The Delhi Deception (17 page)

“Harry!” Elouise was angry. “What a terrible thing to say. I’m sorry, Carla, Harry was very close to his father. I don’t understand this stupidity—”

Harry forced an apologetic smile and said, “OK, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just he’s gone, and I don’t like talking about it.”

George was watching them all closely. “Elouise, you have a marvelous cook. He is almost as good as my Sunil. I think we should have a cook-off.” He laughed heartily at this, and Elouise and Carla joined him, laughing with relief as much as at his timely gusto.

Making an effort, Harry smiled, but Carla noticed the strain in his eyes.

From then on the conversation became more formal. Discussions revolved around the friends they had in common from Boston. They also spoke about the economic future of the US. Harry was quiet and didn’t participate in much of the conversation.

After a delicious dessert of hot jalebis and vanilla ice cream, George stood up and said, “Thanks so much, Elouise, Harry, for a great evening, but I have an early meeting tomorrow, so it’s best I get going. Perhaps we could have dinner next week at my place?”

Elouise got up and said, “Sure, we’ll chat about it. Thanks for coming, and thank you for the lovely flowers.” She glanced in the direction of a crystal vase on a side table filled with crimson roses and sprigs of white jasmine.

Carla felt a stab of jealousy and admonished herself for it. She stood up from the table and watched Harry shake George’s hand and say, “See you around, George. Thanks for coming.”

George looked at Carla. “See me out?”

“Of course.” She kissed Elouise on the cheeks and said, “Good night and thanks for a lovely dinner.” Harry had already gone inside.

The heavy fragrance of jasmine and overripe fruit filled the sultry night air. George had parked his car in the street, and as soon as they were out of earshot, he said, “Well done, Carla. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Carla laughed. “No, I guess it wasn’t. But getting into Harry’s study is giving me sleepless nights.”

“Any plans?”

“Yes, I’m working on something, I’ll keep you posted.” They reached his jeep, and he went to the driver’s door. “Where’s Kamal?” Carla asked.

“I gave him the night off—a relative of his from Kashmir is in town.” George kissed her lightly on her cheeks. “Good night, Carla.” His eyes were gentle as he looked at her for a few seconds without speaking. His masculine scent of leather and green tea was intense, and Carla felt slightly giddy. She had a powerful urge to lean close to him, to feel his body against her own, but was luckily thwarted by the curious eyes of the chowkidars watching them from the entrance of the bungalow.

George got into the jeep, made a U-turn, and drove away. Carla walked back to her room. She was physically lethargic but mentally wide-awake. She didn’t realize she had been smiling until she looked in the mirror while washing her face before bed.

Her phone rang as she was creaming her face. It was George. This only made her grin even broader. “Hi, George, something wrong?”

“You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night. OK?”

“Yes, Commander, whatever you say.” She laughed.

George was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I miss you,” and hung up.

Carla stared at her phone for a few seconds. With a groan she fell into bed and thought,
What is wrong with me? I feel like a stupid teenager with a crush on the biology teacher.
She closed her eyes, convinced that tonight she would have good dreams about a broad-shouldered embassy official from America.

Carla was hoping to be alone in the morning for a blitz on Harry’s study, but Elouise insisted that they spend the day together. “I’ve been a terrible host. You’ve been here for over a week, and I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Don’t stress; I’m fine. I love finding my own way around.”

“Well, today I’m taking you out. I was thinking of taking you to a jewelry exhibition, lunch at the Oberoi, and then some Ayurvedic treatments at a center in Janak Puri.”

“Are you sure? What about the kids?”

“All sorted. They’re going to friends after school, and then Harry will pick them up later.”

Carla felt frustrated, but putting on a bright smile said, “OK, sounds great. What time will we be home? I’m having dinner with George tonight.”

Elouise frowned and said, “We’ll be back early evening.”

Carla knew not to address Elouise’s issue with George. It wasn’t like she was actually in a relationship with him, anyway, she thought. “Great, let me get my purse.”

The jewelry exhibition was held in the ballroom at the Oberoi hotel next to the Delhi Golf Club. The architecture of the hotel was typical of the sixties, Carla thought, but the interiors were a stunning mélange of modern and classical Indian decor.

As they made their way across the lobby to the ballroom, Elouise explained to Carla that a cousin of Harry’s held the exhibition. She’d studied fashion at Parsons in New York and then came back to Delhi to get married. She wasn’t happy with her wedding jewelry, so she redesigned the lot. It was a hit with Delhi society. She then started designing her own range, which she sold at exhibitions. “You’ll be shocked at how much money is spent on wedding jewelry. In fact, I’ve started buying pieces for my daughters so that I’m not bankrupt by the time they get married.”

“You’re kidding.”

Elouise laughed and greeted an elderly Indian woman, elegantly dressed, wearing the largest diamond earrings Carla had ever seen. There were quite a few women in the ballroom already, which was decorated as though an Indian wedding were taking place. Stunning models were drifting through wearing simple, vermilion silk saris and the magnificent jewelry. The effect was quite spectacular.

A model stopped in front of Carla, showing off a necklace that made Carla gasp. Diamonds the size of her pinky nail were set in chunky yellow gold from which hung grape-sized South Sea pearls and, in between every two pearls, a pear-shaped polished Columbian emerald the size of a pigeon’s egg.

A young woman wearing a fitted Hervé Léger dress rushed up to Elouise and touched her feet briefly, greeting her in the traditional Sikh custom. “Sastrikal chacchi, I’m so glad you could make it. Do you like it?”

“Anni, I love it. Let me introduce you to my college friend, Carla.”

They shook hands, and Carla said, “Congratulations, your designs are amazing.”

Anni smiled. “Thank you so much. Please have some champagne. It’s French, Moet & Chandon. They are sponsoring. It wasn’t difficult to persuade them after they saw my guest list. Anyway, let me mingle, and if you see anything you like, let me know quickly so that I can reserve it for you. I sold out within two hours at my last exhibition.”

With a smile she rushed off toward a group of women who were admiring a Burmese ruby necklace.

“Wow, she has quite a business,” Carla said.

Elouise smiled knowingly and looked around. Carla followed her gaze and watched the fellow guests with amusement: they looked like magpies, gasping and gaping at all the shiny stones. “Too much money is spent on Indian weddings,” Elouise whispered to Carla. “I’m not prepared to spend so much on my daughters—I could buy them an apartment in Manhattan instead.”

The ballroom was getting crowded, and Carla noticed a few men, too. They were mostly middle-aged or older. “Fathers and grandfathers,” Elouise said when she noticed Carla looking surprised. “The men in the family have quite a bit to say about the wedding jewelry for either their future daughters-in-law or daughters.”

Elouise was suddenly ambushed by a group of loud women, so Carla wandered toward the refreshments table. She helped herself to sushi. As she was pouring soy sauce into a small bowl, she heard the voice of a man chatting to someone on the other side of the Indian goddess ice sculpture. Carla’s heart started hammering in her ears.
I’m imagining it
, she thought to herself, but the deep baritone voice was unmistakable. She peered through the foliage of the huge flower display: there was the auctioneer from Ghulam Bazaar. She dropped her plate on the thick, dark blue carpet.

.

CHAPTER 12

C
arla quickly turned her back to the man. It felt like a million fingers were gripping and squeezing her heart. She was having trouble breathing, and the thought that she might be having a heart attack or stroke briefly crossed her mind. Swallowing hard, she dismissed the notion and walked as fast as she could toward the exit. Her legs felt like lead, and she had to control the urge to look back over her shoulder. Once she was back in the lobby, her breathing became easier. Seeing the sign for the powder room, with an audible sigh of relief she crossed the lobby and, once inside, locked herself inside the small toilet cubicle.

Sitting on the toilet lid, she rummaged through her purse and found the herbal drops she had bought at the Ayurvedic pharmacy in Khan Market. She had pretended that she was a fearful flyer. The pharmacist had told her that the drops would keep her as “calm as a baby who has just made potty.” She smiled despite the bitterness on her tongue.
I need to get out of India. What am I thinking, trying to help George spy on my best friend’s husband?

Within a couple of minutes, Carla felt better.
The unbelievable power of the mind.
She took out her phone and texted Elouise, saying that she wasn’t feeling well and had taken a taxi back to the house. As she waited for the taxi in the hotel foyer, the Ayurvedic euphoria began to wear off. She extricated her crumpled safari hat out of her purse and tucked in as much of her hair as she could. Her large red Marc Jacobs sunglasses completed her disguise, but the possibility of being recognized was almost unbearable.

Elouise called her as she sat in the back of the black Ambassador taxi. “What’s wrong?” Elouise asked, concerned.

“Just feeling a bit queasy.”

“Do you want me to come home?”

“No, please don’t. I’ll be fine, really. Stay and tell me all about it later, OK?”

“Well, if you’re sure. In the meantime I’ll call Kishan and ask him to make you something light for lunch.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll eat something later when you get home.”

“OK, but call me if you need anything, OK?”

“Sure. Bye.”

Carla’s fingers were tingling with the release of adrenalin. It wasn’t very long before they drove through the gate. As they approached the house, Carla saw Harry and his peon, a young man dressed in white trousers and short-sleeved shirt, get into his car. He was carrying a black leather briefcase. Harry saw Carla and waved absentmindedly. The day before she would have seen this as a golden opportunity to get into Harry’s study, but Carla’s encounter at the hotel left her feeling completely vulnerable.
Don’t be spineless! You made a promise to George. You have to keep it, and then you can get out of here.

Kishan hurried out to greet Carla. Elouise had obviously phoned to tell him that she wasn’t feeling well.

“Chai, Madam?”

“Thanks, Kishan, I’ll just wash up; then I’ll have it on the swing. I need some fresh air.”

Kishan looked at her with a dubious expression. “It is too hot, Madam.”

She laughed and said, “Just for a little while, OK?”

Shaking his head, he ran to the kitchen to prepare her tea. With renewed courage Carla went to her room and took out the large brass lock, which she had locked inside her suitcase.
I hope they haven’t finished cleaning his study
.

Hiding the padlock in her pocket, she went to the patch of lawn outside Harry’s study. She sat on the swing facing the study and almost smiled with relief when she saw the opened padlock hanging in the hook. A metal bucket with a mop was outside the door. She walked calmly to the door and casually swapped the lock with the one in her pocket. Then she walked back toward her room, and as she met Kishan, she said, “You’re right; it is far too hot outside.”

Kishan smiled and said, “Good. Madam drink chai in bedroom now.” Following him to her room, she told him she wanted to have a little nap. As soon as he had closed the door, she studied the padlock and was excited to see that it was indeed identical with the one she had bought. Taking care not to lock it, she placed it back inside her suitcase.