Aunty Lee’s Deadly Specials

by Ovidia Yu

  “It’s not that hot, Doreen,” GraceFaith said. She put a hand on the older woman’s arm and propelled her firmly toward the chairlift. “And it was placebos Mabel was talking about, prayer and placebos. I’ll switch on the chairlift for you, okay?”

  “Oh!” Doreen stumbled and almost fell. “My legs not so good, can’t walk so fast. Ow! Girl, you are hurting my arm! I think I’m going to faint, let me sit down quietly for a while. I need some warm water. Rosie, if I don’t make it, please tell Henry and Mabel it’s not their fault. I am an old woman and not well.

  “We can sit here comfortably for a while,” Doreen Choo said to Aunty Lee once GraceFaith had found them chairs and gone in search of warm water.

  Aunty Lee was impressed.

  “You mentioned a fire at Bukit Timah Plaza?” Aunty Lee was always interested in fires. “How come I didn’t hear about this?”

  “Small fire only. I think only one foreigner died but nobody knows who. You wouldn’t be interested.”

  “Are you waiting to see my father?” Sharon came out of the room looking sulkier than usual.

  “I want a word with your mother. She arranged my eye operation for me. I was supposed to get follow-up checkups, but then after that fire at the Bukit Timah Plaza clinic, I never heard anything more from them. Checkups are supposed to be part of the package. Now you are a partner you can go and check for me.”

  “Aunty Doreen, Sung Law and Never Say Die are totally separate—” but Doreen was not to be stopped.

  “And then somebody phoned me after that, you know. Did I want to go through with the ear operation? he asked. And have I don’t know what cartilage injections? Only I was out with some friends at the time and I didn’t get the number. I was telling Rosie about the operation. She’s also interested.”

  “I’m sure someone will get back to you,” Sharon said dismissively. “I don’t have anything to do with Mabel’s healing stuff. It doesn’t have anything to do with Sung Law.”

  “It’s very expensive.” Edmond Yong appeared from the room next to the one Sharon had come out of. Aunty Lee guessed he had been listening while Sharon shouted at her father.

  “Don’t worry. My friend Rosie is very rich,” Doreen said dismissively.

  “I’ll go see if I can find Mabel,” Edmond offered.

  “If you find Mabel tell her she should be at the party with her guests. This is supposed to be her party for me. Why isn’t she even at it?”

  “Sharon, calm down. There are people here.” Edmond Yong smiled at Aunty Lee and Doreen as he spoke, giving the impression of a nanny trying to ward off a childish tantrum.

  “Who are you to tell me to calm down? Who are you afraid they are going to tell?”

  Aunty Lee wanted to say she was not at all the sort to tell tales. Finding out things about people was a hobby of hers, and if only Sharon explained what she didn’t want told, Aunty Lee wouldn’t tell it. She turned to Doreen to back her up but Doreen had gone. Doreen claimed to be a feeble old woman when it suited her but could move fast when she wanted.

  It was definitely turning out to be a very interesting party, Aunty Lee thought.

  GraceFaith returned. Nobody paid much attention at first because GraceFaith was not someone people generally took notice of. She rushed a few steps into the room, then stopped abruptly. There was a strange frozen look on her face. Aunty Lee thought she looked like someone trapped on a roller-coaster ride—incredulous, terrified, and about to be sick. She was breathing with fast, shallow little whimpers, her eyes panicked and pleading. Alarmed, Aunty Lee moved toward her. For once she was driven by concern rather than curiosity, but GraceFaith shuddered at Aunty Lee’s light touch on her arm and looked right through her.

  Even Sharon and Edmond noticed something.

  “Is something wrong with Lennie?” Sharon sounded prepared to be bored. “Again? What’s he done now?”

  “Your mother and Leonard are dead,” GraceFaith said. Her voice was dead calm. She might have said they were watching television.

  Aunty Lee gasped. She was dying to ask what had happened but held herself back as the other two processed the information.

  “Leonard? And Mabel? Both of them?” Sharon asked in disbelief. GraceFaith nodded, the frenzied look still frozen on her face.

  “Are you sure?” Edmond said. He gave a little laugh or cleared his throat. “You must have made a mistake. Or it’s another of Lennie’s stupid jokes. He’s probably just playing a trick on you.” He looked around for support but none of the women responded. GraceFaith and Sharon had their eyes fixed on each other and Aunty Lee was watching them both.

  “Where’s Henry?” Sharon asked. Then, as though realizing her mother was not there to be annoyed about her using her father’s first name, “Where’s my father?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see him. Your mother and Len are on Len’s bed. There’s food everywhere. I couldn’t wake them up. I know they are dead.”

  For a moment Sharon didn’t move. Then, as Aunty Lee thought later, she seemed to shift into gear, or rather into her mother’s role.

  “We should save the food in the room,” Sharon said in a voice that echoed Mabel’s bossy tone. “So it can be tested. GraceFaith, call the police. We shouldn’t touch anything until the police get here. They should examine everything. And we should make sure nobody leaves.”

  “This is not some kind of TV mystery,” Edmond snapped at her. “Don’t drag the police here for nothing. I’m going to check on them first.”

  “Dad, where were you? Do you know what happened?”

  Henry Sung came through the passage looking dazed. Doreen was with him.

  “I thought they were praying,” Henry Sung said. “I went to get Mabel, to tell her Doreen needed to talk to her. They were so quiet in there. Mabel is never quiet unless she is praying. I was sure they were praying.”

  “There are buah keluak shells all over the floor,” Doreen said. “As though somebody was throwing them.”

  “For goodness’ sake!” Sharon Sung snapped. “GraceFaith, go and call the police and tell them two people are dead. Tell them it’s Mabel Sung and her son. That should make them come more quickly. And say they were probably poisoned by buah keluak.”

  “No!” Aunty Lee said. “It could not have been the buah keluak!”

  7

  Inspector Salim

  Inspector Salim Mawar, officer-in-charge of the Bukit Tinggi Neighborhood Police Post, was in his office when the calls came in. This was not surprising. Salim, whose recent awards and promotion to inspector should have catapulted him from this apparently dead-end posting onto the main administrative track, was almost always in his office.

  “Sir, I think you better take line two. It’s the commissioner’s assistant, calling on site with DB.”

  “Thanks, Neha.”

  “And there was another call but the woman couldn’t wait and gave me a message to pass to you—” Staff Sergeant Neha Panchal hesitated. This was a new posting for her and she was still getting used to the casual way residents called or dropped in on the station.

  “The message?” Salim picked up his phone and pressed 2.

  “She said to tell you it couldn’t have been the buah keluak. I asked her what she meant but she said she couldn’t talk now. She sounded a bit funny, frankly, but I thought I better tell you just in case—”

  Salim got his connection and gestured to her to exit and close the door. Panchal was not sure whether her boss had heard her message. Or whether he had heard her and thought her a fool for bothering to convey it. But Panchal had already been told off last week for telling a Filipina maid she could not see Inspector Salim without filling in a request form and having a woman officer present. She was not going to give him another excuse to embarrass her. And just in case, Panchal was keeping a strict record of all regulations she had observed Inspector Salim flouting. When he got into trouble for treating this jurisdiction as his own personal domain, Panchal was not going down with him,
unlike the other officers in the station, who worshiped their boss. If she handled things right she might even come out of it with a promotion, like her predecessor Timothy Pang, now in a dream posting in International Affairs. Panchal knew Pang must have discovered something on Salim (or someone even higher up) to have leveraged such a promotion.

  Staff Sergeant Panchal had researched Inspector Salim thoroughly even before starting her current posting. Inspector Salim Mawar was a lucky man. Thanks to subsidized education, he had graduated from the National University of Singapore with a basic degree in Social Studies and then thanks to a Singapore Police Force Scholarship, acquired his master’s in Management in Science. With these credentials, Salim should have been rising through the public service ranks as an example of how meritocracy benefited minorities. So why wasn’t he?

  “You got a body?”

  “Two—”

  Inspector Salim took down the address he was given. “Fast response vehicle?”

  “Three on the way. But CP is here and asked for you.”

  Salim, on his feet and moving to the door, had already sent their destination and a message to his driver to meet him by the car.

  “You know who they are?”

  “Mabel Sung and her son, Leonard. Apparently there was some kind of party at the house and it may have been food poisoning.”

  “Kanasai! How many guests present? Anybody else sick? Who provided the food?”

  “No indication. The caterer is Aunty Lee’s Delights.”

  “Ah.”

  Salim knew Aunty Lee’s Delights well. The small café in Binjai Park was within walking distance of Bukit Tinggi NPP.

  Salim remembered the message Panchal had given him. He thought he knew who had sent it.

  “With me, Panchal.”

  Though she should have expected to accompany him, Salim had to wait while she retrieved her phone from its charger, locked her desk, and shut down her computer. All according to regulations, of course.

  It was at times like this that Salim missed Timothy Pang most. Timothy would already have called up all available information on his phone and by the time they arrived at the crime scene would know the ages, educational qualifications, declared and undeclared income, and Pinterest loves of the people involved. Plus the way his new aide watched him made Salim uncomfortable. He reminded himself that change was good. Panchal reminded him to put on his seat belt.

  There were other eyes on Inspector Salim Mawar. He might believe it was by his own decision that he was still at the Bukit Tinggi Neighborhood Police Post. In fact his being allowed to decline several offers of promotion and transfer was part of an as yet unnamed Ministry of Home Affairs experiment. If all went well it would be hailed as a successful step forward. If not, then all there was to see was an efficiently run police post in an important residential area. Salim had declined to be promoted to a higher level in a larger machine. His salary, power, and prospects would all have improved, but it was made clear he would be a very small cog. At the moment he was running things very well in his little kingdom. Crime rates were low and harmony and goodwill were high. The idea was to gradually expand and replicate this success. Like the Regional Public Libraries and Regional Post Offices set up following the same principle that had combined individual voter constituencies so successfully into Group Representation Constituencies or GRCs. Regional Police Hubs, starting with the Bukit Tinggi Regional Police Hub, would be small enough for residents to feel a connection with the officers but large enough that new officers could ride on the coattails of their experienced seniors.

  As things stood, calling Bukit Tinggi a “neighborhood” post was a misnomer, as its jurisdiction stretched some way beyond Bukit Tinggi. And Inspector Salim had already solved cases beyond the Bukit Tinggi district. Just weeks ago he had exposed and arrested a group of international con artists in Chinatown, thanks to a tai tai in his district who told him about a wise man there who offered to bless her jewelry and money to ward off bad luck. Most tai tais were idle wealthy women, but Aunty Lee, though wealthy, was anything but idle.

  In any case it was not quite an official project. If anything went wrong it would still be possible for top officials to deny the whole experiment. But if successful, it could provide a template for things to come. Among the unknown factors was how much the experiment’s success depended on Salim and his relationship with residents in the area.

  “What do we know so far?” Salim asked as they waited for the front gates of 8 King Albert Rise to slide open for them. “Background on the victims, who found them, anything?”

  Panchal looked at him blankly. “Do you want me to find out?”

  8

  Staff Sergeant Panchal

  “This way, sir.” Salim’s men were already on the wide front driveway. Salim paused for a moment, looking at the front of the enormous house and then turning to look at what could be seen of the neighbors, which was not much other than high walls and privacy shrubbery.

  “Shouldn’t we go inside?” Staff Sergeant Panchal prompted.

  Salim did not answer.

  “Sir, shouldn’t we—”

  “Security? Cameras?” Salim asked the officer who had let them in.

  “Four cameras in the house, sir. Front and back gates, pool area, and the son’s room, where the bodies were found. I’ll send someone round to ask the neighbors.”

  Salim missed having Timothy Pang by his side at a crime scene. Or rather, Tim Pang would not have stuck to his side. Panchal was acting like an eager dog on a leash. Tim would have wandered off collecting impressions of people who didn’t notice him and confidences from people who did. Being mistaken for an actor or model had embarrassed Officer Pang but his good looks and open manner inclined people to trust him. Officer Panchal, glaring suspiciously at everyone in sight, was not proving as helpful.

  Inside the house, people looked at one another uncertainly and whispered but no one said anything out loud. Commissioner Raja had arrived late and meant to slip away early once he had congratulated the new partner of Sung Law. However, he had been detained by the death of the old partner, and now as he watched his fellow guests he was reminded of mission school boys waiting for the punch line to an off-color joke. They knew something was coming but were afraid to guess exactly what in case it revealed their ignorance, or worse—their knowledge.

  “Commissioner?”

  Commissioner Raja turned to see Inspector Salim with Staff Sergeant Panchal. Panchal saluted him smartly and he responded with a nod.

  “I’m here for the party, not for the murder,” Commissioner Raja said to explain his green-and-brown batik shirt. “The Sungs are old friends. I got here right after the bodies were found. Must have been just before noon. Thanks for coming down.”

  “You are a friend of the Sungs?” Salim asked. He seemed surprised.

  “You could say that,” Commissioner Raja said grimly. He had not liked Mabel Sung. The woman had been good at manipulating people into supporting her causes, making her both a powerful ally and a dangerous person to cross. “With some people it is better to be friends than enemies.

  “Anyway, this is your case, Salim. I can give you my statement but I want you to handle the investigation. By the way, you’ll find some familiar faces here. I tell you, any funny business in this district they are sure to be somewhere around.”

  Familiar faces? Salim looked around and saw Aunty Lee, Cherril—and yes, Nina. Thank goodness that aggressive Carla Saito woman had finally left Singapore. Salim had heard she had gone on to China. Good luck to the Chinese, he thought.

  “I saw them!” Aunty Lee said, waving to catch their attention. “I saw the bodies!”

  “Can I see your IC, ma’am?” Panchal took out her notebook and recorder.

  “You know who I am! I am Aunty Lee, from Aunty Lee’s Delights! Yesterday I brought the kueh dadar to the station, remember? That was because I made extra for the party here today!”

  “You saw them?” Salim said. “Yo
u saw Mabel and Leonard upstairs after they died? How come?”

  “I heard they were dead so I went in to see to make sure,” Aunty Lee said. “Sometimes people shout somebody died, everybody gets worked up and calls the police, then they only fainted. So susah, right?

  “Anyway I can describe for you. The son, Leonard, was lying in his bed. He had been eating off a folding table on his bed and it looked as though he just leaned back and went to sleep and didn’t wake up. Mabel looked as though she was crouching on the floor beside his bed. But GraceFaith said that when she went into the room to call Mabel, she thought she was asleep in the armchair by the bed. So she touched her on the shoulder and she was so startled when Mabel did not move that she jerked her arm back and knocked her onto the floor. And there was another plate on the coffee table next to the armchair. So it looks as though Mabel was also eating there. Then her son died in bed and she died in the chair next to him.”

  Nina and Cherril, looking worried, came to join Aunty Lee.

  “Thank you. Staff Sergeant Panchal will take down your statements.” Salim smiled encouragingly. “I’m going to have a word with the family.”

  Panchal could tell she was being fobbed off with unimportant witnesses. But Commissioner Raja Kumar was there and this was her chance to make a good impression. She turned to the three women and addressed Aunty Lee clearly and loudly enough for her exemplary interview technique to be heard by the senior officer.

  “You said you saw the plates. What were they eating before they died, did you see?”

  “My chicken buah keluak. But that had nothing to do with what happened to them.”

  “Have you been friends with Mabel Sung for long? How well did you know her?” Staff Sergeant Panchal glanced between Aunty Lee and Cherril.

  “No,” said Cherril, “I didn’t know her at all.”

  “That’s hard to say,” Aunty Lee said brightly. Nina groaned.