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"The ghost," he said, settling into my rattan chair, "belongs to a dead archaeologist. Dr. Anil Samarawickrama. Found three days ago at the base of Sigiriya Rock, neck broken. The police call it a fall. The family calls it a curse of the Lion King."

I blinked. "How could you possibly know that from outside?" chandana mendis sherlock holmes books

Mendis did not draw a pistol. He drew a small whistle and blew three short notes. Within minutes, two village headmen and a veda mahattaya (traditional healer) appeared—Mendis’s own network, his Baker Street Irregulars of the jungle. They surrounded Sarath before he could flee. "The ghost," he said, settling into my rattan