Inspector Chopra and the Million-Dollar Motor Car

by Vaseem Khan

Genres: Mystery; Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

An enchanting Baby Ganesh Agency short story: a million-dollar car is missing. Chopra has two days to find it, or the gangster who bought it will not be happy.

The Premier No.1 Garage is the place to go in Mumbai if you want a luxury car. Even Mumbai's biggest gangster shops there — he's just ordered a classic race car worth millions.

But now the car is gone. Stolen from a locked room in the middle of the night.

Who stole it? The mechanic who is addicted to gambling? The angry ex-worker? The car thief pulling off one last job?

And how on earth did they make it vanish from the locked garage?

Inspector Chopra has just days to find the culprit — and the missing car — before its gangster owner finds out...and takes violent revenge.

Release date: February 1, 2018

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 112

Sample

‘That van needs a new paint job.’

Inspector Ashwin Chopra (Retired) turned to see a middle-aged white man walking towards him along the busy, smog-filled road.

It was a typical March morning in the Indian city of Mumbai. The air was hot enough to burn your lungs. The road was a hell of honking rickshaws, hooting trucks, roaring motorbikes and belching cars. A stream of people flowed along both sides of the street. Cows, goats, donkeys and stray dogs added to the chaos.

Chopra had parked his van in front of his restaurant which was called Poppy’s.

He had opened Poppy’s when he had had to retire from the police due to a heart problem.

Poppy’s was named after his wife, and also served as the office for the Baby Ganesh Detective Agency. The agency allowed Chopra to carry on using the skills he had gained over a thirty-year career. Even though he no longer wore a uniform, justice was still very important to him.

Chopra watched as the white man came nearer. The man had short brown hair with streaks of grey, a hard jaw and bright blue eyes. He stuck out a hand. ‘My name is Carter. Jon Carter,’ he said, in an English accent.

‘Chopra,’ said Chopra.

‘I know who you are,’ said Carter. ‘I saw your picture in the paper.’

The year before, Chopra had stopped a major crime ring in the city. This had led him to open his detective agency, and it had got his name and photograph in lots of newspapers.

‘I need your help,’ said Carter.

‘Give me a second.’ Chopra went to the rear of the van, let down the ramp and waited as Ganesha trotted down into the road.

Ganesha was the one-year-old baby elephant sent to Chopra by his long-lost Uncle Bansi. Bansi had not explained why he was sending him the animal. But he had also sent a letter saying, ‘This is no ordinary elephant’.

At first Chopra had not known what to do with the strange gift. But in time Ganesha had become a part of his and Poppy’s lives. The little elephant was very bright, and adored by everyone. Now he even went with Chopra on cases around the city.

In a sense, Ganesha was Chopra’s ‘partner’, though he would never say that out loud to anyone.

Chopra settled the elephant calf under the mango tree in the yard behind the restaurant. Then he led Carter to his office.

He ordered two fresh lime juices, then waited for the Englishman to explain.

‘Have you heard of the Premier No.1 Deluxe Car dealership and garage?’ asked Carter.

Chopra nodded.

Everyone knew about Premier No.1.

It had opened with great fanfare in Mumbai some years ago, the first luxury car importer in the city. Mumbai was the richest city in India and it showed on the streets. Company bosses, movie stars, famous sportsmen and women – everyone in the city wanted to drive the best car they could afford. So sales of such cars had rocketed with all the new money that had flowed into the country. And for the best cars of all there was only one place to go: Premier No.1.

Of course, thought Chopra darkly, as in most places around the world, while the rich got richer, the poor just got poorer. There were no luxury cars for the ordinary man on the street in India. They made do with rickshaws, taxis, broken-down buses, crowded trains and the humble bicycle.

‘I am the general manager at Premier No.1,’ said Carter. ‘I sell luxury cars for a living. You want a Ferrari? No problem. Lamborghini, easy peasy, I can even throw in the fluffy dice. There’s no car we can’t get. That is why everyone comes to us …

‘Well, a month ago we got a special order. The priciest car we have ever sold. A 1954 Mercedes-Benz Formula 1 racing car, the same car that world champion Juan Manuel Fangio drove. We bought the car for our client, and he then asked us to upgrade it. New seats, paint job, the works.’ Carter paused. ‘Yesterday the car vanished from our garage.’

‘Vanished?’ echoed Chopra.

‘Vanished,’ said Carter grimly, nodding. ‘A car worth four million dollars. Gone!’

Chopra was amazed. How could any car be worth four million dollars? It was hard to believe. People were starving every day in his country and someone was paying four million for an old car! ‘So why have you come to me?’ he said. ‘Why not tell the police?’

‘We can’t,’ said Carter. ‘This car is a present for our client’s son. His. . .