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you had quite an interesting morning there,” Tom drawled. “I take it you found time to view the
famous erotic wall?”
“The three of us had quite an interesting morning,” Geraldine said archly, much to
Emma’s relief.
“And did you see the wall, Auntie? My guess would be ‘no,’ since you do not appear to
have been struck blind.”
“I did not have the pleasure. Emma and Trevor quite abandoned me, claiming the walk
down to the wall was too treacherous for an old lady to undertake. Thus they explored this
archeological marvel alone while I was forced to sit in a garden and pretend to drink the most
wretched cup of tea I have experienced since Victoria took the throne.”
“And was it an archeological marvel?” Tom asked.
“It was,” Emma said, folding her hands into her lap.
“Ah,” said Tom. “Well, it is good to hear that at least some of us are enjoying our time
in India.”
“You seemed to be enjoying it well enough at the club last night,” Emma said. “And I
thought the two of us were going together this afternoon to the hospital to visit Amy, yet it seems you
have already interrupted your busy day to pay her a call.”
“Quite the case,” said Tom. “I would imagine I was holding her limp little hand at
precisely the same instant that you and Trevor were compelled by duty to investigate the erotic wall
at the bottom of the hill upon which stands the infamous Khajuraho temple.”
“Children, children,” Trevor said. “Shall we try to maintain our focus? Morass, why
don’t you have them bring in Felix? As both valet and driver, I suspect he is our best opportunity to
verify the sequence of events on the morning Rose Everlee and Pulkit Sang died.”
***
The Gardens of the Khajuraho Temple
3:20 PM
She looked down at the small stiff creature in her hand. It was still, terribly still, and
this saddened her. She sang to it, some melody she remembered from her childhood. Something her
mother used to sing – a lullaby, most likely, or some sort of folk tune now reduced to the softest and
most off-key of drones.
The garden was empty this time of day, since the girls had gone in for their afternoon
naps. There was no one to watch as Adelaide stooped in the dust, carefully parting a mound of dirt
and placing the yellow bird into the furrow. You cannot plant birds, this she knew. They do not grow
up from the ground, erupting to life like melons or gourds. And yet she indulged the thought, just for a
moment, of a tree full of yellow birds. A tree stretching toward the sun and releasing its bright
feathered fruits, one by one, into the sapphire sky.
And now the bird was buried. One small heap in the dust among the many and she knew
that the minute she pulled her eyes from the spot it would be impossible to find it again. Adelaide
did not know any prayers by heart. Religion had never been her forte, but she sang her lullaby once
again and hoped it was enough.
***
The Tucker House
3:25 PM