Spirit Tiger by Barbara Ismail Page A

that’s the right word. He had no way of getting any money: not the kind of money he owed.’
    â€˜How much was that?’ Rubiah asked.
    Yunus looked uncomfortable. ‘A lot,’ he answered slowly. Rubiah looked enquiringly at him, awaiting a more solid answer. ‘Over 5,000 ringgit,’ Yunus muttered.
    Maryam was aghast. How could anyone come up with that kind of money, and for what? Nothing. Gambling. No wonder Munira said they were ruined. Maryam had wondered whether she was being dramatic, but now she thought she was downplaying it. It was an enormous amount of money.
    â€˜Alamak!’ she blurted. Yunus nodded.
    â€˜Amazing, isn’t it, that Yusuf would let him run it up that high? I guess he thought he’d take his land, but he can’t. You see, I had it signed over to me after the last time I bailed him out, so he had nothing in his name anymore. Yusuf was bound to be unhappy when he realized it.’Yunus, on the other hand, looked quite satisfied at the thought. ‘Rus just couldn’t be trusted,’ he said sadly.
    â€˜What happened last week?’
    Yunus shook his head. ‘I can’t do it anymore. I told him that. It’s not as if it’s an emergency, now it’s just what he does all the time. And the sums! This is a lot of money! I told him to go, I couldn’t help him.’
    â€˜Was he angry?’
    Yunus considered this. ‘Maybe a little. But not so much angry as … desperate. He knew why I said no, I think he understood it. But he wasn’t thinking clearly, he just wanted a way out, and I couldn’t give it to him. He asked me what he would do now.’ Yunus looked sad again. ‘I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell him anything. And then he left.’
    â€˜And you haven’t seen him since?’
    Yunus shook his head again. ‘Munira says he’s gone?’
    Maryam nodded. ‘Since the morning after he spoke to you.’
    â€˜That’s a long time.’
    â€˜Yes, it is,’ she agreed.
    He sighed. ‘I hope he’s alright. But I fear he isn’t.’
    Suleiman and Khatijah had completed their disgrace, living in one of the most ramshackle homes either Maryam or Rubiah had ever seen. The house itself looked slovenly, listing slightly to the side as if too lazy to actually stand up straight. It was on the other side of Kota Bharu, towards Pengkalan Cepa, behind some shop houses. It slouched alone, as an afterthought, not part of a kampong . Maryam thought it an apt symbol of Suleiman’s current status: outside the web of Malay society, alone, untethered, disreputable. She purposely tried to smooth her face of all expression, so her disapproval would not show and her quarry would not be reluctant to speak with her.
    Khatijah came to the door before Maryam and Rubiah could ascend to the house, and greeted them effusively. Maryam surmised they received very few visitors.
    â€˜Come in, come in,’ she urged them with a broad smile, ‘get out of the sun. It’s too hot, isn’t it? Come, Mak Cik , have something to drink and be comfortable.’
    She held out a hand to help them up the last rung of the ladder to the tiny porch, and into the living room, which was small and airless. They smiled and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall nearest the door, hoping for a breath of air. Khatijah bustled into the kitchen and began making tea.
    â€˜How nice of you to stop by! Of course, I’ve heard of you. You’re the famous Mak Cik detectives,’ Rubiah winced to hear it. ‘So clever! I admire you, being so brave and smart,’ she chattered on.
    Maryam and Rubiah looked around the bare room, with only two tikar , sleeping mats, rolled up in a corner. Other than that, the room was bare, with little sign of habitation. Maryam looked for traces of Suleiman’s presence, or that of the child she heard they’d adopted, but the room remained empty.