“I didn’t see you, Isaac,” I said.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the university’s museum director said. “What happened? Are Lydia and Bradley standing over Omar?”
I nodded.
“I wonder . . .” Jaya murmured, and let go of my hand. Her lips continued to move almost imperceptibly. I’d seen her look like that before, at the university library, late one night the previous year. I’d walked up to her table and said hello, but she hadn’t responded. She wasn’t being rude; she hadn’t heard me. She was so wrapped up in the volume of bound journals in front of her that the rest of the world had been invisible.
“Jaya?” As I expected, she didn’t seem to hear me.
Lydia knelt next to Omar’s body. She reached out, but Bradley stopped her.
“I’m telling you,” Bradley said into his cell phone. “He doesn’t need an ambulance. Just the police.”
Jaya wasn’t paying attention to any of them. Her olive complexion had paled, but her eyes scanned the room before stopping on one particular spot. She seemed to be looking at the plant on Omar’s desk.
I studied the plant myself. At first I thought the object next to the plant was only a shadow, but it was a dried leaf. Jaya took a step towards it, then stopped.
Why was Jaya so interested in a dead leaf?
“I understand,” Bradley said, his face grave. He closed his phone. “There isn’t anything we can do for Omar. The police want us to wait in the hall. Nobody leave.”
Omar wasn’t only dead. He had been murdered.
Jaya pulled me into the hallway. She didn’t stop there. She’s stronger than she looks for her petite five-foot frame. I’ve seen her flip a six-foot man over her shoulder when he didn’t believe she could take care of herself. I nearly tripped as she pulled my elbow until we were around the corner.
“What’s going on, Tarek?”
She glanced around the corner before I had a chance to answer.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Nobody followed us. They’re all still outside Omar’s office.”
“What do you mean what’s—”
“The leaf,” Jaya said. “Didn’t you see it?”
Why was she so concerned about a leaf?
“Didn’t you see what was in that room?” Jaya continued. “I saw you looking at it, too. We have to tell the police, you know.”
I stared blankly at her.
“Next to the plant on his desk,” she said.
“A dried leaf?”
“Exactly.”
“Why does it matter that Omar forgot to water his plant?”
Jaya threw up her hands. I thought nobody actually did that, but Jaya never ceased to amaze me with her varied gestures. She’d been raised in both India and the United States, the respective countries of each of her parents, and had consciously or unconsciously picked up a jumble of body language as well as the spoken languages.
“A scrap of palm leaf was on the edge of his desk,” she said. “It looked like a leaf because it was a leaf. Just not the kind that came from Omar’s plant.”
I groaned to myself, finally beginning to understand.
“His great discovery,” Jaya said. “It was a torn edge of that map.”
“How do you know? I thought he hadn’t shown it to anybody yet.”
“You’ve been studying Western history too long, Tarek. You were thinking about Western maps on inked parchment when Omar told you about it. But in India, they often used dried palm leaves for paper. We need to tell the police that Omar was killed over the map.”
Jaya poked her head around the corner again, and then motioned for me to follow her back to the rest of the solemn group of professors and graduate students. She paced the hall, as if she was full of nervous energy. Nobody seemed to know what to do. It was a welcome change when the police arrived and wanted to talk to us. Two unsmiling detectives led us down the hall to Lydia’s large corner office. They closed the door behind them.
“There’s a fragment of an historic map on his desk,” Jaya began. “That’s why he was killed. Someone has stolen the rest of that map.”
“You saw it happen?” the older of the two detectives asked. He raised a gray eyebrow.
“No,” she admitted. “But when a mild-mannered professor of Middle Eastern and South Asian history discovers a priceless map earlier this week, and is bludgeoned to death today—”
“Wait a sec—priceless map?”
“Maybe we should start at the beginning,” I cut in. “Two days ago, Omar Khan discovered a very valuable map. It was a last minute gift for the university museum’s collection. It’s a map of the Triveni Sangam in India, the meeting point of three sacred rivers: the Ganges, the Yumana, and the ‘invisible’ Saraswati.”
“Why is it so valuable?” The detective looked interested.
“In this map,” I said, “the Saraswati isn’t invisible.”
“So it’s a fake?” The detective rubbed his hand across the deep creases in his forehead. “The forger got it wrong? Then why is it so valu—”
“No, there’s a river there. Four thousand years ago, a great earthquake struck India. The river Saraswati was swallowed up and became an underground river, said to be bestowed with mystic powers. The site where the two grand rivers converge with this legendary one in Allahabad, northern India, is a sacred place for Hindus. Such an ancient, unique map would be worth a lot of money.”
“And a piece of the map is on his desk,” Jaya said. “Somebody must have torn it from his hands before hitting him with his Buddha statue.”
“Who would want to hurt the professor?” The detective’s face was impassive.
Jaya frowned. “But I just told you why—”
“If they didn’t want to hurt him, they could have stolen this map from his office when he wasn’t there.” The detective’s voice was quiet.
“They couldn’t have gotten in,” I said. “Only Omar and the campus police have keys to his office. He keeps too many valuables in there to give the key to anyone else.”
“Well, somebody else had a key,” said the detective. “The dead bolt was locked from the inside. And we’re three flights up. No fire escape next to his office.”
“Tarek is right,” Jaya said. “Nobody else had a key.”
“The professor’s keys were still in his pocket.” The younger detective spoke for the first time. “We tried them in the lock, and they’re the right keys. Someone else must have made a copy. We’ll find them.”
“Thanks for your help.” The detective held out a business card. “Here’s my phone number if you think of anything else.”
Jaya opened her mouth, but it was my turn to pull her away. I led her back to the group in the hallway, a scowl on her face.
Bradley came from the opposite direction and stopped next to Isaac and Lydia. He handed Lydia a cup of coffee, probably from the vending machine down the hall. Lydia looked as if she’d aged ten years in the past half hour. Her usually sleek gray hair stood out in all directions, and deep wrinkles creased her forehead. She and Omar were two of the old guard in the department and had been at the university for decades. It seemed they had a special bond from their status as a woman and a minority years ago when neither was the norm.
“Do they know anything?” Lydia asked.
I shook my head. “Who would want to hurt Omar?”
“It was clearly an intruder,” Isaac said. “Someone who didn’t realize he was here and who wanted to steal one of his valuable historical manuscripts—”
“It was that damn map,” Jaya said. “That’s what they were after.”
“You don’t know that,” Isaac said.
“There was a piece of it on his desk.”
Lydia looked on the verge of tears. “Why didn’t he just give it to them? It wasn’t worth his life.”
Isaac gasped. “If you’re right, Jaya, I wish I’d never showed him that map . . .”
“You didn’t actually show it to him, did you?” I s
aid. “Omar told me he was visiting the storage room of the museum when your latest shipment arrived. He took the initiative himself to look at the latest items. There’s no need for you to feel guilty, Isaac.”
A peculiar expression came over Jaya’s face.
Isaac was usually so composed. He would never be seen without a pressed handkerchief in his tweed jacket pocket as he stood confidently with perfect posture. Now, he slumped against the wall, fidgeting incessantly with his jacket, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. He’d been close to Omar, too, since Omar had been quite involved with the university museum.
Bradley couldn’t stand still either. His shoulder and leg were probably stiffening up after his door-breaking adventure. In broad sweeps, he stretched his arms across his chest. After a few swings, he bent his right knee towards his chest in a leg stretch.
“You’re making me nervous,” Isaac said to Bradley. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Sorry.” Bradley’s face flushed. “I’m not used to breaking down doors. My shoulder is killing me.”
“What?” Isaac said. “Oh, yes.” But he hesitated a second too long.
I heard a sharp intake of breath. It was Jaya.
“You weren’t there.” She looked at Isaac, her eyes wide. “In the hallway. You weren’t there to see Bradley break the door down.”
“Oh, of course.” Isaac tugged at his jacket. “Yes, you’re correct, Jaya. I came upon the scene late. I had to infer who would have—”
“No, you didn’t.” Jaya spoke calmly, but a subtle vibration in her voice hinted at her excitement.
“Of course I—”
“You were there when the rest of us were there,” Jaya said. “You spoke to Tarek right away. We rushed into the office at the same time, all of us after Grant. He was ahead of Bradley, so that’s why you thought Grant was the one who broke the door down. The only way you could have not seen that Bradley was one of the men who kicked in the door was if you were inside the room already.”
“Jaya.” Isaac’s voice was cold. “I know we’re all upset—”
“Isaac?” Lydia whispered.
“It explains how someone got out of the room,” Jaya said. “You didn’t get out of the room. Not until we came in. All you had to do was blend in.”
“Have you gone mad?” Isaac was no longer calm. “Why would I want to hurt Omar? You were the one who said a thief wanted the Sangam map. Why would I want to steal my own map, for Christ’s sake?”
“Tarek already explained that,” Jaya said. “Without knowing he’d done so.”
“This is ridiculous.” Isaac turned away.
Bradley put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “I want to hear what she has to say.”
Isaac looked up at Bradley. Or rather, at Bradley’s girth.
Jaya’s hands shook, but she continued in a measured voice. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind, putting the pieces together as she spoke.
“You didn’t want to show the map to Omar,” Jaya said. “Tarek said Omar happened by when you were unloading a shipment for the museum. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Isaac opened his mouth and drew breath, but didn’t speak.
“Our little university museum isn’t like the Met,” Jaya said. “There isn’t much to keep track of. Omar would have known ahead of time if we were receiving something so amazing. Did he find it strange that this amazing piece was included with no advance notice? Is that why he took it? To look into it further?”
“Is it true, Isaac?” Lydia whispered. “Why were you keeping it a secret? Why would you—” She broke off in a stifled sob.
“You never meant the map to be part of our collection,” Jaya said. “A reputable university would serve as a great cover to bring valuable antiquities into the country without strict scrutiny. Only you didn’t have time to remove anything from this shipment before Omar saw it.”
“What have you got under your jacket?” Bradley asked Isaac, flexing his arm muscle as he did so.
Isaac swallowed hard.
“Oh, lord.” He closed his eyes as he pulled out the broken piece of palm leaf from inside his jacket.
The intricate markings of the three rivers seemed to curl around his finger tips. The map was intact except for the broken edge.
Jaya squeezed my shoulder as I carefully took the palm leaf map. Would the shadow of this day eventually pass?
__________
Gigi Pandian is a graphic designer, photographer, and mystery writer in the San Francisco Bay Area. After discovering National Novel Writing Month, Gigi was awarded a Malice Domestic grant for her first mystery novel. Find her at a Sisters in Crime NorCal chapter meeting, or online at www.gigipandian.com and www.pensfatales.com.
THE TURKEY HILL AFFAIR, by Warren Bull
Turkey Hill, Iowa was a big disappointment until I bumped into Bennie. He was robbing the Farm and Business Bank. I was daydreaming, looking out the front window at a cute farmer boy walking by. So, when I say I bumped into Bennie, I mean I actually collided with him.
He dropped his gun and a sack stuffed with money. He reached for one and then for the other, but when he saw me, he stopped and stared. Ever since I was fourteen I’ve had that effect on men, even when they expect to see me. And Bennie, the big lug, has never been the sharpest pencil in the box.
Pop Thomas, the bank guard, looked back and forth between Bennie and the ancient pistol on his own hip, the one he had lugged across the muddy battlefields of France during the First World War. I’d have to take charge or somebody was going to get damaged.
“No, don’t hurt me,” I yelled. I scooped up the gun and handed it to Bennie. Then I retrieved the bag of money and handed it over, too. “Don’t make me go with you,” I shouted as I pushed Bennie toward the door. Luckily, Bennie was used to doing what other people told him to do.
I spoke softly. “Meet me outside the bank at ten tonight.”
“Won’t people see us, Roxie? Is that safe?”
“This isn’t New York. They roll up the sidewalk at eight. Now shove me away and get out of town.”
Bennie gave me a little push. I twisted around and grabbed the bank guard. I started sobbing. “Don’t let him hurt me.” I pulled Pop Thomas’s head to my chest. Thomas hugged me back. His body responded to my closeness. Who would have thought there was so much life left in the old codger? When the sheriff arrived a few minutes later, he had to practically pry us apart.
Sheriff Allen was a dreamboat redhead with a wide chest and muscular shoulders. He sent me to wait in his office at the court house while he interviewed people at the bank. I flashed him a bright smile when he came into the office.
“Miss Terry, I know this has to be a difficult time for you. I’ll try to keep my questions as short as possible.”
Oops. I dropped the smile and put on a teary-but-trying-to-be-brave expression.
“The witnesses said that the robber just gave you a little nudge as he left the building, but you spun around and latched onto Pop Thomas like you were drowning. Can you explain that?”
I’d practiced the story in my head, starting from the time when I entered the bank and ending when the sheriff came in. Beginning the story at the end left me a little off balance.
“I was terrified, Sheriff. I saw Pop and hung on for dear life.”
“By grabbing Pop, you made sure he didn’t follow the robber out of the bank. If it was on purpose, I’d like to thank you.”
“You would?”
“Sure. Pop shouldn’t be chasing bank robbers at his age. He’d only get himself shot. This way he’s a hero and nobody got hurt.”
Allen smiled and continued. “He’s been explaining why fighting in the trenches was tougher than landing on the beach on D-Day. From the way he’s strutting around, I figure Mom Thomas might want to thank you tomorrow.”
“I’m glad nobody got hurt,” I said.
“The witnesses also told me that you and the bank robber chatted like old
friends while he held you hostage. They said they couldn’t hear well because you were talking so softly. What was it that you two talked about? Why did you talk so softly?”
I looked down at the floor before answering. “I was so scared that my mouth was dry. I don’t know why the robber talked quietly. I begged him not to hurt me. He told me to do what he said.”
Sheriff Allen nodded. “I wondered if it might be something like that, but the witnesses insisted that you two were gabbing away like you’d known each other for years. You know they’re not big city people, but they’re still pretty sharp.”
I looked at him. Like you.
“One odd thing is that you seemed to know what to do during a robbery better than he did. You bumped into him. He dropped his gun and the money. You picked up the gun first. You handed it to him instead of pointing it at him.”
“He, uh, he was too close. He could have taken it from me. Somebody might have gotten shot in the process. Maybe me.”
“I agree. That was good thinking. It’s best to keep everybody safe. Next you picked up the money and handed that to him.”
“He threatened me.”
“There’s another odd thing,” said the sheriff. “Nobody heard him say a word to you right then.”
Then my mouth really got dry. I shrugged. “Maybe it was the expression on his face.”
“The witnesses thought you started pushing him toward the door instead of the other way around.”
I didn’t like the implication of the questions.
“I swear to you on my life that I had no idea the bank was being robbed until I ran into that man. I had nothing to do with planning the robbery. I wasn’t part of it. I did what I had to do and then I collapsed on the guard.”
Sheriff Allen narrowed his eyes. He questioned me over and over again. At last he said, “It doesn’t seem likely that you’d go waltzing into the bank to rob it dressed in high heels, a short skirt and a low-cut blouse. Even if you wore a mask, everybody would have known that you were the one who did it. No other woman in Lincoln County dresses like you do.”
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