by Ovidia Yu
“Is it Mycroft?” Aunty Lee asked, careful not to say too much.
Before her son’s wedding, Anne Peters had told Aunty Lee (swearing her to secrecy) that the girl he was going to marry was not only a former air stewardess but had had an abortion. The fervently Catholic Anne had been shocked. “I got a private investigator to check up on his fiancée, this Cherril Lim. He can’t marry that girl and I can’t tell him about the private investigator—what am I going to do?”
“Why do you have to do anything?” Aunty Lee had asked. “Your son the lawyer can tell you that abortion is legal in Singapore what. As long as you can tahan all the check-ups and counseling and mandatory waiting period if your baby still not yet twenty-four weeks and you still don’t change your mind, you can get abortion. Did she get abortion in Singapore?”
“I don’t know. All the report says is that she suddenly left the airline after a routine medical check-up. After that she went to the Female Focus clinic twice. Their records are confidential, but no sign of any baby, so it must have been an abortion, right?”
Aunty Lee had kept to herself thoughts of several other things “it” might have been, and did her best to calm her friend down. It was at least partly thanks to Aunty Lee that Anne’s private investigator and his information had not been allowed to stop the wedding. Aunty Lee had never regretted that. Anne might well have lost a son as well as a daughter.
Remembering how well she had kept information to herself made Aunty Lee feel pleased with herself and eager to tackle new problems. Cherril was always a good source of problems—young women these days were so bad at saying what they wanted, despite their multitude of communication devices. Life would be so much simpler if people said what they thought. But then without that drama life would be so dull.
“Mycroft!” Cherril stared at Aunty Lee. “Why? What’s wrong with Mycroft? Did Mother Peters say something to you?”
“No, no. Nothing,” Aunty Lee said quickly. Too quickly, she instantly realized.
“He’s unhappy, isn’t he?” Cherril said. “I’ve been going through his financial accounts and everything—no, of course he doesn’t know—and everything looks all right. He’s not a secret gambler and he hasn’t been signing over half his income to some mistress or some church, so I know it’s not that.”
Cherril knew only too well she was not getting any younger. And she did want children. She just did not know whether she wanted children enough to get herself checked out by a doctor who might find out all kinds of other things about her. Cherril could talk to Aunty Lee about almost anything. But she didn’t think Aunty Lee (contentedly childless herself) could understand this. Or worse, if Aunty Lee did understand and had felt the same way, what right did Cherril have to bring it up? Almost superstitiously Cherril was afraid of ending up childless like Aunty Lee. She dealt with the fear the best way she knew how: by not thinking about it. She wasn’t sorry that Allison was dead. It would distract everybody for a while, and at least it hadn’t happened to a nicer person.
“Mycroft deals with facts,” Aunty Lee said. “And one of the facts is that he loves you. That is a very big fact, bigger than all the other facts in his head.”
“Facts don’t come in different sizes,” Cherril said.
“Of course they do. Just like people. I am a bigger size than you, that is a fact, right? So my facts are bigger than your facts. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Aunty Lee, I know you’ve helped people solve some . . . problems.”
That was true, Aunty Lee thought. However unfairly people might describe her as a bossy busybody, she had certainly managed to solve a couple of murders while satisfying her own curiosity.
“Please, will you help Josephine?” Cherril asked.
The sudden change of subject took Aunty Lee aback.
“Only Josephine?” As far as Aunty Lee could tell, Cherril and Brian were also suspects, though Aunty Lee did not for a moment think Cherril had killed Allison Love.
“I didn’t kill that woman,” Cherril said carefully. “That’s one thing I’m sure of right now. And I know that Brian couldn’t have done it. I’m sure it was that woman’s husband. I hope they prove it is, then it would just be their domestic problem and it just happened to blow up in Singapore but have nothing to do with us.”
“You sound like you are worried that Josephine had something to do with it.”
“I’m worried that people will think she did. I want you to somehow prove that she didn’t.”
“But you were with Josephine the whole time the woman was getting killed,” Aunty Lee pointed out. “I heard you tell the police that she and Brian were here in the café with you.”
The problem with this old woman, Cherril thought, was that it was impossible to tell whether she was really missing the point or just pretending to. Or could she really have forgotten how long Cherril had waited, alone, for the other two at Aunty Lee’s Delights that day?
“They weren’t.” Cherril was impatient with Aunty Lee’s stupidity. “But I said they were. Look—I’m just trying to help Josie.”
For a moment Aunty Lee felt cross with Josephine. She felt certain the other woman was not half as concerned about Cherril as Cherril was about her. Unless—
“Did Josephine ask you to help her? Did she tell you to help her?”
Cherril’s startled, slightly guilty look told Aunty Lee she was right. She continued, with the air of hazarding a guess: “Josephine knows about you and Brian Wong.” This was another nugget of information from Anne Peters’s private investigator.
When Cherril did not deny this, Aunty Lee went on. “And she knows Mycroft doesn’t know.” She did not try to hide her disapproval, but by now Cherril knew her boss well enough to tell whom her disapproval was directed at. “Mycroft is not going to be angry with you for anything that you did before you were married, you know. Nothing that you did last time can make trouble between the two of you as much as you not discussing it with him now. You two are married now. You should be able to tell him anything and not be scared of what other people threaten to tell him about you!”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. She’s not blackmailing me. It’s more like—well, friends helping each other out, you know.”
Aunty Lee would have pursued this further, but just then—
“What’s the big discussion?” Selina came in with Vallerie, followed by Mark. “Aunty Lee, I have to talk to you,” Selina said as Vallerie headed for the stairs without greeting her hostess.
American manners, Aunty Lee thought, then quickly quashed the criticism, remembering the many lovely Americans she knew. It was too easy to spread a bad smell over a whole nation after encountering one bad egg. Better just to call them “Vallerie Manners.”
“Aunty Lee and I were talking about a business expansion plan,” Cherril said quickly.
“More plans? You should listen to her, Aunty Lee,” Mark said. “This girl’s on fire!”
Aunty Lee was prepared to listen to anything. But a quick glance at Selina’s dark face reminded her that there was always more than one story to listen to. Cherril quickly said good night and disappeared.
Selina lowered her voice. “You should put her on leave so that if this blows up, people won’t associate her with your shop.”
“I’m sure Cherril didn’t have anything to do with it,” Mark said. Mark had always had a soft spot for Cherril, which didn’t improve Selina’s opinion of her.
“You don’t know that. Even the police don’t know anything yet. How can you know that?” Selina put a hand on Aunty Lee’s arm. This was a novelty for Aunty Lee. She was more used to Selina warning people against her than warning her against people. “I’m not saying Cherril had anything to do with that woman’s death. But she’s one of those animal activists so she’s definitely involved. You don’t want your business to be associated with that kind of thing. You should just put her on suspension or something during the investigation. Like secondary school teachers
accused of supporting sex education or married government ministers suspected of having affairs. You don’t need to have proof of anything. Just say that food preparation is a sensitive area and having her around will make your customers uncomfortable. Then if there’s nothing wrong she can come back after it blows over. And you know she’s a friend of Josephine’s, which makes it worse.”
“There is no need to see Josephine as a pubic enemy, you know,” Aunty Lee said to Selina.
“Public enemy you mean.”
“No, I mean pubic,” Aunty Lee said firmly.
Selina frowned, then laughed.
“There’s no point hating her. She’s a poor thing,” Aunty Lee said. “And after all you are married to Marko.”
“So I’m supposed to think I’m so lucky and be grateful?”
“The same way Mark is so lucky to have you. And so grateful.”
For once Selina did not have a sharp comeback.
“You should feel sorry for her,” Aunty Lee said. “I feel sorry for girls who were pretty when they were young. People keep telling them they are pretty, and when they grow up they never try to be anything more.”
13
Josephine
Despite Selina’s dire warnings, none of the customers at Aunty Lee’s Delights seemed put off by the fact that Cherril had been questioned by the police. Indeed this stirred up much excitement, along with rumors of Singapore’s ex–beauty queen Josephine’s relationship with Mike Fitzgerald. Everyone seemed certain that Mike had killed his ex-wife and showered Vallerie, the bereaved sister, with sympathy, buying her drinks and even meals.
Even Selina contributed, given Selina and Josephine had attended the same girls’ school at Emerald Hill.
“She was one of the havoc girls in school. You know, with too-long hair and too-short skirts, always looking at boys instead of books.”
“That’s Josephine DelaVega!” Aunty Lee said.
“Exactly.”
“No, I mean that’s her—Josephine—by the door. She just came in.”
As far as Josephine DelaVega was concerned, maintaining her beauty required time, energy, and money. If you put in more money, you could sometimes get away with skimping on the time and effort. Even with the stress she was under that day, her hair extensions, eyebrow tattoos, and smudge-proof eye shadow made her look fragile and even more beautiful.
“Josephine, come! Come over here!” Aunty Lee waved her over to where she and Vallerie were sitting by the serving counter where Selina stood. “You already met poor Vallerie, right? And this one is my stepson’s silly wife.”
“Aunty Lee, I already told you Josephine and I know each other. I’ve probably known her longer than anyone else here! Are you looking for Cherril? She’s not here,” Selina said. She was torn between her desire to ignore her old schoolmate and to show her how well-informed she was. “She had to go and check on one of our suppliers. We’re very particular about the quality of the ingredients we use here. Even when we’re not full we’re very busy. Can I help you?”
“Hi . . . What do you do here?” Josephine seemed puzzled by Selina’s spiel, as though she was having trouble remembering her.
“I’m married to Mark, Aunty Lee’s stepson,” Selina said. She looked tense and insecure standing next to the vibrant, vague Josephine. “Mark and I are running the café while Aunty Rosie is incapacitated. After all, the show must go on, right? We can’t have all the customers leaving and going to Violet Oon’s kitchen instead because she closed shop without warning, ha ha!”
Josephine ignored Selina. “I heard you were staying with Aunty Lee,” she said to Vallerie.
Aunty Lee patted the seat next to her. “Sit down.”
“They are saying you are Mike Fitzgerald’s girlfriend,” Vallerie spoke up. “The newspapers said that according to records from the Immigration Department, Mike Fitzgerald is in Singapore now. And not only that, Mike Fitzgerald arrived in Singapore over two weeks ago. That means he was already in Singapore when Allison died. They just found him hiding in a hotel. They haven’t arrested him yet but it’s only a matter of time.” Aunty Lee saw a malicious look flash across Vallerie’s face. “Were you hiding him?”
“Don’t be absurd!” Josephine said automatically. “I didn’t even know he was in Singapore. He lied to me too!” Perhaps coming here to try to win over Allison’s fat sister hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
The police officers who had interrupted her Skype conversation with Mike Fitzgerald had indeed been Singaporean. She had been questioned by the police again, but could only tell them she had thought Mike was on a business trip to India . . . or Cambodia, or Vietnam . . . somewhere in Asia other than Singapore. Because she had not said anything earlier about her relationship with Mike, Josephine could tell they had not believed her.
She was distracted by Aunty Lee’s next words.
“You are expecting, right?” Aunty Lee asked.
“What?”
“Expecting. You got baby coming, right?” Aunty Lee happily sketched the outline of a bulge over her own generous midsection.
Since Josephine came into the café more than a week ago, Aunty Lee had been wondering about the barely suppressed excitement that hummed around the woman. It was energy that suggested she was anticipating something big, a positive promise she was excited about, but also a little afraid of—Aunty Lee saw this in a lot of customers looking at her menu or buffet for the first time, but Josephine had not even glanced at her food.
“Aunty Lee, you cannot anyhow say things like that—” Selina started to say, but—
“How did you know?” Josephine laid a hand on her still flat stomach. “Who told you?”
“I can see in your face. All pink and fat, no more lines. Your body is happy even if you are not yet happy.”
“I am happy.” Josephine realized with some surprise as she spoke that this was true. “I am happy. I’m twenty-eight years old. I know it’s late but I always wanted to get married and have a baby. I just didn’t think about it for years because I thought there was no hope. And now—now I’m really happy, no matter what happens.” It was the first time she had laughed out loud since finding out she was pregnant. And suddenly the secret inside her did not seem like such a terrible thing. Aunty Lee was the first person in Singapore other than her doctor who knew about Josephine’s pregnancy, and Aunty Lee had not whipped out a scarlet A. Indeed Aunty Lee looked happy too.
“You should be happy,” Aunty Lee said. “If you are happy now, then the baby after birth will also be happy. Won’t cry so much. And you must let me do catering for your baby shower—I give you discount!”
Vallerie got up and left, pushing roughly past Josephine as she went and slamming the café door behind her.
“It’s okay,” Aunty Lee said. “She has the house key. How are you feeling?”
“I feel sick,” Selina said from behind the counter.
Aunty Lee didn’t look round. “Nowadays everybody also can have babies. You should read those Family Is Love pamphlets.”
Selina ignored Aunty Lee. “I mean I’m going to throw up—” She stumbled toward the toilet. “It must be the laksa I had in Holland Village. I don’t normally take it with cockles, but today I was suddenly craving them and I even asked for extra—” The toilet door slammed behind her.
“This is a waste of time.” Josephine stood up abruptly. “This is stupid. I’m not wasting any more time.” It seemed to Aunty Lee that her change of mood had been triggered by Selina’s mention of laksa or Holland Village or cockles—but why would that be?
Aunty Lee put a hand on Josephine’s upper arm. “You are worrying too much. When you are old, like me, you will wish you didn’t take things so seriously and enjoyed your life more.”
“But things are serious.” Josephine’s careful social facade faltered but she sat.
“How serious? The man don’t want you? Don’t want baby? You tell me who I go hantam him!”
Hantam was Malay-Singlish
for “beat” or “hit,” and Aunty Lee’s threat carried all the ferocity of a plump chicken clucking angrily at a stationary pile driver. Josephine laughed, letting some of her tension go. Despite the garrulous surface chatter, she saw Aunty Lee was studying her with kind, nonjudgmental curiosity. Even through the throb of her ever-present headache and twinge of nausea, she could tell there was nothing malicious there. Aunty Lee wanted to know more in the same way a new lover would. To her, feeding people well was a calling rather than a career, and to do that she had to understand the people she was feeding.
“That’s not a problem at all. We’re getting married. It’s just that he’s not from around here and it’s complicated. You know what parents are like.”
“Parents always worry,” Aunty Lee agreed. “But they only want what is best for you.”
Josephine shook her head but with a small, genuine smile this time. It was nice of the old woman even if she didn’t know anything. “It’s complicated.”
Aunty Lee nodded. Once she got hold of the man’s name she would have Nina look him up online. “It’s complicated” rang all kinds of alarm bells in Aunty Lee’s head. Was it Mike Fitzgerald, the dead woman’s ex-husband? That would definitely be complicated!
“You young people think getting married is not important. But if you got two names on the birth certificate, you got double chance to get into a good school. Is your sweet man from a good school?”
“He’s not from around here,” Josephine said again. There was a small smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. “Maybe we won’t be needing a Singapore school . . .”
Aunty Lee continued her cross-examination. “Not in Singapore or not from Singapore?”
“Both . . . I mean, not from Singapore.”
If the man’s only drawback was his geographical location, then he might do very well, Aunty Lee thought.
