31
TEN MINUTES LATER, MISLAN hears Jamie’s stilettos on the bare concrete floor, accompanied by giggles and laughter as she and his assistant return to the office. Jamie looks fresh and happy, but once inside the interview room, reality returns. She sits upright, rigidly in her chair. She sips her coffee and lights another cigarette, clearly anxious. Mislan turns on the digital recorder and notices her eyebrows rise.
“Do you really need to record this?” she pleads.
“As I said, I’m old and my short-term memory is fading,” he answers, smiling to calm her.
“You’re not old, just too serious and grumpy. You should see some of the men that make a pass at me, they’re old—Jurassic,” she says, grinning.
The two D9 officers laugh.
“Pay no attention to it.” Mislan says and lights a cigarette. “How long have you known Mahyudin?”
“About five months or so. We met at a salsa club. I was there to meet some friends, and he was with them. One of my friends said he wanted to learn to salsa and persuaded me to teach him. We became friends. One thing led to another, and I moved in with him about a month back.”
“Do you salsa?” Johan butts in.
“Yes, I love salsa. I was offered an opportunity to teach but turned it down. I love to dance. I don’t mind teaching a friend but not as a full-time job. It’s my way of keeping fit and having fun. Do you salsa?”
“I don’t, but I love to watch. It’s so physical, so exotic . . . sexy,” Johan says.
“Do you know the line of work he was in?” Mislan asks, getting her back on the subject.
“He said he was a personal assistant or bodyguard to a big shot, but he didn’t mention a name.”
“Have you seen this big shot before?”
“Once, but I wasn’t introduced to him. A few months ago, I was with him when we stopped at a Chinese coffee shop in Sri Hartamas because he had to meet his boss. I waited in the car, and when he came back, he pointed out a man to me and said that was his boss. He looked young for a big shot.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I only had a brief look.”
“When was the last time you saw Mahyudin before tonight?”
“Tuesday, Wednesday, I don’t remember, why?”
“Where?”
“We were supposed to go clubbing but he canceled, said he had to do something. He drove me to the Petronas in Keramat and dropped me off. Then the idiot told me to walk to my friend’s house in Kampung Warisan, a mile away.”
Mislan looks at his assistant, lifting his eyebrows. Johan nods.
“Did he say why?”
“He said he was late and if he took me home, he’d have to make a big detour back to the station. He didn’t want to be late. What a lame excuse.”
“Did he say what he was late for?”
“I was too upset to ask. Anyway, I wasn’t interested, but if I had known of its importance to you, I would’ve asked,” she answers cheekily.
“There are many Petronas stations in Keramat. Which one did he drop you off at? What time?”
“It was the Petronas near Kampung Warisan, and it was a little after breaking of fast, close to eight.”
“On Jalan Jelatek?”
Jamie nods. Mislan pauses for a moment, then:
“What happened after he dropped you off?”
“I got a taxi and went to my friend’s house. He called me again after ten, and we met at the Cuba club.”
“Now, I want you to think hard,” Mislan says after another pause. “When you met Mahyudin at the club, was he in the same clothes as when he dropped you off at the Petronas?”
Jamie closes her eyes, tilts her head back in deep thought. Opening her eyes, she smiles.
“I don’t know about the pants, but I’m sure he had a different shirt on.”
“Would you be able to identify the shirt?”
“Of course, I can, it was a maroon polo shirt. I’ve taken it off him many times,” Jamie teases, chuckling.
“Where is the shirt now?”
“I don’t know, maybe in his house or at the laundry.”
“How about his trousers?”
“They were dark, he had many pairs in dark colors. I don’t remember which ones he was wearing.”
“OK good. Jamie, I want to visit his house . . . your house. Do you object?”
“No, of course not.”
“You have the keys?”
“Of course, I live there.”
Bandar Tasik Puteri is twenty-sixty miles north and takes about forty minutes to reach on the North South Highway. It is a fairly new township, built around the Tasik Puteri Golf & Country Club, which is known for its pretty Indonesian caddies. Johan hits the highway, exiting at the Rawang Toll Plaza. The road is narrow, and there are hardly any cars on it. Johan takes the opportunity to speed on the empty road. The bullet puncture on the passenger door whistles eerily in the dark and deserted village road. He makes a left to Bandar Tasik Puteri, where the road widens into a divided highway. Jamie guides them to a two-story link house just before the golf club. Stepping out of the car, they hear the azan for the dawn prayer.
She is already holding the house keys in her hand as they enter the gate. Letting them in, she leads them to the master bedroom. She opens the wardrobe, pulls out the drawers, and shakes her head. Then she sifts through the laundry basket.
“Nope, they’re not here.”
“Maybe it’s at the laundry?” Johan offers.
“Maybe, I don’t know. He usually sends and picks them up himself.”
“Do you know which laundry?”
“The one down the road. Wait, I need to use the bathroom.” She opens the bathroom door, stands at the doorway, and yells.
“I’ve found it.”
Mislan and Johan dash to the bathroom.
“In the pail,” she says.
The pail is full of water with a maroon polo shirt soaking in it. Jamie steps into the bathroom toward the pail.
“Stop, don’t touch it,” Mislan barks, startling her.
Turning to him, she barks back angrily, “I was going bring the pail to you. You don’t have to shout at me for wanting to help.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you. Please don’t touch it. Jo, call D10 and ask them to send a team here. I need them to bag the item and send it to Forensics to be logged in with the rest of our exhibits.”
Johan steps out into the bathroom. A few seconds later, he says, “D10 is on the way. What’s that going to prove?”
“Hey, I need to use the bathroom, I need to wee-wee. Can you step out for a minute?” Jamie says.
“Can you use another bathroom?” Mislan asks.
“The other one is not in use and has nothing in it. Why? Are you afraid I’ll steal your evidence?” she asks, daring the inspector.
“Would you?”
“I brought you here, I told you about the shirt, what do you think I’m going to do with it? Stuff it in my panties?” Jamie says angrily. “OK, stand there if you wish, I’m going to pee with you there.”
“Sorry,” Mislan says and steps out of the bathroom. “Leave the door slightly open.”
“You want to peek?” Jamie retorts, laughing.
“Back to your question,” Mislan says, turning to his assistant. “The T-shirt puts the suspect in the vic’s car at the time they were killed.”
“But we already have his prints inside the car and the GSR on his steering wheel.”
“The print only puts him in the car but says nothing about timing. The GSR could be pooh-poohed away as transfers when he went to the shooting range with friends. If Forensics finds what I think they’ll find, we can put him in the car at a very specific time . . . when the vics were killed.”
Johan nods, admitting Mislan is right. This is a high-profile case, and they need to be sure of everything before they act against the killer.
While waiting for D10 to arrive, they go to the living room, and Mislan asks if he can smoke. Jamie brings him an ashtray and goes into the kitchen to make some coffee. When she comes back with three mugs, Mislan asks if she can show him around the master bedroom. She raises her eyebrows and asks mischievously, “Is it part of the investigation?”
Johan laughs, and Mislan realizes how indecent his request must have sounded.
He laughs, too. “What I meant was, I would like to have a look at his things.”
“I might consider your offer and maybe show you what a real woman is made of,” she teases him.
She walks up the stairs, wagging her firm ass playfully. She points at a drawer.
“That’s where he kept all his things. I’ve never opened it, so I don’t know what’s inside.”
Johan pulls the drawer and empties the contents onto the bed. They sift through the documents and loose items. There are two bankbooks, lawyers’ letters, cigarette lighters and matches, a Swiss Army pocket knife, medicines, plasters, condoms, lubricant, flashlight—the sort of junk active bachelors would normally dump into a drawer. Johan picks up the box of condoms and lubricant and tosses it to the middle of the bed, and Jamie grins.
“Woo, those are critical evidence,” she jokes.
“Not serious, damning evidence,” Johan titters.
Mislan picks up the two bankbooks.
“These must be the two accounts Amita mentioned.”
He jots down the account numbers and places them back into the pile. Stepping out of the master bedroom, he asks who occupied the other two rooms.
“There was no one when I moved in, but Din said a couple had occupied one room earlier and his friend Zubir used to stay in the other.”
“Does this Zubir work with him?”
“I don’t know, I met him a few times at the Cuba club. He gives me the creeps. An asshole. You know the kind that thinks they’re so macho they can treat women like pieces of meat.”
Johan nods, much to Jamie’s delight. They soon start to chat, joke, and banter about music, movies, and hobbies. They’re like old friends, oblivious that she could be an accessory to a double murder. She shows off some salsa moves and persuades Johan to try them. Mislan watches and smiles.
When the D10 team arrives, reality prevails again. The mood becomes serious. Mislan leads the team to the bathroom where the pail is.
“Can you bag that?”
“We’ll take samples of the water then bag the contents of the pail. Get some photos, first,” the supervisor says to the photo technician.
“Let me know when you’re done, I’ll be downstairs.” Mislan returns to the living room and is greeted by a weary Jamie.
“Now what happens?”
“Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?”
“The night is over. I can go to a friend’s house in Setiawangsa. Let me call her and see if she’s home.” Jamie makes the call and says after a while, “She’s not answering. Probably sleeping. Can I not follow you to your office?”
“Sure,” Johan answers a little too quickly. He looks at his boss and grins. The D10 crew comes downstairs, and Mislan tells them to send the exhibits along with the swab taken earlier by ASP Markit, to Forensics for Chew’s attention.