Side Trip to Kathmandu (A Sidney Marsh Murder Mystery Book 3) by Marie Moore Page A

Brooke interrupted herself to point out one landmark or another, and we looked up, startled, as if we’d forgotten where we were. With Brooke’s speech apparently at an end, we began to take more notice of the sights we were passing, but my mind was spinning. There was no conversation. Each of us was lost in thought, mulling over the lurid histories of our companions. Even Jay remained silent, which was most unusual for him.
    Nigel, our driver, left the broad straight avenues of New Delhi—built by the Brits in the early twentieth century—and the big car slowed as we entered the narrow, winding streets of Old Delhi, one of the oldest cities in the world.
    Brooke had, apparently, fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, Jay and I remained silent, occasionally pointing at something interesting that we were passing.
    Jay clicked off some shots with his camera of a sadhu , or holy man, clad only in a white loincloth and standing with his begging bowl outside a Hindu temple. A slight breeze swirled strands of the man’s long, matted gray hair around his ash-covered face.
    Our car slowed and carefully entered a narrow lane, threading its way around one of the white cows that roam freely in the streets. Cows are venerated by the Hindu people and not slaughtered for meat. The Hindu god, Lord Krishna, is depicted as a cowherd, and the products of the cow, milk, butter, yogurt, ghee or clarified butter, and dung are important to the well-being of Indian families.
    I always try to read up on a new destination before I go there, knowing that I will get a lot more out of the trip as a result. This time, even on such short notice, was no exception. I had stayed up late the night before leaving, reading and trying to get some sort of handle on what we would be seeing.
    In my reading I had learned that roughly eighty percent of the population of India is Hindu, with over thirteen percent Muslim. The final seven percent are Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists and Jains. Over six million additional people profess other belief systems as well, including a vast number of tribal religions.
    Now, in the streets, evidence of this religious diversity and ancient customs was everywhere. Temples and shrines to various gods were abundant. Saffron-robed priests mingled in the crowded alleys and trucks of all sizes bore the symbols of gods on their front grills, primarily the trident of Lord Shiva.
    “Each one of our friends,” Brooke said suddenly, “has greatly profited from violent death.” She opened her eyes, apparently refreshed from her brief rest. “I am serious in saying that I’m convinced one of them may have been the murderer of their loved one … I just don’t know which one.”
    “Maybe so, Brooke, and I respect your reasoning and your judgment,” said Jay, “but I don’t get you going to all this trouble and expense just to figure out some cold cases that have stumped the cops. I know these are your friends, but why go to such extreme measures to figure it out yourself? This little mystery excursion is costing you thousands of dollars. Do you care that much? Why bring them all here? And why involve us?”
    “Because, my dears,” she said quietly, with a sad smile and a forlorn look in her blue eyes, “one of these select friends has also tried to kill me.”
    We were so shocked by that statement that it took a few moments to take it in. For a moment I couldn’t really comprehend what she had just said, but I believed her. In all the time since I had first met her, I had never once known Brooke to exaggerate or exhibit paranoia.
    “Oh, no, Brooke!” I said finally, totally shocked. “Not really? How and why?”
    Brooke gazed for what seemed a long time out of the window of the car at the passing stream of people, animals, and vehicles before answering. The car slowed even more. We were arriving at the market. The driver pulled to the side of the road and stopped. The car, stationed in the shadow of a building, was