The Mountain Shadow полностью

Didier was in a rumpled, white linen jacket and faded blue corduroys. I was in boots, black jeans, T-shirt and sleeveless vest. Naveen was in grey fatigues and a thin, brown-suede shirt. He carried a heavy backpack.

The pretty girls made it clear that we didn’t present a pretty picture.

‘Is that him?’ one of the Diva girls asked, pointing an accusing false nail at Naveen.

‘In the flesh,’ Diva sneered, making no introductions.

‘Motorcycle maniac,’ the other Diva girl said, crossing me off the list.

‘Debauched womaniser,’ the first said, crossing Didier off.

‘Pardon me, mademoiselle,’ Didier said. ‘But, I am a maniser.’

‘Debauched maniser,’ the girl said.

‘And the horse,’ Diva said, crossing Naveen off, ‘without Prince Charming.’

The Diva girls giggled.

‘What’s with the backpack?’ Diva demanded. ‘Setting off for the Himalayas, I hope?’

‘I’m not a climber,’ Naveen said, staring at her.

‘Ooooooh!’ the Diva girls said. ‘The tomcat has claws.’

‘We have to go, Diva,’ Naveen said.

‘How about you climb a tree,’ Diva said defiantly. ‘And don’t come down.’

The girls giggled.

Naveen was angry, because he was genuinely afraid. Given the threat to her, he thought they were foolishly exposed in the well-lit lobby. He expected a carload of thugs to burst in at any moment and kidnap her.

And strong, confident young Naveen knew he’d be powerless to stop it. I knew him well enough to know that he was unaccustomed to the feeling, and that he didn’t like it.

Didier stepped into the awkward silence, bowing elegantly to the girls.

‘Allow me to introduce myself, dear ladies,’ he said, handing out business cards. ‘My name is Didier Levy. I am a native of France, but a guest in your great city for some years. With my associate, the well-known detective Mr Naveen Adair, we are the Lost Love Bureau, and we are at your service, if there is a mystery to be solved.’

‘Wow!’ one of the girls said, reading the card he’d given her.

‘No matter is too trivial,’ Didier pitched, ‘and no piece of gossip too insignificant for the Lost Love Bureau.’

‘We’ve gotta go,’ Naveen repeated, gesturing toward the door.

Diva cheeked goodbye to her friends, and went with us to the doors. We walked out past the entry portico to the beginning of the main street.

Naveen stopped, and looked at me. I glanced around, and realised that Didier wasn’t with us. I trotted back into the hotel to snatch him from the girls.

‘See you next Tuesday!’ he called out, as I dragged him away. ‘I assure you, I have gossip about well-known people that you will enjoy more than orgasm!’

The Diva girls shrieked.

We rejoined Naveen and Diva.

‘Business cards?’ I said.

‘I . . . thought it best to be prepared,’ Didier replied.

‘Show me one.’

‘I’d like to see one of those, too,’ Naveen said.

‘Me, too,’ Diva agreed. ‘Hand ’em over, Frenchy.’

Reluctantly, he passed out the business cards, and we studied them by the light of a streetlamp.

LOST LOVE BUREAU

Didier Levy, Master of Love

Naveen Adair, Master of the Lost

The back of the card showed a picture of what I assumed to be a listening ear, with the words:

Loose Lips Make The World Go Round

Suite 7, The Amritsar Hotel, Metro, Bombay

‘Do you think it too . . . subdued?’ Didier asked earnestly.

‘Master of the Lost?’ Naveen said. ‘It’s a bit Tolkien, man.’

‘And what’s with the ear?’ I asked innocently, and should’ve kept my mouth shut.

‘But, Lin! You only object, because you ripped a man’s ear off a few months ago,’ Didier protested.

‘Not all the way off,’ I protested back. ‘And anyway, Didier, so now it’s Suite 7, and not Room 7?’

‘Wait a minute,’ Diva said, planting a hand like a tiny garden fork on my chest. ‘You ripped some guy’s ear off?’

‘Naveen,’ I said, ‘you can take over any time now.’

‘Diva –’ Naveen began.

‘Nothing doing from either of you,’ Diva said. ‘Not until I sit down. Where’s the limo?’

We stared at her.

‘You don’t have a limo,’ Naveen said. ‘Not any more. I sent the car and driver back to be reassigned at the estate.’

She laughed, but we weren’t laughing, so she grabbed Naveen’s shirt, yanking it up and down in her fists until she tore it.

‘You . . . fucking . . . did . . . what?’

‘Diva, will you please trust me on this,’ Naveen said, tucking strands of his shirt into his pants.

‘Trust you? I did trust you, and you lost my fucking car! Do you know how far a girl can walk or run in these shoes? That’s what limousines were designed for, idiot, the fucking shoes! Where’s my four-wheeled shoebox, Naveen?’

‘Can we have this conversation off the main street? There’s a corner just ahead, with a laneway.’

‘You must be –’

‘Please, Miss Diva,’ Didier said. ‘You can surely understand that we three men would not be here, appealing to you in this way, if we did not care about you, and if we did not judge it prudent.’

She looked from face to face and then stormed off. She turned into the lane and stopped halfway, her back against the wall.