THE AMBASSADOR'S WIFE (An Inspector Samuel Tay Novel)

by Jake Needham

  They passed the old Hill Street police station just on the other side of the river. Tay had always thought it was a lovely structure, graceful and dignified. It stood only six floors high and the whole of its façade was decorated with banks of close-set wooden shutters painted in bright greens, golds, blues, and reds. The stories he had heard about the building were a lot less cheerful than the shutters. It had been the headquarters of the internal security forces during the communist insurgency campaigns of the fifties, the place where the interrogations were conducted. People had died there, a great many people if you believed the legends, and some said that in the night you could hear screams coming from deep inside the building. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.

  “So,” Tay continued, “correct me if I’m wrong here. Elizabeth Munson was entirely invisible at the Marriott, both to the security cameras and the naked eye, until she turned up shot in the head, beaten, stripped, and posed on the king-sized bed in room 2608 last Tuesday afternoon. Have I got that right?”

  “Yes, sir. Pretty much.”

  “Doesn’t that strike you as absurd?”

  “Not really, sir.” Kang shot Tay a quick glance to weigh his reaction. “She could have come into the hotel anytime after Monday morning since that was the last time housekeeping checked the room, and she wasn’t found until Tuesday afternoon. Do you know how many people go in and out of a hotel like that over a thirty-six hour period? Must be thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Like I said, we’d have to be lucky to find somebody who saw her andremembered her. She might even have gone in through the back and nobody would have seen her at all.”

  “The back? The Marriott has a back entrance?”

  “I meant the service lift, sir. She could have taken the service lift up the main tower and nobody would have seen her unless she just happened to have bumped into some member of the staff. There’s no camera in the service lift.”

  “Why would she have done that?”

  “Well, if you didn’t want to be seen, maybe—”

  “Or if somebody else didn’t want you to be seen.”

  Kang looked at Tay, the question of who might have wanted Elizabeth Munson to enter the hotel unseen hanging between them.

  “Have you interviewed all the hotel staff?” Tay asked.

  “Just the ones who worked on the twenty-sixth floor.”

  “Interview all of them. Maybe somebody saw her in the service lift.”

  “But, sir, hundreds of people work at the Marriott.”

  “Then you better organize some men and get right to it.”

  Kang grunted unhappily and they made they rest of the trip to the Marriott in silence.

  A quarter of an hour later they parked in the driveway right in front of the hotel’s main entrance and Kang fended off the doorman with his warrant card.

  “What do you want to do first, sir?” Kang asked when the doorman was out of earshot.

  Now that they were here, Tay wasn’t at all sure. What was the point of going over the suite again? It had been a week since the body was discovered. Not only would the suite have been thoroughly cleaned, for all he knew there might be guests in it by now.

  My God, Tay thought, some unsuspecting Japanese banker might even now be lying on the very bed where Elizabeth Munson’s body had been so carefully posed, having no idea of the tortured spirit with whom he was sharing it. The thought gave Tay the creeps. He knew he would remember that the next time he himself checked into a hotel, went to a room, and closed the door behind him. How could anybody ever know what ghosts we were sharing our hotel rooms with?

  “What was that security man’s name?” Tay asked.

  “Keshar, sir. Ramesh Keshar.”

  “Right. I’m going to talk to him. You talk to the manager and organize the staff interviews. Somebody saw her, Sergeant. We just have to find them.”

  Tay told a young man at the concierge desk, more of a boy really, that Keshar was expecting him and asked the way to his office. Tay’s warrant card and his small lie impressed the boy sufficiently to extract the information without the boy feeling the need to telephone Keshar first, which had been the whole point of telling him that he had an appointment. Tay believed there was an advantage in arriving unexpectedly to talk to people, even, if possible, completely unannounced. Surprise sometimes spurred people to tell the truth, mostly because they didn’t have the time to think up a good lie.

  Tay found Keshar’s office without difficulty, but Keshar wasn’t there. His secretary was as impressed by Tay’s warrant card as the boy at the concierge desk had been and paged her boss immediately. In a few minutes the security man hurried in a little out of breath.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Inspector. If you had called in advance, I would have been waiting for you.”

  Tay searched Keshar’s words for a rebuke, but found none. The afternoon the body had been discovered, he had sensed in the security man’s manner real shock, even something like embarrassment that this could happen in Singapore. Perhaps it had only been corporate concern for the hotel’s image, but Tay didn’t think so. The more he thought about it now the more he wondered if Keshar might be his way in.

  “Please, Inspector,” Keshar spread his arms as he settled in behind his desk, “tell me how I can help you.”

  “So far we haven’t been able to determine when Mrs. Munson came into the hotel and whether or not she was with anyone when she did.”

  “You haven’t found her on any of the surveillance tapes?”

  Tay shook his head.

  “That’s odd,” Keshar said. “And the staff interviews—”

  “Nothing useful either, although I understand that so far we’ve only talked with those employees who actually worked on the twenty-sixth floor. Sergeant Kang is making arrangements now to interview the entire staff.”

  “That’s a big job, Inspector.”

  “That’s exactly what Sergeant Kang said.”

  “Well…if you must. I’ll do whatever I can to help, of course.”

  Tay studied Keshar for a moment. He was waiting expectantly, knowing full well Tay wasn’t there to pass the time of day. Tay decided to get straight to the point.

  “Is there a way Mrs. Munson could have gotten into that room without showing up on the surveillance cameras?”

  Keshar laced his fingers together over his belly.

  “No, Inspector. None that I know of.”

  “Is it possible there are ways you would not know of?”

  Keshar smiled, but it was the smile of an accountant. Tay recognized it immediately.

  “No.”

  “How many lifts are there up to the tower other than the passenger lifts from the lobby?”

  “Just one service lift.”

  “Does it have a camera in it?” Tay asked.

  Keshar smiled again. “I get the feeling you already know the answer to that, Inspector.”

  “I thought it best to ask you anyway.”

  “The service lift doesn’t have a camera, but you can’t access it without passing through at least one area covered by a camera.”

  “How long has the camera in the main lift lobby been broken?”

  “It’s not.”

  “Sergeant Kang says it was cutting in and out during the days before Mrs. Munson’s body was found.”

  The expression on Keshar’s face seemed to Tay to be one of genuine surprise.

  “I really don’t see how that’s possible,” he said. “No one reported anything like that to me.”

  “Can the camera be turned off and then back on again?”

  Tay thought he saw a flicker of hesitation in Keshar’s eyes but, if there was, he covered it quickly and answered the question in a firm voice.

  “There are local switches for some of the cameras, but they can only be activated by a master security card.” Keshar produced a blue-and-white plastic card from his jacket pocket. He held it up, rotating it in his fingers. It looked like a room key. “Each mast
er security card opens every door in the hotel and allows the holder to control the parameters of all our security systems including the cameras.”

  “How many people have them?”

  “I have this one,” he said. “The general manager has one, and the executive assistant manager has one. The fourth is kept in my safe in case of emergency.”

  “Then there are just four master security cards?”

  “Yes. Four.”

  “And if you have one of these cards, you can turn cameras on and off and go in or out of this building without being recorded on your surveillance system. Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s right.”

  “Then you or your general manager or…who else was it you said had a security card?”

  “Mike Evans, the executive assistant manager.”

  “Any one of the three of you could have taken Mrs. Munson to room 2608 without her appearing on a surveillance camera.”

  “I suppose so, Inspector, but surely you don’t—”

  Tay shook his head and waved Keshar into silence.

  “Are you absolutely certain that no one else has access to a security card?”

  There was that flicker in Keshar’s eyes again. This time Tay was sure of it.

  “There is someone, isn’t there, Mr. Keshar?”

  Keshar looked chagrined. “Am I that obvious?”

  Tay said nothing.

  “I really don’t see how it could be relevant to your investigation.”

  Tay nodded encouragingly, but he still didn’t say anything.

  “Look, it would probably get me into a lot of trouble if head office found out I’d told you. You can keep this just between us, can’t you?”

  “I can’t promise you anything until I hear what you’re going to tell me.”

  Keshar obviously didn’t care very much for Tay’s answer and it showed on his face, but he knew he had already said far too much to turn back now.

  “About a year ago the man I report to at Marriott’s head office in the United States came to see me. He told me that I might get a call from someone at the American embassy here in Singapore and, if I did, I was to cooperate with the caller in any way he asked. I asked what that meant and was told I was to arrange off-the-books accommodations and confidential access to the hotel if I was requested by the embassy to do so.”

  “And this was for anybody at the American embassy?”

  “Oh no. Just for this one person.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Well…” Keshar hesitated. “I’m not sure I know.”

  That answer didn’t make any sense to Tay and his puzzlement was no doubt evident to Keshar.

  “What I mean to say, Inspector, is that I was given a man’s name, but I don’t think it’s a real person. I think it was just a name.”

  “And what was this name?”

  “Washington. Mr. Washington.”

  “Does Mr. Washington have a first name?”

  “Not that I was told.”

  Tay mulled that over while Keshar watched him.

  “Have you ever heard from Mr. Washington?” Tay asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Yes, five or six times.”

  “And what did he ask you to do?”

  Keshar fidgeted for a moment and Tay, waiting patiently, let him.

  “Each time he made the same request. He asked that two suites close to each other on an upper floor be closed off and that he have access to the suites for forty-eight hours.”

  “So you gave him the fourth security card.”

  “Yes, but he always returned it the following day.”

  Keshar cleared his throat.

  “Look, Inspector, I can see where you’re going with this, but it won’t do you any good. The fourth security card is in my safe right now and nobody has asked for it in at least six months. There is absolutely no chance that card was used when that poor woman came into the hotel and was murdered. None.”

  “Unless it was copied on a prior occasion before it was returned to you.”

  “Our systems are installed and serviced by Chubb Security, Inspector. I assure you no copies have ever been authorized and it is absolutely impossible for one to be made without going through Chubb. The built-in encryption is unbreakable.”

  Tay’s view on that was somewhat less sanguine. In his experience, what one man could build, another could tear apart. The resources required to do it might be considerable, or they might be closely held, but for the right people with the right access, nothing was ever impossible. Still, Tay saw nothing to gain by arguing the point with Keshar right then so he let it go.

  “What does this Mr. Washington look like?” he asked instead.

  “I don’t know. I never saw him.”

  “Then how did you give him a security card and get it back?”

  “One of our couriers delivered it in a sealed envelope along with the numbers of the suites I had blocked. Another courier returned it to me the same way.”

  “Where did you deliver it?”

  “To the American embassy.”

  “Addressed to Mr. Washington?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  A small silence followed while Tay struggled with the implications of what Keshar was telling him.

  “Look, Inspector,” Keshar interrupted his reverie, “I should never have told you any of this. I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with your investigation and I was instructed never to mention it to anyone. If head office hears I told you, I don’t know what will happen, but I like my job and I want to keep it. I’m asking you, begging you really, please tell no one that you heard this from me.”

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. Keshar, but if the matter becomes relevant to my investigation, that may not be possible.”

  Looking unhappy, Keshar waggled his head back and forth. What that was supposed to signify, Tay had no idea.

  Tay was too absorbed in what he had already heard to ask any more useful questions and, even if he had, Keshar was so worried he had already said too much that he wouldn’t have offered any useful answers. That meant it was not long before the conversation died altogether, no doubt having bored itself to death.

  “That business with the American embassy really can’t have anything to do with that poor woman’s murder, Inspector,” Keshar said yet again as they stood and shook hands.

  Tay nodded. He noticed that Keshar’s palm was slightly damp. He examined Keshar’s face closely and saw the tentative look in his eyes, so he said no more. He merely nodded again, left the office, and closed the door quietly behind him.

  SEVENTEEN

  THE American embassy had always looked to Tay like a combination of a Japanese warlord’s castle and the elephant house at a very prosperous zoo. The low-slung building was constructed entirely of giant blocks of stone that made the whole structure seem massively oversized. It sat well back from Napier Road atop a small, doubtless artificial rise and the grassy expanses surrounding it were a peculiar contrast to the uncompromising gray stone.

  There was a security post out on the road built of glass and more gray stone. Beyond it, the only approach to the embassy was up a long, exposed concrete ramp. Tay figured its purpose was to give them a good opportunity to shoot you if the security post made a mistake in letting you in.

  “Yes, sir. May I help you?”

  To Tay’s surprise, the security guard behind the glass appeared to be a Singaporean, not an American.

  “I’m Inspector Tay, CID-SIS.” He held up his warrant card. “I have an appointment with, ah…”

  Tay hesitated. He suddenly realized he couldn’t remember Cally’s last name, but under the circumstances using her first name seemed unreasonably familiar.

  “…your security officer,” he finished, thinking as he did how lame it sounded.

  “Yes, sir.” The guard inspected Tay’s warrant card through the glass with obvious care. “We were told to expect you.”

  There was a loud clunk and th
e glass door popped ajar. Tay tugged it open, surprised at its heft, and entered the security post.

  “Are you armed, sir?”

  The question came from a different guard, also apparently a Singaporean, and it took Tay by surprise. No one had asked him that in so long that he couldn’t remember the last time. He almost never bothered to carry a weapon anymore. That was a couple of pounds he hadn’t had any trouble losing.

  “Only with a box of Marlboros,” he said.

  Tay smiled, but no one else did.

  “There’s no smoking here, sir,” the second guard said.

  Tay abandoned the smile and nodded as soberly as he could. He also tried to mix into his expression enough embarrassment and contrition to cover any possible expectations the security guards might have along those lines.

  “Cell phone, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  The guard held out a small plastic ticket, like a claim check, and Tay exchanged his telephone for it.

  “You can collect it on your way out, sir. Any other electronic devices with you? Pager? Recorder? Digital camera? Anything like that?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Right, sir. Then just step through the metal detector there, please.”

  Tay turned and did as he was told.

  He wondered what his expression looked like at that moment and whether the third guard in the room, the one who hadn’t yet spoken, was trying to decide if he looked suspicious. He always felt vaguely guilty walking through a metal detector and he suspected it showed. The device was like a lie detector. Even if you hadn’t lied about anything, being tested seemed to suggest that you might have. Whenever Tay passed through a metal detector he tried to shape his face into a look of innocence, and every time he no doubt ended up looking like an idiot. Worse, probably a guilty idiot.

  At least the damned thing didn’t buzz this time. Thank the Lord for small mercies.

  “Just outside and then up the walkway to your left, sir,” the guard said, pointing at the security post’s exit door. “Ms. Parks will meet you in the lobby.”

  Ah, thank you, Tay thought. I remember now. Parks. Cally Parks.

  The exit door opened with the sound of an electronic lock disengaging and Tay was outside again walking up the long ramp to the main entrance of the embassy. No one shot him before he made it to the top, so he gathered he was doing pretty well so far.