Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery)

by Pandian, Gigi

  PART III: THE BARBARY COAST

  Chapter 41

  San Francisco’s neighborhoods had changed since the days in which Anand lived here, but they had maintained unique personalities. Sanjay lived in a 2,000-square-foot loft in SOMA, the South of Market neighborhood of San Francisco. Previously a less desirable part of town, the original dot-com boom led to lots of development in the area. Overpaid young men became the largest segment of the new population. Sanjay fit in wonderfully.

  Sanjay and I caught a cab from SFO to his loft. I told him I was eager to see the spirit cabinet. The truth was I didn’t want to be alone. I had no idea what was happening around me, or who I could trust. Sanjay was one person I knew I could count on.

  A slip of paper was taped to Sanjay’s door. I cringed as he pulled it off, thinking of the booby trap. But this note was what it appeared to be. A shipping slip, notifying him that his delivery had been dropped off in the basement of the building. Paying thousands of dollars a month in rent does buy many perks—such as a secured delivery location for all of Sanjay’s illusions, and a freight elevator to easily move things into his loft.

  I rooted through Sanjay’s fridge while waiting for him and the building’s super to retrieve the crate. The interior of his fridge was the opposite of mine. A selection of cheeses and fruits, two loaves of bread, several half-eaten packages of takeout. A full shelf was packed with artisan beers and champagne. The door was stuffed with condiments, but none of them were the least bit spicy. I grabbed the bag of rye bread and a wedge of strong cheese, and made do with a honey-mustard spread since there was nothing with more zing. The cheese was flavorful enough to make up for it. I’d been on far too many international flights lately, so before tucking into my sandwich I fixed myself a cup of strong coffee with Sanjay’s espresso maker.

  There was plenty to distract me while I waited for Sanjay to return from the basement. The loft was effectively two stories—one sweeping first floor and a second floor covering half of the giant loft. There was a railing but no wall so you could see down to the first floor from the second.

  The main first floor consisted of an open kitchen that overlooked the open dining and living rooms, and one wall that divided the space for a studio/workroom and another bathroom. The entire north wall was made of windows that provided a view of both downtown and the bay.

  Along the wall that divided the first floor, a series of posters of famous magicians from the 1800s and early 1900s hung in faux-vintage frames. Though the frames were replicas, the posters themselves were originals of some of the greats: Kellar, Thurston, Robert-Houdin. Brightly colored red devils whispered in the ears of the magicians, and white ghostly figures swirled around the edges of bold black backgrounds. Matching the macabre style of the posters, two plaster gargoyles clung high on the wall above.

  I brought my sandwich and coffee to the secretary desk in the entryway and used Sanjay’s computer to email Tamarind, Naveen, and Nadia to invite them to the séance, as Sanjay had requested.

  The double doors of the entryway swung open. An eight-foot-tall crate stood in the hallway. With a wheeled rack underneath, it came within a few inches of the top of the doorway.

  “You were right,” Sanjay said. “It’ll fit.”

  The two men pushed the crate into the loft and slipped it off of the wheels. Sanjay thanked the building super, then disappeared into his studio. He emerged less than a minute later with a crowbar. He grinned at me as he pried open the wooden crate. I polished off my food and joined him to view the contents.

  Modern workmanship wasn’t what it used to be. The furniture in my apartment was mostly from Ikea, with a few items that were hand-me-downs from my brother. But the construction of this cabinet was truly something from another time. The wood was more solid than any piece of furniture I’d ever owned. Beyond its solid stature, the thick dark redwood was hand-carved with intricate swirls of fire. The fire design began in large sweeps on the bottom of the cabinet, getting smaller with the tendrils of smoke and fire winding around each other toward the top.

  I shivered at the sight.

  “Exactly,” Sanjay said, standing back and crossing his arms. “It does create its intended effect.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Check it out,” Sanjay said with a grin, popping open a tiny hidden slot inside. “Just like the store said.”

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Just one of many secrets. This one is the slot that held dried animal blood, released with a string, to make it look like something had happened to the person inside. You can still see the residue.”

  “That’s gross,” I said, stifling a yawn.

  “Go home, Jaya. Get some rest.”

  “You’re kicking me out?”

  “I should get to work on the cabinet. I need to be ready for tomorrow night.” Sanjay put his hands on my shoulders. “I know you don’t believe me about Tamarind, but please trust me on this. Don’t take any chances being alone with her right now. And don’t open any strange packages.”

  “But—”

  “Out.”

  I went home, but only for as long as it took me to change into running clothes. Even though I was tired, I had enough adrenaline pumping through my veins that I knew I would never get to sleep that night without drastic measures. I hoped a five-mile run would be enough. There was only one problem: music. The thief had stolen my iPod. Without the music pushing me onward, I’d give up within ten minutes.

  All I had was an old handheld CD player with its ear-muff-sized headphones. Better than nothing.

  I found batteries and blew the dust off a CD sticking out from between the pages of a journal on my bookshelf. But how to carry the CD player? It was the size of the flowerpot and dead flowers in my kitchen window. I flung shoes out of the back of my closet until I found an old fanny pack. My transformation to the 1990s was now complete.

  Downstairs, I knocked on the front door of the house. Nadia wasn’t in. She didn’t check email regularly, so I knew I should invite her to Sanjay’s séance in person. I’d try her again on the way back from my run. I turned up the volume and blasted a bhangra mix from years ago in college as I ran toward Golden Gate Park.

  Running usually helped me focus my mind, but today it refused to do so. My thoughts flitted from Lane’s kiss to Sanjay’s creepy cabinet to Anand and Samuel’s theft of the Heart of India—back to Lane’s kiss—to Naveen’s deception—back to Lane’s kiss—and finally to Steven’s murder and Tamarind’s possible betrayal that I was loath to believe.

  I knew the evidence indicated it was possible it was her. But by that logic, it was possible for it to have been me who killed Steven. I knew the police were doing their jobs. Inspector Valdez seemed like a good guy. But I couldn’t sit around doing nothing. The police hadn’t seen the treasure map. They didn’t understand what was going on.

  I was so distracted by my thoughts that I barely felt the fanny back carrying the gargantuan CD player bouncing against my hip—nor did I realize the time. I was deep in the park when I noticed how dark it was. I didn’t have my phone or my iPod to tell me what time it was, but the sun was setting. I could take care of myself, but it wasn’t a good idea to go running by myself in the park after nightfall. I turned around and headed home.

  I kept up my pace to the beat of the bhangra on my headphones until I was out of the park. A group of homeless teenagers with a pit bull played an out-of-tune guitar at the edge of the park on Stanyan and Haight Street. I pulled off my headphones and slowed to a slow jog as I made my way to Oak Street—Haight Street is too crowded with tourists to walk at a faster pace than a stroll.

  Outside of the park and without the music, I felt the effects of the run in my legs and chest. Cold sweat chilled my torso. I put the helmet-like headphones back on to drown out the world. The cold was again undetectable, as was the th
udding of my heart.

  I caught my breath and stretched outside the front of the house for a few moments, letting the headphones dangle around my neck, before knocking on Nadia’s door. I swear Nadia had a sixth sense. I’d never known it to take her longer than two seconds to open her door for me.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  Nadia was never one to mince words. She stood in her doorway in a black wrap dress and black high-heeled ankle boots, a cocktail glass of clear liquid in her hand and fur stole resting on her shoulders, looking like she was on her way to a 1930s opera.

  “I emailed you that I was out of town for a few days. I didn’t think you’d worry.”

  “Come,” she said, ushering me inside with the hand holding the glass. She didn’t spill a drop. “That magician of yours has been calling nonstop for days, worried about you. Until two days ago. Then I think he is dead, too.”

  “Sorry, Nadia. You know how Sanjay overreacts. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Nadia frowned and nodded. “I thought so. I would have known for sure if I had not been worried after your mugging the other day. I do not like how you get mixed up in the affairs of others. Like you did earlier this summer. It is not safe, Jaya. Neither is running after dark. Yes, yes, I know you can take care of yourself.” She swatted away the protest forming on my lips. “But it is still not good. Especially when you look so tired. You work too hard. I do not think I have seen you go on a single date since you moved in a year ago.”

  Was Nadia, who broke up with her on-again/off-again boyfriend Jack every other month, giving me advice about my love life?

  “Since when have either of us needed a man?” I said.

  “True. Yet sometimes they are quite nice to have around.” Nadia gave me a mischievous smile.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You have come for mail, yes? You are too sweaty to sit on my furniture.”

  “Looks like you’re on your way out anyway.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Perhaps.”

  I knew better than to ask if she was getting back together with Jack tonight.

  “I’m not actually here for mail,” I said. “I wanted to invite you to—”

  “The séance,” she said, holding up a shiny new smart phone. “I have entered the twenty-first century. I received your intriguing email.”

  “I know it sounds strange.”

  “I would not,” she said, “miss it for the world.”

  Nadia retreated to her kitchen. She emerged a minute later without her cocktail and with a small stack of mail. The top piece of mail caught my eye. It was a flat package with a red do not bend stamp across it. The return address was from Steven’s daughter-in-law Christine. I opened it with Nadia looking over my shoulder.

  It was a note from Christine.

  I found this among my father-in-law’s belongings. Thought it would be of interest to you. We want nothing to do with it, and I feel terrible about Connor’s appalling behavior. I hope it will be useful to you.

  It was a copy of Anand’s treasure map.

  Chapter 42

  I stood in Nadia’s living room clenching Anand’s map that I never thought I’d see again. As I’d expected, Steven Healy had made a copy before loaning it to me.

  The landmarks, the markings, the notations I’d tried to recreate in my mind—they were all here right in front of me. It wasn’t the original, but I was betting Anand hadn’t written anything in invisible ink. I had everything I needed right there in my hands. The landmarks Anand had selected for a reason were all right there. The exact locations of the buildings and paths were there. The exact location of the X was there.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “Is it important?”

  “Yes,” I said, “it certainly is.”

  I went directly to a twenty-four-hour copy center to make a copy of the map. I wasn’t going to repeat my earlier mistake. I wasn’t going to let it get away from me again. After taking care of that, I grabbed a gooey ham and cheese biscuit from a late-night café down the street

  I made sure the photocopy of the map was far from my oozing biscuit as I sat at my stubby kitchen table. The map already had stains on it—it didn’t need oily cheese drops as well.

  The Anchored Enchantress was the one location featured prominently that I hadn’t yet been able to figure out. I recognized the area of the old Barbary Coast, the famous seedy part of town that had grown up in the 1850s during the California Gold Rush. Men flocking to San Francisco as a stop on their way to the gold fields made big business out of drinking, gambling, and prostitution. What was The Anchored Enchantress? Why could I find no record of it in either Kochi or San Francisco? Would it be possible to figure it out so many years later?

  Usually I’m a sound sleeper, but that night my mind wouldn’t shut down. I was so close to figuring out what was going on that my mind wanted to keep working. What was I missing?

  In the morning, a knock on the door woke me up from a restless sleep. At least I was asleep in my bed this time. And this time, I asked who it was.

  Tamarind’s hair and lips were both a bright blue today. Her hair was tied into tiny Princess Leah pigtails.

  “I’m on my way to work,” she said. “Your email said you might not be back on email before tonight. You still didn’t have a phone so I came in person. Mind if I come in?”

  I couldn’t believe that Tamarind would hurt me. Even if she was a killer after the treasure—and I wasn’t admitting it was the case—she hadn’t actually tried to kill me. I didn’t believe Tamarind was involved. Still… I decided not to mention that I happened to have another copy of the map.

  I held the door open wide to let her inside. Her bright blue lips smiled at me as her large frame walked through the door. A black T-shirt with purposeful rips hung on her broad shoulders.

  “It’s a great shirt, isn’t it?” Tamarind said, following my gaze. “I love Siouxsie Sioux. I know some say she’s goth, but really she’s true punk. But enough about my shirt—what the hell is going on?”

  Where to begin... “Coffee?”

  “If it means I get to know what’s going on, of course. I can be late to work. Can I smoke in here? No? Okay, better hurry on that coffee then. Are those Batman pajamas you’re wearing?”

  I’d forgotten I was still in my night clothes. “Kid-size pajamas don’t get tangled when I sleep.”

  “But Batman?”

  “All the petite women’s ones were pink.”

  “I hear ya.”

  “Let me go change.” I avoided the folded map as I scooped a mound of ground coffee beans into the coffee maker. “Pour yourself some coffee when it’s done.”

  I emerged from the bathroom a couple minutes later in much more appropriate jeans and black sweater. Tamarind was in the process of pouring coffee.

  “Nice Pirates of the Caribbean mug,” she said. “Better to hear your stories of pirate treasure.”

  “I forgot I had that thing.” My brother had gotten it for me at Disneyland years ago.

  Tamarind handed me a British Library mug, keeping the pirate one for herself, and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You’re not still working on this treasure hunt, are you?”

  Sanjay had to be wrong about Tamarind. She was a good friend. And she was incredibly smart. She could help me. I wasn’t accusing her of anything, so I couldn’t think of a downside. I only hesitated briefly before getting her up to speed. I told her what I’d learned in India—leaving out the parts about Sanjay collapsing in a pool of blood and Lane’s kiss.

  Ten minutes later, my coffee mug was empty and I was done retelling the story.

  “Shut. Up.” Tamarind whispered. “This calls for something stronger than coffee. Too bad it’s only nine in the morning. But I told you it wa
s Anand trying to communicate with you.”

  “Yeah...about that. You’re going to come to the séance tonight?”

  “That hottie Sanjay is going to communicate with Anand and Samuel, isn’t he? I knew you two were up to something.”

  “Something like that.” I hated lying to Tamarind, but it had to be done.

  “I wish we had that map! Do you think Anand could make it materialize for us? I should bring my camera, in case it just materializes as plasma and we have to photograph it before it disappears.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “No? Hmm. I’ve never been to a séance before. This is going to be awesome. Oh, I could use the camera on my phone.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and swore. “I was here for too long. I’m totally late!”

  She grabbed my empty mug from me and rinsed out our mugs in the sink. “What should I wear? What are you going to wear?”

  I glanced down at my bare feet. “Probably this but with shoes.”

  Tamarind turned off the sink and turned around to face me. “Really?”

  “What’s the matter with it?”

  “Nothing. I just figured a séance required dressing up like a flapper or something.”

  “Wrong decade.”

  “You’re right,” Tamarind said. “I’ll figure something else out. See you tonight!”

  As she headed out the door, I nearly called her back. I stopped myself. I hated the deception, but whatever good was going to come out of tonight’s events, it was necessary.

  I found myself yawning in spite of the large cup of coffee. I knew I should go get a new phone, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap…

  It was Sanjay pounding at my door that woke me up from a groggy haze.