by Wiley Brooks
The clerk looked around, then whispered to Mason, “How much rush charge?”
“You tell me,” Mason answered.
“You American?”
“As American as apple pie.”
The clerk looked confused.
“Yes sir. I’m an American.”
“I can do for you for twenty American dollars. Two hours.”
“Thank you kindly, sir.”
Mason gave the man twenty dollars, then added, “If the copies are available at 11 a.m., I’ll give you another twenty dollars. If they take longer, then I won’t.”
“I need one other thing,” Mason said. He handed the man the roll of film Suzanne gave him the day before on Tioman. “I need you to develop and print this roll of film. Same deal. Get it done by eleven and I’ll give you another twenty US dollars.”
“Yes. Yes. Everything will be ready, my friend. Just from me. No one else. Okay?”
“Yep. Just you.” He looked at the nametag, “Raahim. I’ll see you at eleven.”
Mason and Haziq left the store. Mason asked Haziq if he had time to wait or did he need to go back to the restaurant.
“I must go back,” Haziq said. “You will bring me the original photo today?”
“Yes sir,” Mason said.
Mason was back at Melaka Photo and Supply at eleven. The clerk welcomed him with a big smile, then quickly glanced around to make sure they were alone. They were. He handed Mason two envelopes. The bigger one contained the original school photo and the three copies. The developed film and three by five prints of all the shots were in the other envelope.
Mason opened the bigger envelope first and examined the copies. Excellent. He then opened the other package and looked through the prints.
As he thumbed through them, it appeared that Suzanne was right. Joey had managed to avoid all the photos. Then he got to the very last one in the stack. It was the first shot on the roll. It was taken on the bus of Amanda standing in the aisle. Behind her was an out-of-focus three-quarter profile of someone who had to be Joey. Sadly, though, it was just too blurry to use.
“These are sweet as my mama’s pecan pie,” Mason said, then gave the clerk the promised two twenty-dollar bills. The clerk beamed, looked around and quickly stuck the bills into his pocket.
Mason couldn’t believe his luck.
Mason returned to his hotel and told the manager that he needed to send four faxes. Two to the US, one to Bangkok and one to Penang. The manager told him the charge. Mason then sat and wrote cover notes to Fitz, Bob, Bo and Boonsri.
He told the manager he wanted to personally send the faxes. The manager, though, said hotel policy forbid it. But another twenty dollars saw Mason was standing at the fax machine. He started with Bo.
“Bo, this is a photo of our guy. At least, I’m pretty sure it is. Joey, a.k.a. Yusof Zaina. It was taken ten years ago. I singled him out from a group shot of a mission school he was attending here in Melaka. I’m flying to Tioman later today to show it to the two women who saw him the night Amanda Anderson was murdered to make absolutely sure it’s him. Later. . .”
He signed it Mason and sent the cover sheet and photo to Bo.
He then sent a copy of the Joey photo, the one of Pastor Johnny and Mrs. Helen to Boonsri, as well as the class photo. She’d know to add them to the case file.
Next up were Fitz and Bob. It was about midnight in the US eastern time zone. They wouldn’t see the photos till the morning. He faxed the photo of Joey, as well as the one of Pastor Johnny and his wife to Fitz. He sent Bob simply the picture of Joey, with this note:
“Bob, I knew you’d want to see this as soon as possible. This is the ass-wipe who murdered your girl. His real name is Yusof Zaina. It was taken from a group photo shot about ten years ago when he was a student at a mission school in Melaka. I’m flying back to Tioman later today to show it to the girls who were traveling with Amanda for a positive ID. But I’m all but certain it’s him. Bob, it’s not going to be easy, but we are going to find this asshole. I promise you. – Mason”
When the last fax was sent to Boonsri, Mason packed up, checked out of the hotel, then drove to the restaurant to give the photo back to Haziq. He had a quick lunch then drove to the airport. He needed to find someone with a small plane to fly him to Tioman. It didn’t take long before he was airborne.
Joey walked into Big Willie’s shop at 9 a.m.
“Joey!” the Thai said. “I have lots for you today. First, let’s put you in a fine suit.”
Joey had never worn a business suit in his life. He didn’t quite know what to make of the man he saw looking back at him as he stood on the little raised platform in front of the three angled mirrors. He looked, well, dignified. He tried on the other pieces of clothing that Big Willie had made with the same result. Everything fit him perfectly and he looked great.
“Here are your new papers,” Big Willie said, handing him an envelope that Joey emptied onto the counter.
The first thing he saw was what appeared to be a US passport with entry and exit stamps from Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore. It showed Joey arriving in Bangkok from the US about six months ago. He had left Thailand shortly thereafter and entered Malaysia. He also had a three-day visit to Singapore and another three-week sojourn back to Thailand. The passport looked so real.
He set the passport down and picked up a colorful small card that Big Willie said was meant to be a North Carolina driver’s license.
“This license is better than your last one,” Big Willie said. “It will look real to anyone not from North Carolina, but I wouldn’t show it to someone from there. We couldn’t find an actual North Carolina license to copy, so we had to get creative.“
The final item in the envelope was a bogus Mastercard.
“This is for show,” Big Willie said. “Don’t use it. Just say you’re at your limit. Anybody with a credit card knows what that means.” He saw that Joey didn’t know. “Each credit card has a total amount that you’re allowed to charge. Once you hit that total, you can’t use it again until you pay off some of the card.”
Big Willie wasn't done.
“My family in Singapore can get your business going without you having to go down. They faxed up some pages for your signature. He handed them to him. “Remember to sign as Joseph T. Jackson. Here. Here. And here.” He said handing Joey a pen and pointing to lines on the document.
“I need to practice first,” Joey said. Big Willie handed him a piece of paper and Joey made several attempts to sign his name. “This isn’t easy.”
“You’re trying too hard. Don’t try to make it so neat. Most signatures aren’t readable. You just have to do it the same way each time.” The Thai took the pen and showed him what he meant. He wrote Joseph by making a J then a squiggled line to what might have been a h at the end. “You can skip the T, then do something similar for the Jackson.”
Joey tried a few more times and started to get the hang of it. Big Willie told him that his last few efforts were good and to just use them whenever he needed to sign something. Joey pulled the documents back to in front of him and added his new signatures. With those signatures, Joey created a Singapore company called Bungalow Paradise Holdings.
“My cousin said that we should wire him five hundred dollars for creating the company and another thousand dollars to open the bank account. They can do that for you, too. Here’s the form from the bank. My cousin filled in the company name and a post office address. Just sign here,” he said and pointed to another line. “Can you bring me the money later today?”
“No. I have a date,” Joey said with a big grin. “I’ll bring it in the morning.”
“I’ll fax these things back and tell my cousin that we’ll wire the money in the morning.”
Joey rushed back to his apartment, put things away, then walked to the Holiday Inn. He was waiting in the lobby when Jessica got off the elevator. She saw him and smiled.
“Hey, you,” she said, as she walked over to give h
im a gentle hug.
“Ready to see some sights?” Joey asked her.
“I figure you’re better at choosing than me, so lead on.”
They got into a taxi in front of the hotel and Joey told the driver to head to the Chew Jetty. On the way, he gave Jessica a little history lesson.
“There are more Chinese in Penang than anywhere else in Malaysia,” he said. “It’s because the British turned this into a free port. When that happened, lots of seafaring Chinese immigrated here. That started in the early eighteen-hundreds. To be close to the water, they built what amounted to villages on stilts over the mudflats.”
He explained that there were eight jetties built by the Chinese, each representing one family clan. The Chew Jetty remains the biggest.
“All the people living there today and all those running the businesses there are descendants of the original Chew clan. Pretty impressive when you stop to think about how long it's been and it's still all in the family.”
“So, there have been generations of Chews living in the same houses?”
“You’ll see they’re not exactly houses like you and I think of houses. But yes, some of these homes date back in the first half of the 1800s.”
Jessica watched the city pass by as they made the drive to Chew Jetty. As they rode on, Joey explained that the Chinese came to Malaysia in two waves. The first wave started in the fifteen century, but the big wave began in the early nineteenth century when the English colonized Malaysia.
“Like I said, when the British turned Penang into a free port, merchant Chinese came by the thousands,” Joey told her. “And they continued to come for a hundred years.”
“I like the history lesson, but I’m getting hungry,” she said eventually. “Do you a place in mind?”
“The best food in Penang is not in the restaurants, but from food stalls. So, we’ll follow our noses!”
The aromas filled the air the moment they got out of the taxi. Following their noses would prove difficult. Joey took her hand and said for her to follow him. He knew just the place.
They walked a couple hundred feet along the wooden sidewalk over the water to a small stall with three little round tables on the side.
“Is there anything you won’t eat?” Joey asked her.
“Of course,” Jessica answered, “but this looks pretty safe. I think.”
“Great! Mind if I order for both of us?”
“Go for it,” Jessica said.
Joey ordered char kway teow for two and two Tiger beers. They found seats at one of the small tables. Soon, a young man brought them their beers and the same fellow delivered their food a couple minutes later.
“So, Joey, what am I getting into?” Jessica asked. “Any weird stuff in this dish?”
“You’re going to love it. Char kway teow is like a national dish. The name literally means flat fried rice noodles, but there is a lot more to it than that. It’s been a staple here in Penang since, well, since the Chinese first arrived.”
Joey explained that char kway teow has a full, rich flavor that comes from the combination of ingredients and the skill of the person wielding the wok. This one, he said, will have prawns, cockles…”
“Wait,” she interrupted. “Cockles? What are cockles?”
“Clams,” Joey said. He went on to say that the dish also includes bean sprouts, eggs, onions, sausage, chilis, fish cakes and two types of soy sauce.
“The key to a great char kway teow is the skill of the cook. A good cook gives the dish what the locals call ‘wok hei.’ Everything is fried at a high temperature in pork lard and the soy sauces in such a way that the food gets a smoky sweetness. You’re in for a treat! Every place tends to make it a little differently, but it’s almost always yummy.”
Jessica fiddled with her chopsticks and ladled some into her mouth. She smiled and then her eyes watered from the chilis. The smile returned.
“You get to pick out all the food from now on,” she said. “How did I spend thirty-three years of life without ever eating this? What’s it called again?”
“Char kway teow.”
After lunch, they continued to explore the jetty. It’s a special experience to walk over wooden planks, but it also took some getting used to. Some of the planks were weathered and creaking from decades of use.
“Did you grow up in Seattle?” Joey asked as they meandered along the wooden sidewalk.
“Yep. We lived in a town just north of the city called Edmonds. My dad just retired after thirty years working for Boeing. He was an engineer.”
“How about your mom?”
“Teacher. High school English. She’s still at it. I think she’ll probably retire in the next year or two. She and dad want to travel and I think he’s going stir-crazy at home. I have an older brother, Peter. He lives in L.A. Has a wife and two little ones.”
“So, you’re a nurse?”
“Guilty.”
“Was becoming a nurse a lot of work? Is it like getting a college degree?”
She looked at him a little surprised. Jessica had told him she had graduated from Western and then got a masters from UW. But a lot of people have no idea what it takes to become a nurse. She cut him a break and gave him a short lesson.
“There are a lot of levels of nursing,” she told him. “You can become what’s called a licensed practical nurse by going to a junior college for a couple years. Most hospital nurses are registered nurses,” she said, emphasizing the registered part. “You don’t have to have a bachelor’s degree in nursing, but most do, at least in Seattle. I’m what’s called a certified registered nurse anesthetist. I have a shitload of education. It’s a master’s degree and then some.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“Yeah.”
“So, are you like a surgical nurse?”
“Yes. It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah. That’s me.”
Joey absorbed that for a while. He was impressed. He also realized that she probably had a bank account with more than enough in it to meet his needs.
“You just quit? Walked away? That kind of job must pay a lot.”
“It pays great. But I needed a break.”
Jessica looked away, then murmured, “Let’s talk about something else.”
Joey let it drop. There was more to her story. It might not affect him at all. She’d probably tell him at some point anyway.
Before them facing toward the Strait was the Chew ancestral temple, a relatively small space ablaze in red and gold with ornate carvings. Small altars with incense burners provided a sweet scent to visitors. Plaques honored the clan’s ancestors.
“The ancestral temple can be a fairly low-key place like this one. It serves mostly as a house of remembrance,” Joey said. “Or it can be a lot more than that. We’re only a few minutes’ walk from the biggest and most famous clan temple in Malaysia. It’s worth the walk. The place is incredible. Want to see it?”
She looked at him with a smirk. “How could I not after that build up?”
They took the easy walk to Khoo Kongsi. It was as Joey said it would be. Ornate. Colorful. Teeming. And where the Chew Shrine was quiet and contemplative, Khoo Kongsi was bustling with activity. And tourists.
“This is different than the Chew Ancestral Temple,” Joey said. He explained that kongsi is a term to describe an organization. This one was established to make life better for the Khoo clan. The building houses the temple, but the organization provides for schooling, social customs, celebrations and anything else that the leaders feel is important. “The Khoo Kongsi is the biggest and most influential in all of Penang.”
After touring the temple and the grounds, Jessica said she was hot and ready for a break.
“I’ve been on this trip for two months and I’m still not used to the heat,” she said. “We don’t get this in Seattle. Ever. Here it’s an everyday thing.”
Joey said most people try to get out of the mid-day sun, if they can, then said, with a tad of excitement, �
�Hey, I know just the thing.” He walked her to a nearby cendol stand.
Joey flashed two fingers to the man working the stand with an assistant. The helper added shaved ice to two deep bowls, then the two of them together started adding toppings. It got doused with coconut milk and gula melaka, a palm sugar syrup, sweet fermented kidney beans and green jelly noodles. It’s the noodles that give the treat its signature look. Mixed into the concoction were chunks of glutinous rice and then the whole thing was topped with chopped nuts.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” Jessica said as she slurped her first spoonful. She quickly went back for a second spoonful. “This must be at least a thousand calories.”
“Don’t think about the calories. You’re on vacation!” Joey said.
After they finished the desserts, Jessica said she was ready to head back to the hotel. They flagged a taxi.
“Do you think you might want to go to dinner this evening?” Joey asked her on the ride to the Holiday Inn.
“I’d love to, Joey, but if we’re going to hang out, I need to pay my way,” she said. “I can afford it and I’d feel better if we were splitting costs fifty-fifty.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, Jessica,” he responded. “But it’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.”
He looked at her. She smiled and then he did, too.
“Okay. Fifty-fifty.”
She really could afford it and it struck her as the right thing to do. Besides, Jessica just knew that she had more money than he’d probably see in a lifetime. She wasn’t about to take advantage of him. Well, not financially, at least.
He left her at the hotel and they agreed he’d come back at five o’clock. He said they should take the funicular to the top of Penang Hill to watch the sunset and the lights come on across George Town. After that, he said, they could go to dinner. As he headed back to his apartment, he felt that he’d found the right woman for his plan. He wasn’t sure how much she made in her job, but it was clearly a lot. And she had made a point of telling him that she could afford to pay her own way.
That evening they took a taxi to the base of the railway up the hill. She said they should take turns paying for the taxis and it was her turn. They each bought tickets for the funicular and ascended to the top of the hill.
