Homicide in the Indian Hills

Book 6: Jane Wunderly Mystery

by Erica Ruth Neubauer

Genres: Historical Mysteries; Private Investigators

Synopsis

Intrepid American newlywed Jane Wunderly learns that tigers aren’t the only dangers lurking in 1920s India, when a murder in a popular resort town threatens to destabilize the local government and undermine the resistance movement for Indian self-rule . . .

Ooty, 1927: Accompanying Mr. Redvers on an assignment to Ootacamund to quell revolutionary rumblings, Jane finds there’s more than meets the eye to India’s Queen of Hill Stations. Ooty’s lush tea plantations and tranquil gardens barely conceal its secrets—scandalous affairs, political sabotage, and a mounting anti-colonial movement. Even Redvers intends to subvert his official mission in Ooty by arranging a series of clandestine meetings with local resistance leaders. But it’s not until the shocking death of a British national that Jane and Redvers are truly drawn into Ooty’s deepest shadows.
 
Jane’s suspicions that the death is more than a tragic accident are soon confirmed, but word of a murder could stoke Ooty’s simmering tensions into a full boil. Navigating corrupt local officials, festering personal vendettas, and a complicated network of bureaucratic entanglements that lead to the top tiers of government, Jane and Redvers edge closer to the truth . . . and its deadly consequences. Someone is willing to spill blood to protect their interests: will Jane become just another of Ooty’s darkest secrets?

Release date: March 25, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 432

Sample

It was a good thing that I wasn’t afraid of heights, only enclosed spaces, since the steam train we were on was clacking up an incredibly narrow track along the side of a mountain. I still did my best to keep my attention focused inside our car instead of looking out the window at the sheer drop down the mountainside, despite the lovely countryside. Much as I would have liked to enjoy the views of verdant green valley and misty peaks, the path was rather panic-inducing—especially the narrow stone bridges we occasionally crossed over, with dramatic drop-offs on either side that made one feel rather faint. I could only hope the train continued to hug the side of the mountain as it carried us farther into the lush mountains of India.

“Not exactly the honeymoon you had anticipated, is it?” my new husband asked from his seat across the table. Normally I liked to be quite close to him, but the heat of India’s plains was such that I didn’t want to be too near anyone, Redvers included. The inside of the train car was stifling, even with the windows open. We were fortunate to find ourselves in first class where there were far fewer people. I’d had a look inside the lower-class train cars when we boarded, and people were packed in tightly, not to mention the occasional goat. I couldn’t imagine enduring that sort of ride for the long hours it would take us to get to our destination.

“Not particularly, but I never intended to marry again, so I never anticipated a honeymoon at all,” I told him as I fanned myself with the ornate but practical hand fan I’d purchased in Chennai. “And I will make the best of things, as you well know. I enjoy exploring a new place.”

Redvers’ assignment to India was a political one and had come right on the heels of our trip to Scotland, where we’d decided to progress our relationship from an engaged couple to a married one. I’d hoped for a bit of time to settle into married life, but that wasn’t to be. Not terribly surprising, given the man I’d married. And it was how I found myself on a steam train headed into the mountains of southern India, toward the hill station of Ootacamund, or Ooty, as it was affectionately called.

I’d been promised that the weather was much more temperate in Ooty. I sincerely hoped that I hadn’t been misled: the heat in India was like nothing I’d ever experienced, even in Egypt, and I’d thought that would be the end of me. The heat of an Egyptian desert had been child’s play, as it turned out.

“Can you give me a rundown of the players we’ll be dealing with here?” I asked.

Redvers lifted an amused eyebrow. “That I’ll be dealing with. I’m sorry that you won’t have anything you can assist with on this assignment. The trip will probably be quite boring for you, unless you find some sort of trouble to get yourself into.” His eyes always sparkled when he teased me, as they did now.

I wrinkled my nose at him. I wasn’t going to dignify any of that with a response.

Redvers chuckled but then grew serious. “Truly, I am sorry that we seem to be hopping from place to place in service of my employer instead of settling down.”

I cocked my head and considered that. I appreciated the apology, since we had just come off another assignment from the Crown, but I also understood when I agreed to marry him that this was what our life would look like, even if I hadn’t acknowledged it consciously. I also hadn’t the faintest idea what “settling down” would be like for us, or whether that was something I even wanted. It sounded quite boring, honestly.

“I knew what I was getting into,” I said, and left it at that.

“Very well,” Redvers said, going back to my original question. “Lord Goshen is the governor of Madras; he’ll be staying in the governor’s mansion.”

“As one would think,” I said.

“Indeed. I will also be meeting with Paramasivan Subbarayan, who is the Indian premier for this area, and one of his cabinet members, Ranganatha Mudaliar.”

I liked how the names of the local people were long and musical. “And will that be all?”

Redvers shook his head. “No, the British secretary of state for India will also be joining us, Mr. Feodore Smith.”

“And how does he fit in?” I asked.

“Smith headed up the charge for putting together the Simon Commission.” Redvers had already explained that the purpose of the Simon Commission was to look at reforming Indian law. Doing so was a promise that had been made by the British government, which had ruled this country for centuries. But the people were interested in having more autonomy, and the commission was meant to look into that. The part I didn’t understand was why the commission was entirely made up of British citizens. “Smith is afraid there will be protests, even riots, when the commission arrives next year, so I’ve been tasked with helping to smooth things over with the dissenters so there will be no trouble when the commission does arrive.”

“Are there a lot of protests here?”

“In India as a whole? A fair number. Some of them can get violent, I’m sorry to say.”

I grimaced. “I hope it won’t come to that.”

Redvers eyed me up. “And I hope you’ll be able to find something to occupy your time while I sit through meetings.”

I had opened my mouth to assure him that I would be perfectly fine without him when the door to our car opened and an older woman strode in. She was dressed in a brightly colored, loose-fitting tunic with flowing white pants beneath, her hair in a short gray bob. She had to be close to my Aunt Millie’s age, but her haircut was very stylish and sleek, and despite her short stature she somehow projected height—or perhaps it was simply that she carried herself as a much taller person. The woman gazed around our car, her eyes finally landing on us, and she made her way over.

The other scattered occupants of our car eyed her warily, but I was interested to see what happened next. She had a youthful energy and a slight smirk on her face, as well as no problem sitting herself down next to a pair of strangers, as it turned out. She’d taken a seat next to me but as close to the aisle as possible, which I appreciated for the sake of air flow. The temperature in the car was dropping, but I was still overly warm.

“My compartment is full of fuddy-duddies, and I couldn’t tolerate the boredom any longer,” she said, adjusting the small pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her pert nose. “Who might you be?”

I wanted to ask why she’d chosen us out of the rest of the travelers, but glancing around, I could rather see why she had. The other occupants of our car were mostly older British men, sitting quietly and reading newspapers or sheaves of papers plucked from satchels. They were undoubtably civil servants, relocating along with the rest of the British government to the mountains for the summer. The British might rule India, but I’d quickly learned they didn’t care at all for the climate. I wished that I could blame them, but I also wondered why they’d bothered to colonize a place where they couldn’t tolerate the heat.

I also knew what answer I would get if I voiced the question out loud: resources. It was always about resources.

Our interloper was staring openly at the two of us, so I smiled and held out a hand. “Jane Wunderly,” I said.

She nodded, shook my hand with a firm grip, and turned to Redvers expectantly.

“Redvers,” was all he replied, although he reached across and shook her hand also.

When no further name was forthcoming, the woman gave him an odd look but offered her own name in reply. “Gretchen Beetner,” she said. “A pleasure to meet you both.” Her pale green eyes narrowed a bit in assessment. “Newlyweds?”

I could feel the surprise on my face, but looking over, I saw something like recognition on my husband’s. Husband —I kept using the term so that I could get used to the idea that I’d married again. It was certainly a more comfortable fit than the first time around but still caught me by surprise when I said it, even to myself. “How did you know?” I asked.

“I can just tell about these things,” Gretchen said confidently.

Redvers had a speculative look on his face. “I’ve heard about you.”

Gretchen chuckled. “I’ll bet you have.”

I looked back and forth between the two, waiting for a story. When Redvers didn’t say anything else, Gretchen shrugged. “I have a bit of a reputation,” she said in a modest tone.

I saw Redvers’ lips twitch before he tipped his head toward her. “Miss Beetner was a member of the Indian National Congress.”

Surprise pulled my eyebrows up. “But you’re British. And a woman.”

Gretchen gave another hearty laugh. “You’re quite observant, Mrs. Wunderly. I am indeed both of those things. But I’m quite popular with the Indians, since I believe we should get out of their country and leave them to rule themselves.” She smoothed her tunic. “And please, call me Gretchen.”

I murmured that she should call me Jane, but my mind was racing. This was the first time I’d heard such an opinion, and I wanted to know not only how she’d arrived at such a belief but how she had managed to become part of the Indian government as well. Wasn’t that contrary to that very same belief system? But Gretchen and Redvers had already moved on to less political topics, so I tucked away my questions for the time being.

Gretchen sat with us for the rest of our ride up the mountain to Ooty, occasionally leaning over to point out some interesting feature we passed, like a strikingly green terraced tea plantation unfurling down a mountain slope or a troop of monkeys in the treetops. She finally excused herself to go collect her things once we were pulling into the station. I’d very much enjoyed the older woman’s company. She had a quick wit and was very opinionated in a way that reminded me of my Aunt Millie but was otherwise warm and humorous in ways that my aunt was not, at least not when I was around. Redvers and I had learned that we were staying in the same building as Miss Beetner, and I was both pleased and hopeful that I might have the opportunity to spend more time with her during our stay.

The station platform was chaotic and crowded, with what felt like the entire British government attempting to direct its bags to the correct destination, and Indian porters attempting to assist by shouting over the heads of the crowd. For once, though, I found myself unbothered by the noise and activity. I took a deep breath, grateful that thick, wet air wasn’t clogging my lungs anymore; the temperature was much lower here on the mountain than in the cities below. In fact, it was downright pleasant, warm but not hot. Redvers had warned me that I would need some warm clothing in the evenings, and for the first time, I believed it might be true.

Eventually our luggage was retrieved, and both it and ourselves were loaded into the back of a small carriage with large wooden wheels pulled by a horse. I intended to offer a ride to Gretchen, but I’d lost sight of her in the chaotic crush as soon as we’d stepped down from the train.

I’d considered opting to walk, but once we were on our way, I quickly realized that everything in this town was going to be either up a hill or down a hill, and in this case, it seemed mostly upward. I was pleased that I’d opted for the ride—we could stretch our legs with a stroll through town once we were settled into our quarters.

I’d developed a light sheen of sweat on my face by the time we reached our destination, despite having been carried there, and was grateful for the light straw hat I was wearing that protected my dark hair from the sun overhead. The temperatures might be cooler here, but the sun refused to relent in ferocity, even at this higher elevation.

We were not staying at the governor’s mansion, as I’d assumed since I’d been told that complex was sprawling and accommodated many of the civil workers. Instead, we were staying at a charming house some distance away. The façade was entirely made of stone, with three gabled roofs and a series of red chimneys reaching toward the blue sky, reminiscent of many of the buildings I was accustomed to seeing back in England. I wrinkled my nose in disappointment. I’d been hoping for charming, traditional Indian style, but from what I’d seen of Ooty so far, I was simply going to see more traditional British architecture.

We were shown to our quarters by a man in a white, loose-fitting tunic and pants and leather sandals. “I will be your servant during your stay. Please let me know if there is anything that you need. My name is Sasmit.”

I wasn’t comfortable with the term “servant,” but I smiled and thanked Sasmit, before repeating his name silently to myself several times so that I would remember it correctly. Sasmit gave explanations of where we would find everything we needed, including the location of the breakfast room.

I thought I might take a walk in the mornings while Redvers was occupied with meetings and asked Sasmit about the best place to do that. “Memsahib, you can walk through the city on what they call the mall. It is a path that many people use for walking. Or you can walk to the edge of the city and enjoy the forests and the hills around us. But,” his thin face became very grave. “You mustn’t walk there at night, even when it becomes dusk. Especially not by yourself. It is a very bad idea.”

I frowned. Was this admonishment because I was a woman? That always managed to get my back up, so I wasn’t able to keep the edge out of my voice when I replied. “Why is that, Sasmit?”

The porter either didn’t catch my tone or chose to ignore it, answering me pleasantly. “Because of the tigers,” Sasmit said.

A shiver went down my spine at Sasmit’s pronouncement, and I hugged my arms against my chest. “Tigers?”

His head bobbed side to side in a manner I’d come to associate with Indian people but couldn’t begin to interpret. “We haven’t had trouble in many years, but recently a tiger has been seen near to the city. They are most active at dawn and dusk, so it is wise to stay indoors during those times.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. It had never once occurred to me that a wild tiger was something I had to be concerned about. I had a lot more questions about the tigers, and anything else that might kill me, but Sasmit bowed and left us on our own before I could begin my interrogation. When I turned to Redvers, he looked amused.

“Is he serious?” I asked.

Redvers nodded. “I would think so. Tigers are common throughout the country.”

All I had seen on our journey into the mountains had been lush green forests, much like the ones I saw at home or in England. This seemed a surprising habitat for a tiger—I had somehow always imagined them living in a jungle rather than stalking through a forest of pine trees.

My mind was still churning with questions, but I turned and took in what would be our living quarters for this stay. How long we would be here I hadn’t the faintest idea, since Redvers hadn’t been able to give me a better estimate than “as long as it takes.” It was maddeningly vague, but as much as he liked to tease me, I felt certain he was being as truthful as he could be. Well, fairly certain. The man had the devil in him sometimes, which sparked that twinkle in his eyes. It was so charming that I could never be truly mad at him.

The sitting room where we stood had simple but tasteful wood furniture covered with silky red upholstery, elaborately embroidered with gold thread. A large set of glass doors led to a small patio facing a garden, which I thought might be a nice place to enjoy a cup of coffee. There was also a bedroom, simply furnished, as well as a small bathroom.

“I’m surprised we have a bathroom to ourselves,” Redvers remarked. “I wonder if the building was updated recently.”

“Well, I’m quite pleased that we do, and I’m going to take advantage of it now,” I said, leaving Redvers in the sitting room to wait for our luggage. The dust and grit from a morning of travel, topped off by the dried sweat from our open carriage ride, felt like a second skin laid over my own, and I wanted to wash up before I did any further exploration. I ran a lukewarm bath for myself, grateful that the building even had indoor plumbing. I’d already learned that was a luxury here in India, one that I’d always taken for granted before.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, feeling much refreshed and dressed in a linen skirt and simple green blouse with a wide collar, Redvers had a full tea service waiting with some small finger sandwiches and a bowl of exotic-looking fruits. I’d half expected him to be reading something, but he was sipping a cup of tea while he gazed out at the garden instead. I eyed the tray warily, wondering if tea was all that would be available here.

Redvers caught my look and chuckled. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of coffee to be had.” He gestured to one of the pots on the tray.

I sank into the chair opposite him with relief. “Gretchen pointed out all the tea plantations, and I became concerned that would be the only choice.”

“Do you want a cup?”

“Of coffee? Need you even ask?”

Redvers smiled and fixed me a cup, precisely the way I liked it, and passed it over to me. I decided it was early enough in the afternoon that the coffee wouldn’t give me any trouble sleeping that night but would instead power me through a brief exploration of Ooty—queen of the hill stations, as it was known.

Redvers agreed to accompany me since he didn’t have any pressing matters to attend to and wasn’t expected to be anywhere until dinner. Hand in hand, we strolled out of the complex we were staying in and headed west into town.

Ooty was much larger than I expected it would be—much more like a city, with a racetrack for horses, a botanical garden filled with trees and plants from England, steepled churches, a library, and a large man-made lake. The roads were packed dirt, but the architecture throughout was largely British in nature. At least the local bazaar was full of color and local flavor: reams of flowers; colorful fabrics; spices and sacks of lentils; wooden cages with small, colorful birds chirping noisily; vendors selling hot food. It was chaotic and busy and loud, and I soaked it up with enthusiasm.

The British influence over the rest of the city troubled me, though. “Why bother making the trip if you’re just going to import all of England here?” I mused. “Wouldn’t you want the experience of foreign plants and foods?”

Redvers smiled. “Not everyone is as fond of adventure as you are, my dear.”

I sighed. I found it disappointing to see much of what I’d already seen in England planted and built everywhere on the side of this mountain, cascading toward the valley. It meant I would have to venture farther afield to get a better sense of what the area had been like before the British had taken over, but given Sasmit’s warning about wild tigers, I had a great deal of trepidation about venturing anywhere outside of the city.

“Is there anything besides tigers that I should be aware of?” I asked as we passed a group of women in brightly colored saris with cropped blouses and bared sides traveling in the opposite direction. I did my best not to stare, but the colors were so bold and beautiful that it was hard not to admire them. Greens and yellows and blues and purples—all colors of the rainbow seemed to be represented in the clothing here. Several of the women had part of the sari draped over their heads to protect their scalps, and I admired the utility of the thing, even if it was a mystery to me how they tied one long piece of fabric on as a dress.

“Are you asking if there are other animals that you should avoid?” Redvers asked, eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement. “Well, there are wild elephants in the region, as well as some very large and ornery buffalo.” He tapped his lip, pretending to think. “I would think it’s best to avoid those. Some poisonous snakes, and of course there are leopards, as well as . . .” I gave his arm a light smack, and he laughed. “You’ll be fine, my dear. Just stick to well-traveled paths, and I imagine the wildlife will leave you well alone.”

“You’re very helpful,” I said darkly.

Our stroll had filled the afternoon, and by the time we made it back, it was time to dress for dinner. Redvers changed into a dark suit, and I almost asked if he wouldn’t rather wear one of the lightweight suits he’d brought along, when I remembered another admonishment I’d received about Ooty; it could get downright chilly at night. I grabbed a black shawl with lace trim that nicely accented the dark green silk dress I’d put on for the evening, although I had my doubts about whether the shawl was something I would need.

It was nearly a half-hour walk to the governor’s mansion, a winding track that led us through the botanical gardens and up a long, sloping path.

“Why aren’t we staying closer to the mansion?” I asked. “Or at the mansion, for that matter?”

“You’re not enjoying the view?” Redvers asked, nodding his head to the lush green bushes filled with fragrant flowers.

“When you answer a question with a question, I know you’re hiding something,” I said. I wasn’t sure that was always true, but in this instance, I could tell there was something he wasn’t telling me.

He gave a casual shrug. “I like the exercise.” I was about to call him out on this white lie when he chuckled and gave in. “And I would rather not stay where everyone in the government can see us. Or keep track of my whereabouts.”

That I believed, but there was clearly more to his answer. I opened my mouth to ask, but we had come upon the governor’s mansion, a large and imposing green building with column. . .