die. He imagined very few people wanted to die. But he
knew death made its own, sometimes bizarre choices as to when and
where it greeted each of us. He simply wasn’t inclined to use up
any of whatever days or years he had left on this earth worrying
about how many days or years he had left on this earth.
There were enough things in his life he could
do something about. That wasn’t one of them.
***
Tay glanced around the room. It had obviously
been searched in the same way the living room had: quickly and not
very thoroughly.
He walked over to the dresser and worked his
way through the drawers. Nothing at all in the first two. In the
third drawer there were two packs of Nicorette gum and a dog-eared
paperback copy of a novel called Private Dancer . Tay had
never heard of the book and from the slightly lurid cover he could
easily understand why. He picked it up and glanced at the title
page. Published in Thailand. No wonder he had never heard of
it.
Nicorette gum he had heard of. It
contained nicotine and people who were trying to quit smoking
chewed it, didn’t they? Perhaps the man, whoever he was, had a
taste for pulp fiction, was trying to quit smoking, and had just
arrived in Singapore from Thailand. At least it was a theory,
wasn’t it?
“FMB says they’re pretty busy, sir.”
Tay glanced up and saw Kang in the doorway
holding his cell phone in his hand.
“They told me they’d try to get somebody out
here in a couple of hours.”
Tay nodded. “Go down and talk to the kids who
found the body and to the woman who phoned it in. See if the
patrolmen missed anything. I’ll take a look around the apartment
again and then we’ll get out of here.”
As soon as Tay had said the words, he
realized how badly he did want to get out of there and as
far away from that apartment as he could.
He could feel the air quivering all around
him. He had no idea what it meant, if it meant anything at all, but
it scared the bejesus out of him.
NINE
TWO DAYS PASSED without Tay making any
progress at all in finding out who the dead man at the Woodlands
HDB estate was, let alone figuring out who killed him. He stayed in
his office, mostly, leaving the matter of getting an ID on their
corpse largely to Sergeant Kang. He simply didn’t want to encounter
his colleagues who were working the various aspects of the bombings
when he wasn’t.
As nearly as Tay could tell, he and Kang were
the only investigators not working the bombings. After more
than twenty years in CID and fifteen in its elite Special
Investigations Section, being pushed to the curb was a humiliation
Tay could not bear. He was angry and embarrassed in equal measures,
and from moment to moment first one emotion and then the other took
control of him. So he stayed in his office, talked to no one but
Kang, and shuffled papers without much of any idea what the papers
he was shuffling actually were.
Tay spent a lot of the time thinking about
resigning, of course. He had thought about quitting the police
force several times before, but never that seriously. He certainly
didn’t need the job. His father had left him comfortably off and he
was working only because he wanted to do something that
mattered.
Tay had been twelve or thirteen when his
father died on a business trip. He was an accountant, a careful man
who had insisted his family live modestly, and his death had been
entirely unexpected. Tay’s mother had been shocked at his father’s
death, but even more shocked to discover she and her son had
inherited a small fortune in real estate. Now Tay’s mother was
dead, too, and her share of his father’s estate had passed to him,
too. He had more money than he knew what to do with, so why was he
still doing this job?
He was doing it because it was what he did.
This was the only vocation Tay knew. It was sometimes stupid,
frequently meaningless, and always utterly compromised, but it was
a job he did as well as he could regardless of that. There
knew death made its own, sometimes bizarre choices as to when and
where it greeted each of us. He simply wasn’t inclined to use up
any of whatever days or years he had left on this earth worrying
about how many days or years he had left on this earth.
There were enough things in his life he could
do something about. That wasn’t one of them.
***
Tay glanced around the room. It had obviously
been searched in the same way the living room had: quickly and not
very thoroughly.
He walked over to the dresser and worked his
way through the drawers. Nothing at all in the first two. In the
third drawer there were two packs of Nicorette gum and a dog-eared
paperback copy of a novel called Private Dancer . Tay had
never heard of the book and from the slightly lurid cover he could
easily understand why. He picked it up and glanced at the title
page. Published in Thailand. No wonder he had never heard of
it.
Nicorette gum he had heard of. It
contained nicotine and people who were trying to quit smoking
chewed it, didn’t they? Perhaps the man, whoever he was, had a
taste for pulp fiction, was trying to quit smoking, and had just
arrived in Singapore from Thailand. At least it was a theory,
wasn’t it?
“FMB says they’re pretty busy, sir.”
Tay glanced up and saw Kang in the doorway
holding his cell phone in his hand.
“They told me they’d try to get somebody out
here in a couple of hours.”
Tay nodded. “Go down and talk to the kids who
found the body and to the woman who phoned it in. See if the
patrolmen missed anything. I’ll take a look around the apartment
again and then we’ll get out of here.”
As soon as Tay had said the words, he
realized how badly he did want to get out of there and as
far away from that apartment as he could.
He could feel the air quivering all around
him. He had no idea what it meant, if it meant anything at all, but
it scared the bejesus out of him.
NINE
TWO DAYS PASSED without Tay making any
progress at all in finding out who the dead man at the Woodlands
HDB estate was, let alone figuring out who killed him. He stayed in
his office, mostly, leaving the matter of getting an ID on their
corpse largely to Sergeant Kang. He simply didn’t want to encounter
his colleagues who were working the various aspects of the bombings
when he wasn’t.
As nearly as Tay could tell, he and Kang were
the only investigators not working the bombings. After more
than twenty years in CID and fifteen in its elite Special
Investigations Section, being pushed to the curb was a humiliation
Tay could not bear. He was angry and embarrassed in equal measures,
and from moment to moment first one emotion and then the other took
control of him. So he stayed in his office, talked to no one but
Kang, and shuffled papers without much of any idea what the papers
he was shuffling actually were.
Tay spent a lot of the time thinking about
resigning, of course. He had thought about quitting the police
force several times before, but never that seriously. He certainly
didn’t need the job. His father had left him comfortably off and he
was working only because he wanted to do something that
mattered.
Tay had been twelve or thirteen when his
father died on a business trip. He was an accountant, a careful man
who had insisted his family live modestly, and his death had been
entirely unexpected. Tay’s mother had been shocked at his father’s
death, but even more shocked to discover she and her son had
inherited a small fortune in real estate. Now Tay’s mother was
dead, too, and her share of his father’s estate had passed to him,
too. He had more money than he knew what to do with, so why was he
still doing this job?
He was doing it because it was what he did.
This was the only vocation Tay knew. It was sometimes stupid,
frequently meaningless, and always utterly compromised, but it was
a job he did as well as he could regardless of that. There
Similar Books
