by Ovidia Yu
Vallerie had not appeared since being put to bed in Mathilda’s old bedroom the day before.
“Have you heard any more news about the murder? Did Salim say anything?”
“Madame, this is not your business. Your business is to get better and look after your café.” Aunty Lee’s Delights was not opening till 11 A.M. for brunch, so Aunty Lee shrugged that off.
“Yesterday Josephine said they should have killed that woman—and now that woman is dead! She said it in my café so of course it’s my business.”
Nina was unimpressed. “I also say like that what. Last week I told the egg deliveryman if he is late again and I got to go one more time to buy eggs from 7-Eleven I will kill him. If he gets heart attack are you going to call police?”
“Did Allison Love die of a heart attack?”
Nina started back into the house without answering.
“Is our guest awake yet?”
“Just now she go to the bathroom but never come downstairs yet.”
“Ah.”
Nina left Aunty Lee to her newspapers. Today, in addition to her regular paper, the Straits Times, Aunty Lee had asked for the Business Times, the New Paper, and Today. Fortunately the nearby 7-Eleven was well stocked with papers (as well as fresh eggs).
Unfortunately for Aunty Lee the newspapers proved sadly disappointing.
There was nothing on the murder she did not already know. Aunty Lee studied a photo of the dead woman. Allison and Vallerie looked very alike, though it was not immediately obvious with Vallerie being so much larger in size.
“I wish I knew how to make those spy drones,” Aunty Lee said in grumpy frustration. “I would make them small, like mosquitoes. And just make them fly around checking on people. I’m sure so many crimes could be prevented. And they could chase away mosquitoes so dengue fever also no more.” But she was not really disheartened because there was still Vallerie Love asleep upstairs.
The reporters had not had a chance to speak to Vallerie. Aunty Lee had spent much of the previous day comforting and soothing the woman as she swung between furious, wild accusations and miserable wailing. Vallerie was not only in shock over her sister’s death but clearly terrified for herself. Aunty Lee hoped she would be calm enough to answer questions today. Though Vallerie insisted no one other than the Animal ReHomers and Allison’s ex-husband could have wanted to hurt her sister, she might remember someone Allison had met or mentioned. Despite her temporary handicap, Aunty Lee was sure she could do better than the police (certainly better than SS Panchal!) gathering information in this case.
Aunty Lee did not believe any of the former Animal ReHomers could have killed Allison Love. Cherril had been in the café all morning, and surely neither Josephine (whom she had known as a child) nor Brian (so polite and so handsome) could have had anything to do with it. That left the unknown ex-husband.
Vallerie rolled on her bed and stretched out on the clean sheets. Despite the shock and horror of the past twenty-four hours and her resolution not to let her guard down, sheer exhaustion had relaxed her, and though she had not expected to, the bereaved sister had slept well. She would have liked to stay in bed now. But she had to think about what she was going to do next.
The room they had given her looked like a room a child had grown up in and then moved out of. The books on the shelves ranged from childhood favorites to philosophical texts, and there were graduation photographs on the wall. Once alone she checked carefully for bedbugs, cockroaches, and other horrors she suspected Singaporeans of keeping in their homes. Fortunately it seemed clean enough, and once she locked herself in she felt safe for the first time in that terrible day. The windows looked down on the large back garden of the house and carefully placed trees concealed the other houses that surrounded them. There was an attached bathroom with a shower and toilet, the mattress was firm and the bedding clean, and all in all she knew taking the risk to stay here had been the right decision.
Vallerie knew Allison would have had reservations about accepting the fat old café cook’s invitation to stay with her. Allison would have preferred a decent hotel with standards of cleanliness to live up to, even if she didn’t have the means to pay for it. But Allison was not around anymore, Vallerie reminded herself. She, Vallerie, had to make her own decisions now.
Allison might be gone, but she still had to think about what she could do for her.
And she was hungry.
Of course murder was a terrible thing. But when the victim was not somebody you had known personally it became like one of the crime shows on television—an interactive show that they had front row seats for. Which made it extra frustrating because Aunty Lee was right in the middle of the action but had no idea what was happening.
“Maybe you should phone Salim,” Aunty Lee suggested when her helper came out with hot tea. “Just to find out what they’ve found out so far. For Vallerie’s sake, of course. The killer must have attacked her sister while she was in the taxi coming to our place yesterday, can you believe it? If only her sister had come with her she might be alive now!”
“Or maybe the killer would have followed them to the shop and killed them both there,” Nina suggested. “And all of us too. Or taken us hostage. Again.” Nina had not enjoyed her firsthand experience of being taken hostage, which she blamed on Aunty Lee’s meddling and interfering.
“I’m sure Salim will want to talk to Vallerie again. You should call and tell him he can talk to her here. It will be less stressful for her. If you heard her in the toilet just now she must be awake. She’ll probably be hungry. Can you make her a breakfast that will put her in a good mood?”
“What are you going to do with this woman, madame?”
What Aunty Lee wanted to do was find out why Vallerie’s sister had blamed Josephine, Brian, and Cherril for the breakdown of her marriage. There might be nothing in it, of course. Aunty Lee felt sorry for the late Allison Fitzgerald. Losing a husband, whether to death or divorce, was difficult. And people in crisis often created and clung to a personal view of reality, however warped. It was a matter of survival, when the only stable thing in your life was an object you could focus your hatred on. But why had she blamed the former Animal ReHomers?
But intrigued as Aunty Lee might be by Allison’s death, at the moment her immediate concern was Vallerie. Vallerie Love was terrified and traumatized and a guest in her house, and Aunty Lee was first and foremost a good hostess.
“I’m going to take care of her while she’s here.”
Having a guest to occupy Aunty Lee while her ankle recovered was a good idea, Nina thought. She only wished Aunty Lee had guests who were interested in batik and orchids rather than murder and lawsuits.
6
Breakfast with Vallerie
By the time Vallerie came downstairs wearing a red hibiscus-patterned housedress of Aunty Lee’s that Nina had unearthed, Aunty Lee was finishing her oatmeal porridge with fresh mango chunks.
“Ah, Vallerie. Good morning. How are you feeling? Do you think you can manage to eat some breakfast? Come and sit down.”
Aunty Lee indicated a chair and put a cushion over her stack of newspapers.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lee.” Vallerie sat down. “I don’t know if I can eat anything. I know I should try, for Allison’s sake. But it’s so difficult.”
“Yah hor.” The sound Aunty Lee made managed to convey agreement, sympathy, and encouragement to move on. “But you must try to eat something. Our mangoes are very sweet. Just ripe this morning. Ripe on the tree is always more tasty than when they cut down green to transport here to sell in supermarket. And you mustn’t call me Mrs. Lee. No need to be so formal. Every time you call me Mrs. Lee I am scared somebody is catching me for traffic offense. Everybody calls me Aunty Lee. Even my stepson and stepdaughter.”
“I can’t call you ‘Aunty,’” Vallerie said after a pause. “What’s your name?”
“Rosie.”
“I’ll call you Rose,” Vallerie said.
; Vallerie might have been a good-looking woman when not in the grip of sisterly bereavement. She had an ample bosom and an even more ample midsection and a lot of very black hair. Large, healthy people had a beauty that was all their own. Often they were happy, relaxed, and knew how to enjoy life and good food. They could be very good company too, radiating contented appreciation. Of course there were also some unhappy fat people who stuffed themselves with food they did not enjoy, and these gave off a very different vibe. To Aunty Lee’s experienced eye, Vallerie Love looked like an unhappy eater. For Aunty Lee this covered people who ate when they were unhappy as well as people who were unhappy about what they ate.
Aunty Lee believed the right kind of food could comfort the mind as well as the body. And providing that food was Aunty Lee’s territory.
I’m going to take care of her and feed her up and make her happy, that’s all, Aunty Lee thought, starting with breakfast and then, perhaps, solving her sister’s murder.
“Black coffee,” Vallerie told Nina without looking at her.
Watching happy people eat was always a pleasant distraction, but this cross and miserable-looking woman had all the allure of a reality show crisis. However, Aunty Lee was not one to approach a juicy crisis unprepared.
“Egg and bacon?” Aunty Lee suggested.
“All imported from goodness knows where I suppose.”
“My bacon comes from organic Australia, my eggs come from free range, so more delicious and more healthy than normal breakfast.”
Vallerie snorted but did not say no.
Nina headed to the kitchen.
“I’m not surprised my sister couldn’t stand it here,” Vallerie said. “Singapore, I mean.”
For a moment Aunty Lee wondered whether Vallerie was deliberately trying to provoke a fight. Drunken tourists had a reputation for using insults in bars and taxis to start fights, which resulted in their getting thrown out without having to pay. But Vallerie was neither drunk nor expecting to pay. Looking at her, Aunty Lee realized Vallerie was barely aware of her audience and was literally speaking her mind—or rather her thoughts—unfiltered. Like water in a clogged sink filter, her anger and grievances and spite swirled round and round in her head, occasionally flooding over and spilling out in words.
Aunty Lee tried to open a new drainage channel. “What made your sister come back to Singapore?”
“She didn’t want to, she had to. It was unfinished business,” Vallerie said.
Nina returned to set the table. She placed a keropok basket by Vallerie who took one, then another and another of the crispy prawn crackers. She had seemed to like them yesterday and Nina had obviously noticed and remembered.
“But why now, five years later?” Aunty Lee was like a persistent dog, refusing to be distracted by tidbits or games when she could sniff a rat trapped in a drainpipe.
“Why does it matter? She’s dead now!”
Nina added a little dish of fragrantly crispy savory anchovies and peanuts. Vallerie Love was clearly very hungry, but Aunty Lee hoped she would not fill herself with fried snacks before a good, nourishing meal was put before her.
“But why now? Was it her idea or did somebody tell her to come? Did anybody else know when she was coming to Singapore?”
“You mean did someone get her to come over just to kill her?”
Aunty Lee nodded. “Who else knew she was coming here? Oh, and if you need to get in touch with anybody back home to tell them you are all right you can use the computer in my late husband’s office. Nina can show you where it is and how to use it.”
Vallerie shook her head. “Nobody’s going to bother. Nobody gives a shit. Do you have Wi-Fi?”
“Of course! Nina, what’s the password again?”
Nina, reappearing with fried bacon, pork sausages, and eggs, only just managed not to look surprised and said, “Password is the house address, madame,” as she put the food down in front of Vallerie, along with a small dish of cut mango which the guest ignored.
Aunty Lee returned to the subject that interested her more. “You will probably have to go to the hospital morgue to identify your sister’s body.”
“That’s crazy. Who else would it be? I don’t want to go to some creepy morgue and look at poor Allison’s body.” The aroma of crisp, fried bacon drew Vallerie’s attention to her plate.
Aunty Lee did not like morgues any more than anyone else. But there was no reason for Vallerie Love to upset herself and her health until it was confirmed that the dead woman in the morgue was Allison Love.
“Anyway, until you identify the body as your sister there’s no point in getting upset. It might all be a mistake.”
“You’re mad! Who else would it be?” Vallerie flared up. “That’s so bloody stupid.”
“Strangers are always getting hotel rooms mixed up,” Aunty Lee said vaguely. “Of course they can use DNA and all that to test, but it is faster and cheaper if a family member can ID.”
“There isn’t any toast. Why isn’t there any toast?” Vallerie turned to look around for Nina. “This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to eat this?”
“Do you know why your sister picked that hotel to stay in? Did she know somebody there or had she stayed there before?”
Vallerie shrugged no idea over a mouthful of bacon.
“The police said they need you to make a statement when you are feeling better. And I will be happy for you to go on staying here, but I’m sure you will want to collect your clothes and things from the hotel. You can look over the room at the same time to see whether anything is missing.”
“I suppose so.” Vallerie looked glum. She was probably thinking of her sister, dead in the hotel room, Aunty Lee thought.
“You mustn’t think of it as the place where your sister got killed,” she said helpfully. “Just try to spot something that will help the police find out who killed her.”
This mention of her sister made Vallerie close her eyes and wrinkle up her face. Fortunately Nina arrived with hot buttered toast before she could break down.
“And after your poor sister’s body is taken care of, what will you do then?”
“That’s none of your business,” Vallerie snapped automatically. She seemed unfamiliar with letting people be nice to her. Then, as Aunty Lee continued to look on her with steady kindness, Vallerie seemed to accept the woman was only trying to help. “I really don’t know. All Allison wanted was what was due to her. Those animal people started a vendetta against her. They hounded and harassed her, they went after her husband and kids . . . they drove her to a nervous breakdown and she ended up losing her husband and children and now she’s dead. Actually what I want to do now is make sure they pay for what they did to her!”
There was a controlled, over-the-top note to her voice that suggested Vallerie was acting a part and made Aunty Lee wonder whether she really believed this. Most people might have thought Vallerie was in shock, but Aunty Lee could tell the woman was afraid of something, hiding from something—or someone—in fact. But who could that be, given she had never been to Singapore before and knew no one on the island?
“And now they’re all going to gang up against me—those animal people, the police, even you! You’re going to believe whatever they tell you!”
“So tell me your version,” Aunty Lee suggested. She liked to hear all sides of a story. It was the same way she always approached a new dish. The more recipes you started with, the easier it was to get to the essence of a dish and put together a version that worked for you.
“That stupid, lying, loudmouth slut started everything—”
“Josephine DelaVega?”
“Yes, exactly. She put her lies about Allison online—all absurd, ridiculous slander—and it even got into the papers back home, and our ma was calling her and saying, ‘What have you done? Why are you killing people’s pets again?’”
“Again?” Aunty Lee said involuntarily, though she had fully intended to let Vallerie run on unchecked, just to see how long it
took her to start repeating herself. “Your sister killed animals before?” Her comment only stopped Vallerie for a moment.
“Our mother was always picking on Allison, blaming her for everything. It was very hard for her.”
Vallerie was very devoted to her sister, Aunty Lee thought. Most people were only really interested in talking about themselves, but Vallerie Love only wanted to talk about her sister.
Vallerie leaned across the table and said confidentially, “You pretty much saved my life yesterday. I didn’t think I’d find anyone here willing to show a little Christian decency. Thank you. And thank god your food’s not like the rest of Singaporean food. Allison told me about the food here. It’s already so bloody hot but all the people insist on eating so much spicy stuff on top of it!”
Aunty Lee waved off the thanks as well as the “Christian” decency. “You can stay here as long as you have to. We can cook you nonspicy food. We can cook anything. But you know, here with the weather like this, spicy food can give people better appetite. That’s why most of the hot countries all have spicy foods. Not only Singapore—look at India and Mexico.”
Vallerie shuddered at the mention of India and Mexico.
“You were very fond of your sister. It must be so hard for you.”
“Oh yes, it is. Allison was always the leader, the one with the ideas and the energy. She was always going out and doing things. She was our parents’ favorite, you know.”
“That can’t have been easy for you.”
“It’s just how it was. Allison was always the popular one. Guys were always falling for her, starting from when she was still in school. She could have done so much better for herself if she hadn’t married Mike Fitzgerald with his sweet talk. She had a degree for chrissakes. And she followed him out here and ended up working as some low-down receptionist and having to kowtow and say thank you to your tin-pot government here for allowing her to work. It was all a huge joke.”
