The Young Yogi
Case Number 25
“The case is simple, Mac,” said Jerry Baker. “My client, Brian Adams, is accused of killing someone.”
“Who did he kill?” asked Mark MacFarland.
Jerry Baker, one of Denver’s more prominent defense lawyers, looked over at MacFarland, a former Denver Police Department detective who had been drummed off of the force. After several years living on the streets, in a near constant state of insobriety, MacFarland had finally gotten his act together. He set up a hot dog business, which he ran with mixed results for several years.
But now MacFarland was stepping out in a new direction. He and his former partner, Detective Cynthia Pierson, were trying to establish their own detective business.
“Oh, it’s simple,” said Baker. “He killed Brian Adams.”
MacFarland shook his head. “Murder is not a joking matter, Jerry.”
“This is no joke, Mac. And no, Brian didn’t kill someone who simply had the same name as his. The man he is accused of killing really is supposed to be Brian Adams. I need you to find out who the real killer was.”
Cynthia Pierson frowned. “It sounds like we have to figure out who the real Brian Adams really is.”
Baker smiled. “Yeah, that would help too.”
This is the twenty-fifth of twenty-seven books in the Hot Dog Detective series. Follow Mark MacFarland’s adventures as he redefines who he is.
Back in the late 1960’s, I lived in Punjab, India, in the wonderful city of Chandigarh. At that time I was consulting to the Punjab Government’s Health Department, primarily in the area of conducting demographic population studies and training health workers. But my time in India was not all work. Every summer I would pack up my typewriter, my cook, and my dog and head up to Dharamshala.
Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, is located 3700 feet higher than Chandigarh, and in the summer, that difference can mean the world.
At the time I lived there, Dharamshala was a relatively small town, known primarily as being an historical British hill station and as the adopted home of the Dalai Lama, the titular head of all Tibetans in Central Asia. Since the Dalai Lama called Dharamshala home, so too did hundreds of Tibetan refugees.
I found the presence of Tibetan Bhuddists, with their measured, unhurried view of life and the universe, to be a pleasant contrast to to the hurry-scurry life of the average Hindu devotee. I myself took advantage of the laid-back world of Dharamshala. As my dog sat at my feet, my cook made me chai and chips (French fries), as I pounded away on my cheap portable typewriter.
I never got to meet the Dalai Lama personally, though I did get to go to his residence and hang out with other fans of the impressive religious leader.
When I returned to the US, the memories of those pleasant days remained with me. The Young Yogi is a tribute to those memories, and to the Tibetan community that made my stay in Dharamshala so wonderful.