Hot Stuff (18 page)
Authors: Flo Fitzpatrick
He nodded, then chugged down an entire bottle of beer.
“There's just one problem. Asha is indeed a talker. She's a pain in the you-know-what when she wants to be, and she loves practical jokes. She also loves her fans and will talk to them for hours outside the studios or invite them to her flat for tea.”
Brig and I grinned. That was our Asha. But the grins turned to frowns when Jake continued his assessment of his fiancée.
“There are two rules Asha swears by. One is being ultimately professional when she is working. The other is an almost fanatical adherence to promptness. In the five films we have done together and even in our personal life together, I have never, not once, known her to be late. She said she'd meet me here at six. It is now six forty-five and no sign of her.”
Brig stood, threw down a few rupees on the table, helped pull my chair back, then stared at Jake.
“Time to go. Normally I might agree that Asha just lost track of time with the snake man. But with everything that's happened in the last few days with the statue, I think we need to find her. Tempe? Any ideas?”
“Um. How about checking her car? It's close by, and I think she left her cell phone in the glove compartment. If she's okay, just off communing with the snakes or something, she might have called that phone and left a message knowing you'd be worried.”
Jake brightened. “Good thought. She knows I had to leave mine at home today to recharge batteries. So she couldn't call me if she needed to. Tempe? Lead the way. Do you remember which garage?”
I did. When Asha had parked earlier this morning, she had suggested I make note of various landmarks in case she and I got separated and I needed to make my way back to the car alone.
The first thing I'd noticed had been the street vendor who'd printed the words “Best bhelpuri in Bombay” in English on the awning of his immobile cart. Down the block stood a stall that sold balloons. Next to that stall I'd seen a small boutique advertising pendants and other jewelry from the States. I remembered it because the whole place had been painted colors of red, white, and blue.
Brig muttered to himself as we walked to the garage. “My fault. It's the Diva. I know it.”
Asha's car still sat in the same parking spot. But there was no Asha inside. She never closed the top, so we reached in and opened the glove compartment. Success. Her cell phone lay nestled inside a wad of tissues. The light blinked, signaling that she had messages.
Jake punched in the code necessary to retrieve the calls. We heard Asha's voice quivering, “Uh. Mr. Roshan? If you're getting this, I've run into a bit of trouble. I can't make our business meeting.”
The message continued. “I ran into, uh, an acquaintance who has, uh, persuaded me to accompany him for the evening. Perhaps longer. I'll be in touch.”
Brig began shouting, “Damn them! It's one of our stinkin' thugs. Bastard! He's got her!”
Brig continued to yell while he kicked the side of the car again and again and again until a large dent appeared. His face had turned bright red. I worried that between his intense anger and the heat of the city he'd have a stroke.
“Stop! Brig. Brig! Calm down. It's not going to do her any good if you wreck her car.”
He stared at me for a long moment, half-heartedly kicked the tire, then sank to the ground.
“My fault. All my fault. She's gone.”
He was right about the last two words. Asha, just like the princess she portrayed in
Carnival of Lust
, had been kidnapped. But this was no movie.
Carnival of Lust
, had been kidnapped. But this was no movie.
Chapter 23
“Where does Jake keep the sugar? Do you know?”
Brig absently waved toward the top of one of the cabinets in Jake's kitchen. “Up there. Canisters. Flour. Sugar. Coffee beans. Chocolate chips. The basics.”
“Thanks.”
I opened the pantry and hit the jackpot. All the basics indeed, plus flavored coffees and teas. I grabbed a handful of chocolate chips and stuffed them into my mouth as I began grinding coffee beans. Within minutes I had a nice pot of hazelnut Kahlúa coffee brewing for any and all who needed it. Which meant Jake, Brig, and me.
After we'd heard Asha's guarded message, we'd jumped into the convertible. Brig hot-wired her car while Jake replayed the call, and I prayed no harm would come to my friend. I wanted to throw myself into the water with the elephant statues for not going to the American Embassy and turning the problem of the Diva over to them. My fault.
Brig had wasted no time driving to Jake's. He'd stayed silent except for occasional obscenities directed toward whichever scumbag had snatched Asha.
We'd been back at Jake's about an hour. Brig and I had gone off to shower for significant lengths of time to get the pungent odor of Bambi removed from our bodies. Since I returned to the musky maid's room and had to use her fragrances, I ended up smelling like a hooker in heat. Which I suppose was better than the previous odor of a pachyderm in a panic.
Jake had spent that time pacing and cursing. Sounds of a fist smashing against the wall in the living room could be heard periodically during the fifteen minutes I spent digging through Jake's closet searching for something to fit me. I refused to don the now-ripe elephant-scented jeans and shirt I'd worn for the festival. I found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, dressed, then followed the sounds of swearing coming from the kitchen.
Both guys were popping tops off beer bottles and checking the wall phone every five minutes to make sure it worked.
“No word, I guess?” I asked.
“No,” had been the terse answer from both men.
I poured the coffee. The three of us sat on the stools behind the counter where just days ago Jake had sipped hot water and mooned about his latest breakup with Asha. It seemed so silly now.
The phone rang. Three mugs slammed down on the counter as one. Hot coffee spattered.
Jake hit the speaker button. Before he could say hello, we heard, “Roshan?”
I closed my eyes. I knew that voice. Last time I'd heard it, those dulcet tones had been screaming vile language at me at the Pool Palace. Seymour Patel. Damn. Of the three primary players in this game of hide-the-statue, Patel, in my opinion, took top honors as the nastiest.
Jake made no pretense of misunderstanding the reason for this call. “You want Shiva's Diva.”
“Yes.” Hindi curse word, curse wordââI blushed. “We know O'Brien stole it at Harry's. We want it. Simple. I trade. The statue for that”âcurse word, curse wordâ“Miss Kumar. We know she is lover even though she pretends all business.”
Brig tilted his chin, then motioned to Jake. The motion declared “Yes.”
Jake closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then spoke into the receiver. “Where and when?”
“I call three hours with orders.”
Jake began to scream in the Marathi dialect. Since Hindi had been my main language focus before I came to India, I could grasp only half of it.
Jake put Patel's curses to shame. He called the man a “filthy son of a camera.” Wait. That might mean camel. Wrong translation. I shook my head and opened my eyes wide when Jake told Patel that his ancestors had never married. Or if they had, they'd married their sisters. Or brothers. I interpreted something about a hanging and a stretching and burning in there as well. I believe the words “draw and quarter” and “hot tar and sticky feathers” were used.
Finally, Jake returned to English and told Patel that if he hurt one hair on Asha's head, he, Jake Roshan, Yale graduate and award-winning film director, would chop off several essentials of Seymour's anatomy. Essentials that would make it impossible for Patel to create progeny of his own, whether with his mythical sister or any other female.
Patel took it well. Doubtless Jake's epithets were mild compared to what most of Seymour's confederates, or his enemies, called him on a daily basis.
He even laughed. “Three hours, Roshan. You listen to orders. I say once.”
Jake yelled, “Wait!” but I could hear the click as Patel hung up on him.
Jake turned to Brig and me with tears in his eyes. “I just wanted to see if I could talk to Asha to make sure she is alive. I guess I ticked him off too much?”
Brig reached over and laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Jake. Patel won't kill her. He wants that statue too badly. And he knows he won't get it until you've been assured that Asha truly is unharmed. When he calls next, don't give him time to start what that idiot called âorders.' I swear, the man needs a translator. His English stinks.”
“I'm not volunteering for the job,” I interjected.
Brig threw me a not-now-with-the-humor look and continued to tell Jake what to do.
“Ask him to put Asha on the phone and tell him you'll throw Shiva's Diva into the water of Chowpatty Beach to bond with the latest Ganesh idol if you don't hear her voice pronto.”
Jake nodded, then laid his head down on the table. He looked like he planned to stay there every minute of those next three hours. Waiting. Brig motioned me to follow him and let Jake worry in peace.
In silence, we took our mugs into the den. I looked up at Brig as he leaned against a mantel, then began cleaning the pieces on it with a feather duster he'd found on a small table nearby.
“Brig? Thanks for agreeing to give up Shiva's Diva. For Asha.”
He stared at me. “Did you really think I wouldn't give up the goddess, with Asha's life almost in my hands?”
I shook my head. “No. I didn't. I don't know what your usual modus operandi is for snatching stolen goods, but I do believe you'd never jeopardize another life just to keep a piece, no matter how precious.”
He bowed. “Thank you for that somewhat mixed opinion of me. For the record, I don't steal. I know it appears that way to you, but I promise you I don't.”
I looked into his eyes. “So, that being made clear, where is our little dear? I still can't figure out how you've managed to keep it hidden all this time. I mean, you gave me back the tote bag on the set the other morning, but I didn't notice any figurines coming along with it.”
He smiled. “
Purloined Letter
, luv.”
Purloined Letter
, luv.”
“What?”
“Poe's classic. Didn't you read it in high school?”
“Yeah, yeah. I've read it. More than once. The gist, if I recall, is that to hide something of value you must put in plain sight along with similar items. In Poe's story, a letter.”
Brig nodded and continued to dust. I narrowed my eyes at him. The man didn't strike me as being a model of domesticity, and Jake's servants were more than adept at keeping a clean home. I focused on the shelf as the duster swept the objects clean. And saw it.
Jake's mantel had been decorated with a hodgepodge of film-award statuettes, idols in the form of Shiva, Ganesh, Lakshmi, and at least three other Hindu gods or goddesses. Five carousel music boxes shaped like horses formed a circle around another idol. Not any idol. Shiva's Diva.
“Sweet Saraswati! It's her.”
“Exactly.”
He took the piece off the mantel and gently ran the duster over it. “She's a beauty, isn't she?”
I hadn't had much of a chance to see Shiva's Diva close up. While Ray had been wheeling and dealing, I'd been translating and not terribly concerned with the object of the negotiations. The only part of her I'd really seen had been the upside-down lute, which had caused me to question her authenticity.
Brig handed her to me. She stood no more than twelve inches high, with fine, sculpted lines and features that spoke of nothing but serenity. Rubies glittered over the upside-down lute, and diamonds and rubies decorated the weapon this goddess would never have carried. Shiva's Diva. The lady who'd caused such a fuss. A lady who blessed the creative in life and cursed the greedy.
“She's beautiful. I see why everyone wants her, aside from the price angle and the blessings. Should one be so lucky as to earn them rather than their opposite.”
Brig's eyes narrowed. “Much as I hate to deliver Saraswati into the hands of a swine like Patel, I cling to the lovely thought that he'll be a penniless, speechless wreck within weeks. And if he keeps our goddess, that's what will happen. Though he'll more likely just sell her fast for big money.”
He sighed. I handed him the statue. Jake entered in time to see Brig take the goddess back.
“That's her? The statue the three hounds are hunting?”
We nodded. Jake walked directly over to Brig. For a second I thought he would strike him. Jake's life had been turned around because of Brig. His house had been put in danger. And not just his physical abode. Asha, his love, might not make it to the wedding she'd been so determined to have in America.
Jake reached out and hugged Brig so tightly I expected to hear bones snap.
“Thank you for agreeing to give it to Patel. That
biimaar jhiigaa
.”
biimaar jhiigaa
.”
Jake had just called Patel a “sick shrimp” in Hindi. I nodded in agreement with the sentiment, but I couldn't help wonder why he and Brig seemed to want to defile innocent cephalopod mollusks (squids) and hapless crustacea.
Brig turned red. “Jake. I'm so sorry I hid it here. Sorry you and Asha ever got involved. You're my best friend, but I've brought nothing but disaster to you.”
I didn't get included in this little apology. Perhaps Brig thought his game of hide-and-seek had enthralled me. And, thinking about it, maybe it had. I could have forced him (how, I'm not sure) to hand it over to the authorities. If not the police, then the embassy. I almost smiled thinking about Asha lusting over the marines who guard the gates. We could use a troop of them in full battle mode just now. Or the good old British cavalry riding to the rescue.
Jake shook his head. “Brig. This is not your fault. The villain is Patel.”
“Not to mention Mahindra and Ray Decore,” I muttered. The men glanced at me. Both of them had the same expression of sheer panic on their faces.
Brig spoke first. “Damn! I'd forgotten about them. We've got to stick Shiva's Diva into Patel's hands and get Asha back home safely without either of that lot barging in and taking the statue from us before we can deliver her.”
As one, we sank onto Jake's spacious sofa. After a moment or two I stood again.
“Guys. Let's not borrow trouble, okay? Look, we don't even know where Patel plans to meet. And Mahindra and Ray would have to be on our tails from the moment we leave here and follow us to figure it out. Plus, they'd have to have discovered this is where the statue's been kept. They don't even know Asha's been kidnapped. At least I guess they don't.”
I paused. Mahindra had an uncanny ability to figure out who'd gone where and what had happened. For all I knew, he could be camped under the window pretending to be a shrub in order to eavesdrop. I glanced toward the large glass sliding doors leading to Jake's patio. No movement from the banyan trees. I needed to do something before my imagination had the man popping out of Jake's coffeepot.
“I'm going to make some more coffee. And some dinner. We've got two hours and thirty minutes to wait.”
I tried to smile. “We need to keep up our strength for dealing with Patel. No one needs to pass out and faint while we're in the middle of our big rescue of Asha.”
Brig rolled his eyes, smiled, then said, “In other words, Tempe's hungry.”
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