Aunty Lee's Deadly Specials (27 page)

“Mabel used company funds to pay for her son’s medical expenses. And to cover her
contractors and home renovations also. This is a law firm, not some megachurch or
NGO where you can say the money was meant to fund your singing career or gold bathroom
fixtures.”

GraceFaith closed her eyes and shook her head. It was a childish gesture and oddly
appealing. Aunty Lee saw the girl was very, very tired.

“You should get some rest. Things will look better after you have something to eat
and get some rest.”

“Things certainly couldn’t look worse.”

Aunty Lee only just managed to stop herself from saying “Yes, they certainly can.”
Instead she said, “You knew Mabel cleaned out her accounts, didn’t you? Before she
handed things over to Sharon. But Mabel is from the same generation as me. She would
have needed someone she trusted to help her with the Internet banking and transfers
and onetime passwords and things like that. You helped her, did you?”

GraceFaith’s expression didn’t change at all. That was what told Aunty Lee she was
right. As when a friend of hers set up a nanny cam in her own bedroom to spy on a
maid she suspected of bringing men home when she was out. Madam Pang had found nothing
wrong on the tapes. But once Aunty Lee had spotted a cockroach on the wall that did
not move for five hours, the game was up. No one’s face stayed so still unless they
were trying to hide something.

“And you put a little of that into your own pocket, didn’t you? Even if Mabel suspected,
she couldn’t complain about you without giving herself away.”

“I just thought—what difference could it make? She was using it to pay for equipment
and contractors—”

“Was one of them Benjamin Ng?” Aunty Lee asked quickly.

“I don’t remember. There were so many. Anyway I didn’t take much,” GraceFaith said.
“I was doing all that extra work for Mabel. I just paid myself transfer fees.”

Some people could justify everything they did, Aunty Lee thought. But she nodded.
“Sharon is very like her mother, isn’t she? And she knew her mother very well. Does
she know what you did for her?”

“No—” GraceFaith started to say, then stopped.

“Now Mabel’s gone she is going to look for someone to blame everything on. And you
are the one who did all the transfers for Mabel.”

GraceFaith started to contradict this, then stopped. “She will.”

“Unless of course she’s got other things to occupy her,” Aunty Lee pointed out.

“Hello. I thought I heard voices.” Sharon Sung came into the office. “What are you
doing here?”

Aunty Lee realized it was almost seven thirty. Inside the law office, with no windows
and artificial lighting, it was easy to disconnect from time in the real world.

“I haven’t been paid for the catering,” Aunty Lee said with a little-old-lady quiver
in her voice. She was going to say she needed the money but remembered in time that
she had to appear rich enough to pay for new knees. “I don’t want to put my own money
into the shop. But now the police say I cannot open the shop and I still got to pay
rent—” She hoped Sharon and Dr. Yong had not investigated her finances thoroughly
enough to discover she was not only her own landlord but landlord of all the shops
along the row where her café was located.

GraceFaith said, “Mrs. Sung prefers—I mean, Mrs. Sung preferred—to pay only after
she was satisfied. In this case I don’t know—”

“You have no idea how Mabel really ran things,” Sharon snapped. “Anyway she’s not
here now and I’m running things. Write Mrs. Lee a check for the buffet. You ordered
it, so you should know how much it cost. I’ll sign it.”

Despite everything, Aunty Lee felt a fondness for Sharon Sung.

“I like to settle everything up front,” Sharon said. “If you pay as you go, it’s easier
to keep everything straight. And by the way I heard Dr. Yong say he will be meeting
you to discuss your knee surgery?”

“Oh yes, Dr. Yong is coming over to my place later today.”

Aunty Lee had been trying to come up with a way to get Dr. Yong to agree to talk to
her on his own. She was sure she could find out more from him without Sharon (who
was, after all, a lawyer) present.

Nina had suggested picking him up, putting him in the trunk of her car, and driving
him over to the café without any explanation. After all, if he had been carrying out
semi-illegal operations in his aesthetic clinic he was hardly likely to complain to
the police. But Aunty Lee didn’t think that shoving him into the trunk of a car would
make him very amenable to conversation. Instead she phoned Dr. Yong and asked if he
could come over for a private consultation. She was an old lady and not comfortable
with going to a clinic full of sick people and she had worries about the surgery that
she needed to discuss with him. She would of course pay him his standard consultation
fee plus his transport costs.

Dr. Yong had agreed.

“I should be getting back.” Aunty Lee started for the door, remembering to limp slightly.

“Just a minute!”

GraceFaith hurried out of the office after Aunty Lee to hand her Sharon’s check.

Edmond Yong Visits

GraceFaith had a good heart, Aunty Lee thought. Aunty Lee liked her practical ambition
and willingness to work for what she wanted . . . and for whoever paid. In many ways
GraceFaith reminded Aunty Lee of herself and of Cherril. Both young women had started
off clever, poor, and wanting to improve themselves. Cherril had focused on learning
and had been lucky enough to fall in love with learning and knowledge and with a man
who loved both these things and her. What would become of GraceFaith, who had worked
on building up her appearance and appeal?

Aunty Lee thought of the last thing GraceFaith had said as she left the office: “Edmond
thinks he can blackmail Sharon into marrying him. That’s the way he does things. But
it’s not going to work on Sharon.”

“Blackmail with what?” Aunty Lee had asked. But GraceFaith had already closed the
door behind her, leaving it unclear whether she had been talking to Aunty Lee or herself.

As arranged, Dr. Edmond Yong called on Aunty Lee at her house to discuss details concerning
her knee surgery. Nina showed him to ML’s study, which also served as a library and
business room. Aunty Lee was all ready to discuss the pains in her knees and the quality
of potential replacement joints, but Edmond Yong seemed more interested in the glass
cases housing ML’s antique jade and cloisonné collections.

“Are those all genuine antiques?”

“I assume so. My late husband was interested in Chinese and Japanese history.”

“They must be worth a lot.”

“I imagine they must.”

“Did your late husband collect them himself or buy them from suppliers?”

Aunty Lee shrugged, looking bored and uninterested. Truth was, she loved ML’s collections
but for once had no intention of being distracted from her purpose.

Aunty Lee played her helpless-rich-old-lady card. She knew Dr. Yong would not willingly
relinquish his position on the medical adviser pedestal that she had carefully created
for him.

“It’s very good of you to come. GraceFaith Ang has been so helpful explaining things
to me. She knows all about this transplant business. She was also a very good friend
of Mrs. Sung and all those praying healers.

“She said they will be willing to help me even if I am not Christian like them. I
am willing to go to church and all that, but then some of those Christians are so
strict, what if they arrange for me to get that operation and then they want me to
take down my husband’s photo? I heard sometimes they will do that, you know. It is
just for respect, you know. I must always have his photo around because he is not
around. But maybe they will say I cannot, it must take down . . .”

Aunty Lee could see that the young doctor was almost squirming in his seat from the
desire to jump in and set her right. Graciously she slowed down and turned helpless,
confused eyes on him.

“Be careful of her. Grace Ang, I mean.”

“GraceFaith? Oh, she is a very nice girl,” Aunty Lee fluttered, egging him on. “She
is so helpful and she knows so much.”

“Yes. That one. She doesn’t know that much.” Dr. Yong shook his head. “She used to
help Mabel. In fact she’s being retrenched.”

“Oh, why? GraceFaith is such a nice girl.” Aunty Lee wondered whether she was laying
it on too thick. “She was so close to Mrs. Sung. I thought she would be running things
now Mrs. Sung is gone.”

“Yes, we gather she thought so too. But not anymore. Anyway, about your knees.”

“I had been hoping an old friend of my late husband’s could help me. He was a top
surgeon. But I left it too late. I saw him just the other day and, aiyoh, his Parkinson’s
is so bad. The hands shaking all the time. Now even if he says he can help me, how
can I believe him? Hiyah. If only with all your transplanting you can transplant new
hands for him . . .”

It worked. Dr. Edmond Yong was almost dancing in his seat waiting for her to finish.

“I know who you are referring to—Dr. Henry Sung, right? Yes? I thought so! Dr. Sung
is like a sort of mentor of mine. In fact this procedure I’m telling you about? He
will be supervising everything. I am just the robot extension, doing what he tells
me, though of course I can pretty much handle it on my own. Such procedures are not
that complicated. Not like where you are working with a live donor. Here you only
have one set of anesthesia and vitals to worry about because the other one is autopilot,
you know what I mean?

“Anyway, Dr. Sung doesn’t run anything. If that girl told you that, it just shows
how little she knows. Dr. Sung doesn’t even run his own clinic anymore, he’s retired.
And he can’t operate because of Parkinson’s. Honestly you don’t want a sixty-year-old
man who is shaking like that operating on you no matter how experienced he is. But
people like me carry out the actual operations. Dr. Sung just supervises.”

“You are one of the surgeons?” Aunty Lee’s amazement was all the young doctor could
have wanted. “Can I get you some more tea? Something else to eat? My deep-fried sardine-and-onion
curry puffs should be ready by now. Some people like them very much. I want you to
try and tell me whether you young people will like them or not. Do you think I can
sell them in the hospital? NUH now got Mister Bean and Delifrance already, right?”
The newly renovated National University Hospital now housed a minimall containing
fast-food shops as well as a traditional
kopitiam,
or café.

A touch of the bell brought Nina and the pastries almost instantly. Edmond noticed
Aunty Lee did not immediately continue the medical discussion after the servant left.
Was the old woman afraid the girl might be lurking and listening or had her mind wandered?

“Actually I wouldn’t know. I’m not in the National University Hospital.” The crispy,
rich pastry melting in his mouth as it introduced the savory, slightly spicy sardine
filling distracted Edmond Yong. If curry puffs were sold in heaven, this was what
they would taste like.

“So you are in SGH? At Outram Road? Or Tan Tock Seng? Or that fancy building on Orchard
Boulevard that looks like a posh hotel . . . Camden Medical. You are operating there?”

“No—no—” It was difficult to answer with his mouth full. Edmond felt he had somehow
lost control of the conversation. Aunty Lee was being properly respectful but she
wouldn’t stop her questions and he couldn’t stop eating.

“Chicken and prawn, chicken and potato, and just potato,” Aunty Lee announced, pointing
at the different curry puffs. “You must tell me which ones you like best. So where
are you working now? You are still working as a doctor, right?” There was just the
slightest hint of dubiousness in her voice as she said this. As though she was wondering
whether she had been taken in by a con man.

“Of course I’m still practicing,” Dr. Edmond Yong hastened to reassure her. He felt
his reputation (already slightly tarnished, but how could this little old lady know?)
impugned by her doubt. Even though at that moment he would have killed for another
curry puff, he felt angry with her for daring to doubt him. “In fact there are times
when I operate almost every day. Sometimes even twice a day, which is very demanding
when you consider how long a procedure takes. It’s not just a matter of going in and
fixing a fracture or something, you know. This is serious business. But of course
that depends on when a case comes up. Right now there’s not much going on but I expect
things to be very busy very soon. That’s why if you are interested in getting your
knees taken care of, you should make up your mind soon. Because there is always a
long waiting list and there are not that many parts available, if you get what I mean.
I will do my best to get you put on the list. Otherwise you may have to wait for months,
maybe until next year. I was away for a while, so I’m just starting up again.”

“Away where?”

“Korea.”

“I always thought one day I must go and visit Korea,” Aunty Lee said chattily. “Old
lady like me, too old for K-pop but there’s all that k-drama and kimchi . . .” She
shook her head in awe. “I heard that every house there, they have their own kimchi
pots. One day I also want to learn to make kimchi. It is like making our
achar,
right? Except fermented.”

“There’s so much more to Korea than that. Where I was living—the Wonju campus of Yonsei
University, that was way out in the countryside. Yes, I suppose the pop culture was
there and the students are probably all steeped in it. But the hills, the forests
with pine trees and maple trees—we could be in Europe if not for the paddy fields.”

“So you came back to Singapore for how long?”

“As long as it takes, I suppose.” Though Dr. Yong didn’t say that he had no reason
to return to Korea, it was clear that was the case.

“I like Korea.”

Edmond Yong looked at her suspiciously but all he saw was a harmless, slightly befuddled
old lady offering a plate of steamed yam cubes to him.