Vanished (17 page)

Several years earlier
, when the sound stopped working on the DVD player at home, it didn't stop Neela from putting on her favorite Scooby-Doo DVD every day. She watched as Scooby and his gang of detectives scrambled through deserted buildings, swampy rivers, and creepy caves, solving mysteries without a single word. Finally her parents got around to buying a new player. That day, the sound of Scooby-Doo came crashing through the speakers as Neela heard what the gang had been really saying the whole time. That was how Neela felt now—as if the sound had suddenly been turned on, and all those mysterious, muted actions of the last few months at last made sense. Lynne taking pictures of her veena. Lynne in the kitchen of the church. Lynne buying a camera with all that cash. All because she had known where the veena had gone.

When she came home from school, Neela was in such a state of confusion, she didn't say a word about what had happened. In fact, when her mother said she was going to the grocery store with Sree, Neela was relieved. It would give her time to figure things out. Which is where Pavi came in. Her best friend always helped her think.

“Why didn't you say anything when Lynne left class?” Pavi asked over the phone.

“I didn't know she left. No one did until she was gone. The worst part is, I can't even contact her.” After school, Neela had gone to the office to find out how to reach Lynne. One of the secretaries explained that Lynne had an unlisted telephone number that they weren't allowed to give out.

“But she disappeared in the middle of the day,” Neela had sputtered. “Even Ms. Reese doesn't know where she went.”

“Our attendance sheet says she's sick at home,” the secretary had said. “Her family called to notify us.” She smiled. “Don't worry. Lynne will be back when she feels better.”

When Lynne felt better?
When was that—when Hal stole another veena?

“So now what?” Pavi said.

“I wish I could talk to Lynne,” Neela said. “I wish I could find out where Hal is. Most of all, I want to know who stole the veena from him. I never expected another thief. Unless…”

Pavi waited. “Unless?”

“What if,” Neela said, “the curse was real?”

“You can't be serious,” Pavi groaned.

“It would explain why the veena disappeared from me, and then from Hal.”

“It disappeared from you because Hal took it,” Pavi said.

“Yes, that's
how
the veena disappeared. But I want to know
why
. Let's think. What does the curse say? No one can hold on to the veena for too long because it eventually returns to the Chennai Music Palace, where it was first sold.”

“Yeah—because the veena is still looking for Parvati,” Pavi said.

Neela's thoughts leaped ahead. “So then, what if the veena was back in that store?”

“I never thought of that,” Pavi said. “Too bad we can't call and ask,
Did you by any chance find a vanishing veena in your store?
”

“No,” Neela said slowly, “but my
grandmother
could. She's in Chennai. Govindar, the owner of the store, is her friend. It would be no big deal for her to call him.”

“Ooooh, what if it
was
there?” Pavi wondered.

Outside, Neela heard the sound of a car door slamming. “Gotta go,” she said.

A few moments later, Neela's mother entered the kitchen with two grocery bags and Sree trailing behind. Her mother had a funny expression on her face. “Guess who I ran into at the store?” she asked.

Neela thought of all the usual possibilities. But a second look at her mom's face told her it was someone that could only mean bad news, and that Neela was in trouble.

“Sudha Auntie?” she asked.

“Try a different teacher. One closer to home…who knows something about missing veenas.”

Except for Sree, everyone was up late in the Krishnan household.

“I still don't understand, Neela. If I hadn't run into Ms. Reese today, were you ever going to tell me what happened at school?” Mrs. Krishnan asked. “That Lynne knew who took the veena?”

“I was,” Neela mumbled. Though the truth was, she wasn't sure. What reason had her mother given that she wanted to know? “But I thought you wanted to forget about the veena.”

“I never said that,” Mrs. Krishnan said.

“That's what you said to Dad after he told Patti about the veena.”

Mr. Krishnan turned to look at Neela. “What?”

“Yeah, I was standing outside your door.” Neela flushed.

Mrs. Krishnan let out her breath. “Well, I never said I would keep looking for it. Especially when the risks outweigh the benefits. Just think, a strange man followed you home from school. He must be the same person who threw the rock.”

“But it's not just Hal,” Neela said. “Don't you get it? It was stolen
again
. Twice. So there's someone or something else that made the veena disappear.”

“Some
thing
?” Mr. Krishnan repeated.

Neela shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal. “I know about the curse.”

Her parents looked at each other.

“More standing outside the door?” Mr. Krishnan asked.

“It doesn't matter how I found out,” Neela said. “But I know about it, and maybe…” She was about to share the idea she had come up with on the phone with Pavi, when her mom cut in.

“Is this what you were talking about that day with Lalitha Patti?” her mother said.

“Yeah, but…”

“And was she the one who told you to look up Veronica Wyvern?”

“No. That was from following Lynne into the library. I told you that already.”

“What I don't understand,” Mr. Krishnan mused, “is how anyone could think Neela owns Veronica Wyvern's veena. Didn't she die in a train wreck
with
her instrument?”

Neela sighed. Her parents kept interrupting. It was impossible to tell them about the great plan she had come up with.

“The whole thing sounds creepy,” Mrs. Krishnan said.

“It sounds bizarre,” Mr. Krishnan said. “How do we know there is even such a thing as that curse? Someone must have made it up.”

“But it's the same story Sudha Auntie told me,” Neela said. “Everyone in Thanjavur knows about it. And this is what I was trying to say before. If the curse
is
true, that means my veena might be back in the store.” She jumped up. “Which is why we have to call the store. If it's there, we'll get the veena back.”

“Call the store?” Mrs. Krishnan repeated. “Of course we're not calling.”

“What if it's there?” Neela asked.

“Then I
definitely
don't want that veena back.” Mrs. Krishnan shuddered.

“But what's the problem in calling? We're going to India in ten days, and Lal—”

“Neela.” Mrs. Krishnan's voice was sharp. “We're all set to buy you a new veena—from a different store, I might add. Why can't you be happy with that? Why can't we forget about this cursed veena and start over fresh?”

“But, but…” Neela said helplessly.

“Anyway, Neela, you know who took your veena,” Mr. Krishnan said. “Hal did. It didn't ‘vanish.'”

“But it did afterward,” Neela countered. “That's what Lynne said.”

“Maybe Lynne lied,” Mrs. Krishnan said.

“Lynne didn't lie. She didn't even want the veena. She needed the money for a camera.”

“That's another thing. How do you know she didn't use the money for something else or—”

“I
saw
her buying the camera in Harvard Square. I followed her on the bus that day when I—” Neela stopped. “When I stayed back at school to make up late minutes,” she finished.

Her mother stared at her. “But you could have gotten lost, and—”

“I didn't get lost. I was fine.” Neela thought of Matt, but if she mentioned him, her mom would flip out even more.

“All I can see is that you've lied about everything,” Mrs. Krishnan said.

“Maybe if
you
were honest with me in the first place about the curse,” Neela said angrily, “I wouldn't have taken my veena to school. I'd still have it with me today.”

“That's silly,” her mother said. “It's
your
fault for talking to Hal. It's
your
fault you lost Lalitha Patti's veena.”

Mrs. Krishnan's words hung in the air like a hero from a kung-fu movie, mid-kick, before nailing the bad guy in the gut.

She and Neela stared at each other.

“I…I didn't mean that,” Mrs. Krishnan finally said. “It's late. Maybe we all need some sleep.” She scooped Sree from the couch, then looked at Neela with a slightly kinder expression. But Neela wasn't in the mood to be nice. She turned away as her mom walked past her.

Neela's father patted her back. “She's just trying to help.”

“No, she's not,” Neela sniffed. “She's trying to make me feel bad about everything.”

“No, she loves you and worries about you.”

“Yeah, by blaming me for everything.”

Mr. Krishnan put his arm around Neela's shoulders. “Maybe we're all a little tired. And a little to blame, too.”

“Do you think the curse is real?”

Mr. Krishnan paused, as if measuring his words. “I don't know about the curse, but I think there's something special about that veena. It seems like it draws certain kinds of people.”

“Like Veronica Wyvern?”

“Well, actually I meant my mother.” He smiled at her. “And you.”

As they went upstairs together, Neela thought about how her mother had reacted just as she'd expected. Without an ounce of open-mindedness. But there was one thought that gave Neela hope. Through their whole discussion of what to do and not do, no one had said anything about
not
calling Lalitha Patti.

“So, what did your
grandmother say?” Pavi whispered. They were standing in the mudroom of Sudha Auntie's house while Mrs. Krishnan chatted with their teacher about the impending trip to India. Neela shook her head. She didn't want to talk in front of her mom.

Not that there was much to say. Neela had tried her grandparents' house a half a dozen times, and no one picked up. That was last night. This morning, she had no better luck. No one, it seemed, would answer her grandparents' phone.

“Thanks so much for lending your veena,” Mrs. Krishnan said. She said this at every lesson, right before she left. That's when Neela remembered how she'd been spotted last week in Harvard Square with Matt. Great. That was all she needed—another fight with her mother.

“No problem,” Sudha Auntie said, giving her usual reply. Then, just as Mrs. Krishnan walked out the door, Sudha Auntie continued. “Just the other day I was at Harvard Square, and you'll never guess what I saw.”

Neela braced herself. Here it was.

“Oh?” Mrs. Krishnan looked as if her mind was already on her shopping.

“A lovely book on veenas at the Harvard Bookstore,” Sudha Auntie said.

“How—nice,” Mrs. Krishnan said politely.

Sudha Auntie looked meaningfully at Neela before adding, “See you later, Lakshmi.”

Neela let out her breath. Sudha Auntie had let her off the hook!

“Get your instruments out,” she said to Neela and Pavi. “I'll get a cup of water.”

After they were alone, Neela and Pavi looked at each other.

“That was unbelievable,” Pavi said.

Neela nodded, relieved. Maybe she had misjudged Sudha Auntie. Still, she couldn't help wonder why her teacher decided to be nice. Did she have something else up her sleeve?

“I'm still thinking about your veena,” Pavi said. “Man, you're lucky.”

“Why is Neela so lucky?” Sudha Auntie asked. She had returned with her water.

“Someone thinks Neela's lost veena belonged to Veronica Wyvern,” Pavi announced.

“Pavi!” Sometimes her friend was such a blabbermouth.

“Veronica Wyvern,” Sudha Auntie repeated. “Why on earth do you think that?”

Neela pursed her lips, debating how much to tell. Maybe Sudha Auntie would use the information to find a way to scold Neela to practice, which was about the only thing she ever did. On the other hand, her teacher had just done a nice thing by not squealing to her mom about Matt. Sudha Auntie was also the one who had told her about the
maya veena
in the first place.

Slowly, Neela filled her teacher in on the whole story. Before they knew it, they were seated in the parlor, their lessons forgotten, eating samosas, a snack made of curried potato stuffed inside a pastry.

“Interesting,” Sudha Auntie said through a mouthful of samosa. “So you think your veena is the
maya veena
,
and
that it belonged to Ronnie Wyvern?”

“Ronnie?” Pavi asked.

“That's how she was known here in Boston,” Sudha Auntie explained. She paused. “So what does this whole adventure have to do with you and that boy in Harvard Square?”

Neela swallowed. How did her teacher know the two were related? “Nothing,” she mumbled. It was one thing to talk about Veronica Wyvern or the
maya veena
, but she wasn't sure she wanted to talk about Matt.

Sudha Auntie was watching her. “If you think I'm going to tell your mother, you can rest assured I won't. It may be hard to believe, but I was once a young girl.” She smiled faintly. “I grew up in a different time and place, but we all have the yearning to make our own decisions, unencumbered by our parents. So if it's your interest to befriend boys with strange-colored hair, that's no business of mine.”

“What's wrong with his hair?” Pavi asked in delight.

“Oh, you haven't met him?” Sudha Auntie asked. “Think of a flaming sunset.”

Pavi snickered, then stopped when she saw Neela.

“But if he has something to do with the mystery, spill it, I say,” Sudha Auntie said.

Neela felt herself turning red. She hated being the butt of their jokes. But more surprisingly, she hated it that Matt was becoming the butt of their jokes, too.

“He helped me spy on Lynne,” she said. “That's when we saw her buy the camera.”

“Yes, Matt was a big help,” Pavi said, licking some potato from one of her fingers.

Neela glared at her. She waited for her teacher and Pavi to continue with the jokes.

Instead, Sudha Auntie had a thoughtful look on her face. From one of the coffee table drawers, she pulled out a box of photographs. A few minutes later, she found two photos. “I thought you might get a kick out of these.” She handed the first one to Neela. “That's me, fourteen years ago. And that's Ronnie Wyvern after a concert in Boston.”

Surprised, Neela leaned in to have a closer look. On the right was a younger version of Sudha Auntie, without her glasses, dressed in a sari, and wearing her hair up in a bun. On the left was a tall, thin-framed woman in a flowery kurta pajama set. Her light brown hair hung straight across her shoulders, pinned on both sides by barrettes. “She's so pretty,” said Neela, then remembered herself. “And so are you,” she finished lamely.

Sudha Auntie waved a hand. “Don't be ridiculous. Even fourteen years ago, I was old.” She handed over the other picture. “This one is about two years later in Providence. That's her husband, Ramdas, standing on the other side.”

In the second photo, Veronica wore a pink salwar kameez with her hair braided loosely, and dangly earrings showing through on the sides. Her husband was a few inches shorter than her, with a swirl of curly hair.

Pavi scooted next to Neela to get a look. “Her husband was Indian?” she asked.

“Yeah, remember the article?” Neela said. “They both died in the train wreck.”

Pavi looked at the pictures some more. “Veronica is pretty,” she agreed, “though she looks a bit chunky in the second photo.”

“Pavi!” Neela said.

“Chunky?” Sudha Auntie repeated. “What are these strange expressions you use?”

Pavi looked embarrassed. “Forget it. I was being mean.”

Sudha Auntie looked at the second photo. “Oh, I see what you're saying. She was expecting, that's all.”

Neela looked carefully at the photos, both of which showed Veronica posing in front of a stage with people milling around her. “Do you have other pictures of her? Or CDs of her music?”

Sudha Auntie shook her head. “Those are the only two photos I have. I'm surprised I even remembered about them.” She nibbled on another samosa. “And believe it or not, Ronnie didn't record much. I think she only had one CD out before her death.”

“Did it have a picture of her veena on it?” Neela asked hopefully.

Sudha Auntie finished chewing. “Hmm…You want to see if her veena is the same one as yours? First of all, there was nothing on that CD cover—just some traditional Indian design. Second, forget about whether her veena was the same one. Who cares? That veena is gone. And it's just the kind of thing that will distract you from what's important.”

“But it was my grandmother's veena,” Neela said.

“And Lynne's neighbor shouldn't have stolen it,” Pavi said. “It isn't fair.”

“And…” Neela stopped. She looked at them both. “You'll think I'm silly.”

“What?” Pavi asked.

Neela thought about her grandmother playing wordlessly in the evenings on the old veena. “When I practiced on Lalitha Patti's veena, I sounded so much better. I thought it was because her veena brought me luck.”

“Some luck,” Sudha Auntie said, unimpressed. “Ever since that instrument entered your life, you've had nothing but misfortune. Maybe your grandmother's veena is the
maya veena
. So you have Parvati's bad luck stamped all over it. Maybe it's the one Ronnie died with on a train. More bad luck. I say good riddance. It's practice that makes you a great musician, not the instrument.”

Neela scowled. Sudha Auntie was lecturing her to practice—again?

By the time Mrs. Krishnan came to pick up Neela and Pavi, the samosas were all eaten. As the girls were leaving, Sudha Auntie pulled Neela aside. “I saw that look on your face a while back. The one where you were mad enough to wring my neck.”

“I was just thinking about Hal,” Neela lied.

“Don't think you're fooling me. Anyway, before you do wring my neck, just remember what I said: it's practice, not the instrument.”

In the car, Mrs. Krishnan asked, “So, how did lessons go today?”

“Fine,” Neela muttered. She stared out the window, still feeling angry at her teacher.

“I'm so happy I got all my shopping done,” Mrs. Krishnan said. “I even got a wedding gift for Arun. Too bad we'll miss the wedding. At least Lalitha Patti will be able to go. Which reminds me, I have to get those gardening books for her. She hasn't told me what she wants us to bring her, and since she isn't home, I can't ask her.”

Neela looked up. “Lalitha Patti's not home?”

“She's in Bangalore. Remember, your cousin is getting married. Do you listen to anything, I wonder.”

So that's why no one had answered the phone. “When will she be back?”

Mrs. Krishnan sighed. “The same evening we arrive. Isn't that crazy? How will she ever swing it?” She went on, still wondering about Lalitha Patti “swinging things.”

Neela stopped listening, disappointed by this unexpected news. With Lynne gone, the veena gone, and now her grandmother out of town, Neela felt as if she was running out of options. Not to mention her patience.

Maybe it was time to take the matter into her own hands.