Aunty Lee's Delights

by Ovidia Yu

  He dismissed the charge of illegal assembly. “You need five people to form an illegal assembly. Unless they are in the vicinity of the Botanic Gardens, where three or more people constitutes an illegal assembly. Two guys visiting a hospital I can’t do anything about. But as for the other case—” He looked at Nina doubtfully. “I have to follow up at least. There were dates and times you were seen at the shop working. I must ask you about that.”

  “Was it that puti Harry that made the report that I am working in a shop against regulations for domestic helps?”

  “Cannot say, ma’am.”

  “He only make the report because he came in to seduce me and I say I don’t like him,” Nina said firmly. “Now he thinks that I will not dare say anything because you will think I am only trying to get revenge on him.”

  “Did you make a report?” SSS Salim asked. He sounded like a policeman ready to take objective notes. Nina was furious with him.

  “You do not believe me? How can you not believe me—you are supposed to help us; instead you come and make trouble for us! Anyway, I told Aunty Lee. Aunty Lee, you tell him to believe me!”

  Aunty Lee, frowning in thought, did not hear her at first.

  “Aunty Lee! You tell Salim that I told you about Mr. Harry come in here and try to disturb me just now!”

  “What? Oh. Yes, she did.” Aunty Lee looked vague. “Maybe you should take her in and check her papers.”

  SSS Salim looked taken aback. Nina was furious. “Ma’am, I am going to be arrested! You are going to be left alone! Please wake up!”

  It all had to do, Aunty Lee thought, with Laura Kwee. Everything seemed to lead back to Laura; Laura helping the LifeGifters reform homosexuals, Laura secretly writing articles for Island High Life criticizing Aunty Lee’s Delights, Laura offering to help Marianne find a private getaway for her and her girlfriend, Laura being a friend to Otto then turning on him and his boyfriend . . .

  What had Laura Kwee done to get herself killed? She had a pattern of falling for unsuitable men and believing that making herself the “right” kind of woman would win them over. She had tried to win Otto over; probably Mark too. Had Laura thought Mark would leave Selina for her because she slept with him once when he and Selina were going through a bad patch? Had Selina thought he might? Aunty Lee suspected it had been Selina who kept Laura Kwee around. To punish Mark perhaps? And to keep an eye on Laura? Whether he knew it or not, Mark never did anything Selina did not approve of. When she was tipsy at the first wine dining, Laura had been flirting with Mark and Harry Sullivan. After the second wine dining, even though she had hardly drunk anything, Laura had seemed even more drunk than she had been the first time . . . and she had been teasing Harry Sullivan about Marianne Peters, Aunty Lee remembered. It was a good thing Marianne had not been there that night. Laura had brought cupcakes—including a matching pair of “engagement cupcakes,” as she insisted on calling them, for Harry and Marianne—she had made and iced herself.

  Cherril Lim-Peters had thought Laura was trying to blackmail Harry with her hints and allusions, but that was just Laura’s way of flirting. Still, if they sounded like blackmail threats to Cherril, they might have sounded that way to Harry too.

  Aunty Lee was pulled abruptly back into the present by the altercation that was going on.

  “I will take down your statement,” Salim said smoothly. “But that is a separate matter. I still have to follow up on his complaint. Are you here on a domestic helper visa?”

  “No, I am here on a ‘secret mission to marry a rich man and steal all his money to go back to the Philippines’ visa!”

  “I don’t think Nina means that,” Aunty Lee said, suddenly aware that Nina might be talking herself into more trouble than was good for her.

  “That’s a ‘yes,’ right?” Salim was still being professional. Nina wanted to hit him with something. If challenged, she would say she was just trying to knock his skull hard enough to wake him up. “And you are employing her to be a companion to you, ma’am?” This was directed to Aunty Lee.

  “Oh yes. Yes, she is.”

  “So, as a companion to you, Nina has to go wherever you are going to look after you?”

  “Yes.”

  “For example, she spends much of her time in the shop?”

  Just as Nina thought things were sorting themselves out, Aunty Lee said, “Maybe you should take Nina to the station with you to talk things over.”

  SSS Salim looked as taken aback as Nina. “Sorry?”

  “Ma’am!” Nina said. “What are you doing? I cannot leave you alone here!”

  “I will talk to you on the phone. Call me once you get there.”

  “But how are you going to get home?” Nina knew Aunty Lee was perfectly capable of giving her address to a taxi driver, but it had been a long time since she had taken a cab alone.

  “Selina will help me I’m sure.”

  “Ma’am, Selina is gone home already!”

  “Has she? Oh no—look. Here she is.”

  “What’s happening?” Selina joined them to ask. “Is something wrong?”

  The way she said this suggested she knew exactly what was wrong. Nina allowed herself to be led away by SSS Salim. She had learned to trust Aunty Lee’s sudden eccentric decisions, but what if this last action was prompted by her feeling that she no longer needed Nina? Well then—if that was the case, Nina thought, there was no reason for her to worry about Aunty Lee! She stepped into the lift as SSS Salim held the door open for her.

  “Wait, wait, wait.”

  Nina turned around hopefully while SSS Salim girded himself for further changes in plan.

  They were both taken aback when Aunty Lee asked him, “Was there ash on top of the phone? When your men found it in the bin. How much cigarette ash was on top of the phone? And was all the ash from the same cigarettes? Those people always checking on how much nicotine and how much tar should be able to tell you.”

  Senior Staff Sergeant Salim was jerked to attention when he arrived back at the station with a sullen Nina—it had been a long drive and he was hoping the money plant on his desk was still alive. If it had not survived, he would have to replace it rather than tell Nina he could not keep something as easy to care for as a money plant alive. Or perhaps he would bring Nina to see the HortPark, she would like that—then suddenly he was back at the police post and an overexcited Officer Pang was banging on the driver’s-side window of the car.

  “Sir! Sir! Sir!” Officer Pang shouted, grinning.

  “What?” As one who had survived and conquered National Service and academic life, Salim had long ago mastered the art of instantly waking to his full senses.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir! Harry Sullivan is dead!”

  It was not the young man’s words but his obvious delight that SSS Salim found confusing. “I see,” he said neutrally. He felt grimy and slightly guilty for dreaming about Nina instead of focusing on the case.

  “According to this report, Harry Sullivan died seven years ago, sir.”

  “That’s the other Harry Sullivan. The Cunninghams’ old friend. We already know about him.”

  “Yes, sir. And according to the records from the passports and immigration department, that is the Harry Sullivan who came into Singapore six months ago. Same date of birth at the same place. Passport applied for from the same residential address in St. Leonards, Sydney.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “Absolutely totally certain, sir!”

  Timothy Pang’s long-lashed brown eyes beneath the head of close-cut dark hair stared at his senior officer eagerly. He was almost trembling with excitement and hope of being in on the arrest—if he had had a tail, he would have wagged it. SSS Salim wondered if he himself had ever been so young and so eager. If he had, he was already too old to remember it.

  “Good work,” Salim said to the still-beaming Officer Pang. “Anything else?”

  “Harry Sullivan’s death was registered by his sister’s
son—one Sam Ekkers. Mr. Ekkers failed to inform the pensions department, which continued forwarding Harry Sullivan’s pension checks care of Sam Ekkers. A Sentosa beachfront chalet in the area you outlined was booked under the name of Sam Ekkers. We talked to staff there—I have their statements.”

  SSS Salim looked at Officer Pang’s report. The chalet had been booked under the name of Sam Ekkers for two weeks. He had declined all housekeeping services and been seen there with two different women. The staff had not seen anything unusual in this, being used to rich, foreign visitors.

  Nina, ignoring him, remained seated in the car. She also ignored Officer Pang. Meanwhile, something suddenly clicked in place for SSS Salim and he found he no longer resented Officer Pang’s youthful good looks or anything else.

  “Come on,” he said to Nina, who looked surprised at the sudden energy in his voice. “We better go call your boss. Let’s go see whether we can find what this Mr. Harry Sullivan is up to.”

  17

  Making Tea

  Making tea is a more precise business than anyone brought up on tea bags can imagine. But at the same time it is very forgiving.

  “Excuse me.”

  The storeroom door opened and suddenly Aunty Lee was standing there peering into the room, in her affable but shortsighted way. “Nina’s not with me right now and I’m having a bit of trouble managing. My eyes are not so good anymore. If you’re not too busy, Selina, I was hoping you would come and give me a hand in the shop . . .”

  Selina suddenly felt like laughing. Or perhaps crying. She was feeling so sleepy at the moment that she wasn’t sure there was a difference between the two.

  When Harry Sullivan and Selina Lee arrived at Aunty Lee’s Delights, it was dark and closed up. Selina had had to use her key to let them in and they had thought no one was there. Harry had gotten them drinks and was looking around the place. He had been just about to open the storeroom door when Aunty Lee opened it from the inside.

  “Harry Sullivan wanted to visit the café when you were not here,” Selina explained lamely. “He knows someone who is interested in buying us out. It could be the best thing for us, given how things are going.”

  “Sorry, I’m running a sinking ship today. Everything is upside down. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry, if you want coffee or a cold drink, I’ll get it for you, but I won’t be serving any food. I have to go and see what’s happening to Nina. I told them I had to just lock up the shop here. I phoned Mark and told him to go straight to the ministry. There must be somebody who can help. I need Nina!”

  “What happened?” Harry Sullivan could see that the old woman was upset. His voice was calm and soothing as he pulled out a chair for her. “Come and sit down, Mrs. Lee. Join us in a drink . . . sounds so upside down, right? Me offering you a drink here?”

  “No, no. I’m all right. Let me get you both something to drink. Give me something to do. Do you really think I should close the shop?”

  Harry Sullivan was looking along the shelves. “Any idea when Nina will be back?”

  Aunty Lee shook her head. Clearly she did not expect her employee back anytime soon. “Don’t know whether she’s coming back at all. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t carry on without her.”

  “Any idea where Nina would put things that people left behind here?”

  Selina snorted. “She would probably keep them. You should see some of the things she has!” Having said this, she put her head down on the table and promptly fell asleep.

  Aunty Lee looked at her.

  “It’s been a long day,” Harry Sullivan said. He pushed a cup toward Aunty Lee. “Have a drink. I’m sure you’ll hear from Nina soon.”

  “Nina will be fine. At worst, they’ll send her back home, and by now she should be the richest person in her village if her family hasn’t spent all the money I paid her. You should ask what’s going to happen to me! Any person who illegally employs or abets the illegal employment of foreigners may face a fine of up to fifteen thousand dollars, or be jailed up to twelve months, or both. I’m the one that’s going to end up in prison.”

  As he watched Aunty Lee take a sip of her tea, Harry Sullivan drank some more himself. He was suddenly feeling very thirsty and poured himself another cup from the hideous yellow-flowered teapot.

  “More for you? But maybe we shouldn’t dilute the stuff.” He saw Aunty Lee’s cup was still almost full. “We’ll wait till you’ve finished, shall we?”

  “You didn’t mean to kill your uncle, did you?” Aunty Lee said to Harry Sullivan conversationally.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The real Harry Sullivan. Or rather I should say the original Harry Sullivan. Because as far as we are concerned here in Singapore, you came in on the real Harry Sullivan’s passport, right? Where was I . . . oh yes, your uncle. I was just saying I don’t believe you meant to kill your uncle Harry Sullivan.” There was no accusation in her voice—nothing more than vague curiosity. Aunty Lee sounded as though she were trying to pin down a memory about an old friend or place. She looked hopefully at Harry Sullivan as though he was the only one who could supply her with an answer.

  “I didn’t kill him,” Harry said heavily. Suddenly it was very important to him to set the record straight. “He just dropped dead. Didn’t even drop, as a matter of fact. Just sat at the table being dead. And right after I got there too. You can’t count on family these days. The old bugger never so much as sent us a Christmas pressie all these years, and when we show up, what does he do but drop dead!”

  “So you put him in his car,” Aunty Lee prompted. As Harry Sullivan watched, she took an encouraging sip of her tea. That was good. He had to keep her drinking, keep talking to her to distract her.

  “I put him in his old car. Car was as dead as he was. Useless. All useless—the old man, the old car, that falling-apart old shack he called a house. At least I was giving him a burial at sea, so to speak.”

  “And then you helped yourself to his things. His name, his papers, his pension . . .”

  “Old fart wasn’t going to need them where he was headed, was he? Besides, there were no other relations left for him to leave anything to. If there were, they would have been my relatives too, wouldn’t they? They’d have some obligation to keep an eye out for a relative in desperate need, wouldn’t they? But, oh no. Nobody qualified as a relative, I tell you! I wouldn’t have them if they held a gun to my head!”

  Aunty Lee nodded as though this made perfect sense to her. “We can’t choose our relatives,” she agreed. She poured out more tea for them both. Her hand seemed quite steady. Harry wondered whether too much tea would dilute the effects.

  “You didn’t mean to kill Marianne Peters either, did you?”

  “I didn’t kill Marianne! You see, I knew that’s what people like you would think. Everything’s my fault. Let’s pick on someone to blame, someone who nobody is ever going to listen to or believe. We’ll put the blame on him and string him up for it, why not. Why bother to find out what really happened? Who cares what really happened! I knew it. I knew that’s how it was going to come down.”

  “Did you know poor Marianne had epilepsy?” Aunty Lee said. “Not many people knew. She looked so normal, didn’t she? And then when she had a seizure—” Aunty Lee closed her eyes and shuddered slightly, as though at a horrible memory.

  “Exactly!” He thumped the table, knocking his teacup over. “She was rolling her eyes and shaking. It was like something out of The Exorcist. Scared me shitless. I tried to get her to stop. Tried splashing her with water—like for shock, but she wouldn’t stop.”

  “Did you call for an ambulance?”

  “I thought I’d wait. Just see whether she stopped on her own, you know. I thought she would. But when I went back—well, she was already dead, so there was no point.”

  “You left her alone? For how long?”

  “You know for how long.” He was getting tired. All these women were so stupid. “I came for
the wine dining that night, remember? That was the night Miss Laura decided to surprise us all with her bloody cupcakes after the dinner. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have got back to Marianne earlier. I might have been able to do something to help her, the poor girl. It’s all that stupid slut bitch’s fault that Marianne died. The way she was going on and on about her cupcakes as a bloody art form. If you’re looking for someone to blame for what happened to poor Marianne, you put the blame on that one!”

  “Only it’s no use blaming Laura Kwee now, is it?” Aunty Lee stood up, pushing her chair away from the table.

  He looked at her blearily. There was something wrong but his sluggish brain could not pinpoint what it was. His body was quite comfortable where it was—though it would have felt good to lie down. Or he could put his head down on the table and nap right there like Selina was doing. The tea-wet surface of the table suddenly looked very inviting.

  “Feeling tired?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you?” He knew the old woman should have been the one lying unconscious on the floor, but she was still pottering around. Once she fell asleep, he would find Laura Kwee’s laptop and get himself out of there for good.

  “It’s the tea,” Aunty Lee said from a great distance. “If you drink the right tea, it gives you energy.”

  He looked at his spilled tea. It had pooled on the table in an oval shape without trickling off. The tabletop was perfectly level. It looked like something one of those modern artists would put up as a work of art. Normally he would have snorted at the thought, but suddenly, as he looked at the clear, thin golden-brown liquid, it looked beautiful to him. And he was awfully sleepy.

  “Why did you kill Laura Kwee?” Aunty Lee asked him sharply.

  He had to search his brain to remember who she was talking about.

  “She was a bitch.”

  Aunty Lee nodded agreeably. She had brought a bowl and a round, wooden chopping board back to the table. “Perhaps. But why did you kill her?”