Chapter 19

  

“A spiritualist, huh?” Sanjay said.

“Yeah, kinda like a magici—”

“Nothing like me,” Sanjay cut me off. “A magician who sets out to deceive people is a con artist. I entertain people. They know they’re being deceived.”

“Hit on a touchy subject, did I?”

“This is the kind of misunderstanding that makes people like Nadia dismiss magicians.”

“Tamarind thinks it’s Anand’s friend, the spiritualist, who’s after me and who killed Steven Healy.”

“Wouldn’t he be at least 125 years old by now?”

“She thinks,” I said, “that he’s back from the grave.”

“You’re joking.”

“The point is that she’s not joking. Tamarind found ‘Spiritualist Samuel’ listed in the society pages in the newspaper right after the turn of the last century. He wasn’t listed as a con artist, but as a true friend of wealthy San Francisco society, even the Lancaster family. Tamarind’s theory is that he was the real thing, that he knew about his friend’s treasure, and now he’s back from the dead to reclaim it. She says I’m in danger from Samuel’s ghost.”

“This is the person who’s been helping you with research?”

“She’s brilliant. I’ll grant she has some unique ideas, but she’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

Sanjay frowned. “How did she put him together with Anand?”

“It was written in the papers that ‘Spiritualist Samuel’ was known to appear with his Hindustani guru. There’s a photograph of Samuel with an Indian man who looks a hell of a lot like Anand.”

“Well, well,” Sanjay said. “Anand certainly did get around.”

“I don’t think they’re back from the dead, but this is another piece of the puzzle.”

“Remember,” Sanjay said, “you’re not supposed to be working on this puzzle.”

“I don’t think I have a choice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The police think I might have had something to do with Steven’s death.”

“What?” Sanjay gaped at me.

Raj stuck his head into the back room. “My wonderful entertainers, there is a table of lovely ladies asking about the entertainment.”

Sanjay’s face relaxed a little bit. His groupies were here tonight.

On our way out to our makeshift stage, Sanjay paused to kiss the hands of three women in their early twenties. The women blushed and giggled. I hoped I hadn’t acted like that when I was that age. Sanjay flirted shamelessly for a few more moments as I took my shoes off and got myself situated at my tabla. I felt a twinge of jealousy as I watched them. What was the matter with me? It must have been because my own love life was a mess.

Raj left our sound set as usual, with my tabla mic turned up more than Sanjay’s sitar mic. Sanjay’s fans weren’t there to hear skillful sitar playing.

I admit Sanjay has a certain charm—if you happened to like tall, dark, and handsome good looks mixed with the overinflated ego of a small child. Regardless of my frustrations with Sanjay, he and I had been through a lot together, and he had always come through. When he was performing a magic show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival last year, he helped me solve a seemingly impossible theft that affected a friend of mine, even though it meant he had to follow me into a dangerous situation.

Sanjay’s groupies were finishing their dinners as we completed our first set of the night. They invited him over to their table for a drink. Their invitation didn’t extend to me.

On my way to the restaurant kitchen, I heard Sanjay inviting them to the homeless benefit show the next night. They ooed and ahed, as if their hearts were melting. Now he’d be Saint Sanjay to them in addition to being hunky Hindi Houdini.

Juan plied me with tandoori prawns. He said he’d accidentally made more of them than an order called for. I wondered if he did it on purpose so he’d have the excuse of feeding the extras to me. Even though I was 30, my small size tended to bring out the parental instincts in people.

Sanjay’s groupies ordered a bottle of wine and stuck around for our next set. My hand and elbow ached so I stuck to simple beats, following Sanjay’s lead rather than the usual other way around. I transported myself to another time and place during that straightforward set.

I thought Lane and I had shared a connection when we met earlier in the summer. I often made snap judgments about people, and generally that was a good thing. Nadia and I hit it off from the day we were introduced by an old friend of my dad’s, and Sanjay felt like family within a month of meeting him. I was so sure I’d been right about Lane, too. I didn’t know how I could have gotten it so wrong.

Was I that clueless?

I didn’t feel like thinking anymore. When our last set was over, I slipped out without saying goodnight to Sanjay. He was engrossed with his entourage so I doubt he noticed.

The fog was thick outside the restaurant, blowing in from the Pacific Ocean and settling in the nearby hills that surround the Inner Sunset neighborhood. It was heavy tonight.

My eyes darted around as I walked quickly to my car. I’d parked on a small residential street as usual, away from the bustling main drag. I no longer had anything in my possession that anyone wanted, but would that keep me safe? It was not knowing what was going on that was killing me.

  

In my apartment, I hung the map I’d drawn from memory on the wall. I closed my eyes and tried to remember if there were any other details I had forgotten.

I fell asleep on the couch again that night, but jolted awake before sunrise. I must have been dreaming, because I woke up with my heart racing.

My neck was stiff and my hand and elbow still ached, but I needed a run to clear my thoughts. Even without headphones to listen to music, I ran hard.

As I ran, I remembered the dream I’d had that night. I had been both in India and in San Francisco at the same time, as dreams have the trick of doing. It was raining, but I didn’t feel it. Lane was there, whispering to me. I felt his warm breath on my ear, but I heard no sound. When I turned my head to look at him, Sanjay was there in his place, pulling a monkey out of a top hat. He reached back inside to pull something else out. In the dream, I had a feeling I knew what he was going to pull out of the hat. It was something important. But as soon as I woke up, I couldn’t remember what it was.

I had the nagging feeling that I was missing something I’d already seen. Was it an illusion, or was there truly something I’d seen that would lead me to that treasure and Steven’s killer? I ran harder, but the thought was still a step ahead of me.

I turned to head home, keeping up my fast pace instead of slowing down like I usually do at the end of a run. I needed to check something out.

  

I took a quick shower and put fresh bandages on my hand and arm before slipping on my heels and heading out the door.

Since I hadn’t found any evidence that the map’s MP Craft Emporium or The Anchored Enchantress still existed, I was heading to the western edge of Lands End, where the X was drawn. The national park hugs the northwest edge of the city, looking over the Pacific Ocean to the west and the opening of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge to the north. It’s not a beach, but rather a series of cliffs that drop off sharply to the rocky waters below.

A strange sensation came over me as I reached my car. I glanced around, but didn’t see anyone aside from a guy walking his dog and a woman in a suit talking on a cell phone. Neither one paid any attention to me. It must have been my nerves.

As I stepped into my car, I noticed which shoes I was wearing. I’d slipped on three-inch heels after my shower. Since I’m not quite five feet tall, I always automatically wear heels unless I’m going running. But I swore as I realized which heels I was wearing—the pair that Lane had given me in Scotland after I’d lost my shoes.

The X had been drawn over the water, right next to land. Did that mean the treasure was under the water? Or that it was buried right along the edge of the land? Either way, running shoes instead of heels wouldn’t help me. There was a paved road and parking lot next to the Cliff House. I’d be fine.

The forest-like park wasn’t a popular spot on the overcast day. The fog hung thick over the coastal waters. I saw only a handful of people as I made my way along the path to the lookout point above the water. I passed a sign saying: CAUTION: Cliff surf area extremely dangerous. People have been swept out from the rocks and drowned.

I continued on the path, pausing at a lookout point to read a large placard. It named the sunken shipwrecks that lay in the water beneath the cliffs. Most of the ships had their names commemorated, but one was an unnamed ship that must have been far enough off course that it could not be identified. I wondered if any of those ships had ever been attacked by pirates before finding their final resting place off the rocky coastline of San Francisco.

Waves lapped over jagged rocks below. Now this was a place where I could imagine a buried treasure. Except for the fact that the whole overlook area had been paved over by concrete. Any treasure here would have either been discovered long ago by workmen or buried deep beneath the concrete. Why had Steven been so sure the treasure hadn’t been found?

I watched the crashing waves below, hypnotized by the rhythmic splashing of the surf. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the cool morning air wash over me and breathe some sense into me. The waves splashed again. The tide was coming in. If I was going to get a closer look, it was now or never.

There were no railings along this wide path leading to the overlook. It wouldn’t hurt to step off the path and take a closer look.

I paused for a moment, looking down at my three-inch heels for the second time that day. Perhaps I should have turned back after all. Then again, I’m skilled at walking in these shoes. It’s a hell of a lot easier to get used to walking in heels than it is to ask strangers for help whenever you need to reach something at the store. And this side of Lands End wasn’t nearly as steep or high as the north side. I stepped off the path.

The area surrounding the path was grassy, not rocky. My heels sank into the earth and kept me grounded as I walked down the steep hill leading to the rocks. The tide was rising quickly. The spray of the ocean tickled my face.

Where the land met rock, I thought of Anand’s map. Wouldn’t Anand have drawn a more specific location on the map than an X right next to the coast? Unless he’d drawn an X on the spot where he’d hidden the treasure as well. I sighed to myself. There was no X mark on any of the rocks in front of me.

As I began to turn around to head back to the path, the heel of my shoe caught in the earth again. I lost my balance. I pushed my heel into the earth to steady myself. It worked, but only for a second.

The earth gave way beneath me.

My heart pounded in my throat as my body began to slide toward the rocks below. I knew I should cry out, but my vocal chords refused to work. I threw my arms behind me, desperately hoping to grab hold of some weeds strong enough to hold me.

Instead of dirt or grass, my arm made contact with something else. A strong hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me back from the edge.

As I scrambled up and found my footing, the fingers around my arm held tight, not allowing me to fall. Before I turned around, I knew who was holding onto me. It wasn’t a stranger pulling me back from the ledge.

It was Lane.