Princess Play (3 page)

‘Go on,' she said shortly, seeing where this was going, but unwilling to join him there.

‘He doesn't want to talk to me. He's very closed.'

‘Do you understand him?'

‘Yes.' Osman was wounded. ‘I can understand him.' She looked at him unblinking. ‘Sort of. The gist of it anyway,' he admitted. ‘I had Rahman there.'

‘Kind of awkward,' she commented.

‘I think he'd feel more at ease with someone who wasn't official, someone he knows and trusts.'

‘Really?' she said drily.

Rubiah arrived back carrying an oversized tray piled with Kelantanese rice cakes and a cup of coffee. ‘What?' she asked, looking from one to the other, from Maryam's narrowed eyes to Osman's blushing. ‘Oh no, not again,' she said to him. ‘You're not asking …'

‘He is,' Maryam assured her.

‘Eat this first,' Rubiah instructed him, putting a handful of his favourite
tahi itek
cakes on a plate and slapping it into his hand. She silently passed a plate of assorted cakes to Maryam, heavily populated by her own favourite,
onde-onde
, smaller and simpler than Osman's, but Rubiah found men tended to like the more elaborate styles. She was still working on why this was so.

‘
Mak Cik
,' pleaded Osman, ‘you know people open up to you. They talk to you, it's easy for them. You can find out things I never can. And you are so good at talking to people; a natural you might say. I need your help.' He looked morosely at his feet while eating a cake. It gave him time to think.

Maryam sighed. ‘Osman, it isn't that we don't want to help. I'm just afraid. Yes! You don't believe it, but I was almost killed during that last case, and I don't think I could take it again. Besides,' she looked at him sternly, ‘Rahman can handle it. He's very good.'

‘Very!' Rubiah echoed.

Rahman was Osman's
de facto
deputy: a smart and energetic officer who had run down a suspect in downtown Kota Bharu the year before and had been badly injured in the process. He'd spent months recovering from a head wound and had to relearn many of his basic skills. Still, it had not affected either his intelligence or his willingness to work. Or translate.

‘But Rahman is still not one hundred percent …'

‘Neither am I after all that!'

‘She's right,' Rubiah was indignant. ‘Pushed in front of a car! How can you ask again?'

‘Just talk to Aziz,' he pleaded. ‘Just one conversation. I'll have someone there …'

‘There? It's our own village! I don't need someone in my home! It's afterward, when they want to kill me.'

He sensed she might be weakening. ‘Please!!' He gulped down two cakes in quick succession – from sheer nervousness, he told himself.

Maryam and Rubiah shared a look, and Rubiah rolled her eyes.

‘Maybe.' Maryam said grudgingly. ‘I'll think about it. I'll have to talk it over.' She gave him a dirty look and patted her money box. ‘I was so happy this morning before I saw you.'

Chapter IV

Maryam and Rubiah stayed at the foot of the stairs leading to Jamillah's house. Unlike their previous forays into detecting, they wore no extra jewellery, nor had they broken out their fanciest clothing. They were just neighbours making a call after the funeral, to see if everything was alright. Rubiah carried a covered bowl with homemade
laksa Kelantan
, a noodle dish with thick, creamy coconut fish sauce.
Laksa
was a staple all over Malaysia, but every state had its own type; Kelantan's was the sweetest and thickest.

The elder daughter Zainab called them into the house. ‘
Mak Cik
, how nice to see you,' she said politely. ‘You needn't have brought anything, so much trouble …'

Maryam made noises to the effect that it was nothing, she was happy to bring it, and hoped they would like it. ‘How have you all been?' she asked solicitously.

Zainab sighed, and signalled her school-aged daughter to bring some coffee. She leaned forward on the sofa.

‘I miss my mother. It's such a shock. And to say she was murdered! I still can't understand that. How can it be?' she asked plaintively. ‘We were all here, it was crowded. All of us couldn't have slept through someone walking in. It isn't possible.' She wrung her hands, and looked as though she might cry.

‘Now,' soothed Rubiah, ‘We must be brave. And look for justice.' Zainab stared at her. Rubiah then tried to explain.

‘We're helping the police. You know, it's so much easier for neighbours to talk to neighbours instead of the police; they make us all uncomfortable, don't you think?' She smiled and nodded at Zainab, who hadn't so much as blinked. ‘I think it makes such a difference talking just between ourselves.' She arranged her face in a pleasant expression and waited for Zainab to recover.

‘Well, since you put it that way …'

‘Yes, much pleasanter. You know, I had hoped to speak to your father.'

As if on cue, Aziz walked heavily into the living room where they sat, having just woken up.

‘
Ayah
,' Zainab greeted him, ‘
Mak Cik
here has come to talk to us.' He grunted and collapsed into an armchair, raising his hand to have coffee delivered quickly. ‘The police were here,' he said to Maryam.

‘I always think it's easier to speak to your own people than the police,' Maryam offered. ‘
Kakak
Rubiah and I are working with the police, to help them, so to speak.'

He grunted again. ‘Like you did before?'

Maryam shrugged and ducked her head. ‘Like that.'

‘What do you want to know?' The arrival of coffee and cakes seemed to cheer him and wake him up further. He looked at them alertly.

‘Well, don't be shy! You're here to talk to me, go ahead.' He turned to Zainab. ‘You don't have to stay if you don't want to,' he said gently. ‘Not if you're going to be upset.'

Zainab sniffed and tried to smile. ‘I'm alright.'

‘Good!' Maryam began briskly. ‘The night Jamillah died, when did you go to sleep?'

Aziz took a long sip of coffee, readying himself for his recital. ‘You were there. You saw the ceremony. I don't think it ended until around two or so. Jamillah was exhausted, dancing all night. So much energy. Amazing.' He shook his head wonderingly. ‘She went right to sleep, and I spoke to the
bomoh
for a while. And the family, of course. Everyone was staying here.'

‘Where is he from?'

‘The
bomoh
? Bacok,
Pak
Nik Lah. You know,
Pak
Awang here in Kampong Penambang said he was getting too old for
main puteri
. He told me about this other one. He was good, I thought. He came here a few times to talk to Jamillah, and to me, too, to find out what was wrong. Did a good job.'

‘Peforming, you mean?'

‘No, not just that. He did a lot of listening. You should talk to him: he probably knows more
kampong
gossip than I do.' Aziz leaned back and silently offered the women cigarettes from his pack. They all accepted and lit up.

‘I think he tried.' Aziz was clearly working on articulating what he thought, ‘Tried to get the background of what was bothering Jamillah. Not just waiting for
jinn
, you know, to speak up and tell him what's wrong. He looked at what happened to her, too.'

Maryam looked speculatively at Aziz. She would not have thought him a man to consider these things. He seemed so reasonable now, not the bottled-up man she saw at the ceremony. He cleared his throat.

‘Jamillah, she hadn't been … happy. She was feeling sick, but she was also jittery. She thought I wasn't paying attention to her. She told everyone anyway, so, of course, I heard it. She thought I had another woman.'

He snorted and took a deep drag. ‘I don't. I never did. I was worried, it's true, but there wasn't any woman involved.' He looked hard at Rubiah and Maryam. ‘You probably think so too. It happens all the time, men my age looking for young women. I know that. But,' he stretched and rubbed his knees, ‘not me.'

He smiled thinly. ‘I have business problems. I didn't want to tell Jamillah.' His voice lowered, as though she might still overhear it. ‘I didn't want to worry her. Maybe I should have.' He shrugged. ‘It's too late now.'

‘What kind of trouble?'

Aziz was uneasy. ‘I don't think it has anything to do with this.'

‘You don't know. It could have.'

He looked nervously at Zainab. ‘Of course,' Maryam assured him, ‘If you'd prefer to talk elsewhere …'

‘
Ayah
, please. I'm a grown woman now, with kids of my own. You don't need to worry about me. We can help you!'

He cleared his throat again. ‘I don't want this talked about. Nab, don't tell your
adik beradik
, it's really no big deal.
Ayam bertelor sebiji pecah khabar sebuah negeri
,' he mumbled: ‘A chicken lays just one egg yet tells the whole country.'

He put out his cigarette and lit another one. He took a sip of coffee, and called to his granddaughter to top up their cups. He then appeared ready to begin.

Fixing his eyes on the window opposite, he said, ‘I'm in business – or I was – with a ship's captain. Fishing boat from Pantai Cinta Berahi. I had a half share in the boat, it always made decent money. This captain, Murad, I knew him from long ago. I'm from Semut Api, you know, right there at Pantai Cinta Berahi. But Jamillah was from here, so I moved here. She was the youngest of her family, so she wanted to be close to her parents.

Anyway,' he brought himself back to the matter at hand, ‘Murad wanted to sell the boat and retire. I thought I'd get my money out too, but then he sold it, or whatever it was he did, to his son, Kamal. I got hardly any money, he sold it so cheap.'

He looked at his cigarette, and though only recently lit, with an impatient shake, he stubbed it out and lit another one.

‘You know, I can understand selling the boat cheap to your own son – of course, I can. But me, I don't have to do that. He should have bought me out first! He was always stingy and mean! But at least I thought he was honest. Now I know:
hilang sepoh nampak senam
, the plating is worn away and the real metal is seen. But it's too late, and I've lost it all.' He sighed, and ran his hand over his face.

Maryam made sympathetic noises. ‘That's just terrible. And a friend, too!'

‘No friend at all.'

‘I know, but you thought … well, it seemed like it and now …'

‘I've gone to talk to him, I've gone to fight with him. Imagine! Two old men like us fighting on the sand. But I can't let it rest!
Reba menantu api:
the tinder awaits the fire. I will get back at him.' He looked grim.

‘So Jamillah thought you had another woman?'

‘I told her I didn't. This is eating me up. I wouldn't be surprised if Murad had something to do with it. Something to make me suffer, you know.
Pukul anak sindir menantu:
beat the daughter to get at the daughter-in-law. He could do this just to get at me.'

‘Would he really go that far?'

‘He could,' said Aziz stubbornly. ‘He would, too. I'm sure of it.' He lit yet another cigarette, and passed his pack around. Zainab looked shaken, and her father tried to smile at her. ‘Don't you start worrying too, Nab. It's alright.'

Maryam rose to leave, and thanked Aziz. ‘We should be going now.'

‘Will you talk to Murad? You should. You might think very differently if you actually meet him.'

Maryam was sure of it. ‘We certainly will.'

Aziz looked troubled. ‘Murad's sister lives in Kampong Tikat now. Maybe you should talk to her first, before you meet him. Noriah. Her husband is Musa.'

‘Why?'

Aziz looked uncomfortable. ‘Find out more about him before you see him. I'm telling you, he can be difficult.'

He nodded, and stood to escort them down the stairs, looking slightly, if not much more, relaxed than he had when they'd arrived. ‘Thanks for the
laksa
!' he said as they walked slowly away.

Chapter V

Maryam squatted before a chopping board in her kitchen, while Rubiah sat on the steps pounding spices. Dinner waited for no one. Maryam's two youngest children, Aliza and Yi, both in secondary school, were already finished with homework and were planted in front of the television.

‘He's acting differently than I thought he would,' Maryam advised Rubiah. ‘I wonder about this Murad. Could he really be so bad?'

‘I've never heard anyone pack so many sayings into a conversation,' Rubiah observed. ‘More than our grandfather, and he was famous for it! I never knew them that well: do you think he talks like that all the time? Or were we just lucky?'

‘It might have driven Jamillah crazy,' Maryam agreed. ‘I like quoting as much as anyone, but really …'

The onions and garlic were sizzling, and the chicken ready to be added. Maryam began grinding coconut for the milk

‘We should meet this Noriah, although why we shouldn't go straight to Murad I can't imagine. Maybe it'll be useful.' She shrugged. ‘Or not.' She was quiet for a moment.

‘You know who I think we should talk to? The
bomoh
from Bacok. He probably knows a lot more about Jamillah than anyone else right now. I mean, he did all this talking to prepare for the
main puteri
.

Rubiah looked annoyed. ‘I thought it was just this interview,' she objected. ‘We weren't going to be part of the investigation, remember?'

‘I'm curious,' Maryam replied, keeping her eyes carefully on the coconut so as not to meet Rubiah's. ‘I know I said that, but now, there's so much more to learn.'

‘I knew it. I really did. Even when you said it, I knew it.'