Free Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery) by Gigi Pandian Page A

remind myself of Tamarind’s brilliance. She’d come through many times this year, finding obscure references for me that I’d never have found without her. But she was also a twenty-five-year-old punk who refused to walk under ladders—which can be rather inconvenient at a library that stacks the books twice as tall as me and has ladders in most sections. 
    “I’m not,” I said firmly, “talking about a ghost.”
    “You’re not?”
    “I’m talking about murder.”
    Tamarind’s pale face turned a shade paler. She inched to the far edge of the bench. “I’m going to sit quietly over here with my hands in my lap while you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”
    Now that I had the floor, I didn’t quite know where to start. Since Steven Healy had lied to me, what did I know was true?
    “The man who came to see me last night,” I began, “Steven Healy, the guy I mentioned in my text. He said he was a retired lawyer who’d found evidence that a great-granduncle of mine—Uncle Anand, whose letters I asked you to look into last night—had stolen a treasure from his family and hidden it in San Francisco before being murdered in 1906.”
    “Shut. Up.” Tamarind stared at me.
    “But Steven Healy  lied to me,” I said. “It wasn’t some family treasure, but something of historical significance.”
    “Which is…?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “But whatever the inconsistencies in what he told me, he had this treasure map with Tamil writing that may have been drawn by Uncle Anand.”
    “A map that leads to a treasure,” Tamarind said.
    I nodded. “But he was murdered shortly after he came to see me and gave me this map. It was on the news.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “He was bludgeoned to death.”
    Tamarind winced. “Not a nice way to go. You think he was killed because of this treasure map? The map that’s sitting here?”
    “I have no idea. I just know he’s dead.”
    “This is awesome ,” she said.
    “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
    “Well, it’s not awesome that he’s dead. But everybody dies. And this means it’s a real treasure map. You couldn’t have asked for better proof. But really, I’m not going to lose sleep over some lawyer capitalist pig being killed after living a long life.”
    “He wasn’t—”
    “Jaya, you have a treasure map from a dead man . You don’t have the luxury of being generous. You need to start figuring out exactly who this man was—and what else he was hiding.”
    Chapter 11

    “You should write a memoir once you find the treasure,” Tamarind said. She even had a straight face as she said it. “And this time, I’m in.”
    “There is no in .”
    “Who do you think would play me in the movie?” Tamarind asked. “I don’t think there are many actresses who could pull it off. Hollywood actresses don’t have decent bone structure like mine. Aishwarya Rai would play you, of course. She looks half-white to me, no matter what those Miss Universe judges said.”
    “She can’t do an American accent,” I said. “Wait. Stop. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I’m not writing a memoir. I don’t know what I’m doing, but whatever it is, it’s not that. I need to figure out what’s going on. There’s a missing treasure, incomplete information, inconsistent facts, an unsubstantiated accusation against Uncle Anand, and I’ve ended up with a Tamil treasure map.”
    “Very nicely summed up. You’ve got the professorial thing perfected, Jaya.”
    “Glad you approve,” I said, taking a bite out of my peanut butter, jelly, and pickle sandwich.
    “And I’m glad you’re not so broken up about dear old Steven that you can’t eat.”
    “My starving to death won’t do anyone any good,” I said, but at the same time I set down the sandwich. Even though I’d dealt with a murderer earlier that summer, it wasn’t any easier this time. Death could be tragic. But murder was deeply unsettling.
    “What did he