by A. J. Low
“No one,” Eliza snapped, snatching the handphone off the table and rejecting the call. “Also, haven’t you heard of privacy? It’s rude to look at someone else’s phone without permission.”
Wendy glared at Eliza, then rolled her eyes. I had also noticed that Eliza was behaving particularly badly today. I wondered why.
Just then, I saw Uncle, or rather, QT, quickly walk past the restaurant. Wearing a straw hat, sunglasses and his green scarf, he was hunched over and had his hands in his pockets. He was also perspiring quite a bit and kept turning around to look behind him, almost as if he thought someone was following him.
Mom, Dad, and Auntie Kim Lian came back into the restaurant just then.
“Look, Sherlock!” Jimmy said, jumping out of his seat. “It’s that Uncle Cutie!”
“Dad!” I said. “Can we follow him? If he is in fact only pretending that the script has been stolen, it might be important to see where he’s going.”
Dad and Mom shared a look, and she shrugged.
“Okay, Sam,” Dad finally said, “but I’m coming with you.”
“Auntie Kim Lian and I will be walking around the area. I haven’t been here in a while and so many things have changed,” Mom said.
“Maybe we should buy some dumplings back for the actors on the set,” Auntie Kim Lian replied. “Don’t know if Shukri has eaten yet.”
“Actually, that’s a great idea,” I said. “Mom and Auntie Kim Lian can question Uncle Shukri while we tail QT. Perhaps you can trick him into revealing something important.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Auntie Kim Lian said. “He’s a very respectable young man.”
“And he knows you’re a big fan, so he’ll never suspect you!” I said.
“We’ll see what we can do,” Mom said. Auntie Kim Lian did not look convinced this was necessary as they walked away.
With Dad tagging behind us, we left the restaurant and followed QT, who zigged and zagged through the smaller streets of Balestier. He kept looking behind him as he walked, so we were forced to leap and dodge behind pillars and walls to avoid being seen. One time we even had to duck into a lighting shop. It was extraordinarily bright with many crystal chandeliers. I was partially blinded for a bit.
After many loops and turns, QT finally seemed to arrive at his destination. It was the Sing Hon Loong Bakery. The traditional bakery smelled heavenly, and I had never seen so much bread! Loaves were kept in large plastic containers, which were stacked from floor to ceiling outside the shop. On a wooden rack next to them were rows and rows of different kinds of freshly baked bread wrapped in plastic. I wondered if they had the sweet coconut buns that I loved so much, and also maybe the red bean buns—
“Focus,” Watson said. Could Watson read my mind now too?
We hid behind the containers as QT talked to the auntie behind the counter. He asked for someone called “Auntie Pauline.” The auntie shook her head and replied that Pauline was not working today. That agitated QT. He sighed deeply and walked around the bakery for a bit, stopping to fiddle with the freshly baked bread cooling on the wooden racks in front of the counter. The auntie sharply called out for him not to touch anything.
QT sighed again, squared his shoulders, then walked back to the counter and asked for an order of kaya toast and kopi-O. The auntie behind the counter politely told him that while they sold kaya in little plastic containers and toast, they did not make kaya toast or kopi-O on the spot. They were not Yakun or a coffee shop, they were a bakery. QT seemed confused, and was still perspiring furiously. He leaned in closer, straining across the wide, wooden counter to whisper something to the auntie. She appeared just as confused as he had been and shook her head, frowning. QT continued to talk while making odd motions with his hands. He also seemed to say “Auntie Pauline” twice.
“Is he drawing squares with his fingers?” Wendy whispered. “What does that mean?”
We strained to hear but could not. As I considered sending Watson to investigate using his camouflaged mode, the auntie sighed and ordered QT to wait. She turned to walk further into the bakery while QT pulled out his smartphone and pressed some buttons.
“What did he ask her for?” I said. “And why did he take such a convoluted route? He could have easily reached the bread shop in half the time.”
“Could he be trying to make sure he wasn’t being followed?” Nazhar asked.
“He could just have a really bad sense of direction,” Eliza said, yawning. “I’ve seen your Dad take really long routes to get somewhere.”
“Getting lost just makes life more interesting,” Dad replied, winking. Eliza raised her eyebrow at him. He coughed. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“But he kept looking behind him,” Wendy said. “And why was he making square shapes with his fingers?”
The auntie came back out with a big pink plastic bag and a clear bag full of kopi-O. She passed both bags to QT, who seemed very relieved. He thanked the auntie repeatedly before hurriedly leaving the bakery. We flattened ourselves against the large plastic containers so that he wouldn’t see us on his way out, but I saw him greedily suck on the straw in the kopi-O bag.
QT was indeed a strange man. What did he have in the plastic bag and could he really be so afraid of being followed?
“Why doesn’t he take his scarf off?” Dad said as we followed the still sweating QT back to the studio, once again taking an incredibly roundabout route. “It’s already so hot.”
“Because-it-is-fashion,” Watson said with an emphasis on the word “fashion”, which made Jimmy giggle.
Once he walked past the studio gates, QT immediately hid the pink plastic bag behind a piece of lighting equipment and dashed back to his writer’s room. We had to hide behind the left gate because the studio compound was not very large and QT would have easily spotted us, even with all the hustle and bustle of the film crew.
“Dad, we need to see what’s in that bag!” I said.
“Okay, Sam,” Dad replied. “I admit I’m also very curious. Just be careful. I’ll wait here. You kids can hide behind all the equipment, but I’m too tall to be inconspicuous.”
I nodded. “Nazhar, go slightly further into the studio and keep a lookout to make sure that QT doesn’t sneak up on us!”
The rest of us crept over as silently as we could to where QT had hidden the plastic bag. Eliza was the first to get there. It had to be all her camping experience. She was fast and stealthy.
“It’s…bread?” Eliza said. “I thought we’d finally be doing something interesting.”
It was just bread, though with the crusts cut off. There was kaya in there too.
“Why would he hide this?” Jimmy asked. “It’s only kaya toast. I love kaya toast.”
“The mockingbird is swooping,” Nazhar whispered, gesturing frantically with his arms. Flapping, almost.
“What?” I asked, looking away from the bag.
“The mockingbird is swooping!” he whispered more insistently. He was literally jumping up and down like a gigantic bird and running towards us.
“What does that mea—?”
“What are you kids doing!? Leave that alone!”
I spun around and saw QT running towards us. “Get away from there!” He was wearing a Stetson. I guessed Stetsons were cool now.
Dad immediately emerged from his hiding place, crossed his arms and stood in QT’s way. “I suggest you change your tone.”
“Next time, tell us what your code words mean before you use them,” I whispered to Nazhar, who blushed.
QT stopped short and looked down at Dad’s feet. “You know exactly what they’re doing here, and I suggest you explain why you were acting so suspiciously at the bakery,” Dad said.
QT looked up with horror on his face. “You saw me go there?”
“We-have-gotten-very-good-at-remaining-inconspicuous-and-staying-hidden,” Watson said. “You-do-not-have-to-tell-me-exactly-how-improbable-that-is-as-I-already-know. I-have-done-the-math.�
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QT quickly looked around and then motioned for us to gather in a rugby huddle.
“Okay, yes. I went to the bakery, but you can’t tell anybody,” QT said.
“Why?” Eliza asked. “Is this you being a child again?”
“Who said—!” He stopped himself when he saw Eliza. “Oh, it’s you. No, it has nothing to do with being a child. Look, I have a reputation to maintain. I can’t let anybody know how much I love kaya toast and kopi-O. Everybody thinks I drink atas coffee and eat artisanal bread.”
“Artist bread?” Jimmy asked. “Does it paint your insides?” He stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes to try to look at it.
“What on earth are you talking about?” QT said, sounding exasperated. “Is everyone going mad? Can I please have my kaya toast back? I need it to write!”
Eliza handed the pink plastic bag over to him but not without giving him another glare for good measure. QT made his exit as rapidly as he could, almost slamming into Uncle Lee Swee, the actor playing Run Run Shaw, in his haste.
“Get to work on the script, QT!” the actor called out to the retreating writer. “If you don’t, we’ll be in big trouble!” QT gave a weak wave and disappeared into the studio building, still clutching his precious pink plastic bag.
Right then, a BMW screeched to a halt outside the studio, a short distance away from the gate. A tall, muscled man emerged. He had on a pair of Ray Bans and was stylishly dressed in slacks and a formfitting black T-shirt.
“Koey!” Uncle Lee Swee exclaimed, raising his hand in greeting. He hurried over to the car, turning to look behind him twice. Fortunately for us, we were still hidden behind the lighting equipment. Even Dad had crouched down.
“What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet at the coffee shop?” Uncle Lee Swee said as he and Uncle Koey shook hands.
“Boon Chong told me someone stole his script,” Koey replied, taking off his sunglasses. “I thought maybe I could help Boon out.” Uncle Koey had muscles whereas Uncle Boon Chong did not, but they both had the same facial features. You could guess they were related just by looking at them.
“Well, he’s not around at the moment. He had to rush off to meet the producers, who are also freaking out. Let’s go get that drink, shall we?” Uncle Lee Swee said, taking a hold of Uncle Koey’s elbow and leading him away.
“Uncle Koey is Uncle Boon Chong’s brother, isn’t he?” I asked Dad who nodded in reply. “Curious. Why are the two of them meeting now?”
“You’re going to suggest we follow them, aren’t you?” Eliza said, flicking her braid behind her shoulder.
I nodded. “Is that okay, Dad? I think it’s important, especially since Uncle Boon Chong listed the both of them as possible suspects. Plus, there’s no real reason for them to meet.”
“Well, we have a bit of time until Mom and Auntie Kim Lian call, so we can if you really think it’ll help the case, Sam,” Dad said, looking at his handphone. “Also, I got a frantic text from Uncle Boon Chong about your progress.” He held out his handphone for me to read. It said:
Has your genius son found my missing script yet?
I am going to have a heart attack.
Save me Obi-Mike Kenobi,
you’re my only hope.
“Geeks,” Eliza said under her breath. Even Dad frowned. Nazhar looked worried.
“We-should-move-quickly-if-we-want-to-follow-them,” Watson said. “They-have-just-turned-right-at-the-junction.”
“We should split up,” I said. “Nazhar, Eliza and Jimmy will cross the street and follow them from the opposite side of the road. Dad, Wendy, Watson and I will stealthily trail after them from this side. That way we’ll be less noticeable since our groups will be smaller.”
“That-would-have-been-a-very-good-idea-for-just-now,” Watson said.
“Yes, but the roads that QT took were really quiet,” I replied. “He would have immediately spotted people across the street from him. Uncle Koey and Uncle Lee Swee are walking on the main road. There are people everywhere. Nazhar, Jimmy and Eliza won’t be noticed. It would look more suspicious if people observed an old man, five kids and a robot trailing after two people.”
Dad nodded in approval at first, but suddenly froze. “Wait, am I the old man?”
“Let’s go!” I said, deciding it was best not to respond to Dad. I couldn’t help my smile though.
Our group split up. I saw Nazhar and Jimmy try to be stealthy. For Nazhar, this meant sticking his hands in his pockets and whistling while looking at the sky. Eliza had to stop him from crashing into a pillar twice. Jimmy actually did a somersault like in the movies, running and rolling, but he did it so well that a group of Japanese tourists stopped and clapped and took photographs of him. That attracted more attention than necessary, which actually was a good thing because no one was paying any attention to my team.
“Did you see that kid?” Uncle Koey said, pointing at Jimmy from across the street. “I should have him on my show! He’ll be a star!” He turned and grinned at Uncle Lee Swee, who laughed. Uncle Koey’s eyes crinkled in the same way as his brother when he smiled.
They stopped in front of what looked like a tall metal stand with an awning. On the stand were two large tanks with spouts. There was also a small basin filled with water, as well as a cup. I looked at the street signs and saw that the men were right at the corner of Boon Teck Road and Balestier Road. Luckily for us, there was a row of large bushes just behind the stand. I motioned for the team across the street to join us behind the bushes. We were close enough to overhear the conversation without being seen.
“We grew up around here you know,” Uncle Koey said.
“Did you?” Uncle Lee Swee replied. “I didn’t know that. Boon Chong never really talks about his personal life.”
“Yep. And when we would walk home from school, we would always stop right here,” he gestured at the water stand. “Boon would always help me fill my cup first because I was too short.” He laughed a little, shaking his head.
Nazhar, Eliza and Jimmy finally joined us, just in time.
“What are those, Nazhar?” I asked. I knew our resident history buff would have the answer.
“It’s the last free water kiosk in Singapore, Sherlock. My dad told me they’ve been around for a very long time, long before he was a kid even. Back then, they provided free water for labourers like the people who pulled the horse carriages and bullock carts. Also rickshaw uncles,” Nazhar replied.
“So cool,” Jimmy whispered. “I love water!”
“To-each-his-own,” Watson replied. My robot’s dislike for water was legendary.
Uncle Lee Swee said something, but unfortunately, it was too soft for us to hear.
“That’s what I like about you, Lee Swee,” Uncle Koey replied. “You’re unselfish. I know when you signed on for the first season, my brother told you the focus would be on the Shaw brothers, especially your character. But now it seems like P. Ramlee is the star, eh?”
“Well, yah. What to do? I understand how this business works,” Uncle Lee Swee replied. “And ultimately, we all just want the series to take off and continue for as many seasons as possible. Everyone wins then.”
“And with Shukri getting that role in Hollywood, I’m guessing Boon has gotten even more publicity for the series and more calls for Shukri to appear everywhere,” said Uncle Koey.
“He’s an excellent performer,” the actor said. “But if I’m not mistaken, his role in the US film is very small. I mean, it’s still fantastic that he was picked, I’m really happy for him. But if it were me—and this is just me of course—I’d focus on the series that made me famous in the first place.” He then laughed. “I guess I’m very weird sometimes.”
“No, no, your weirdness is why I’ve always liked you, Lee Swee,” Uncle Koey said, slapping Uncle Lee Swee on the back, “which is why I offered you a role in my series when it first started. You’re always welcome on my set”—Uncle Koey paused and gave the actor a look
— “even now.”
“You know, that’s what I—”
“Wait. What am I saying? Pretend I didn’t say anything,” Uncle Koey quickly continued, shaking his head. “Anyway, I can see why you decided to go with Masters of the Screen. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic. I really hope you guys don’t have to delay the production. Do you know what happened this morning? I left before it happened. All I got was a frantic call from Boon.”
“I was not on the set this morning because I had a doctor’s appointment. It was crazy when I finally arrived. QT was yelling his head off,” Uncle Lee Swee commented.
Uncle Koey covered his eyes and shook his head, “Very weird that kid. I feel warm just looking at him and his scarves. Oh, hold on a second.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handphone. “It’s my brother. Looks like he’s back in the studio. Do you mind if we cut this short? I really want to see what’s up with him and the stolen script.”
“Sure, sure, no problem,” Uncle Lee Swee said, smiling. “We can catch up another time.”
“By the way, what did you want to discuss with me?” Uncle Koey said as they were walking away from the water kiosk. They stopped right in front of the bush we were hiding behind! I held my breath.
“Well, about your—” Uncle Lee Swee started. “AH-CHOO!”
Wendy sneezed so loudly she startled even herself. Her eyes flew open and her hands flew up to cover her mouth, but it was too late!
“AHHHHH!” Uncle Lee Swee yelled, jumping behind Uncle Koey.
“What the—” Uncle Koey said looking down at the group of us crouching behind the bush. “Are you…hiding here? What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” I immediately said. “We just wanted to ask Uncle Lee Swee for his autograph! Right, Wendy?” I nudged my sister so hard she almost fell forward.
“Yes! Right! I love watching Masters of the Screen!” Wendy gushed.
“Our entire family does,” Dad added, enthusiastically nodding. “We watch each episode at least three times.”
Uncle Lee Swee, who looked angry at first, started to smile brightly. Uncle Koey still looked slightly confused.
