8

REACHING HOME, HE CHECKS on Daniel. His son is playing with the maid in his room. Mislan leaves them and goes to his room. Stepping out of the shower, he slips on a pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and lies on the bed. Daniel comes into the room and jumps on the bed next to him.

“Daddy, Mummy called.”

Mislan looks at his son, saying nothing. Mummy is a sensitive subject with his son, and he prefers not to say anything that may hurt his son’s feelings.

“Mummy’s coming to pick me up. I’m going to spend Raya with Grandpa and Grandma.”

“Do you want to?”

Daniel nods.

“OK, when is Mummy picking you up?”

“She’s already on the way.”

“Have Sister pack your things.”

“Yes, and Sister’s coming, too.”

“But we’ve not done your shopping yet,” Mislan says, annoyed at the sudden decision by his ex-wife. “Daddy plans to do it this week.”

“Mummy said we can do that in Johor.”

“OK.”

Mislan hugs his son, hiding his disappointment at not being able to do his son’s clothing shopping with him.

Getting off the bed, he makes a call to his ex-wife. After several rings, she answers.

“Hi, dear.” She still calls him “dear,” even after the divorce. “How are you?”

“I’m OK, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Dear, I’ll take Daniel for Raya. It’s been a while since I spent time with him, and I miss him so much.”

“Great, Mi, I’m sure he’ll love it.”

He used to call her “dear,” too, but after Daniel was born he started calling her “Mi,” short for “Mummy.”

“Thanks, dear. Can I pick him up this evening? His school’s already closed, right?”

“Yes, I’ll tell Ani to pack his things,” Mislan lies, not wanting to let her know that he already knew of her coming. “What time do you want to come?”

“Actually, I’m already in KL. I had something to do this morning. I think I can be there in about thirty minutes. Dear, can you give me his passport? I want to take him to Singapore.”

“OK. Mi, I’ve not had the time to buy his baju Melayu, can you do that for me? Daniel wants one in red or blue,” he says with a chuckle. “I’ll give you some money for it.”

“I already got him one in green. All right, then, I’ll get him another one. He can use the green one for his Quran classes. Thanks, dear, and you take care.”

“You too, Mi.”

Terminating the call, he tells his son to get ready. His mother will be arriving shortly to pick him up. He watches as his son jumps off the bed, telling the maid to get ready since his mummy is coming. Mislan smiles a happy-sad smile at his son’s excitement.

After a lot of giggling and bantering between his son and the maid, they emerge from the room with each carrying a travel bag.

“Mummy’s already downstairs,” Daniel says.

“So soon?”

“Yes. Mummy called Sister.”

“OK,” Mislan says. “Come here.”

He hugs his son, telling him not to be naughty and to listen to his mother. He reminds the maid to look after Daniel and asks if she packed the fever and sore throat medicine. The maid answers yes to both.

Since his wife, Lynn, left, Mislan has not seen her or met up with her. Every time she comes to pick up or send their son back, he just stays in the apartment and looks out from the window as her car enters or leaves the compound. He fears that seeing her will only make him want her back.

After his Daniel has left, the apartment feels empty. He goes back to his bedroom and lies on the bed, missing his son. Exhaustion soon takes its toll, and he falls asleep. When he wakes up, it is almost one in the afternoon. He goes to the kitchen to make a mug of coffee and toast two slices of bread. Waiting for the bread to toast, he realizes he’s fasting and abandons them. He leaves the kitchen and calls Dr. Safia.

“Hi, Fie, you busy?”

“Hi, Lan. No, I’m not. I’m home, on leave.”

“Oh, going anywhere?”

“Thought I’d visit Mum. I haven’t spent much time with her lately. You know, with Raya around the corner and all, just want to cheer her up like the good daughter that I am,” Dr. Safia says with a chuckle. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just woke up from a nap. Hey, you heard about the murder on the DUKE?”

“Read it in the papers. Said they’re prominent business people and the police don’t suspect foul play because there was no third person involved. Is that true?”

“Did it name the source?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. You should know better than to believe what you read in the papers,” he says with a laugh.

“Why do you ask? Are you the lead on this case?”

“I’m leading for the time being, to clear some doubts. When do you plan to go to your mum’s?”

“Maybe later in the evening to break my fast with her. Why? You have anything planned?” she asks, expectantly.

“I was wondering if you would like to come with me to HKL Medical Forensics to take a peek at the deceased.”

“Why, what’s wrong with them?” Safia asks, hiding her disappointment.

“Apart from being dead, I don’t know. I was thinking, maybe, if you see the bodies you could explain to me, in lay language, some things I don’t understand. You know, those medical terms doctors use to impress the public,” Mislan teases her, deaf to her disappointment.

“Oh, you mean like the slang you guys use in the police to sound macho?” she teases him back. “I’m not sure, Lan. The attending forensic pathologist may not like it, and it can cause complications if a formal complaint is filed.”

“You’ll be coming with me as a friend, not a forensic pathologist. You know, like me showing off my macho police world to my girlfriend.”

Dr. Safia laughs.

“What time do you want to go?”

“It’s 1 now. What if I pick you up at 2? That’ll give you enough time after that to break your fast with your mum.”

“Okay, see you then.”

At the HKL Medical Forensics, Mislan parks his car by the roadside, tells Dr. Safia and Johan to wait while he goes into the morgue to inquire and to arrange for the viewing. A few minutes later he stomps out, furious and swearing.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Safia asks.

Shaking his head, he walks to the car, unlocks it, snatches his pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, and lights up.

“Are you not fasting?” Johan asks.

“I was until now.”

“You can’t smoke here, it’s a hospital compound,” Dr. Safia tells him. “What happened in there?”

“The bodies have been released,” he snarls. “Last night, the doctor said he’d hold on until we talked to our Forensics.”

“Calm down. Find out what happened before you blame the doctors,” Dr. Safia says. “Maybe there was no valid reason for the bodies to be detained. They’re Muslim, and you know that burial should take place at the earliest possible opportunity.”

Mislan takes several long drags, drops the cigarette, and squashes it on the pavement.

“I expected it.”

“What?”

“The interference.”

“What interference?”

“Last night, there was a Tan Sri Kudin and YB Ibrahim here. They’re pressuring the pathologist and me to release the bodies. It appears the male deceased was a crony of people in high places.”

“All the more reason for you to know the reason for the release. It could give you some idea about what you may face in the future.”

Mislan admits she is making sense and calms down.

“Since we’re here, it’s worth checking out Dr. Safia’s suggestion,” Johan says.

Safia reaches for his hand and leads him back toward the main gate of the Medical Forensics. His cell phone rings.

“Ma’am.”

“Lan, did I wake you up? Sorry,” Superintendent Samsiah says.

“No, I’m at HKL Medical Forensics. Anything, ma’am?”

“Just to update you, I was called in by OCCI and he said there are requests from certain parties for this case to be closed ASAP. I made some inquiries about your vic, Mahadi, and as you said, he was very well-connected. I was also told there was something about him in the news a few months ago regarding a run-in with the MACC.”

“The Anti-Corruption Commission?”

“Yes, it could be nothing. It may not be related to your case. What I’m saying is, tread with caution.”

“Always. Thanks, ma’am.”

After leaving HKL Medical Forensics, he drops Dr. Safia off at her condominium and puts through a call to see if Chew is in the office. At the Bandar Tun Razak roundabout, he turns toward the Crime Forensics Laboratory in Cheras.

“What do you make of the release?” Johan asks.

“You heard what Dr. Bakar said. He’s a forensic pathologist. Can you blame him for wanting to keep his job?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where else can he work, if not with the government?”

“He’s a doctor, isn’t he?”

“Yes, a doctor who works on dead people. We do not live in a country where there’s a demand for independent forensic pathologists. Look at the Beng Hock case, the independent forensic pathologists were all from other countries.”

“Then why become a forensic pathologist?”

“Good question. The next time you see Dr. Safia, you ask her,” Mislan says.

Johan laughs.

“Well, at least he was helpful. Remind me to pass on Leha’s laptop to Di. I need her to hack the passwords, if any. We must also get Chew to print out the photographs from Dr. Bakar. I’m sure his color printer is better than ours.”

“What were you expecting to find? I mean, you wanted Dr. Safia to view the bodies, what were you looking for?”

“Nothing that wasn’t found by Dr. Matthews or Dr. Bakar. As I said, I need someone to explain to me in layman’s language. Most of the time, when we get an autopsy report, we only look at the cause of death, because we don’t understand most of the medical jargon. The vital clues in the report are always elsewhere, like in the defensive wounds, pre- and post-death injury or trauma, things that tell you more about what actually happened.”

“Can’t you ask the forensic pathologist who performed the autopsy?”

“I can, but the problem is, I don’t know them like I know her. The thing with an autopsy report is it tells you what caused the death and what the pathologists observed. With Dr. Safia, I can ask her what may or could have caused what was observed. That’s what I need, the understanding of what may and could. She’ll answer all my stupid questions without judgment.”

“Oh. I always thought you guys understood the reports. So, has my admiration for you been misguided?” Johan says.

Mislan just had to laugh at the way his assistant put it.