Lady Marmalade Cozy Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3)

by Jason Blacker

  "I can't argue with that, my Lady," said Alfred, as Frances sat down into the passenger seat and Alfred closed the door behind her.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Chapter 23

  ALFRED pulled the Rolls Royce up to the curb. He got out of the car and opened the door for Lady Marmalade. He offered his hand and she took it and stepped out of the car. She was dressed in a pale blue full length dress with matching shoes and pale blue scarf around her head. She held a white handbag in white gloved hands. She looked stunning and elegant at the same time.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to keep you company?" asked Alfred.

  "I'm certain, Alfred. Thank you for asking. This will just be a social visit. It would certainly be fun to have your company, but I fear that my husband and son would be at a loss for this evening without your company."

  Frances smiled at him. Alfred smiled back at her.

  "I think you jest. They're probably delighted for a moment of peace and quiet."

  "You're probably right. But if you don't go back, I'm sure I'll hear about it from Eric later this evening."

  "As you wish, my Lady. What time would you like me to come for you?"

  "Eight thirty should give me enough time for a good meal and warm conversation."

  Frances put her hand on Alfred's forearm, and smiled at him.

  "Thank you for bringing me, Alfred."

  "My pleasure, my Lady."

  Frances stepped away from the car and Alfred closed the door behind her. He stood and watched as she walked up the stairs to the home of Amar and Gita Bhandari. Amar answered it and waved warmly at Alfred. Alfred put up his hand. Frances shook hands with Amar and then walked inside as Amar closed the door behind her. Alfred got back into the car and drove off.

  "We are honored to have you with us again, Lady Marmalade," said Amar as he took her light white jacket and hung it up for her.

  "Please call me Frances. It was wonderful of you and Gita to invite me over again. You spoiled me the last time with your cooking."

  Frances grinned at him, and he returned the smile.

  "Then I hope you will enjoy this evening's repast. Something similar. We haven't gone to great lengths," he said, "Mohandas is a light and simple eater. Come, let us join them."

  Frances nodded and they walked together down the hall and into the living room. Mohandas Gandhi was seated on the couch that Frances had sat in before with Alfred. Next to him was Sujay Patel. They both stood up when she entered, as did Gita who was seated at the far end in an armchair.

  Mohandas smiled at her.

  "It is a great honor to have you with us," he said.

  "It is a great pleasure to be invited within such esteemed company, Mr. Gandhi," she answered.

  "Mohandas, my Lady, please call me Mohandas."

  "Only if you'll call me Frances, and that goes for the rest of you," she said smiling warmly at them.

  "Please come and sit down, Frances," said Gita, offering Frances the chair she had just sat in. Amar came back into the living room bringing with him a chair that he had brought. He put it down across from the couch. Frances sat down in what was Gita's chair. Gita went to sit on the hard dining room chair, but Amar gestured for her to take his more comfortable armchair, which was opposite from where Frances now sat.

  "Can I offer you something to drink?" asked Amar. "I'm afraid that we are all teetotalers. But we have orange juice as well as mango juice and soda water as well as milk if you'd like."

  Frances looked around. Gandhi had a glass of what looked like mango juice, as did Patel.

  "If I could be a bother, I would love some mango juice diluted with soda water."

  "Not at all," said Amar.

  He took note of everyone's drinks, but they were mostly full, so he went off to get Frances her beverage. He came back not long after and offered it to Lady Marmalade. She took a sip.

  "Marvelous, simply delicious," she said, smiling at him. He smiled back and then took a seat.

  "So what made you decide to invite me back for another one of your famous meals?" asked Frances. "Besides my engaging manner."

  Amar chuckled softly.

  "Actually, it was Mohandas' idea."

  Amar looked over at Mohandas, and he looked over at Frances and smiled.

  "It is true, Frances, I had asked my dear friend Amar, as a special favor if he would mind having you over for dinner again. I was sorry to have missed you when you came by on Tuesday. If truth be told, you give me confidence in your manner, and I am comforted that you are helping Scotland Yard solve the tragedy that befell my dear friend Ravi."

  "So it could be my engaging manner," she said smiling.

  Mohandas chuckled and nodded.

  "Exactly."

  "Well, I couldn't be happier to have been invited round this evening. Just when I was feeling a little stymied by the events of this case, namely coming up with dead ends, which I'll tell you about, I met with Inspector Davison. You remember him from Monday evening?"

  Mohandas nodded.

  "It appears that there has been a good deal gathered just today that I am confident will help us solve this case by the end of the weekend."

  "That is very good news," said Amar.

  "Agreed," said Patel.

  "But I don't won't to be rude," said Frances, "I'd love to hear how the negotiations are going at the Round Table. I hope you're winning some hard fought concessions."

  Gandhi shook his head sadly.

  "It appears that I am not cut from the politician's cloth," he said. "There are some things I find difficult to negotiate upon. Perhaps the most pressing being that all Indians should be protected under the Congress, especially the disenfranchised untouchables, who for some reason, their representative believes should be treated as a minority."

  "I must claim a large body of ignorance when it comes to matters of internal Indian politics. Could you help me understand your position. Specifically, why you feel that the untouchables should not be granted minority status?"

  Frances was leaning in towards Gandhi. She found him very easy to listen to. He had a quiet, warm and calm voice, and he was particularly well reasoned.

  "I will certainly try and explain it to you to the best of my ability, Frances. But first I feel that a little bit of background information is important."

  Frances nodded.

  "The caste system in India is similar to what you have here in England, but it is much more egregious. You have the lower classes and the upper classes with a middle class in-between."

  Frances listened intently.

  "But unlike in England, where there is what I would consider an ability to climb the classes, it is almost impossible for outcastes or untouchables to rise beyond their caste. In India there are four main castes or what are called varnas. In order of importance they are Brahmins, which are generally considered the priestly class. Kshatriya which makes up the warrior class and includes kings, soldiers and governors of various sorts. Vaishyas which are general merchants and businessmen, and lastly are the Shudras. The Shudras are laborers and service people. At the lowest end of the Shudras are the untouchables or what some call the Dalit. I call them Harijan which means children of God. The Harijan are ostracized like no other group in India. To be touched by one of them is to become polluted, hence the name untouchables, and requires vigorous cleansing. The Harijan are not allowed to partake in religious rituals, have historically been kept on the outskirts of civil society both literally and figuratively. Anything that a Harijan uses, can not be used by anyone else. It is a systemic and heinous blight on India, and Hinduism."

  "But is there not any pride in honest work and labor?" asked Frances. "We have the working class or lower class as you mentioned, and yet they are not shunned as it seems your Harijan are. And any class system, if I am to be honest with you, Mohandas, is a black eye to any civilized society."

  Mohandas smiled at Frances and slowly nodded his head.

  "I quite agree. But to answer your fir
st question. The Shudras, or lowest caste are not as a whole shunned. Rather it is the sub-caste within, the Harijan who are. Part of the difficulty that I am experiencing at the Conference is that my dear friend, Mr. Bhimrao Ambedkar, who is himself Harijan, and I disagree with the approach that should be taken regarding alleviating the suffering of the Harijan. You see, the Harijan, as part of the Shudras are laborers, but they labor in roles that are considered the worst, ugliest and most menial of occupations that nobody wants. They are the leather workers, the butchers, the sewer workers, and those responsible for disposing the dead, and so on."

  "And yet how would society run if not for men who performed those duties."

  Mohandas nodded.

  "I agree, but we need to understand Hindu society in order to understand the full picture. In Hinduism, the cow is honored as a symbol of unselfish giving. We enjoy her milk and she provides much service on the farm. Killing cows is illegal in India, and most Hindus are vegetarian."

  "I see," said Frances. "My son's friend is vegetarian for philosophical reasons, and that is why we were invited to attend your lecture, which was very informative."

  Mohandas nodded and smiled again, looking at Frances with kind eyes.

  "And this is where Bhimrao and I differ on opinion. Bhimrao believes that the caste system is inherent within Hinduism, and one can see this argument from that perspective of some forms of labor such as leather workers and butchers. My perspective however, is that it is more of a societal convention that has been attached to Hinduism to allow for the performance of certain jobs conveniently. You see, we cannot determine with certainty when the evolution of the caste system began, and there are very few texts in Hinduism that address this caste system directly. In summation, my position is that the Harijan should be included within the greater Hindu community without special protection. I find that paternalistic. We must excise untouchability from Hindu society, as well as the caste structure in general so that all Hindus can live peacefully side by side."

  "And Mr. Ambedkar disagrees?"

  "Yes, because as I mentioned above, he believes the caste system to be an intrinsic aspect of Hinduism, he wants the Harijan, or Dalits as he calls them, to be removed from Hinduism altogether and to be given special considerations."

  "And you feel that is wrong?"

  "Not specifically, I understand his position, my wish is rather for a greater unified India and Hinduism rather than a fractured and splintered one. If the Harijan get special treatment, then the Jains, Sikhs, Christians, Buddhists and Muslims will all want special treatment and I can't see how that will help Indian independence in the long term."

  "And Mr. Ambedkar has a different take. I suppose I can understand where he's coming from," said Frances, "he is after all, as you said, from that caste. Perhaps the injuries he's suffered from that have put great pressure on his political opinions."

  Mohandas took a sip of his mango juice and looked into the cup for a moment.

  "You are quite right," he said. "Yet, these are things that we disagree about, and which we disagree openly about at the Conference. I fear it will not help us in the long run. Or perhaps I am not the politician that my fellow Indians have thought I was."

  Mohandas smiled ruefully at Frances and then took a last sip from his mug of juice.

  "But your heart is in the right place, and with that being said, I don't see how your position is wrong, and I suppose neither is Mr. Ambedkar's. I believe Mohandas, that time will iron out these wrinkles. So long as we're fighting the good fight, the future will take care of itself. That's what I believe, but then again, I have stayed far away from politics as much as I can, for these very awkward and difficult positions that politicians seem destined to wrestle with."

  "They are indeed awkward and difficult. I have great respect for my friend Bhimrao. But friends can often disagree upon many points of philosophy and politics, as can twins I'm sure."

  Frances drank from her mixed drink. It was fizzy and lightly sweet, and reminded her of India and the many times she had spent there.

  "Would any of you like to add to the discussion?" she asked. "I do find it very intriguing and educational."

  "I have lived here for so long," said Amar, "that I fear it is not for me to offer opinions on India from whom I am so far removed."

  Frances looked at him and smiled.

  "Though I trust in Bapu's opinion."

  "Who is Bapu?" asked Frances.

  "Oh, I am sorry, Frances. Bapu is a term of endearment that many of us have for Mohandas. It means 'father', and in Mohandas' case we use it to refer to him as the father of India."

  Frances looked over at Gandhi and smiled.

  "It is too much," said Gandhi, "but it is kind of my people to offer me such a great honor."

  "I don't think that you will find dissenting opinions here, Frances," said Patel. "We are all great friends and admirers of Mohandas, and part of that has to do with shared beliefs and political leanings."

  "Yes, I very much understand," said Frances. "But do you feel that Mr. Ambedkar's position as compared to Mohandas' will be something that can be negotiated?"

  Frances looked at Patel.

  "Yes, I do believe that all Indians will come to live under one India regardless of caste or belief. But from what Mohandas tells me of this Conference, I am not certain that the two of them will see eye to eye. But if you ask me, I can foresee the day when India is independent that we might have a Dalit or Harijan for president."

  Frances looked over at Gandhi, and Gandhi nodded.

  "I think that is quite possible," he added.

  "Perhaps that is enough talk of politics," said Gita smiling around at everyone in the room. "Dinner is ready, and we must not let it be ruined."

  Amar nodded in agreement and he stood up with this wife. Everyone else stood up with them and walked into the adjoining dining room. Amar pulled out a chair for Frances which she sat down in. Amar sat at one end of the table, and Gandhi, their honored guest sat at the other end. Frances was on Amar's left and to her left was Sujay Patel. Patel was seated to Gandhi's right. The side opposite Frances was empty.

  Gita came in and out of the kitchen, carrying trays with an assortment of curries on them. Most of them Frances remembered from her previous visit. Finally, when Gita had brought all the food out and the utensils, she sat down across from Frances and smiled at her.

  "You've gone to a lot of trouble Gita," said Frances, "and I want to thank you for that."

  "It is an honor to have you with us," said Gita.

  Gita looked over at her husband. Amar looked up at Gandhi.

  "Would you do us the honor of saying the prayer?"

  Mohandas smiled, and then closed his eyes. Everyone followed suit. He said something in Sanskrit and then opened his eyes. He looked over at Frances.

  "That is a verse from the Bhagavad Gita. It speaks to how the four foods that we are about to enjoy will become the life essence of who we are, intermingled with our breaths. It asks us to take a moment and think upon the immediacy and intimacy of this food which we take into our bodies to feed our spirit. This is one of the many reasons why I am vegetarian. If we are feeding our spirit, I feel that food of violence, which animal flesh by necessity entails, cannot uplift this spiritual condition."

  Frances nodded her head.

  "I can certainly understand and respect that position," she said.

  Everyone looked at her for a moment.

  "Please, Frances, you must take your portions first," said Gita.

  Frances took a little bit of everything, including the pakoras and samosas which she had greatly enjoyed previously. Everyone then went and helped themselves. A jug of water was on the table which Gandhi used to pour himself a glass, as did Patel and Amar. Frances noticed how little food Gandhi had put on his plate. Perhaps a half of what she had managed to put on hers.

  "Are you not particularly hungry, Mohandas?" she asked.

  Amar smiled at Gandhi, and Gandhi in tur
n smiled at her.

  "Hunger is something that one can control. I feed the body what is necessary for health and satiety. I also try and remember that many of my people are lucky if they get this much to eat all day. But this is sufficient. This will be enough for me."

  Frances nodded at him and took a forkful of curry with some rice and put it in her mouth. Everyone started to eat.

  "We have heard a lot about the Conference, but you promised that there was good news to be shared about Ravi's murder," said Gandhi.

  "I did, and there is," said Frances, finishing a mouthful of food.

  Everyone tucked into their food as they waited for Frances to start speaking. She took a sip of her drink.

  "But first," said Frances, "where are your wonderful children?"

  "Chandra is at the university studying along with Ajeet. Though I suspect there might be some socializing with friends involved too," said Gita smiling.

  Frances smiled.

  "Please do send them my warm wishes. I'm sorry they're not here with us."

  "Of course," said Gita.

  Frances took another sip from her drink.

  "Alright, onto more serious matters. I'm not sure if I had mentioned that on Tuesday, when I went back to the scene, I found a whistle."

  Frances stopped and looked at Amar and Gita for a moment. They shook their heads.

  "It was odd. This was certainly a police whistle that I found, and I wasn't sure if one of Inspector Davison's men had dropped it the night before or that morning. I had Alfred give it to the inspector. I was hoping it might give us something to work with. I wasn't sure how it might be involved, but I had a suspicion that it wasn't one of Scotland Yard's."

  "What gave you that impression?" asked Patel.

  "Looking at it, it looked older as if it might have been there earlier than Tuesday. It wasn't anything definite, just a suspicion more than anything. I can't put a name on it, but I've been doing this sort of thing for some years, and I've learned to trust my intuition. Most often, it leads me in the right direction. Though not always."