For a few Dumplings More

by Leena Clover

  “Did you hear about Cindy?” Mary Beth started. “Poor girl. As if she hadn’t suffered enough.”

  “I thought she made others suffer.”

  I told her what my grandma had heard about Cindy.

  “That’s just the story we circulated. Cindy was nothing like that.”

  “I saw her at our house. She seemed timid.”

  Mary Beth pursed her lips.

  “Were you part of the welcome committee for Cindy?” I pressed.

  “It was my turn,” Mary Beth began. “Do you remember when I talked about setting a good example for battered women?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Cindy was one.”

  Becky gasped beside me.

  “She came to know about WOSCO…”

  “How?”

  “We have our channels, Meera,” Mary Beth said. “We don’t talk much about them. But enough people know that we are willing to help any lady who needs some protection.”

  I was beginning to have new found respect for WOSCO.

  “So what made her come here?”

  “One of our advantages is we are relatively secluded. Most people don’t know about Swan Creek. It’s a little town in the middle of nowhere.”

  I knew that was the general perception. We are practically in the center of a huge country, just a dot on the map.

  “Cindy was being abused by her husband. The aid workers had been trying to convince her to seek help. She finally took the plunge.”

  “And came here to hide,” I finished.

  “Not just hide. We also offer rehabilitation so that the person in question can eventually become independent.”

  “Did you help her get the jobs?”

  “She lived with us for almost a month. She had two years of college and some admin skills. Dot trained her to be a substitute teacher. Then we found her that apartment. She was doing multiple jobs, slowly getting back on her feet.”

  “What about her husband?”

  “She filed for divorce. Her parents were supportive. They just wanted her safe.”

  “Could her husband have come looking for her?”

  “I don’t know, Meera. But I don’t think so. He’s in prison. He bashed up someone in a bar.”

  “He could have escaped.”

  Mary Beth shrugged.

  “She was doing so well.”

  “And she had to come here to get murdered,” I blurted out.

  Mary Beth wiped her tears. I was making her cry every time I visited.

  “How many people knew about her past?”

  “Only me and Dot. We keep the circle tight in such cases. The fewer people know, the better.”

  I thanked Mary Beth and we left. I had found out much more than I bargained for.

  “Do I take my life for granted?” I asked Becky.

  “Your life hasn’t exactly been a smooth ride, Meera,” Becky soothed, supportive as ever.

  “Dad thinks I am wandering aimlessly, wasting my life.”

  “What do you think?” Becky asked.

  There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice. She was encouraging me to do some soul searching.

  “I don’t think I have an answer for that.”

  “So you don’t completely disagree with your Dad.”

  “It’s the way I’ve been brought up, Becky. I was always supposed to do something spectacular. But I don’t think I’ve found my purpose.”

  “You’re 24! There’s plenty of time to find purpose in life.”

  I made my pan fried Tandoori Chicken for dinner, trying hard to mend fences. Jeet asked for a third helping. Dad gave me a brief nod and Pappa patted me on the head.

  Sally gave me one of her special smiles. I was beginning to look forward to them.

  Chapter 25

  “You know what they say?” I asked Stan.

  He was occupied in shoveling Sylvie’s biscuits and gravy in his bottomless pit of a stomach. It was Saturday morning and we were sitting in the diner, catching up on the week.

  Stan motioned me to continue.

  “The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.”

  “What are you trying to say, Meera?”

  “Maybe we should go back there and ask who’s been visiting.”

  Stan gave it some thought.

  “Not a bad idea.”

  “I also want to see where their fuse box is. We know there wasn’t a power outage, so someone had to trip a fuse.”

  “What’s this about a power outage?”

  I had forgotten to tell Stan about it. He was impressed.

  “Let me know if you find out something.”

  Becky was busy with the weekend rush so I pulled Tony along with me.

  “Do I have to go?” he grumbled. “I don’t like those people.”

  The Lucas family didn’t really belong in town. No one understood why they lived in Swan Creek. Naomi Lucas was a top surgeon in a city hospital. She drove back and forth most times a week, or stayed over at a condo she had in the city. Her husband was often found at the local golf club polishing his game. The boy was delinquent at best, with none of the smarts of his mother. Their daughter was the only ray of sunshine in the family. She was a cheerleader and an honor roll student, and the pride and joy of her mother.

  The Lucas estate sprawled over thirty acres and was much bigger than our ten acre lot. They had stables and horses, and employed a lot of the local people to do jobs around their home.

  Offering their house for the WOSCO party had been just a way of gaining favor with the locals, I was sure.

  Naomi Lucas wasn’t home. Her son opened the door.

  “Mom’s in surgery,” he said.

  That meant she wasn’t in town.

  “Can we come in?”

  The kid obviously needed a nudge in the manners department. He opened the door wider, a sullen expression on his face.

  “What do you want?”

  We settled into the living room. It was the same one where Dot had lost her life. The room looked very different now. They must have cleared it out for the party, I realized. There were two seating areas with plenty of side tables and coffee tables. A side table held an array of crystal decanters with amber colored liquids. I remembered Naomi pouring herself a glass from these.

  “My Mom’s poison,” the kid said, startling me. “She’s an alcoholic, you know.”

  “I’m not sure you should be saying that kind of stuff about your mother.”

  He shrugged. “It’s the truth though.”

  Almost every adult I know drinks a bit. Were they all alcoholics? A maid came in and offered us something to drink. I asked for some juice.

  “Did you know a woman was murdered here?” the kid asked with relish. “She was right there!”

  He pointed to the spot where Dot had taken her last breath.

  “I know. I was there too.”

  The kid narrowed his eyes.

  “That’s right. You’re that waitress.”

  “Do you mind if we look around a bit?”

  “Sure. You can ask me if you have any questions.”

  He leaned back into the couch and placed one leg over the other. Folding his hands, he settled in a lord of the manor pose.

  I walked around, thinking back to that fateful day. I tried to remember how the room had been set up.

  “I came in through here,” I told Tony, “there was the table here with all the food.”

  I stood at the spot where Henry said she had been standing with Dot. Then I walked over to the place where Dot had been lying. There was a direct line of sight between the two places. What had made Dot leave the food table and walk over?

  “Hey, did you ever find out what went wrong with your power the other day?”

  “Must’ve been some power cut,” he said. “Typical of small towns. The infrastructure is not that great.”

  Tony put a hand on my back. He knows my buttons. The kid was dangerously close to pushing them.

  “What a
bout a fuse box. Do you have one of those?”

  “There’s some kind of panel outside. It has fuses and stuff for the entire estate.”

  I remembered the kid had been outside that day. Had he been fiddling with that power panel?

  “You must be getting a lot of sympathy visits,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” the kid asked, looking interested.

  “Well, there was a death here, right?”

  “Yeah! But we hardly knew the woman. She wasn’t related to us or anything.”

  “Silly me,” I said, praying my acting skills weren’t too bad. “Never thought of that.”

  “There was one woman. She was really pathetic looking.”

  “Yes?”

  “She came here to meet my Mom. But Mom was in surgery just like today. So she went away.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Didn’t ask.”

  I tried to stay calm.

  “When will your mother get home?”

  “Don’t know. She might stay over in the condo. Depends on how drunk she is.”

  “You mean how tired she is, don’t you?”

  “Whatever!”

  The kid stood up, looking restless.

  “Look, are you done here? I need to go.”

  We said goodbye and went out. I tried to spot a breaker box somewhere.

  “Did you find anything?” Tony asked on the way back.

  “You were right there!”

  “I know, but I don’t know what was going on in that mind of yours.”

  “It’s about ten paces from the spot where the food table was to the spot where Dot was lying.”

  Tony stared at me incomprehensibly.

  “She walked over there. Why?”

  “It was a party, wasn’t it? Someone must have called her over.”

  “At the exact moment when the lights went off?”

  Neither of us had an answer for that.

  Sunday breakfast was a noisy affair. I made my Indian style spicy French toast. Sally was getting her first taste of it.

  “Why don’t we go shopping?” Motee Ba asked.

  “The freezer’s full, Motee Ba. And we have lots of vegetables.”

  “The Spring fashions are in. I am tired of seeing you in the Pioneer tee shirt.”

  This was Motee Ba’s way of calling a truce. There’s nothing she enjoys more than picking out the latest fashions for me. Stuff I will never wear.

  “Are we going to the city again?” Jeet perked up.

  “Girls only,” Motee Ba said.

  We drove over in Dad’s Lexus. It was a quiet drive. Motee Ba only spoke when needed, like when she had to remind me about the speed limit, or give me directions on a road I had travelled hundreds of times. Sally regaled us with her occasional smiles.

  We shopped for a few hours and decided to go to a nice restaurant. I snagged a parking spot and we ran into Naomi Lucas.

  She was doddering a bit, mumbling to herself. I waved, trying to get her attention. She looked at us blankly, as if she didn’t know us at all.

  “Hello Naomi!” Motee Ba said, narrowing her eyes.

  Even Naomi Lucas cannot dare ignore my grandmother.

  “Mrs. Patel. And Meera. What are you doing here?”

  Her ears had turned red and she was looking at us in alarm.

  “We’re just going in for lunch,” I explained.

  “Oh!” her face cleared. “Excellent place. I recommend the margaritas. I had three. Or four.”

  We started going in. Naomi grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

  “My son said you wanted to talk to me?”

  “You know I’m helping the police find Dot’s killer? I just wanted to ask if any of the women from the party had come to visit you.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know. To offer their condolences?”

  “She meant nothing to us. We hardly knew that woman.”

  Most people in Swan Creek would take offense with that statement. I didn’t say anything.

  “Your son said someone came asking for you.”

  “He never told me any such thing,” she hissed in my ear.

  I shrank back, inhaling a lung full of the alcohol on her breath. She stumbled, but grabbed my arm just in time.

  “Why are you wasting your time in these worthless things? I heard you were smarter than this.”

  “Have you been talking to my Dad?”

  “My friend’s Vice President at Brown Networks. I can put in a word for you. What do you say?”

  “Isn’t that in Dallas?”

  “So what? You’re young. It’s time for you to spread your wings. There’s nothing for you in that town.”

  I thanked Naomi and promised to consider her offer.

  Motee Ba and Sally were settled in a booth inside, sipping frozen margaritas.

  “I hope you’re not having three or four of them.”

  I told them about Naomi. What her son said and the alcohol I smelled on her breath.

  “I fear she has finally succumbed to the pressures of her job.”

  “You mean she’s really an alcoholic?”

  “There have been rumors for a while,” Motee Ba confirmed. “But this is the first time I have seen her so drunk in broad daylight.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous? She’s a surgeon. Someone could lose their life because of her negligence.”

  “She’s off duty now. I guess she’s sober when she goes to work.”

  I didn’t mention Naomi’s offer of a recommendation. Why give them any ideas?

  We ate a bit too much as always. At least I did and finally walked out of the restaurant. I was sleepy, dreading the two hour drive back home. Sally tapped me on the arm and pointed at the car. All four tires had been slashed.

  Motee Ba’s mouth dropped open in alarm and she looked at me. I sighed and called AAA. Luckily, we were close to a tire shop and they had our tires in stock. We didn’t get home until 9 PM.

  All three Patel men were standing on the porch when we rolled in. I had called home earlier to tell them we would be late.

  “Are you alright?” Dad asked, rushing forward.

  Pappa tapped his cane and pointed it at me.

  “What have you done now, girl?”

  “Someone slashed our tires. It’s not Meera’s fault.”

  Everyone stared at Sally. I gave her a smile.

  “Darn city punks,” Pappa muttered.

  Jeet had ordered Chinese for dinner. We freshened up and ate, glad to be home. Later, we tried on the stuff we had bought.

  I went to bed wondering why someone had targeted us. Was it just vandalism? Or a random hate crime? Or had someone specifically targeted me like Pappa said.

  Chapter 26

  “How about it, Meera? Promise me you will give it some serious thought.”

  Dad was trying to convince me to assist him with some undergraduate classes.

  “But the semester’s half gone. How can you hire me now?”

  “Leave that to me. You’re already an employee since you work at the library. I can take you on as a TA.”

  “Will you have to fire an existing Teaching Assistant for that?”

  Dad answered with a frown and went back to his study. He wasn’t going to let me get off easily this time. Teaching a small portion of some class would get me reacquainted with my books. Dad had enough clout to get the necessary approvals. Most of his colleagues had watched me grow up. They would all band together and make me toe the line.

  Electrical engineering is something I can teach in my sleep. But it doesn’t make me feel alive.

  I stared at the white board one day, going over everything on it. Something about the board had been nagging me for a while now. It came to me in a flash. Naomi’s name was missing from the board.

  I felt like the fool who forgets to count himself.

  Nobody had given Naomi a single thought. And she had been right there in that room, just like the others.

/>   I dialed Stan and filled him in.

  “My God, Meera. You’re right. We completely missed her. She wasn’t on the list of WOSCO women we interviewed.”

  “Rumor is she’s an alcoholic.”

  “I’ve heard about that,” Stan said. “We haven’t caught her driving under the influence though.”

  I told Stan about the breaker box at the Lucas house.

  “That kid was around when I rang the bell. Maybe his mother asked him to pull a switch.”

  “Did she even know Dot?”

  “Dot was too poor for the likes of her. The whole Lucas family is big on snob appeal.”

  I hung up and closed my eyes. Taking some deep breaths, I tried to imagine the scene from the party. I heard women screaming hysterically, and a general buzz. I saw Motee Ba standing at one side, her hands on her mouth. Then Dot’s body came into view. She was lying there, wearing that faded dress I had seen on her for the past decade. I tried to remember things around Dot. A pair of shapely legs in high heels, probably belonging to Fiona, a cushion in geometric print and a silk scarf. This must be the murder weapon. There was a planter at one side, and a red painted toenail beside it, encased in a peep toed shoe.

  I sat up. I dialed Stan again, eager to test my theory.

  “What happened to the scarf?” I asked abruptly.

  “Hunh?”

  “The scarf next to Dot’s body? I am guessing it was used to strangle her.”

  “They did find some micro fibers on her neck. So we concluded that she had been strangled with something like a scarf. But we didn’t find any.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you know all this, Meera? There was the cushion, of course, and there was a dumpling in her hand. That’s it. We didn’t find any scarf around Dot.”

  “She was wearing one. I remember.”

  “Are you sure you’re not mistaken? Maybe it was someone else.”

  “I’m fairly sure. But I’ll ask a few people just in case.”

  I felt energized. I had a new lead. I rushed out to talk to Motee Ba.

  “Dot was wearing a scarf that day, right? Tell me you remember that.”

  Motee Ba gave it some thought.

  “I don’t think so, Meera. She was wearing that faded navy dress of hers. She wasn’t the fashionable type. I doubt she would know what to do with a scarf.”