By Tarquin Hall
The newest adventures of Indian detective Vish Puri maintains the sequence that “immediately joins the No. 1 girls’ Detective service provider as representing the simplest in foreign cozies” (Booklist, starred review).
Murder isn't any giggling matter.
Yet a renowned Indian scientist dies in a healthy of giggles while a Hindu goddess seems to be from a mist and plunges a sword into his chest.
The just one guffawing now's the most suspect, a strong guru named Maharaj Swami, who turns out to have performed away together with his such a lot vocal critic.
Vish Puri, India’s such a lot deepest Investigator, grasp of conceal and lover of all issues fried and highly spiced, doesn’t think the homicide is a supernatural prevalence, and proving who relatively killed Dr. Suresh Jha would require all of the detective’s earthly schools. To get on the fact, he and his workforce of undercover operatives—Facecream, Tubelight, and Flush—travel from the slum the place India’s hereditary magicians needs to be persuaded to bare their secrets and techniques to the holy urban of Haridwar at the Ganges.
How did the homicide weapon miraculously fall apart into ash? Will Maharaj Swami have the final snigger? and maybe extra very important, why is Puri’s spouse, Rumpi, chasing petty criminals along with his Mummy-ji whilst she might be at domestic making his rotis?
Stopping in simple terms to indulge his plentiful Punjabi urge for food, Puri uncovers an online of spirituality, technological know-how, and sin precise within the annals of crime.
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Additional info for The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing: From the Files of Vish Puri, Most Private Investigator (Vish Puri Mysteries (Paperback))
The detective made his method down the part of the construction to the kitchen door and located it already open. The lock seemed as though it were compelled, most likely with a powerful steel enforce like a knife. He might pay attention job contained in the bungalow – drawers being opened and closed; the rustle of papers; a cough. Puri stepped inside of yet needed to continue slowly as a result of the squeaky rubber soles of the orthopaedic sneakers he wore to account for his brief left leg. He crossed the stone kitchen ground on tiptoe with out creating a sound and entered the reception-cum-administrative workplace. It used to be a wide room, darkish and musty and easily supplied with a number of desks and chairs and an previous Gestetner stencil printer with clean blue ink at the curler. The door to Dr Jha’s place of work was once at the right-hand aspect of the room. It was once closed, yet somebody was once relocating round within. The detective persisted on tiptoe. yet as he reached the door, he felt a painful cramp shoot via his left leg. This pressured him to forestall and in moving his weight onto his correct foot and virtually wasting his stability, his shoe squeaked like a child’s bathtime rubber duck. Puri iced over, his center beating wildly. He waited for the cramp to ease off, no longer relocating a muscle. It used to be virtually a minute sooner than the ache handed. Then, slowly, he driven the door to Dr Jha’s workplace open. It was once empty. To definitely the right of the room stood one other door that was once ajar. Puri approached it carefully. He driven it lightly open. simply then he was once hit at the again of the top with a difficult item. He heard somebody say, ‘Oh, bugger! ’ prior to he fell to the ground subconscious. while Puri got here around, it was once to a throbbing head and the sound of a woman’s voice asking him if he may possibly listen her. progressively, his imaginative and prescient got here into concentration. first thing he observed was once a wavering, huge purple dot. whilst his sight cleared, he acknowledged the face of Dr Jha’s secretary, Ms Ruchi, who were on the cremation the day before today. She used to be donning a massive crimson bindi. ‘Mr Vish Puri, sir, are you okay? ’ she requested, staring down at him. The detective attempted to reply yet his phrases got here out slurred. ‘Better take relaxation, sir,’ she acknowledged. ‘You’ve had a foul bash. thankfully there’s no blood. ’ The detective felt the again of his head; a wide lump had already shaped. ‘Whoever it was once acquired you with this, sir,’ stated Ms Ruchi, preserving up a cricket bat. ‘Knocked you for 6, feels like. ’ one other 5 mins handed earlier than Puri was once in a position to sit up straight. the ground round him used to be scattered with papers, the contents of Dr Jha’s table drawers and the drawers themselves. an individual had obviously grew to become where over. ‘Last factor I keep in mind . . . ’ acknowledged Puri, who used to be struggling with gentle amnesia, ‘I used to be . . . crossing the reception . . . I heard . . . anything within. yet after . . . it’s all . . . there’s not anything. It’s a clean, in basic terms. ’ ‘You observed who hit you, sir? ’ requested Ms Ruchi, concerning him with a worrying, sympathetic expression. He hesitated earlier than answering. ‘I don’t think so . . . yet . . . ’ Puri felt a nagging feeling, as though there has been whatever he had forgotten to do, yet he couldn’t have in mind what it used to be.