Murder in the Tea Leaves

The original assignment she had opted for would have taken her to India for a piece on preserving the cultural heritage of tribal peoples from Bihar, Jharkhand, and Odisha. Finley would get to see Max, who was now in Delhi. Their relationship was a complicated one that had started years ago during an earlier stint in Morocco. It was interrupted for almost three years after that because of a profound misunderstanding that had nearly broken them both.

“If we hadn’t reviewed the assignment and all the travel logistics just yesterday, I wouldn’t be having this reaction,” Finley continued. “But I literally booked the flight, hotel, and driver last night because I thought everything was a go.” Finley knew that this was only a half-truth. He doesn’t have to know the real reason I’m pissed. I told Max I was coming. I really want to see him.

“I know, but I have a new staff writer coming on, and we’re shifting the focus to Delhi, which is an easier story. We’ll hold off on your story for another issue.” Dan could hear the frustration in Finley’s voice. And while she didn’t talk about her personal life much, he had seen how devastated she was four years ago when she returned to New York. How she had thrown herself into her work to fill the void created by the loss of something precious.

Dan had met Max socially before, when all three of them used to work in Manhattan. He knew then that Finley and Max had been close in Tangier all those years ago and that something had happened, but he never found out what had caused her to come home so broken. What he did know was that when she returned from Morocco this time, some eight months ago, whatever hurt there had been was healed and she readily spoke Max’s name.

“I need a more experienced writer on this story, and I think you’ll do it justice.”

“Don’t start buttering me up,” Finley’s voice was tight, but she masked a smile. “You know I can still refuse it and sit this one out.”

“I don’t think you’re going to want to, though.” Dan could tell she was warming up to the new potential location, even without knowing where it was. “It’s politically complex, and you’ll know how to balance the perspectives and still get travelers to want to go.”

“You going to tell me where it is or just keep me guessing?”

“You want to guess?”

“No, just tell me so I can say no.”

“You’d say no to Sri Lanka? As I recall, you called it ‘paradise on earth.’”

Finley was quiet. As much as she wanted to say no, she knew Dan had her trapped. She sighed and then let out a small laugh.

“I give up. You got me,” she said. “I can’t say no. When do I leave?”