TENDER BETRAYAL (Mystery Romance): The TENDER Series ~ Book 3

by H. Y. Hanna

  Leah’s phone beeped as she left Stanford Lim’s office. She fished it out of her handbag and looked eagerly at the screen. She was hoping against hope that it might be Toran. He hadn’t come home last night. And he hadn’t answered any of her calls.

  She sighed in disappointment as she saw that it was a text message from Julia. Her friend wanted to meet up as soon as possible and suggested that Leah join her for lunch. Leah frowned. The message was a bit unlike Julia. Texts from the Singaporean girl were usually filled with smiley faces and exclamation marks. This one was short and brief, almost curt.

  She texted back, asking where to meet and got the reply almost immediately. Leah looked at the address Julia had sent in surprise. Unless she was very much mistaken, that street was in Little India. What was Julia doing there?

  She was still wondering this as the taxi pulled into the iconic Singaporean neighbourhood east of the river. Little India was an area that was also famed for its ethnic character, but it was not considered as “trendy” or as popular as Chinatown—at least for the Asian population—and it was not the kind of place that Leah would normally have expected Julia to frequent. The taxi drove past several Hindu temples, mosques, and other places of worship before rounding a corner and pulling up at the side of the road. Leah alighted and made her way down the street, taking in the sights around her.

  She had not been back to Little India for a long time and, like Chinatown, there were many new additions, but also much that had remained the same. The vibrant feel of the cultural enclave was unchanged. Traditional shop houses lined the streets, selling beautiful silk fabrics, incense, and Ayurvedic massage oils. Flower vendors offered garlands of jasmine which added their sweet perfume to the pungent smell of Indian spices that was already assailing Leah’s nostrils.

  She was surprised to find that the address that Julia had given her matched up to a small Indian restaurant. She was about to turn away thinking that she must have made a mistake when she spotted her friend sitting at one of the tables just inside the front of the eatery.

  “Julia!” Leah went over and slid into a seat next to her friend. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “I had a hankering for some roti and I’d heard that this is one of the best places in town,” said Julia. As if on cue, the owner of the restaurant came over and slid a plate in front of them, heaped with slices of the traditional Indian flat bread, accompanied by a bowl of dhal.

  “Mmm, smells good,” said Leah, inhaling the fragrant steam arising from the plate. “But I thought you didn’t like Indian food that much?”

  Julia shrugged as she reached for a piece. “I guess tastes change. Don’t you ever get a sudden craving for something, sometimes?”

  “Yeah, especially back when I was living in the U.K.,” said Leah wryly. “But it can be hard to find authentic hawker-style Asian food there.”

  “I thought there’re loads of Indian restaurants in England,” said Julia, her mouth full.

  “Yes, but they tend to mostly serve naan. I haven’t had a decent roti in ages!”

  “Tuck in,” said Julia, indicating the plate.

  Leah needed no further urging. Using her fingers, she tore off a piece of the fluffy, pancake-like flat bread and dipped it in the little bowl of dhal, scooping up some of the thick lentil curry with the roti, then stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. The bread was soft and chewy, with slightly crispy edges, and the dhal was spicy, flavoured with ginger, garlic, turmeric, and cumin. There were chunks of tomato and jalapenos mixed into the dhal, together with sliced onions and mustard seeds. The whole combination was an explosion of flavours in the mouth and Leah found herself licking her fingers appreciatively.

  “This is good!” she said, laughing. “Whatever brought on your sudden craving for Indian food, I’m really glad you came here!”

  Julia said nothing, a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth as she continued to eat complacently. She looked a bit like the cat who had got the cream. But before Leah could ask her about it, her face grew serious.

  “Leah, did you see the news this morning?”

  Leah shook her head. “No, I’ve been in a meeting with Stanford Lim, my father’s lawyer, all morning. Why?”

  “That man you went to see at Lau Pa Sat… he’s been murdered!” said Julia.

  “What?” Leah stared at her. She felt a chill go down her spine. “Are you sure?”

  Julia nodded. “You said Stall 72, right? A sugar cane guy? His name’s Beng Chew Hoon? Yeah, he was found dead in the back of the store, with a cleaver in his chest.”

  Leah shivered. She remembered the sight of that cleaver, hacking its way through the sugar cane stalks, and the way the light glinted off the sharp edge. She didn’t want to imagine it slicing its way into that man’s chest, no matter how much of a creep he had been.

  “Do the police know what happened?” she asked.

  Julia shook her head. “No, they’re not releasing any details at the moment. Obviously they suspect foul play, and so they’re probably holding on to information to help with the investigation. They were even very close-mouthed about when Beng was found and who found him. Sometime last night, they said, but they wouldn’t give any more details.” She shook her head and looked at Leah earnestly. “I told you this whole thing was dangerous, Leah—I can’t believe you went to see him alone!”

  “Well, I’ve done it now, so no use getting worked up over it anymore,” said Leah impatiently.

  “I’ll bet Toran wouldn’t like it,” said Julia.

  Leah looked away. “I doubt he cares anymore.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Julia. “Of course he cares—”

  “I tried to call him last night. And again this morning. He won’t take my calls, Julia,” Leah said miserably. “It just rings and rings—and then goes straight to answerphone.”

  “Maybe he’s busy,” said Julia. “You know what he’s like when he’s on a case. I’m amazed the man eats or sleeps—”

  Leah shook her head. “I’ve left messages. He would have got them by now—and in the past, he always replied to me immediately, even if it was just a text to say that he was busy. He is deliberately ignoring me this time.”

  “Well…” Julia said helplessly. “He’s still angry, probably. Give him a bit more time and he’ll calm down.”

  Leah sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know…”

  Julia peered at her closely. “You look awful. Did you sleep last night?”

  “Not much,” admitted Leah.

  “And I’ll bet you didn’t have any breakfast this morning either!” said Julia accusingly. “You’ve got to take care of yourself, Leah! I know you’re upset about Toran, but you can’t let this get to you.”

  Leah shook her head but didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, let’s forget Toran,” said Julia briskly. “Tell me, why did you go see your father’s lawyer? Did you find something?”

  Leah sat up eagerly. “Yes, I almost forgot! I did find something last night. I went back to the villa and searched through my father’s study. I found a record of some strange payments he had been making to the U.K.”

  “To the U.K.?” Julia raised her eyebrows.

  Leah nodded. “The same amount every month, going to a particular English bank account.” She paused, then added, “And the payments started the same month that Toran’s parents were killed.”

  Julia’s eyebrows climbed even higher. “Can you find out who’s been receiving the money?”

  Leah heaved a sigh and shook her head. “That’s what’s so frustrating. According to Stanford Lim, there is no way I can access that information. The bank in the U.K. won’t give it out.”

  “There must be a way,” said Julia confidently.

  “I don’t know…” said Leah. “Even if I went and saw the bank manager, I don’t think—”

  “Why don’t you do that?” interrupted Julia.

  Leah looked at her impatiently. “I was
just telling you—that’s the bank policy. Even if I went in person, they wouldn’t give me the information.”

  “How do you know?” asked Julia. “In my experience, people can bend a lot under persuasion—especially if you speak to them in person.” She leaned forwards and grasped Leah’s hand. “Listen, why don’t we take a trip to the U.K.? I think it’ll be good for you to get out of town for a few days anyway. And this way we can go see the bank manager at the same time. It’s very different when it’s an anonymous voice on the end of the phone compared to a real person standing in front of you. People are only human.”

  “I don’t know…” said Leah. “What if something comes up—”

  “Like what?” asked Julia. “I’m sure Toran is pursuing the investigation from his end anyway. You’re the only person with access to your father’s information and this might be a valuable lead. Isn’t it a bit of a coincidence that these payments started the same month that Toran’s parents died? Don’t you want to get to the bottom of them?”

  “Of course I do,” said Leah. “But—”

  “No buts,” said Julia. “I’ve got a special VIP account with Singapore Airlines. I can get us on flights this evening. First class.” Her eyes sparkled. “You can show me around London! Arnold and I were supposed to go there as part of our honeymoon trip, but then we ended up doing France and Italy instead. And somehow I just never got around to visiting, even though I kept meaning to… so this will be perfect!”

  Leah looked at her in exasperation. “Julia… This isn’t some sightseeing trip!”

  “Why not?” asked Julia. “Much better than you spending all your time moping here. I think a couple of days away from Singapore would do you a world of good. And I’ve always wanted to show my credit card around Harrods,” she added with an impish smile.

  Leah gave up. Julia was indomitable when she was like this. And to be honest, a part of her did find the idea appealing. The thought of staying alone in the apartment, with Toran’s absence growing bigger every day, made her cringe—as did the thought of packing up her things and moving back to the villa. It would be a relief to get away from everything and just not think about it for a few days. And it would be nice to show Julia her old haunts back in London. Plus her friend was right: going to see the bank manager in person might yield a lot more results than if she just tried to explain her situation over the phone. What did she have to lose?

  “Okay, you’re on,” she smiled at Julia. “How much time do I have to pack?”

  CHAPTER 12

  Leah was about to step out of Toran’s exclusive apartment tower when her mobile rang. Her heart leapt again in desperate hope. Perhaps it was Toran at last! She paused by the lobby doors in the foyer, one hand on her trolley case, and fumbled in her handbag with the other hand. But when she looked at the screen, her spirits sank. It wasn’t a number she recognised.

  “Hello?”

  “Missy Leah! Ah Song here.”

  “Oh hi, Ah Song,” said Leah, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. “How are you?”

  “Good, good,” said Ah Song. “You remember I tell you come for dinner? I speak to my wife and she say like to see you soon. Don’t want to wait for son to come back—we see you first. So I think, maybe you are free tonight?”

  “Oh, Ah Song, I would love to, but unfortunately I’m leaving Singapore tonight.”

  “Leaving?” Ah Song sounded shocked. “But, Missy Leah, you just arrive! You tell me you are staying now!”

  “I am staying,” said Leah hastily. “This is just a short trip back to the U.K. I’m going with a girlfriend. We… um… we just decided to have a girly holiday. It was a last-minute decision. But I’ll be back again in a few days.”

  “Ah…” said Ah Song, with a smile in his voice. “You going shopping.”

  Leah laughed. “Yes, if my friend, Julia, has anything to do with it, we’ll be doing a lot of shopping.”

  “Okay, okay, shame, huh? But we see you when you come back?” asked Ah Song.

  “Yes, definitely,” said Leah. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back so we can organise a time. I’d love to come to dinner and meet your wife.”

  “Good, good,” said Ah Song. “You need taxi to go airport? I send you best car.”

  Leah laughed again. “That’s okay, Ah Song, I’ve already ordered a taxi. And in fact…” She glanced through the glass lobby doors at the car pulling up by the curb. “It’s one of yours!”

  “Any problem, you tell me,” said Ah Song earnestly. “Anything you don’t like about service or if car not comfortable or—”

  “Relax, Ah Song!” laughed Leah. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve seen your cars out in the city and your whole fleet looks really impressive. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”

  “You are special VIP passenger,” insisted Ah Song. “Only the best for Missy Leah!”

  Leah was touched. “Thank you, Ah Song,” she said warmly. “Now, I’d better go, otherwise I’m going to miss my flight. Take care now and see you when I get back!”

  Leah hung up and slid the phone back into her bag, then stepped out of the apartment tower block and let the lobby doors swing shut behind her. She felt her heart lift slightly as she descended the steps to where the taxi was waiting by the curb. She was really glad now that Julia had suggested this trip. And maybe her friend was right about Toran too—when she came back from the U.K., she might find that he was ready to talk to her again and they could find a way to work things out.

  Feeling more optimistic for the first time in days, Leah skipped down the rest of the steps and handed her trolley case to the driver with a big smile as she said, “Changi Airport, please!”

  Toran had spent much of the previous night at the police station. Their discovery of Beng Chew Hoon’s body had meant that Toran and Dieter were forced to endure hours of questioning while the police forensic team went over the scene of the crime for evidence. They were finally released in the early hours of the morning and headed gratefully back to the Blue Orchid in Chinatown. There was time to catch a couple of hours’ sleep before dawn arrived, but although Dieter had given him one of the hotel’s luxury suites and despite the long day, Toran had found it difficult to fall asleep. He tossed and turned in the king bed, not wanting to admit that he missed Leah’s soft body by his side.

  Finally, as the weak light of dawn began seeping in through the curtains, Toran gave up. He rose, had a shower, then headed out. He had overheard the police mentioning that Beng had a wife—she was his best source of information now. But tracking her down turned out to be more difficult than Toran expected. He learnt that she would be at the police station most of that morning, “helping the police with their enquiries”—a euphemism which Toran knew could cover everything from going over forensic evidence to being held as a possible suspect.

  It was best to return after lunch, Toran decided. Briefly, he wondered what Leah was doing and had to resist the urge to call her. She had left several messages for him, but he had ignored them so far. The ball of anger still sat heavy in the pit of his stomach. Every time he thought about what she had done, he felt a fresh wave of hurt, disappointment, and betrayal wash over him. A part of him never wanted to see her again—and a part of him missed her terribly.

  Annoyed with his own weakness, Toran threw himself into doing background research on Beng. But although he milked his extensive network of contacts, checked the news media archives, trawled the internet, and interviewed several of the other stall holders at Lau Pa Sat, he didn’t find much of interest—other than the fact that Beng had been an avid hobby fisherman and had been fined a few times for fishing in illegal spots.

  Toran returned to the police station after lunch to find that Mrs Beng had been whisked away by a police escort just before he arrived, taking her back to her home. But when he followed and tried to see her, he was met by stony-faced relatives who refused to let him into the apartment. No amount of cajoling or reasoning would m
ove them. Frustrated, Toran gave up and left again. He would return later that evening, he decided. Hopefully many of the relatives might have gone back to their own homes by then.

  His hunch looked to be right when he returned to the public housing block several hours later. The door of the apartment was answered by a thin woman with a careworn face who looked like she had been crying. She eyed him warily, holding the door half-closed as if she was ready to slam it in his face any moment.

  “Mrs Beng?” said Toran, stepping over the threshold and forcing her gently back so that she had to open the door wider. “My name is Toran James. I’m the man who found your husband.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, but all she did was ask sullenly, “What you want?”

  “I was supposed to meet your husband last night—he told me to come to the stall at midnight. He had some information for me…” Toran said, watching her carefully. Was it his imagination or did her eyes show a flicker of fear? “Do you know if he was meeting anyone else last night?”

  She shook her head, although her eyes slid away from his. “I don’t know. Husband no tell me anything.”

  “Did you notice anything else unusual—”

  “Already I tell police,” she said irritably. “You are not police—why you ask?”

  “I’m working with the police,” lied Toran smoothly. “I am also trying to help them find the man who did this to your husband.”

  She shook her head and made as if to shut the door. “Already talk to police. Tell them everything already.”

  “Wait.” Toran shoved his foot against the door, preventing her from closing it. He changed tact, softening his voice and giving her a sympathetic smile. “I know this must be a very difficult time for you. You must be so scared and worried, not knowing what’s going on—but it’s all falling on you.”