I reached the part of the waterfront where Chinese fishing nets lined the northern coast of the old fort town. The nets were mammoth contraptions, at least fifty feet across and twenty-five feet high. Wooden arms radiated from a cantilever, with large stones suspended by ropes to act as counterweights to pull in the nets. I could see the giant nets clearly as the sun set over the water, though the water itself was dark.
Based on the location of the X on the waterfront—or rather, my memory of where that X was—it would be west of the nets where I’d begun my walk, but still along the water. The X had been drawn over water. A hundred years of shallow water with rocky sand… It was too much to hope for.
A bigger problem was that I didn’t know what I was looking for, and without the map, I was lost. Kochi was small, but not small enough. I’d rushed off impetuously, without thinking it through. Could Lane have been right about me? No, that wasn’t it. He didn’t fully understand what Anand had meant to my family—to my mom. Though I did have a choice, it wasn’t the clear-cut one that Lane made it out to be.
I glanced around uneasily, feeling the darkness descend. Now that Naveen had Anand’s letters, did he know more than I did?
I checked myself into a cheap hotel that had once been a royal residence. From the crumbling paint I could tell it had seen better days, so it was perfect for my budget.
In the morning, I was far from refreshed and ready for the start of a new day. The bed must have been left over from the colonial era just like the building. I woke up with a stiff neck, mad at Naveen and even madder at Lane. I hadn’t brought my running shoes with me to Kochi, so I couldn’t even go running to clear my head before the day heated up.
When I grabbed my backpack and unlatched the oversized wooden door of my hotel room, I realized I should have looked through the cut-out peep hole first. There was someone waiting for me in the hallway.
“Truce?” he said.
I regarded him for a moment as I caught my breath.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Lane continued. “And I didn’t mean for anything that happened yesterday to happen.”
“What I said…” I began, “I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” he said, but he didn’t look like he believed it.
“You’re not mad?”
“Let’s just get you through this, okay?”
Lane had abandoned his local attire and was wearing his usual horn-rimmed glasses, tan cargo pants, and a white cotton dress shirt. Wearing a white dress and tan sandals, I matched him. We might have looked like a cute couple if we weren’t the exact opposite.
I couldn’t get a firm grasp on any of the conflicting emotions clouding my thoughts. It was clear Lane hadn’t forgiven me, but he’d stayed when he said he wouldn’t. He wasn’t making things easier for either of us. I didn’t know if I wanted to walk past him and go off on my own, or if I wanted to see if we could start from scratch.
“How did you find me?”
“You’re still being a terrible spy,” he said. “If Naveen is looking for you, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find you either.”
“If you’re right about him,” I said, “he already has the letters, which means he doesn’t need me.”
“Maybe.”
“You look well-rested for someone who spent the night in this hallway.”
“I rented a room. But just in case I didn’t catch you, I paid the front desk night clerk to wake me up if you left. The security guard, too.”
I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the situation. As I did so, I realized for the first time that maybe Lane was right about my motives. I was scared of Naveen and confused about Lane, but that didn’t stop me from being filled with excitement as I closed in on answers about Uncle Anand and his treasure. I didn’t want to be anywhere but where I was.
“Does this mean you’re delirious from the heat?” Lane said.
“I accept your truce,” I said. “I’m looking for two locations on the map. I don’t have enough information to find the X that possibly marks the treasure, but there’s something significant about the MP Craft Emporium and The Anchored Enchantress. If you want to help, let’s get going.”
That morning, we stayed busy making inquiries about the two locations at a few of the local historical sites—to no avail. When monsoon rains broke, we took a lunch break. At a family restaurant with a large covered patio, I ordered a spicy dish of fish stewed in coconut milk. I was glad for the force of the downpour, because it made it easy to sit back and watch the rain instead of feeling like we needed to talk about anything I wasn’t ready for.
Once the rains cleared, we tried a different tactic. We hired an auto-rickshaw to drive us around the small peninsula in hopes of seeing something that fit.
“We’re looking for two things,” I said from the narrow backseat. “The MP Craft Emporium and The Anchored Enchantress.”
The driver wasn’t familiar with either one, but he was happy to drive us through the narrow streets in the vicinity of the two areas where I remembered the notations on the map. The streets began to blur together. Every few blocks, he asked if he could take us to some shops. I knew he’d get a commission if he took us to the specific stores he had arrangements with.
“I take Mr. and Mrs. to great shop. You like silk? Great deal on carpets?”
“I’ll give you twice your commission,” Lane said, leaning forward in the rickshaw, “if you stop circling the same streets with your friends’ shops.”
The driver was happy to oblige.
I was hoping I’d know what I was looking for when I saw it, but the longer we circled the streets, the less sure I became. “Maybe we should try this on foot?” I suggested after we’d spent hours searching in vain. “I’m starving. Why don’t we stop for dinner?”
The driver dropped us off in front of a café in the neighborhood that I thought was our best bet. Lane added a hefty tip to his payment before stepping out of the rickshaw. I climbed out after him, bumping into him where he stood frozen in place.
“We have company,” Lane said, pointing across the street.
Naveen Krishnan was in Kochi.
Chapter 28
“What are you doing, Jones?” Lane said, trailing after me.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to talk to Naveen.” I kept walking. “Naveen can’t do anything to us here in the crowded street.”
We dodged traffic to make our way across the dusty, crowded street. This central part of town with traders and retail shops was much busier than the coastal region I’d explored the night before and the historic areas we’d visited that morning.
Instead of looking surprised to see me, Naveen hailed me in greeting. He wore a white muslin suit and a broad-rimmed hat.
“Nice to see you keeping up,” he said to me. “And you must be the art historian.”
“How did—” I began.
“You think you’re the only one who can do their homework?” Naveen answered.
“What are you doing here, Naveen?” I asked. Lane remained uncharacteristically mute.
“I have just as much right to be here as you do,” Naveen said.
“You think you have the right to murder someone?” Lane said. He took a few steps to the side. Did he think Naveen was going to try something?
“Nice try, but I didn’t kill anyone,” Naveen said calmly. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Jaya here has the guts to kill anyone, either.”
I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.
“Steven’s son is crazy,” Naveen said. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have killed his father. Connor doesn’t care about the treasure, though. He won’t bother me when I find it.”
“You admit Steven came to see you to translate the
map,” I said.
We all dodged out of the way as a family of three on a bicycle came precariously close.
“Of course,” Naveen said, dusting off his slacks. “There’s no crime in that. There’s also no crime in beating you to the treasure.”
“What did Steven tell you about the treasure?” I asked. And why wasn’t Lane questioning him along with me?
Naveen answered with a thin smile.
“He didn’t tell you enough to find anything,” I said. “I knew it. You didn’t make the Kochi connection until I naively told you about the Chinese fishing nets. Then you bribed the archivist at the University of Kerala when you realized what I was on to.”
Naveen’s smile faltered at that. “I figured it out,” he said, his smile returning. “I’m not saying anything else.”
“I’m the one you stole the information from to get here!” I said, feeling terribly petty, but this was Naveen Krishnan. There was no way I was going to let him best me.
“All’s fair in love and academic war.” He tipped his hat and walked off.
“You were right,” I said to Lane after Naveen’s figure had disappeared down a narrow side street. “I wouldn’t put it past him to kill for this treasure. Not for the wealth, but for the academic glory.” I shivered in spite of the sticky heat.
“Hmm,” Lane said.
“You could have helped me out with him,” I said. “I thought that’s what you were here for. Maybe he knows where the shop we’re looking for is. He must have made a copy of the map.”
“I was doing something more important,” Lane said.
“Which is?”
Lane pointed to a faded wall a few buildings past where we stood. “I was making sure he didn’t turn around and see that.”
A modern sign with a new name hung above the bright blue door that was the shop’s main entrance, but the weather-worn wall had once borne the words Marikayaer Paravar Craft Emporium.
Chapter 29
“That’s it,” I said. “The MP Craft Emporium on Anand’s map.”
Lane and I rushed to the front of the store. A man with young eyes and a wrinkled face stepped out of the shop to greet us, the sound of small bells ringing above the door as he stepped through it. He wore a white dress shirt and a long white lungi. A taqiyah cap covered the top of his head.
“May I interest the lady in some jewels?” he asked, extending his arm toward the shop.
“Perhaps in a moment,” I said. “I wanted to ask a question about this shop.”
“Anything for the lady,” he replied.
“How long has this shop been here?” I asked.
“My great-grandfather opened it to sell his sculptures with the inlaid jewels.”
“He was a sculptor?”
“Yes. Very famous sculptor in his day.” I glanced at Lane.
“We have many souvenirs,” the proprietor added. “Many items. You come see.”
I followed him into the Marikayaer Paravar Craft Emporium, Lane trailing behind me.
The shop was filled with intricately carved statues, some wood and some stone. A giant stone Shiva, the destroyer god, was the centerpiece of the high-ceilinged room. Shiva had a staff in one hand and a cobra around his neck.
More my style was the wood carving of Ganesha playing the tabla. Too bad it was over six feet tall and would never fit in my suitcase, let alone my apartment door. Ganesha was the remover of obstacles. I could have used some of his powers right about then.
“Smaller items are along this wall, miss,” the proprietor said, ushering me toward the items that would fit into a suitcase.
“This may sound like a strange question,” I said, “but do you know anything about a man named Anand Selvam Paravar, who had something to do with this shop a hundred years ago?”
“Anand Selvam Paravar?” the man repeated.
“Yes,” I said, “the same as one of the family names of the shop.”
“Yes, yes,” the man said, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I have not heard that name in many years.”
“You know of him?”
“When I was a boy, I was told he had the Heart of India.”
“The Heart of India?” I repeated.
“The statue my great-grandfather carved when he was involved in the Indian Nationalist movement. The elephant statue was carved in this studio by my great-grandfather, with the help of many other men. The Paravars provided their most precious pearl to be held in the trunk of the elephant. Our families worked together for many years.”
Lane swore under his breath. The man glanced between us.
“Of course,” Lane said. “The pearl.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Didn’t you say you were a Paravar? You’re a terrible Indian, Jaya.”
And thus continued the story of my life, even with Sanjay 10,000 miles away.
“The Paravars operated pearl fisheries,” Lane continued. “They found pearls that became famous in Indian art. The most symbolic piece of the Heart of India was that pearl.”
“I know all about the Heart of India,” I said tersely. “Anand supported the Indian Nationalists who made the statue as a symbol of a unified Indian national pride. But it was lost when it was swept out to sea. That’s why I didn’t think of it.”
“That’s what the official story was,” Lane said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There were rumors it was stolen,” Lane said. “I should have thought of it. The Heart of India disappeared at exactly the right time. It’s a huge treasure—and one that your uncle was involved in. It makes sense that someone would kill over this.”
“Excuse me, miss,” the proprietor said. “You say you are a Paravar?”
I nodded.
“I have not thought about it in so many years,” the man said, a wistful expression coming over his face. “I am Abdul.”
I introduced myself and shook Abdul’s hand. His skin was rough and wrinkled but his handshake was strong. I was again struck by the fact that I couldn’t remotely guess his age.
“Though I have not thought of it in many years,” he said again, “Now that you are here, asking about the Heart of India… Wait here one moment.”
He hurried to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a curtain. I heard the sound of drawers opening and closing as Lane and I looked quizzically at each other. Abdul reappeared seconds later. He held an envelope that was worn with age.
“My great-grandfather, Faruk Marikayaer, received a letter from a member of your Paravar caste, a friend of his called Anand.”
I stared at Abdul.
“Anand was my great-granduncle,” I said.
Abdul smiled. “This letter is for you, then.” He handed me the wrinkled envelope. “My great-grandfather told his sons to save the letter. His friend Anand wrote to him that if he failed in his quest, his brother Vishwan might need his assistance with the Heart of India. Anand asked Faruk to help Vishwan in whatever way he could.”
“What happened?” I asked, my voice shaking. I had never heard any of this. Had my grandfather kept this from my mother?
“Vishwan never came to my great-grandfather,” Abdul said. “Faruk did not know where to find Vishwan. He was told Vishwan would find him. My grandfather kept the letter, and asked his sons to see to it that Anand and Vishwan’s family should have whatever help they needed when they did come.”
Abdul bowed. “I am your humble servant. The Heart of India—the pearl of freedom, purity, and Indian identity, under the protection of the elephant—disappeared in 1906. Is it your wish that we rescue the Heart of India from the magic that has made it disappear?”
“You mean it really was stolen?” I asked. “Not swept out to sea?”
“N
o, miss,” Abdul said. “It was not stolen. Nor was it taken by the sea. It disappeared.”
“How did something so big disappear?”
“Insha’Allah.” The proprietor raised his hands to the sky. “Magic.”
Chapter 30
San Francisco, 1905
“What is that thing?” Anand asked.
“I thought you’d seen one of these before,” Samuel said. “It’s a spirit cabinet.”
“The box from which you can pretend spirits appear?”
“Precisely.”
“It looks like a regular cabinet.”
“Good,” Samuel said. “That’s very good.”
“You spent months of wages on a cabinet,” Anand said. “That does not sound good to me.”
Samuel laughed.
“How does it work?” Anand asked.
“I’ll show you.”
Samuel asked Anand to bind his arms and legs with rope before leaving his bound body inside the cabinet. Anand was skeptical, but trusted Samuel knew what he was doing. Once he was satisfied Samuel was securely tied, Anand closed him into the empty cabinet.
Within the space of a minute, the sound of a ghostly fiddle could be heard.
“A trifling trick,” Anand said. The sound was eerie, but he would not admit that to Samuel. “You must have hidden a knife and the fiddle inside this special cabinet.”
The sound ceased. A moment later, the curtains fluttered. Anand whirled around. How had the window opened? The two men were alone. Anand pushed the curtains aside. He was alone. When he turned around, Samuel stood before him.
Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery) Page 16
