by Leena Clover
“OK. Gotcha!” I smiled and picked up another crummy magazine.
Then I sat up straight as I had a brainwave. Jyothi Sudhakaran must have had to come here for her health clearance. No one got away without filling out forms in this place. I was right at the source. All I had to do was slay the dragon at the counter.
I got up and walked up to the front desk confidently.
“Your grandpa's in the lab, and the doctor will be here soon.” The nurse said before I opened my mouth.
“Yes, thanks for speeding things up for me,” I told her. “Can I ask you something?”
She glared with a look that said get on with it.
“I’m looking for a girl, an international student who came in this semester. I am sure she must have come here to get her health form signed off.”
“Well, they have to, or the Graduate College puts a hold on them,” she said helpfully.
“Can you please check her address for me?”
The nurse turned red.
“Have you heard of patient privacy, missy? You know I can't be giving out any names or addresses?”
“Please. It’s important. Very, very important.”
“Go to the police then. Ask them this stuff. This is what they are here for right?”
I thanked her and went back to my seat.
“Another dead end,” I thought to myself.
As I waited for Pappa, I weighed the pros and cons of approaching a doctor or another nurse to ask about Jyothi. Then I scrapped the idea. A medical facility was the last place where a breach of information would occur.
Tony pulled up outside in the parking lot and waved at me from the cab of his truck. I motioned him to come inside.
“Are you almost done?”
“He's with the doctor now.”
I breathed in Tony’s familiar shower fresh scent.
“Say Meera, do you think Pappa can climb up in the truck?” Tony wanted to know.
I felt stupid.
“I never thought of that. So you take my car and drop him off. I can bring your truck along after work.”
Tony settled down and put his arms around two seats on each side. He is quite an imposing personality.
“All set for tomorrow?” he grinned.
“I am to help with the food after work. Is your Mom coming?”
“Oh Yeah! I’ve commissioned some Vada Pav from her.”
I squealed with delight.
“Aunt Reema is the best. I love those fried potato thingies with the red garlic chutney.”
I perked up at the thought of all the gluttony we were in for the next day.
I waved bye to Tony and walked out. The library was three blocks from the health center, and I decided to leg it and enjoy the weather.
Chapter 18
I rushed to the diner after work. I was going to meet Becky and Sylvie there, pick up some supplies and then we were going home to help Motee Ba pack up for the trip tomorrow.
Sylvie was slapping generous scoops of chicken salad onto thick sandwich bread as I walked into the kitchen.
She looked up and smiled her welcome. “Plenty of crunch here with the celery and walnuts. And the apples will add the right sweetness.”
“Didn't Jon mention egg salad?” I asked.
“We got some of those too. Let's head over and help your granny. She’s frying up them pooris and stuff.” Sylvie added, referring to the spicy fried flatbread Indian people are so fond of.
We left Jon to man the kitchen and stepped outside. He was going to close up the diner early in a couple of hours and join us for dinner.
I pulled into our drive and parked the truck. There was no need to put it in a specific parking spot with all the space we have. The garage is used only in bad weather or for the newer cars. I don’t take the trouble most of the time. We scrambled out and I took a deep breath. I could smell the frying from where I was.
“Methi Pooris, I bet!” I smiled.
The ‘methi’ or bitter fenugreek greens came from our own patch. They have a peculiar flavor that we just love.
Motee Ba called out as we entered the kitchen.
“About time! I’m almost done here.”
She had her eye on the round yellow pooris flecked with the methi greens as they fried in the oil. As soon as they puffed up into a ball, Motee Ba turned them over and pulled them out with a slotted spoon. She placed them on a huge platter lined with kitchen towels to soak the extra oil.
“What's that din?” Sylvie asked.
“Men and boys. They are watching a game and pouring over the maps for tomorrow.”
“I thought this route is pretty straight forward? Aren't we just taking I-35 South from here?” I asked.
“Better there than here. Any more ‘sampling’ and we won't have anything left for tomorrow.”
“How about some fruits or veggies for tomorrow, Honey?” Sylvie asked.
Motee Ba pointed to the pressure cooker hissing on a burner.
“Corn on the cob. It should keep well in this season.”
Becky squealed in anticipation. “Is that the spicy corn? Oh Granny, you're the best.”
Motee Ba hugged Becky back.
This corn on the cob is a big hit in our family. We are the second generation of Patels savoring it. Motee Ba cooked this corn on the cob a lot when she lived in Africa. Her kids, my Dad and his siblings, loved to eat it when they came back from school. Corn was abundant in East Africa and Motee Ba found it easy to just dump into the pressure cooker. Gradually, she started adding some seasonings and it evolved into our ‘spiced’ corn.
“Yes, I put in some tamarind paste and lots of cayenne pepper and salt. Let it simmer now for an hour so it gets really soft.”
Sylvie ticked off items on her fingers. “Chicken salad and egg salad sandwiches, Methi Pooris, two kinds of cookies, chips, nuts, sweet corn. I think we have enough to feed an army.”
“And don't forget we’ll be eating hot meals where we stop,” I reminded them.
“Yes, but there is also a lot of us,” Motee Ba reminded us. “Five Patels, Becky, Jon and Sylvie, Tony and Reema, that's 10 people, and most of them are good eaters.”
The ladies launched into a discussion of how much food they should have per person. I thought of Jyothi Sudhakaran and what she must be doing now. Where could she be really? Was she safe? Was she getting enough to eat? With a pang, I realized how much we took for granted.
We always seemed to have a cloud hovering over us due to our mother. But we had a good life apart from that. Dad had provided us a safe and flourishing environment, and Motee Ba and Pappa had showered their love and attention on us.
“Meera!! Hey, Meera!” Becky snapped a finger in front of me. “Let's go already!”
“Mmm, what, where?” I was a bit rattled.
“Outside, to pick some fruit? Haven't you been listening to us?”
I let Becky drag me outside.
There was a small patch of raspberries and a cantaloupe or two. We added them to a basket and I picked a dozen or so apples from our tree.
“What's the update on the search?” Becky whispered. “I didn't want to ask in front of Granny.”
I told her what we had been up to.
“Never thought finding an address would be so hard,” I admitted.
“You can be such a moron sometimes,” Becky shook her head. “You’re just like a guy trying to find a place by driving in every other direction.”
“What do you mean? Plain English please!” I urged Becky.
“Meera, you’ve missed the most obvious thing here. People! Have you actually asked people where she lived? Not office workers or health workers bound by privacy concerns. Regular guys and girls who may just happen to know that girl.”
It was as if a light bulb went on.
“When you put it that way ... but who are these people, where do I find them?”
Becky shrugged. “I don't know about that. We'll figure it out.”
Tony and
Jeet suddenly rushed us and plunged their hands into the basket, scooping up handfuls of raspberries.
“Hey! Those are for tomorrow.”
We fought our way back to the kitchen. Jon drove up soon after. He had a couple of big bags bursting with food.
“Dinner!” he called out and everyone rushed to the dining room.
Chapter 19
My alarm shrilled at 6 and I jumped out of bed without hitting Snooze. It was early for a Saturday morning but I was excited about the trip.
We had decided on a 7 AM start. We should be off by 7:30 at least, realistically, I thought. Breakfast was going to be in Oklahoma City at a Denny's and all the food we carried would be for the rest of the day. My overnight bag was already packed with a change of clothes.
I pulled on my favorite old jeans, softened by hundreds of washes. I was going for the layered look with a white lace tank and a turquoise long shirt. I added a fleece jacket to the bag, just in case it got cold later.
“Have you packed a wool cap and socks?” Motee Ba wanted to know as I walked into the kitchen.
She was pouring coffee into two big thermoses. I filled up a smaller travel mug I could sip from while driving.
“Motee Ba, it's going to be 70 in the shade. You worry too much.”
“That's your young blood talking,” Motee Ba huffed. “When you get to be my age, you feel the cold seep into your bones at a moment's notice.”
Everyone was ready on time and gathered in the front yard when Jon and Sylvie rolled in. Tony followed soon after, driving a BMW sedan with his Mom in the passenger seat.
“How are we going?” Sylvie asked.
“Well, the LX can take six comfortably. We’ll need one more car.”
We argued over who would sit where. Finally, us kids piled into the BMW and all the grownups got into the LX.
Dad and Jon helped Pappa up into the passenger seat. The V8 powered gas hog was new in our garage. Pappa and Motee Ba had pitched in some, and Dad had added another chunk. He still had a hefty monthly payment, but it was worth the experience. We only got it out for family excursions or long hauls.
We made sure there was one cell phone in each car and set off, promising to stay together, chorusing ‘Yes’ to all parental admonitions regarding speeding and cutting lanes. Soon, we were taking the ramp for the Interstate. Tony let the LX pass us and followed at a distance. Speed picked up as we merged onto I-35. Cars and semis whizzed past us making haste toward Dallas, or maybe further South into Mexico.
“Crank up the radio, dude,” I motioned to Tony and pushed my seat back.
I pulled the tiny lever that plunged my seat backwards. Jeet yelped and pushed back.
“Hey, I’m right behind you!”
I closed my eyes, ignoring him. I put my feet up on the dashboard, admiring my bright red toes. This was my favorite lounging position on a road trip. Leaning over, I turned the volume knob further to the right. J Lo blared from the speakers and we all sang along to ‘Waiting for Tonight’. It had been one of the hottest numbers of the Millennium.
Suddenly, a car cut across us and came into our lane. Another car came up on Tony's left and edged us into the right lane.
“What the heck?” Tony cursed and braked hard.
Becky and Jeet were thrown forward in their seats and hit the back of ours. Lights started flashing and a familiar car pulled up in front of the car ahead of us.
We had stopped on the shoulder, and the road shuddered with the impact of cars speeding by us.
I looked around and realized we had been virtually cordoned off by patrol cars. Two of them belonged to the county and had lights flashing. One was unmarked, and I could see Stan scrambling out of it. Just then, a State Trooper pulled up in his vehicle. He got out and spoke with the other two cops. They had a powwow, with Stan periodically pointing at me.
“Look, Dad's coming over!” Jeet exclaimed.
With the wide open flat area we lived in, the I-35 went on for many miles as far as the eye could see. The LX had also pulled over on the shoulder about half a mile away. Dad and Jon were hurrying along toward us along with Aunt Reema. Motee Ba and Sylvie were looking out from the back glass.
“What's happening, Meera?” Becky wanted to know.
I shrugged, trying not to panic. The sight of Dad walking toward us was my only solace.
The State Trooper got back in his car and sped off. Stan Miller knocked on the car and gestured with his fingers. Tony pulled the window down.
“Hands on the wheel. Hands where I can see them! Come on now, don't make me draw my firearm.”
“Don't talk like an idiot, Stan,” Tony countered, refusing to take him seriously.
“Just do what he says, son,” a Sheriff's Deputy with a county police uniform said to Tony.
Stan did the whole license and registration routine and then pointed at me.
“You are harboring a fugitive. I can take you in for assisting her to flee.”
Dad and company had just reached us and heard the last bit.
“Mind what you say, Stan. I will sue you for harassment. This has gone on too long.”
“What is the meaning of this, Stan Miller?” Aunt Reema demanded. “Are you getting too big for your boots now?”
Jon tried to pacify them both and put a hand on their backs.
“No point in getting riled up, you two. Let the man say his piece first.”
“Meera Patel is the top suspect in multiple crimes,” Stan started pompously. “You are about to cross the county line here. It means she’s fleeing the area.”
He pointed a finger at Tony. “You are driving the car, assisting her in this. So you are an accomplice too.”
“Don't you dare point at my boy.”
Aunt Reema lunged toward Stan, but the other cop came in between.
“Ma'am, you need to settle down.”
Dad looked at the deputy.
“Is this true, officer? What he says?”
“Well, based on our investigation, your daughter is implicated in two cases. One is murder and the other could be a kidnapping.”
Dad’s mouth dropped open. He was speechless. So were all of us.
“That's not all!” Stan plunged in. “She’s going around harassing people. We have received complaints.”
Dad wanted to know more.
“I can't comment on an ongoing investigation. Meera was seen threatening Prudence Walker. One of our major witnesses is missing. And now Meera is browbeating people into parting with private information. She’s asking them to do break the law!” Stan bellowed.
“No, I am not!” I shouted back.
Dad looked at me and put a finger on his lips, warning me to stay quiet.
“But does that make her a suspect?” Dad pressed on. “Do you have any evidence against her?”
“Not really. She’s more a person of interest.” The deputy back tracked.
“Meera is an upstanding citizen. In fact, we all are. We have lived here for years. We pay taxes!" Dad blubbered. “And she’s not fleeing anywhere. We are just going on our annual foliage trip.”
“Are you going out of state?” the Deputy asked.
“We don't plan to. We are driving down to Chickasaw and maybe on to Turner Falls.”
“Hmmm …”
The Deputy pulled Stan to one side and they had another whispered conversation.
Dad was fiddling with the cell phone in his hand. The Deputy walked back and spoke to Dad.
“I am not sure about this. But I am letting you guys go based on your reputation, Professor. Make sure you get back home as planned.”
Dad stuttered, trying to control his anger.
“You need to do a better job. What other lines of investigation are you pursuing? And as far as Meera - either charge her or leave her alone. I will be talking to someone about this, you may be sure.”
He glared at Stan and Jon and Aunt Reema stood aside. The county cars, patrol cars and the whole cavalcade whizzed off.
&
nbsp; It wasn't until they made a U-turn at a gap reserved for the cops, and sped in the opposite direction that we opened our car door.
I was trembling lightly, and I wobbled on my feet. Aunt Reema hugged me tight.
“Don't worry, you are just having a delayed reaction to the shock.”
Jon had put an arm around Dad's shoulder, offering support. Dad's phone rang and he put it on speaker. Motee Ba and Pappa both rattled off in Guajarati. They tend to do that in moments of extreme tension. Dad gave them a brief lowdown of what had happened.
“Turn back!” Pappa ordered. “I want to know about all this nonsense. And why this is the first time I am hearing about it?”
Pappa was firmly in head of the family mode.
“We are going home, boy. Get here and drive this monster back home!”
“I think it’s best we go home and talk this out,” Aunt Reema agreed.
Dad, Jon and Aunt Reema walked back to the LX. Tony and I mechanically got into our car. No one said a word. We were all too stunned by what had happened. Was Stan just being an ass, or was I really in hot water?
Chapter 20
We pulled into our driveway and parked haphazardly. Everyone piled out according to their abilities and made haste toward the living room.
Becky pulled out some bags of food and the thermoses from the back of the car. Motee Ba poured the coffee in plastic cups and handed it around.
“Make do with this for today,” she told Pappa.
He drinks Masala Chai most of the time, but he nodded.
Becky handed out the sandwiches. Everyone took a bite or two and looked around. No one wanted to be the first to speak up.
Dad cleared his throat and looked at me sternly.
“What have you been up to, Meera? What did Stan mean when he said you were asking people to break laws?”
I felt trapped.
“Speak up, girl!” Pappa roared and tapped his cane for emphasis.
“Well, I thought I would try to locate the missing girl.”
“Why?” Dad flung his arms up in the air.
