Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery)

by Pandian, Gigi

  With a little paint and a new figurehead on the front of the captured boat, the vessel would not be recognized. The crew helped him accomplish the disguise within a day. The riskier part of the plan was where he would need to leave the ship. The safe ports would need to make note of it, and Anand could not take the risk. He left the boat anchored near the rocky cliffs of the northwest coast of San Francisco. It was not ideal, but he would not need to leave it for long.

  Samuel met Anand at The Siren’s Anchor the day following Anand’s recapture of the stolen treasure.

  Samuel’s beard was unshaven, his hair wild. His body, once muscular, was now gaunt. He looked as if he had not slept.

  “You have ruined me, Anand.”

  “You have ruined yourself.”

  “Mrs. Lancaster invested in the expedition to win her prize. She expects a return on her investment. I must have that statue back.”

  “She cannot possibly think she can display it.”

  “Not publicly.”

  “Then what is the point?”

  “You think you are worldly, but you have much to learn about people.”

  “That statue belongs in India,” Anand said.

  Samuel pulled two whiskys toward them that Faye had set down on the bar.

  “It is only a piece of carved rock and a pearl, Anand. You and I know it holds no mystical significance.”

  “It is meaningful to people, which makes it significant. It brought together men across caste and geography. We are fighting for independence from the British and from unjust maharajas. As you well know from what I have confided in you, the Heart of India pearl is a symbol of freedom, purity, and identity. And the elephant is its protector. Though it is not mystical, it has more meaning than you realize.”

  Samuel shook his head. “You will not reconsider?”

  “And let a selfish woman with money she never earned herself keep a toy she does not understand?”

  “If that is your decision,” Samuel said, “let us forget about our current troubles, at least for one last night.”

  “I will drink with you one last time.”

  “To old times,” Samuel said. They raised their glasses and drank.

  “I wish it did not have to end like this,” Anand said.

  “So do I,” Samuel said. His eyes filled with tears. “I have poisoned your drink.”

  Chapter 50

  I woke up with a stomach ache. It probably wasn’t the best idea to eat the last tacos at a taco truck right before it shut down for the night.

  I had slept at a hotel, hoping the police weren’t desperate enough to find me to pull my credit card transaction records.

  Taking a look at myself in the bad light of the hotel bathroom mirror, I hardly recognized myself. Why had I let Sanjay convince me to run from the police? He was the one who’d had the oh-so-brilliant idea that Tamarind was a killer who had mugged and drugged me, when in reality all Tamarind had done was be a good research librarian and friend, and all that had happened after coffee with her was that my travel exhaustion had kicked in. Though Sanjay was unquestionably a skilled illusionist and performer, his deductive skills left much to be desired.

  What was I doing? Did I really think I could solve the mystery and clear my name before they found me?

  As soon as the university library opened, I slipped into a study carrel. Tamarind hadn’t yet arrived for her shift at the research help desk. At ten a.m. I peeked into the main section and saw Tamarind. She spotted me as I walked up to her.

  “This time,” she said, her purple-eye-shadowed eyes growing wide, “I’m getting someone to cover for me.”

  She whisked me away to a back room in the library away from prying eyes, the metal hoops on her black cargo pants clanging into each other as we walked hastily through the library.

  “I need you to help me look some things up,” I said as she plopped me down on a backroom couch.

  “Pigs still after you?” Tamarind asked.

  “Probably.”

  “You’re on the lam?”

  “Hopefully not for long,” I said. “I’m trying to figure out who’s after the treasure and is framing me.”

  “Nobody is framing you,” a deep voice said from behind us.

  I turned and saw Inspector Valdez. They say palms sweat when you’re nervous. At that moment, all of me started to sweat.

  “You continue to be a difficult woman to find.”

  “Were you looking for me?” I asked. My voice may have come out in a squeak.

  The inspector held up a familiar bag in his hand. “I thought you might want this.”

  I was still sweating, but now a little less. That’s why he’d been looking for me? I could have killed Sanjay and Nadia. It was their overactive imaginations that had convinced me Inspector Valdez wanted to arrest me.

  “You found Jaya’s bag!” Tamarind said.

  “And,” Valdez said, “we arrested the person who stole it.”

  “Shut. Up.” Tamarind stared at the inspector.

  He gave her a funny look.

  “This is Tamarind,” I told him. “She’s a librarian here. An enthusiastic librarian.”

  He gave her a brief nod before turning back to me and handing me my messenger bag. I took it and found my laptop inside.

  I was beyond happy to have my laptop back. There weren’t many things I could be happy about right then, so I’d take what I could find. Naveen Krishnan wouldn’t be the only one with an impressive academic publication coming out soon.

  “Who stole it?” I asked.

  “Connor Healy.”

  “Steven’s son?”

  “He hasn’t confessed yet, but we’ve arrested him.”

  “For his father’s murder as well?”

  “I was trying to find you last night to tell you,” he said. “But we kept missing you. You should really get a new phone.”

  “Guess you don’t have to solve the crime to keep the police from arresting you,” Tamarind said once the inspector had left.

  “It’s strange that it’s Connor,” I said. “It makes sense, but it feels… odd somehow.”

  “Probably nerves,” Tamarind said. “You’ve been on the run.”

  “Inspector Valdez told me Connor had an alibi.”

  “He probably got someone else’s opinion,” Tamarind said. “Aren’t eyewitness accounts unreliable?”

  That was it. I knew what I was missing. I knew what we were all missing.

  Naveen had done both of the translations. That meant I hadn’t gotten an objective second opinion about the translations.

  Since the writing on the map was in Tamil script, I couldn’t easily use an online translator. However, there was a different angle I hadn’t thought to pursue. I could look for alternative meanings of the already-translated English words. I opened my laptop and searched for several meanings of The Anchored Enchantress before I found what I was after.

  The literal translation of the Tamil could have been the Anchor of Mohini, a female incarnation of the Hindu god Vishnu—often thought of as a femme fatale. An enchantress. A Siren.

  The great Naveen Krishnan had gotten the translation wrong.

  The Anchored Enchantress was supposed to be The Siren’s Anchor.

  I had seen that name before, when looking at a map of San Francisco from a century ago. The Siren’s Anchor was a saloon from the days of the Barbary Coast.

  Chapter 51

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a copy of the map!” Tamarind said.

  “Steven’s daughter-in-law Christine found a copy in his possessions. She thought I’d want it so she gave it to me.”

  “Shut. Up. And you just cracked it.”

  I spread out the map. “The X is whe
re the treasure should be found, so what’s the significance of this saloon in the Barbary Coast?”

  “Don’t you know your San Francisco history?” Tamarind asked. “Much of the coastline was filled in with landfill.”

  “I do know something about San Francisco history, you know,” I said. “But why would that matter to Anand’s map? The land was already filled in when he got here.”

  “It matters because of the name of the saloon you mentioned,” Tamarind said. “Most of the Financial District is built on top of land that’s mixed up with sunken ships that sailed into the bay during the Gold Rush and never left. But there are a few buildings still made out of the tops of some of those ships. There’s at least one of those old ship saloons that survived the earthquake and that still exists.”

  “Really?”

  “The Old Ship Saloon is the favorite pub of one of my ex-boyfriends.” Tamarind paused and rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s so edgy, but really you’re more likely to find a banker hanging out there than a beat poet. I’d bet you a round of drinks that The Siren’s Anchor was a ship before it was a saloon.”

  “A ship…”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Are you all right, Jaya?”

  I smoothed out the wrinkled copy of the map. “The X,” I said, feeling my body begin to buzz with excitement. “The X is at the edge of the water. What if it didn’t mean something was buried on land? What if it meant something actually in the water? What if it meant the location of a ship?”

  “Are you sure you can tell where the X is meant to point to?” Tamarind asked, picking up the map and squinting at it. “This is a pretty faded photocopy.”

  I snatched the wrinkled paper back from her. The map was still quite visible through my folds and the photocopied coffee stain. The stain…

  “Oh no…” I said. My throat tightened. How had I not made the connection before?

  “I knew it,” Tamarind said. “You folded it beyond recognition. You should really be more careful—”

  “Not that. The coffee stain. This stain was from when Sanjay put his coffee mug down on the original map at my apartment.”

  “It’s still legible,” Tamarind said. “I was just giving you a hard time.”

  “That’s not it,” I said. “The stain wasn’t there when Steven showed it to me. That means he couldn’t have made a copy of the map with the stain on it. This isn’t one of his original copies, like Christine said it was. She lied to me. She’s been lying to me this whole time. It wasn’t Connor. It’s his wife Christine.”

  Chapter 52

  San Francisco, April 10, 1906

  “You poisoned me?” Anand staggered back from the bar, knocking over his bar stool.

  “I have the antidote,” Samuel said. “But you must tell me where you have hidden the Heart of India. The poison takes several hours to kill. You can take me to the treasure and save yourself.”

  Anand laughed. “You do not know me as well as I thought. You have killed me, my brother.” He stood up to leave the saloon.

  Samuel grabbed Anand by his shirt collar.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me to be a damn martyr,” Samuel said.

  Anand stared Samuel down for several seconds.

  “I wasted six months of my life to get Mrs. Lancaster her treasure,” Samuel said. “I was ill for months with malaria and dysentery. You’re not taking this away from me! I earned it.”

  “What’s going on?” Faye called out from behind the bar. “You know the rules. If you’re going to be rough, take it outside.”

  In the time Samuel took to glance at Faye, Anand had his chance. He pulled out of Samuel’s grasp and swung at his old friend. The punch hit Samuel firmly in the jaw.

  “Anand!” Faye yelled over the rising din of the saloon’s customers.

  Samuel swung back. Anand ducked, and Samuel’s punch landed on the ship’s wheel mounted on the wall. He cried out in pain and gripped his broken hand. Anand ran at Samuel. The Irishman dropped his hand and spun Anand around as the two men collided. With a shove, he sent Anand toward the wall -- and right into the fishing spear.

  The men of the saloon who’d been cheering fell silent.

  The spear poked out through where it had pierced Anand’s white shirt. Blood spread across his stomach.

  “No!” Samuel cried out as Faye began to shriek.

  Samuel stood stock-still in shock. Three men rushed to Anand. They lifted him gingerly off of the mounted spear. Anand stumbled as he winced in pain, but did not fall.

  “Run and get a doctor,” Faye said to one of the men, an urgency in her voice that Anand had never before heard.

  “Do not bother, Faye,” Anand said. “This is not a wound a man can recover from.”

  Chapter 53

  Tamarind wasn’t happy that she had to stay at work while I left to figure out what I was going to do with the two realizations I’d made. Christine had lied about the map, and the Heart of India might be in a ship once docked along the treacherous coast of San Francisco. What had happened to that ship?

  “I have an idea,” Sanjay said. Though he usually hated to be distracted while working on a new illusion, he seemed glad to see me when I showed up.

  “You going to share?”

  “You’re not going to like it.” Sanjay twirled his hat in his hands.

  “I don’t like much of anything right now.”

  “I know a magician—he’s not a friend, exactly. I don’t like his methods. He is a crap mentalist, so he uses this drug, kind of like a truth serum, to control people on stage.”

  “Does it work?”

  “It does put people into a suggestible state, and they don’t remember what happened afterward either. It’s an aid to hypnosis.”

  “You think it’ll work?”

  “This is me you’re talking to, Jaya. But what I don’t have figured out is how we’ll get Christine in a position where we can get her to meet with us so I can give it to her.”

  “I can answer that,” I said. “She wants the Heart of India—andI have a suspicion where the treasure is now.”

  Christine jumped at the chance to meet us at Lands End the following morning. I didn’t tell her we’d figured out she was the bad guy. I told her the map had led me to the treasure, and that since she’d given it to me I wanted her to be there.

  Sanjay had met with his friend and gotten some of the drug the night before, along with champagne and plastic champagne glasses for our excursion. The plan was for Sanjay to pour champagne for us to toast the discovery. With Sanjay’s sleight of hand, he’d get the drug into Christine’s drink.

  He picked me up that morning. He was dressed strangely, in a trench coat rather than one of his usual stylish jackets. I supposed he was playing the role of detective or P.I. today. His bowler hat looked appropriate with the 1930s coat.

  The fog rolled in across the water as we waited for Christine at the plaque with the information about the ships that had sunk in the rocky waters off the coast. When I had first visited Lands End, I’d noticed the commemorative plaque listing of sunken ships—including one ship that had never been identified. If I was right, this would explain why.

  Christine arrived wearing a thick, white wrap in lieu of a coat. She wore matching white shoes that didn’t seem to have accumulated any dust on them in the half-mile walk from the car.

  “I was so sorry to hear the police mistakenly thought you had anything to do with my father-in-law’s death,” she said. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about Connor… But it’s best to honor his father’s legacy by finding his treasure.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Sanjay, popping the cork on the bottle. The sound of fog horns drowned out the sound of the pop. He set the glasses down on a concrete bench at the overlook, pouring the bubbly liquid halfway. I didn’t n
otice him put anything into any of the glasses before he scooted one toward Christine. She swung her wrap over her shoulders against the wind, then picked up the glass.

  “I’m so glad the map came in handy,” she said, raising her glass and taking a sip. “Where is the treasure?”

  “I should back up a little bit first,” I said. “I’m not sure how much you know about the treasure map of your father-in-law’s.”

  “Not much,” Christine said. “I knew he was behaving strangely, obsessed with something, but I didn’t know much about it. Only Connor did.”

  “Steven came to see me because my Uncle Anand was the one who drew the treasure map that ended up in Steven’s grandmother’s possessions,” I said. “He knew I was a historian and that I might know where the letters Anand wrote to my grandfather were kept. He hadn’t been able to decipher the map, so he thought there must have been a clue.”

  “How interesting,” Christine said. “Was there a clue?”

  “There was. But the biggest clue wasn’t in the letters themselves.” I glanced at Sanjay. The plan was for me to keep Christine talking until the drug took over.

  “The letters did say what to look for on the map,” I continued, “but the biggest clue was that the map itself wasn’t what it seemed.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “I don’t know how closely you studied it,” I said, “but it looks like a map of San Francisco.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes and no. The city of Kochi, in India, was a major trading center for centuries. It has a nearly identical orientation to San Francisco. Anand worked there as a boat builder before living in San Francisco. Are you feeling all right?”

  “Oh yes, just a bit cold.” Christine wrapped her shawl more tightly around her.