Page 85 - Just Deserts

Swami Adavasi

Alan Deluce quickly closed the door. “What happened?”
“It is all on the news programs now, Dr. Deluce. The police were
given a tip by someone inside the camp, and they went in there very
quickly. Yes, so quickly! But they were too late! That man was already
dead—murdered, they are saying. And these terrible men—his very
trusted assistants—were going through his rooms looking for some
kind of papers when the policemen broke in on them. All three are
going to jail in a police car—the television is showing them in the car
with the their hands over their faces! Oh, what scandal we are having
now: I do not know how this will be affecting my business.”
Otis jumped to his feet. “No! That can’t be! I have met Baba
Ganesh and Guru Vanaspati: they wouldn’t harm the swami, they just
want to help him!”
Deluce was wondering what effect this would have on his own
business. “Sounds like they helped him out of this world, Otis. But
what about the hundreds of people at Camp Help It? What are the
police doing about them?”
Mrs. Mahabalipuram wrung the embroidered end of her sari.
“They are leaving that place like rats running from a sinking ship. I
must go find my husband. Perhaps it is time to sell this motel and
retire; my cousin’s sister-in-law’s son is looking for a good
investment. Yes. Goodbye.” She left the room as breathlessly as she
had entered.
Deluce sat down heavily. “Well, Otis,” he sighed. “I guess I was
wrong: the pyramid didn’t crumble at the base. It decapitated itself.
No point in hanging around here; you might as well go home. Tell
your parents I’ll be sending them a bill next week.”
“I just can’t understand it.” Otis found his jacket and headed for
the door. “Unless it is possible, after all, to take too many helpings.”

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