Free Tulip Season by Bharti Kirchner Page B

titled, “Kolkata Investigation,” drew her attention. Why Kolkata? She extracted the folder. It held newspaper clippings and several business letters. Voilà. She might find a clue here. She picked up a letter.
    Hearing footsteps, she put the letter back, without having read a single word, and returned the folder to the cabinet drawer. She shut the drawer and rushed back to her seat, heart thudding. The file cabinet didn't close completely. Adi entered, skirted the desk, and moved toward his swivel chair, shutting the file cabinet with one hand and turning to face her at the same time. Thank God, he hadn't noticed anything unusual.
    “I don't suppose you have an update for me?” Mitra said, trying to sound interested, but not too aggressive.
    “I do as a matter of fact,” Adi whispered, his eyes clouding over. “I got a ransom note in yesterday's mail. Yes, it's payment time.”
    The breath Mitra took fluttered in her throat. She sat unmoving with horror. Ransom—the stuff of violent movies or the bloody plotlines in the mystery novels Mother liked to dip into. “Ransom?” she echoed.
    Face stricken, his left eye twitching, Adi described receiving an unsigned typed letter the previous day. He read it once, twice, three times, four times, digested the implications, stared at the outrageous demand again, and quivered. He even entertained the possibility he'd lost his mind. But the note was real.
    “Who sent it? Where are they holding her? For what amount?”
    “They're demanding a million dollars.”
    “What did the cops say?”
    He squirmed in his seat. “I'm keeping them out of the loop.”
    She leaned forward in frustration, her elbows on his desk. “But why? Aren't there instructions in the note that can be traced? What about fingerprints?”
    He shook his head, glanced down at his fingers. “Now, take it easy, Mitra.”
    “Do you have the note with you?”
    He scooted his chair back and again shook his head. “Look, you're overstepping your boundaries. You're putting yourself in the path of the criminals. Go back to your garden.”
    “Why are you dealing with the criminals?”
    “The note says I should keep the police out of it, if I want—”
    Would the criminals harm Kareena? Put a gun on her throat? No!
    “How can you expect to handle all this on your own?” An icy shiver down her body nearly choked Mitra's words. “How will you live with yourself if things go wrong?”
    He lurched to his feet. “I'm handling this as delicately as I can.”
    “Delicately? When Kareena is in danger? Have you paid?”
    “I'm getting ready to pay half.”
    “Why only half?”
    “I'm not cash-flow positive right now. I have to liquidate some properties. That'll take weeks. Whoever sent this will just have to wait. I don't have a choice.”
    Mitra stared at him. “What'll happen to Kareena in the meantime? How did you exchange the money?” Seeing him stay silent, she mentioned the fund she'd raised in an auction as a reward for Kareena's safe return. “It won't be much, but I'd be happy to offer it to you. Don't you think we should get our community involved to raise more money?”
    As though in denial, as though unwilling to witness the anxiety on her face, he closed his eyes.
    “Damn,” she said.
    He opened his eyes; there was desperation in them. “Not your usual language, Mitra. Listen, if you blow the whistle on me, I'm ruined and you … you won't know what happened to you.”
    She got it. He'd make sure that she lost all her gardening clients. And worse. She waved a hand. “Go ahead, intimidate me, Chairman Guha.”
    “Look, I know you two are very close. Kareena trusts you like she trusts very few people. She calls you a bestie. You deserve a positive performance review for your dedication, but stay out of it. This is not a situation for you to butt into. It's dangerous. Bujhley ? Do you read me?”
    “ Bujhina . I don't follow why you're all of a sudden worried about me. I don't follow why