Jack was younger than me.
“This Sanjay?” Jack asked. “You look like your posters.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sanjay shook Jack’s hand warmly. “I was beginning to think you were a Snuffleupagus.”
Nadia frowned. “Jack is much more handsome than a Snuffleupagus.”
“Nadia asked me to come over since I’m manly and brave.” He looked at her with mischievous eyes. “I’m selling my old plane and retiring. We were thinking it might be nice to move in together.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said.
“Almost,” Nadia said. “Almost wonderful. Jack needs a studio space for all the items he now keeps in an airplane hanger, but there is no room in this house.”
“You’re selling it?” Sanjay asked. “A Victorian in this part of the city will make you a wealthy wom—”
“You can’t sell it,” I cut in. “You’ve put so much love into this place since you bought it decades ago. I know how much you love this place. You can’t—”
“She’s not selling,” Jack said. “She refused to be a bad guy either. We were hoping we might help you find a bigger place to live. That way Nadia and I can have the attic apartment as part of our house. Just the two of us here together.”
Sanjay burst out laughing.
“It is funny that Jaya will be homeless?” Nadia asked. Her Russian accent became thicker when she was agitated. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, and she put a protective arm around my shoulders.
“Actually,” I said, “I already have a place in mind for myself. It’s perfect for you and Jack to have the house to yourselves.”
Sanjay lifted his bowler hat from his head and pulled a full bouquet of fresh roses from within. Don’t ask me how he does it. I still have no idea. “We wish you both all the happiness in the world.”
Sanjay and I took our leave. On the front porch, he stopped me and gave me a hug.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“Because I don’t have another bouquet of flowers in my hat, but I wish you all the happiness in the world as well. Both of you. Now isn’t there somewhere you’re supposed to be?”
There was.
Normally Sanjay and I would be playing at the Tandoori Palace that night, but Raj had finally decided to retire. We’d had a last-minute big celebration on New Year’s Eve at the restaurant that was also a bon voyage retirement party for Raj.
Head chef Juan was the natural person to take over, and that’s why Raj had decided the restaurant would be in good hands and he could enjoy retirement. Juan was toying with changing the name from Tandoori Palace to “Odisha to Oxaca,” to emphasize how he’d be incorporating more fusion dishes that combined Indian and Mexican flavors. Sanjay and I weren’t sure the name was quite right, even though the word “dish” inside the spelling of the Indian state of Odisha and Juan’s graphic designer girlfriend made a cool logo that highlighted “dish.” Juan was still playing with ideas before the grand opening that would take place in a couple of months.
Since the restaurant was closed
in the meantime, I had other evening plans.
I met Lane at the Berkeley house. The stresses of the world slipped away as I walked through the ivy-wrapped arch and walked up the winding path to the Tudor house.
Lane had only recently gotten back to California. He’d stayed longer in Cambodia than I had because he needed more recuperation in the warmth and I needed to get back to my university responsibilities.
I found him in the backyard, watching the sunset over the San Francisco skyline and the Golden Gate Bridge. A light wind was blowing, but the ghostly fog from December had been replaced by a crisp, clear January.
I snuck up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. Gently, because of his injury, but not too gently. I’m only human. He turned around and kissed me. Electricity shot through my body whenever he kissed me, distracting me from the world around me. I was only vaguely aware of something wrapping around my wrist.
When I opened my eyes I saw what it was. “You can’t—”
“It’s glass,” Lane said. “The ruby is a glass replica of the Rajasthan Ruby bracelet you saw. As for the real one, it’s going to a museum. One of your choosing. It’ll be anonymously donated, of course.”
“Of course.” The scent of sandalwood washed over me as I kissed him.
When we pulled apart and I opened my eyes, the orange sky had nearly turned indigo. A light on the back porch cast light over most of the backyard. A canopy of trees flanked the two sides of the yard that adjoined neighboring properties, and a small patio sat directly behind the house, but most of the yard wasn’t landscaped.
“This space has so much potential,” I said. Not that I knew how to plant anything.
“I know. I was thinking this back patio would be the perfect place for the wedding.”
I turned from the twilight sky to face him. “Whose wedding?”
“Ours.” His chameleon hazel eyes were hopeful.
“Mr. Peters, are you proposing?”
“I need to tell you…I wasn’t completely forthcoming when I said I was going to stay in Cambodia recuperating that whole time. On my way home, I had stops to make in Goa and London.”
“What’s in Goa and London?”
“Not what. Who. Our parents. Your dad is still in Goa, and I had to make up the Christmas trip to see my mom. They both give their blessing.”
Lane got down on one knee. He opened a small velvet box, revealing the solitary Rajasthan Ruby, the one that had been freestanding. It was now set in a custom ring.
“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered.
He nodded. “This one isn’t glass. It was the only gem all on its own in the dirt on that archaeological dig. It needed a good home. I think I found the perfect one. If you agree. Jones, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth?”
It might not have been the best day of my life, but it came close.
Author’s Note
As is the case with all of my Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mysteries, the treasure in The Glass Thief is fictional, but it’s based in real historical facts, and the settings are described as I experienced them. Therefore, something like these treasures could exist and be waiting to be discovered.
A few key details about the history and places in the book are below. Information on these subjects could easily fill multiple books on their own, so I’ve compiled additional information, suggested reading, and photos on my website, gigipandian.com.
French colonialists traveled to both India and Cambodia, as described in The Glass Thief. In 1860, French explorer Henri Mouhot came upon Angkor Wat; he didn’t “discover” it, as it hadn’t been lost to the Khmer people. Mouhot died of malaria not long afterward, but through his writings, the Western world learned about the temples of Angkor.
Naga is the Sanskrit word for serpent. The semi-divine beings are prominent in the art of India and Cambodia. The naga are associated with waterways, and are known to be the guardians of treasure. History and myth are intertwined in the many differing versions of the legend of Brahmin prince Kaundinya and the nagini princess Soma, whose union created the kingdom of Kambuja, which became Cambodia. The legends in the novel are but a few of many.
Sadly, historical sculptures have often been looted from Cambodian temples. One high profile example from 2012 saw a sandstone sculpture of a Khmer warrior (listed at a prominent U.S. auction house with an estimate of $2-3 million), which some experts believed was looted during the reign of the Khmer Rouge. There are
no easy answers for how to resolve such situations, but wealthy philanthropists have been known to step in to buy back historical treasures to repatriate them to their country of origin.
The Cambodian cities of Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, and the temple ruins of Ankgor Wat, the Bayon, and Banteay Chhmar, are all places well worth visiting. I wrote my locked-room mystery short story “The Cambodian Curse” (available in The Cambodian Curse & Other Stories), about a Cambodian sculpture disappearing from a San Francisco museum, at a café in Phnom Penh, after breaking my ankle while exploring Banteay Chhmar.
In India, the naga bandham “Cobra Lock” is a real mystery that exists at the Padmanabhaswamy Temple in the Indian state of Kerala. In 2011, a vast treasure was unearthed in the temple—but only a portion of the temple was searched. Untold riches remain hidden in Vault B, which is locked with an iron door that bears the image of a cobra.
In San Francisco, you can follow the Barbary Coast trail and walk above many of the abandoned Gold Rush ships that make up part of the landfill that expanded the city. A detailed map created by the San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park shows the location of nineteenth century sunken ships.
Jaya learned first-hand about the sunken ships under San Francisco in Pirate Vishnu, the second Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery, when she discovered the secrets of her great grand uncle, the first of the Indian side of her family to travel to the United States shortly before San Francisco’s Great Earthquake of 1906.
There’s so much fascinating world history that remains a mystery. Historian Jaya Jones has plenty to keep her occupied for the foreseeable future.
About the Author
USA Today bestselling and multi-award-winning author Gigi Pandian is the child of cultural anthropologists from New Mexico and the southern tip of India. She spent her childhood traveling around the world on their research trips, and now lives outside San Francisco with her husband and a gargoyle who watches over the garden. Gigi writes the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mysteries, the Accidental Alchemist mysteries, and locked-room mystery short stories. Her debut novel, Artifact, was awarded a Malice Domestic Grant and named a Best of 2012 Debut by Suspense Magazine, and her mysteries have also been awarded the Agatha, Rose, Lefty, and Derringer awards. Learn more and receive a free novella by signing up for Gigi’s email newsletter at gigipandian.com/newsletter.
The Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery Series
by Gigi Pandian
Novels
ARTIFACT (#1)
PIRATE VISHNU (#2)
QUICKSAND (#3)
MICHELANGELO’S GHOST (#4)
THE NINJA’S ILLUSION (#5)
THE GLASS THIEF (#6)
Short Stories
THE LIBRARY GHOST OF TANGLEWOOD INN
THE CAMBODIAN CURSE & OTHER STORIES
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