32
MISLAN STIRS IN BED, rolls to his side, and strains to look at the clock. 2:40 p.m. He has slept soundly, exhausted from the long night. It’s later than his normal wake-up time after a twenty-four-hour shift. There was no morning prayer or meeting due to the festive holiday. A meeting he now desperately yearns for, a meeting where he can seek assistance from Superintendent Samsiah. His suspect’s personal belongings, including his cell phone, are in the hands of Rawang Police, a district under the jurisdiction of Selangor Police, where Datuk Jalil is the Police Chief and Superintendent Malik is stationed. Mislan is certain the news of his suspect’s accident had reached him. For Mislan to ask Rawang Police to hand over the suspect’s belongings will be met with a firm “no.”
He lies in bed for a while, recollecting the events of the night, and remembers Jamie. What the hell happened to her? He recalls Johan saying he would keep her company until she finds a place to stay. She must have many friends with whom she could bunk for a day or two. He reaches for his phone, there are two WhatsApp messages. One is from Dr. Safia asking if he would like to have lunch. Since it is almost three, lunch is out. He WhatsApps her back, apologizing for not replying sooner, and asks if she’d like to have tea later. The other WhatsApp was from Audi, informing him that Daud Nordin has been identified by her friend as the chairman of Serendah Village Development and Security Committee, the JKKK. He WhatsApps Audi, thanking her, and inquires if she made it to the scene last night. Then he speed-dials his ex-wife to speak to Daniel. He hears her calling their son: “Daddy’s on the line.”
“Hi, Daddy. I’m busy, can you call me later?” Daniel says, panting.
“Hi kiddo. What are you busy doing?”
“I’m playing with my friends. They’re teaching me how to play congkak.”
“Congkak? Wow, Daddy didn’t know you liked playing those games. Hey, Daddy misses you.”
“Miss you, too.”
“Okay, have fun, kiddo.”
Forcing himself to get out of bed, he sips his cold coffee and lights a cigarette. His cell phone rings. It is Superintendent Samsiah.
“Morning, ma’am.”
“It’s after two, Lan, are you still in bed?”
“Sorry, my brain decided to take a longer rest than usual. Anything, ma’am?” he asks.
“I received a very disturbing call from CP Selangor, something about you conducting a raid in Selayang without coordinating with them and ending up with a dead suspect. Please tell me he’s wrong.”
“He’s wrong.”
The line goes silent.
After a few moments she says, “I’m not in the mood for one of your smartass answers. Give it to me straight, what happened last night?”
“Chew lifted two partial prints from the vic’s car. One matched an ex-con, Mahyudin Maidin a.k.a. Mamak Din. I got Bentong Police to check his listed address, but he bolted when the detectives arrived.”
“I don’t need the full report, just give me the short version,” Superintendent Samsiah snaps.
“To cut a long story short, Setapak MPV spotted the suspect’s car, there was a chase, the suspect rammed MPV blockage, crashed into a monsoon drain, and died.”
“If it’s Setapak, why did CP Selangor call me saying it was in Selayang?”
“The chase started from Setapak and ended in Selayang. Oh, I forgot to mention that the Selangor MPV crew discharged several shots.”
“Anyone hit?”
“No. The suspect died from the crash.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“We visited the suspect’s house and found some exhibits that may put him in the car when the vics were killed. Our D10 has bagged the evidence and sent it to Forensics.”
“I’m not going to ask how you got into the suspect’s house. Lan, stay out of trouble and let me know what Forensics finds.”
“Will do, and, ma’am, since you’re on the line, is it possible for us to take custody of the suspect’s cell phone and vehicle, linking it to our investigation?”
“Is it critical to your investigation?”
“The cell phone yes and the vehicle possibly. I won’t know until Forensics goes through it.”
“Selangor D10 is handling that, right? They’ll do a good job. Let the storm settle before we move on that. I’m coming in for an hour tomorrow around ten, drop by my office and we’ll talk.”
He gets dressed, calls Johan, inquiring about Jamie’s whereabouts, detects a slight hesitation, and hears her cheery voice calling out from the background.
“Jo, is that Jamie?” Mislan asks his assistant.
“Yes, and I can explain.”
Mislan starts laughing.
“You had better but not to me. Ma’am was just on the phone, and Selangor is pissed. If she finds out about this, make sure you have a bloody good explanation. I’m going out for tea with Dr. Safia. You want to come?”
“Can Jamie come?”
“I guess so. I’m picking Dr. Safia up and will meet you at Starbucks at the Pavilion in about an hour.”
Traffic is still light, and it takes him twenty minutes to reach Dr. Safia’s place in Cheras and another fifteen to the Pavilion in Bukit Bintang. Pavilion Shopping Center is one of the latest malls to open in the Golden Triangle. Unlike the Golden Triangle of Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar that is infamous for drugs, Kuala Lumpur’s Golden Triangle is congested with luxury hotels, malls, bars, entertainment outlets and restaurants—a tourist trap.
As usual, Dr. Safia is dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt and carries an oversized handbag. They choose a table outside, and he goes in to get their orders.
“You sure you want to sit out here? I’m so hot and sticky,” she says.
“I know, but we can’t smoke in there.” Mislan jerks his head at the indoor section.
“There was some news report on TV this morning about a car chase. It said the suspect rammed into a patrol car. The driver lost control and plunged into a ditch, killing himself. It also said the suspect could be linked to the DUKE homicides.”
“Did it?” Mislan shakes his head but cannot hide a smile, “I don’t know where these media people get their stories. Was it in the papers?”
She raises her eyebrows.
“You know there’s no newspaper today, the press was closed yesterday for Raya.”
Mislan smiles, “I don’t keep track of all these things. Where did you go after we left?”
“Home. So tell me what happened?”
He sees Johan and Jamie coming.
“That’s what happened,” he says, tilting his head toward the approaching two.
Dr. Safia turns around and sees Johan and Jamie walking toward them. “What?”
“The chase resulted in her. The suspect’s girlfriend or former girlfriend and now I think Jo’s new girlfriend.”
“You’re kidding!”
Her squeal attracts curious looks from the other tables.
“Shhh, not too loud, Fie,” he cautions her. “As the saying goes, one person’s loss . . .”
“There’s no such saying. You guys are unbelievable. You kill a suspect and Jo wins his girlfriend as a trophy. I’m speechless.”
“Let’s get one thing straight: We did not kill the suspect. He killed himself.”
Johan introduces Jamie to Dr. Safia and goes to the counter to place their orders. Seeing Dr. Safia gawking at Jamie, Mislan taps her thigh under the table and gives her an eye signal to stop staring.
Jamie lights up and says, “It’s hot out here, don’t you guys want to move inside?”
“You can’t smoke in there. Jamie, did you have a good rest?” Mislan says.
Jamie jerks her head toward Johan and giggles mischievously in answer to Mislan’s question. The two women size up one another up as they chat. As the sun goes down, it becomes a little cooler, but the humidity lingers.
“Hey, how about we go to a karaoke?” Jamie suggests out of the blue. “There’s a Red Box up here. I know the manager; he always gives me a good discount. Anyway, it’s too hot here,” she pleads, giving Johan puppy eyes.
“Yeah, why not,” Johan agrees.
Dr. Safia, who is fast becoming Jamie’s latest best friend, seals their friendship by agreeing, and they all turn to Mislan for the final vote.
“What the heck, why not?” he concedes.
They take the elevator up to Red Box. While registering for a room, he hears someone calling, “Inspector,” several times. Turning around, he sees Audi waving from across the concourse and walking briskly toward them with a man trying hard to keep pace with her.
“Shit! That’s all I need, now,” Mislan sighs.
“Who’s that?” Dr. Safia asks.
“BN,” Mislan snarls.
“Huh? Barisan National?” Dr. Safia says, referring to the ruling party.
“Bad News,” he says.
“Fancy seeing you here. So, this is how you let off steam,” Audi says.
“Audi, this is Safia and Jamie. For your information, this is not how I let off steam. I shoot people like you to let off steam.”
“I know you,” she says, addressing Dr. Safia. “You’re a forensic pathologist with HUKM. His girl,” she says nudging Mislan.
Dr. Safia smiles.
“And who’s your friend?” Mislan asks.
“Oh, Nazim. Nazim, this is Inspector Mislan, Detective Sergeant Johan, Dr. Safia and . . .”
“Jamie,” Johan answers.
“Can we join you guys? I love karaoke.”
They look at each other and, before anyone can say anything, Audi is already dragging Nazim into the lounge.
At two in the morning, Mislan feels he has had enough. He announces his intention to call it a day and is bombarded with protests.
“What’s the rush? The night is still young,” Jamie insists.
“It’s a package, we can use the room until closing time. Why waste it?” Audi says.
“Yes, Lan, what’s the hurry? Do you have something to do?” Jamie’s latest best friend, Dr. Safia, says.
“Nothing. We’ve been in here for almost five hours. I just think that’s more than enough singing or shall I say, in the case of you guys, croaking for one day.”
“Something is bothering you, I can sense it,” Dr. Safia whispers in Mislan’s ear.
“No, I need some fresh air. I can’t stand being contained in a box like this for too long.”
“OK, let’s go. The rest of you can stay if you want.”
Dr. Safia stands and presses the service call button.
A waiter enters and Mislan asks for the bill. The waiter informs him the bill has been paid and leaves.
“Jo, did you pay the bill?” he shouts over Jamie’s singing, which is more like murdering the song.
Johan shakes his head.
“Listen, did any of you pay the bill?” he shouts.
The group looks at him blank. Mislan steps out and walks toward the registration counter with Dr. Safia close behind. He inquires about their bill and is told all their bills have been settled in full by a man that came in with them. The man deposited RM500 to cover the entrance charges and any additional orders. The girl behind the reception counter says there’s still a balance of RM140. The rest of the group catches up with them at the counter. The receptionist offers to give Mislan the balance but he turns it down. Jamie signals the receptionist to hand the money over to her and stuffs it in her handbag saying, “It is bad luck to refuse money.”
“Did you know the man? Have you seen him before?” Mislan asks.
“No. I thought he was with your group because he came in after you.”
“Is he still here?”
“I don’t know, he walked in but I don’t know if he is still inside. He could’ve left, a lot of customers do walk in and out. Is there something wrong?”
“No, no, everything’s fine. Can you describe him?”
“Malay, about your height, short hair a little longer than yours, brown skin, around thirty.”
“You’ve given us a description of about a million Malay men,” Mislan says.
“Was there anything distinctive about him that you can recall: glasses, scars, accent, anything?”
The receptionist shakes her head.
“It’s OK then. Can I have the bill?”
“The one of the million Malay men that I described has taken the original,” she chuckles. “I can print you a copy if you want.”
“You’re a smartass, aren’t you? Yes, please print me a copy.”
Mislan looks up at the ceiling for CCTV and seeing none he asks the receptionist.
“You don’t have CCTV?”
“No, management said people will avoid the place if we install cameras.”
“Why?” Johan asks.
“Most customers come here to relax and have fun with their . . . you know. If we put cameras, they’ll be afraid their wives or husbands can check and find out,” the receptionist explains and smiles.
“Smart,” Johan admits.