56

MISLAN DROPS DR. SAFIA off at her condominium and drives Johan back to the office. Before going home, he tells his assistant to get a good night’s rest, as he anticipates tomorrow to be a long and trying day. He thinks of calling his boss to update her, but changes his mind and decides to do it in the morning, after morning prayers. He remembers the DNA samples taken from the suspect’s car. Chew said the results were supposed to come in before the end of office hours. I’ll call him first thing in the morning, he reminds himself. Not trusting his overworked brain, he takes out his cell phone and writes reminders under tomorrow’s calendar: call Chew for DNA results, check on remand for suspect, write official letter of request for medical report under section 58 of CPC, brief ma’am. He thinks of other tasks that need to be done and remembers the victim’s notebook. Fadillah, the Forensics computer technician, gave him a thumb drive containing copies of the contents of the female victim’s laptop, and he adds to the list: review Zaleha’s laptop contents.

After a cold shower, he makes a mug of strong black coffee and sits at his desk. Switching on his laptop, he plugs in the thumb drive labeled Zaleha Laptop Contents. Several folders appear, most of them containing business-related documents. One folder, Memories, contains photos of her, Mahadi, family members, and friends. A file named Draft Report catches his eye. Opening the file, he finds a draft police report of the assault. The draft is brief but detailed, naming Mama Bee, Hashim, and Mokthar as the assailants. There is also an account of the allegations and threats:

If you see him again, there, inside there’s where your body will be, understand.

Whore, you think you can steal another’s husband.

You think you can steal our inheritance.

Even if you die, no one will care.

He calls Johan and gives him the name of the twenty-four-hour clinic Zaleha visited, telling him to visit the clinic on his way home and get a copy of her medical report. He scrolls down and opens another file, titled Preparation List. The file contains travel plans, invitees, events, and items needed for her impending marriage ceremony. He leans back and wonders what their lives would have been like, married. Then his cell phone rings.

“I’m about to sleep,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” Audi says.

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do, OK. Hey, do you know that Mahadi’s wife has cancer?”

“Nope,” he lies.

“Well, she does and she’s undergoing treatment at University Hospital. I just found out from my source. It seems she’s really ill.”

“So?”

“Just thought you might want to know. Wait a minute. You knew, didn’t you?”

“Nope, but thanks for the info. Look, I’m really beat. I need to get some sleep or I’ll get grumpy and unfriendly. Good night.”

Audi’s call brings his mind back to the case. The threats and assaults on Zaleha provide the keys to the motive. Money—a piece of printed paper with pictures of dead people. A piece of paper that is not even big enough to wipe your ass, but people will slave for, cheat, lie, die, and kill for. It always has been that way, still is, and will continue to be. Men created money and sell their souls to have it. He turns off his laptop, gets under the blanket, and sleeps restfully.