53
THEY ENTER THE INTERVIEW room to see Hashim pushing away the Styrofoam food pack. He barely touched it. His face shows disgust, implying the food is unfit for him. Johan takes offense of the suspect’s snobbish attitude.
Mocking the suspect, he says, “The rice’s not up to your standards? Well, you’d better learn to enjoy it, because where you’re going, that’s gourmet food.”
“You eat it,” Hashim sneers back, pushing the packet carelessly toward Johan.
Johan turns red, takes a menacing step toward the suspect and is stopped by his lead investigator. They sit and Mislan tells Syed to clear the lunch pack. He lights a cigarette, leans back, and stares at the suspect without saying a word. He finishes his cigarette and lights up another one, continuing to stare at the suspect without flinching or saying anything.
“What?!” Hashim finally snaps.
Mislan remains silent, keeps staring, and continues smoking.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Hashim barks.
Mislan smiles, an act he knows will agitate the suspect further. He knows the suspect has taken the bait and is ready.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“I’ll tell you what’s so damn funny. You, that’s what . . . a middle-aged mama’s boy trying to act macho. I’m sure Mama will be proud of you.”
The mention of his mother pushes Hashim to explode—his fist clenched, his eyes bloodshot, and the veins in his neck bulging. “Don’t you ever dare mention my mother, you pile of cow dung,” he hisses.
“Woo, I’m scared,” Johan says, laughing.
Hashim turns to him.
“You’d better be. I’ll have your job before all this is over.”
“So, mama’s boy, did mama tell you there’s nothing to worry about and that she’ll take care of everything?”
“I said not to bring my mother into this,” Hashim screams at Mislan. “You fucking shithead!”
Mislan knows he has provoked the suspect to a point where his ego will rule his brain. It’s time to start the interview. Mislan switches on the recorder and asks, “Did you have a Mahyudin Maidin working for your company?”
Hashim stares at him, not answering.
“I understand. Mama told her little boy not to say anything to us, right?” Mislan provokes him.
The suspect hisses at him like a king cobra. Mislan can see him grinding his teeth.
“Do you know of a person by the name of Mahyudin Maidin a.k.a. Mamak Din?” Mislan presses on.
“Yes, damn it, yes,” Hashim says, leering at the inspector.
“Was he an employee of your company?”
“No, he was a friend.”
“What sort of friend? A business friend . . . a social friend, or an acquaintance?”
“A friend friend.”
“I heard he was more than a friend. My source says he did work for you.”
“He ran errands for me and many others. Is that a crime?”
“What sort of errands did he do for you?”
“Business.”
“You mean like bribing, muscle-flexing, arm-twisting?”
Hashim stares at him, saying nothing.
“Were you with him on the night your father and Miss Zaleha were killed?”
“I was with some friends at breaking of fast.”
“Was Mahyudin one of them?”
“No.”
“Did you meet him on the night of the incident?”
“I’ve already said no.”
“What about after the murder, did you meet him?”
“I did not meet him, and the last I heard he died in a car chase that you provoked him into. Why are you asking me about him?”
Mislan smiles and says to himself, strike one. He knows the lies are coming, and there is no stopping.
“Do you know why he ran away from us?”
“Because you shitheads are so ugly he thought you were the walking dead,” Hashim says, and laughs at his own joke.
“Maybe he thought we were your ugly mama’s twin brothers,” Johan responds, drawing another venomous hiss from the suspect.
Mislan laughs at Johan’s response, making the suspect furious.
“Why did Mahyudin run?” Mislan repeats his question.
“How the fuck should I know?”
Mislan lights another cigarette, giving the suspect all the time he needs to fan his anger. He switches to another topic.
“Whose office were you in when we arrested you?”
“Mine.”
“I thought that was your father’s office. Your office is on level two.”
“I’ve been appointed the executive chairman of the company, so it’s my office,” Hashim replies scornfully.
“Who made you the executive chairman? You?” Johan pokes.
“None of your fucking business.”
“Mama?” Mislan guesses.
“You go to hell!” Hashim screams.
Mislan knows he has the suspect’s brain pumped and goes into rapid questioning mode.“The safe in your office. Do you use it?”
“Yes,
“Who has the combination?”
“Me.”
“Who else?”
“No one.”
“What about your brothers?”
“No.”
“Your mama?”
“No!” Hashim snarls.
“When you opened it, was that the original combination?”
“No, I changed it when I moved into the office.” Straightaway, Hashim knew he had fallen into the interviewer’s trap.
You are not as smart as you think, dumbass, Mislan says to himself and pushes on.
“The Walther PPK .32 found in your safe, it’s the gun your father reported stolen from his car at the golf club, is it not?”
Hashim shuts down again, staring at him.
“Can you explain how it got into your safe?”
The suspect keeps staring at Mislan, not answering.
“Can you explain how a gun reported stolen by your father three months ago was found inside your safe?” Mislan repeats firmly.
“I bet you, sir, it was his mama who put it there,” Johan says to Mislan.
The suspect lunges at Johan, the fist of his one free hand missing the detective sergeant’s face by a few inches.
Johan smiles, saying, “Temper, temper.”
“How did the gun get into the safe in your office?”
“I don’t know. It must have been in there from my father’s time.”
“You said earlier that you changed the combination. How did you do it without opening the safe?”
Hashim thinks for a while and lamely offers, “Maybe someone put it there.”
“Who might that someone have been? You just said that you changed the combination when you moved into the office, and you’re the only one who knows the new combination. So, who could’ve put the gun there?”
The suspect remains silent, and Mislan registers strike two. He sees the suspect reverting to his mute mode. It’s time to provoke him further.
“Maybe your mama knows the combination and she put it there.”
The mention of his mother makes the suspect snap. “I told you not to bring my mother into this. She does not know the combination. Only I know it.”
Mislan decides it is time to change the line of questioning. He brings the suspect back to the first subject.
“Did you meet with Mahyudin before your father was killed?”
“I already told you, NO. How many times do I have to tell you? No, fucking no.”
“Did you call and speak to Mahyudin an hour or two before your father was killed?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you speak to or call your father an hour or two before he was killed?”
“No.”
“Then how do you explain your cell phone call listing, which shows you made a call to your father then to Mahyudin before your father and Zaleha were killed?”
“I don’t know. OK, maybe someone used my phone, maybe I did but I don’t remember.”
“That’s odd. I’m sure you’d remember if you spoke to your father before he was killed. It’s something a son would cherish and tell others. That is, unless you don’t want people to know. So, which is it?”
“I already told you, I don’t remember,” Hashim snaps. “It’s all hazy, and I’m confused.”
As the interview continues, more and more lies pour out from the suspect. Mislan and Johan have a field day recording them. Superintendent Samsiah was right—arrogant people have little control over their desire to show off. After nearly three hours, Mislan ends the interview. He asks Johan to arrange for the suspect to be sent to detention for the night and for his remand application the following day.