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

tell you about this map?” Tamarind asked, staring at the faded piece of paper.
    “Sorry, what?” I willed myself to focus.
    “The map,” Tamarind said. “What exactly did he tell you?”
    “Nothing,” I said. “He let it speak for itself. He said he’d tell me more when I saw him next.”
    “And then he…”
    “Exactly. He was killed, so I don’t know what he was going to tell me.”
    “He wanted those letters,” Tamarind murmured. “He thought they’d tell him something.”
    “He thought I’d know where to find them. And he was right.”
    We ate our sandwiches in silence for a few minutes while looking at the map. A solitary student wandered into the courtyard and sat down in the far corner from us. Tamarind scowled in his direction as he opened his laptop, but the guy wasn’t looking our way.
    “Why did he need those letters if he had this treasure map?” Tamarind asked in a whisper.
    “Well, it’s not the most straightforward of treasure maps,” I admitted.
    “But the X mark—”
    “It doesn’t lead to a treasure,” I said. “At least not one Steven Healy could find with just the map.” I shook my head. “There was something he wasn’t telling me about how he knew it was Anand Paravar who drew this map. I should have pressed for more information, but I had no idea I’d never see him again.”
    “But you know you can believe him about the map,” Tamarind said.
    “Why? He lied to me about his motives for finding the treasure—he even lied about the treasure itself.”
    “But,” Tamarind said, “he believed Anand’s letters were the key to cracking the map. So he believed it was Anand’s map.”
    “I’ve been thinking about something else,” I said. “Why would Anand have needed to draw a treasure map in the first place?”
    “Um, because he was a thief who needed to show where he hid his treasure. Mwa-ha-ha.”
    “That’s the thing,” I said. “I don’t think he did it.”
    Tamarind sighed dramatically, pouting her bright red lips. “Sticking up for the clan is all well and good, Jaya, but don’t let it cloud your professional judgment.”
    “If you’d heard the way my mom talked about him, you’d find it hard to believe, too. He was this amazing figure to her grandfather. He was involved in a revolutionary group working for Indian independence. He left home in 1900 to see the world—supposedly a wanted man for his involvement in the cause—and sent money home while he was at it.”
    “Sounds like a thief to me.”
    “Even if I disregard all the family lore, the dates don’t fit . He left home in 1900 and arrived in San Francisco a couple of years later. He was still living here in 1906—nowhere near India. There weren’t flights to pop over to the other side of the world in those days. He wrote his brother a letter every week. And he didn’t leave San Francisco once he got here.”
    “Okay,” Tamarind said. “I’ll admit that’s some pretty good evidence. If it’s true.”
    “I need to start with the dates,” I said. “If this treasure is a big enough deal to get someone killed over a hundred years later, there has to be a record of it. Does the library have turn-of-the-century newspaper archives?”
    “Not ours,” Tamarind said. “But the San Francisco library’s history center has digitized all the local papers, so if you’ve got a library card you can view the PDFs online. You can use one of the computer stations to check it out while I fondle the treasure map.”
    “I’ll be back to check out the newspaper archives in a little bit,” I said. “First I’m going to see Naveen.”
    “Why would anyone want to do that?”
    “He’s the best person to ask about Tamil writing and translations.”
    “I suppose so,” Tamarind said. “See you later—if you survive, that is.”
    “He’s not that bad.”
    “It’s your funeral,” Tamarind said, shaking her blue-haired head. “I’m going to have that cigarette now.”
    “What about