Aunty Lee's Deadly Specials (9 page)

“I saw them!” Aunty Lee said, waving to catch their attention. “I saw the bodies!”

“Can I see your IC, ma’am?” Panchal took out her notebook and recorder.

“You know who I am! I am Aunty Lee, from Aunty Lee’s Delights! Yesterday I brought
the
kueh dadar
to the station, remember? That was because I made extra for the party here today!”

“You saw them?” Salim said. “You saw Mabel and Leonard upstairs after they died? How
come?”

“I heard they were dead so I went in to see to make sure,” Aunty Lee said. “Sometimes
people shout somebody died, everybody gets worked up and calls the police, then they
only fainted. So
susah,
right?

“Anyway I can describe for you. The son, Leonard, was lying in his bed. He had been
eating off a folding table on his bed and it looked as though he just leaned back
and went to sleep and didn’t wake up. Mabel looked as though she was crouching on
the floor beside his bed. But GraceFaith said that when she went into the room to
call Mabel, she thought she was asleep in the armchair by the bed. So she touched
her on the shoulder and she was so startled when Mabel did not move that she jerked
her arm back and knocked her onto the floor. And there was another plate on the coffee
table next to the armchair. So it looks as though Mabel was also eating there. Then
her son died in bed and she died in the chair next to him.”

Nina and Cherril, looking worried, came to join Aunty Lee.

“Thank you. Staff Sergeant Panchal will take down your statements.” Salim smiled encouragingly.
“I’m going to have a word with the family.”

Panchal could tell she was being fobbed off with unimportant witnesses. But Commissioner
Raja Kumar was there and this was her chance to make a good impression. She turned
to the three women and addressed Aunty Lee clearly and loudly enough for her exemplary
interview technique to be heard by the senior officer.

“You said you saw the plates. What were they eating before they died, did you see?”

“My chicken
buah keluak
. But that had nothing to do with what happened to them.”

“Have you been friends with Mabel Sung for long? How well did you know her?” Staff
Sergeant Panchal glanced between Aunty Lee and Cherril.

“No,” said Cherril, “I didn’t know her at all.”

“That’s hard to say,” Aunty Lee said brightly. Nina groaned.

“Would you care to explain that, Mrs. Lee?”

“I knew who she was, of course. Her husband, Henry, was a friend of my late husband’s
and we used to run into each other at social events and other people’s houses. Their
daughter was in school with my stepdaughter and I think they still keep in touch.
But I wouldn’t say we were friends. We move in totally different circles. She was
a high-powered lawyer and I am a cook. When my husband was still alive she invited
us to join her prayer group, but my husband said better not because he knew she was
praying to find somebody’s daughter to marry her useless son and somebody’s son to
marry her scary daughter and he didn’t want to put his children at risk.”

To her credit, Staff Sergeant Panchal recorded all this without any sign of confusion.
But she lowered her voice as she continued, “Why did Mabel Sung choose you to cater
the party at her house?”

“Actually it was her assistant who came to place the order. She said Mabel Sung wanted
a
nasi lemak
buffet at her house and made all the arrangements. You should talk to her. She was
upstairs today too. Her name is GraceFaith Ang, I have her card somewhere . . .”

“I can get Miss Ang’s contact myself. Can you recall if anything else significant
happened earlier? And you, Mrs. Lim-Peters? Can I have your identity card as well?”

“It’s in my purse, locked in the car. I’ll get it for you,” Cherril said. “I don’t
remember anything unusual. I set up the drinks table. I put out all the glasses and
the napkins and I served drinks—orange juice, mango juice, aloe vera juice, and green
tea. They asked for two bottles of champagne but we never got round to opening them.
I didn’t know most of the people there.”

Staff Sergeant Panchal noted this.

“What specifically do you want to know?” Aunty Lee asked.

“Everything you can remember. We will put together all your individual statements
to get a complete picture of what happened.”

“There is a very interesting building next to the swimming pool,” Aunty Lee said.
“Or rather it had a very interesting mural painted on it. I remember wondering who
did it. It’s where Mabel’s son was staying and I wondered whether he had painted it
himself. Sometimes these young people who go overseas to study become all artistic
when they come back—
if
they come back. At least Mabel’s son came back. So many of them don’t, you know.
Like my stepdaughter, for example. But of course even though he came back he’s gone
for good now, so maybe that was not such a good thing . . .”

Nina glanced curiously at the policewoman to see how she was taking all this. To her
credit, SS Panchal was writing steadily, occasionally nodding to encourage Aunty Lee’s
narrative. Nina was impressed.

“And what time did you arrive here this morning?” SS Panchal continued the interview.

“I think it was around eleven something . . . or just before eleven. Or ten something.
They said their guests were arriving at eleven
A.M.,
so I was going to set up the food before that. It was supposed to be a morning brunch
but substantial enough to carry everyone through to lunch as well—”

“After eleven
A.M.
?”

“We arrived here at nine forty-eight
A.M.
,” Cherril interrupted. “I texted my husband when we got here, to say I was turning
off my phone volume. That’s the time on the message.”

Panchal noted this and turned her attention to Cherril.

“And you are working for Mrs. Lee? “Can you spell out your full name for me, please?
And your IC number?”

Cherril spelled out her name and recited her number, looking intimidated. Like most
second- and third-generation Singaporeans, she had never questioned the need to carry
personal identification. But being asked to verify her number made her feel as though
she was checking into a hospital or being stopped for a traffic violation.

“You do not have your identity card with you. Are you aware that if you fail to produce
identification we can detain you until such identification is produced in person or
by proxy?”

“Cherril is my new business partner,” Aunty Lee answered for her. “She came to help
me with the buffet and drinks.” Aunty Lee was cross with Panchal’s officiousness but
managed not to show it. There was no point antagonizing people you wanted information
from—something this police would do well to realize. “Cherril will show you her IC
afterward. But there was another woman here just now you should talk to. She won’t
be on the guest list because Mabel didn’t know her. Long-haired, Mandarin-speaking.
Do you know who she is yet?”

“All in good time. Mrs. Lee, can you tell me why did you include the
buah keluak
dish in the buffet if Mabel Sung ordered a
nasi lemak
buffet?
Buah keluak
is not a dish that usually comes with
nasi lemak
.”

“Mabel asked specially for my chicken
buah keluak
.”

“Mabel Sung came to your café to make the order?”

“GraceFaith Ang told me that was what Mabel Sung wanted when she made the order,”
Aunty Lee said. “I remember quite clearly. A
nasi lemak
buffet with yellow chicken curry and chicken
buah keluak
on the side.”

The policewoman made a note on her pad.

Aunty Lee saw the implication. If Mabel had been planning to kill herself and her
son, there would have been no better way of concealing the taste of poison than by
putting it in the
buah keluak
. Mabel ordering the dish seemed to suggest that she had planned the deaths from the
start. Aunty Lee hoped the police would pick up on that point but this officer did
not seem very bright.

“Can you give us anything to substantiate that?”

“You can ask GraceFaith. She is the one who said Mabel requested it specially. Don’t
you see?” Aunty Lee burst out. “It’s premeditation on her part!”
Buah keluak
definitely indicated premeditation, given the amount of preparation time it needed.
But the police officer looked politely noncommittal.

“It may be premeditation,” Staff Sergeant Panchal said, as though to herself, “or
just food poisoning.”

“You can’t think—” Cherril burst out indignantly.

“They have to suspect everybody first,” Aunty Lee said genially, though she was equally
cross. It was always the easiest solution to blame it on the cook and food poisoning.
Well, on behalf of all the cooks in the world, Aunty Lee was going to make sure they
did not settle for the easiest solution. Aunty Lee remembered the young man at the
gate. He had seemed so certain that Mabel Sung or someone else there would know where
his friend was. There had been something so familiar about him but she still could
not put her finger on what it was. She had not met him before, of that she was certain.
So why was he so familiar?

“There was a man shouting at the gate. He tried to get in to look for his friend Benjamin
Ng and they shut the gate on him. Do you know who he is yet?”

“I’m sure someone is looking into it,” Staff Sergeant Panchal said. Her tone was polite
but Aunty Lee could tell she didn’t know or care if it wasn’t part of her assignment.

“You should really pay more attention to details and strange people if you want to
rise through the ranks,” Aunty Lee told her kindly. Panchal ignored this.

“Mrs. Lee, can you sum up how well you knew Mabel Sung?”

“I suppose I knew her as well as I can know somebody who I have got nothing in common
with except race, language, and finances. She and her husband were acquaintances of
my late husband. We ran into each other a few times at the Island Club and those fund-raising
dinners where people donate a lot of money to get invited to eat expensive food with
other people who donated a lot of money. She would say, ‘How is your restaurant doing?’
and I would say, ‘It’s not really a restaurant’ and she would say she really had to
come with friends one day. But she never did. That’s why I was quite surprised when
she asked me to cater the buffet at her house.”

“Do you have any idea why she called on you to cater this function if she had never
eaten at your café before?”

“I think it was because she didn’t want to spend too much. My catered meals cost a
lot less than the places she usually goes to. And she was having her prayer-group
people over, so she probably didn’t want them to think she spends a lot on food. I
know what you are thinking right now.”

Panchal was just thinking that old Chinese aunties were just as nosy as old Indian
aunties.

“You are thinking I’m an old busybody. But can you help an old busybody by just looking
and telling me whether you have a Benjamin Ng on your guest list? That is the name
the man at the gate was shouting. They must have given you Mabel’s guest list, right?
You tell me yes or no and then later after you have checked everything here you can
come to my shop in Binjai Park and look through everything in my kitchen and all my
buah keluak
ingredients and leftovers and put samples in plastic bags to take back and show them
how thorough you are. That would impress them, right?”

It would, Panchal supposed. Inspector Salim might be impressed. Panchal was always
polite and proper in procedure and felt Inspector Salim’s standards were somewhat
lower than hers. But still, he was a senior officer. And he would be impressed by
her going through Aunty Lee’s kitchen and cooking equipment on her own initiative.
She guessed that Inspector Salim was a little afraid of Aunty Lee. Some single men
were uncomfortable around women, especially women like this Aunty Lee, who could move
from planning your meal to planning your life and before you knew it you were settled
down with a wife and she was picking the best possible names for your children. Well,
Panchal was only too happy to take the heat off Inspector Salim and be nice to Aunty
Lee if it meant getting ahead in the investigation.

“There’s no Benjamin Ng on the guest list. One or two other guests mentioned seeing
the man at the gate but no one has identified him. However since he did not actually
get into the grounds he is not on our list of suspects.”

“He didn’t get in through the back gate. But what is there to stop him from going
round to the front gate after they didn’t let him in? And that would be nearer to
the main house, where Mabel and her son died. I could tell that young man was very
anxious to get in to see her. After getting himself there and knowing she was home,
I’m sure he wouldn’t just have given up and gone away.”

Staff Sergeant Panchal barely acknowledged this. She was busy thumb-texting a message
into her mobile. Aunty Lee was pleased by what she had learned. She did not believe
the anonymous young man had had anything to do with Mabel’s death but his showing
up when he did made him relevant to why she had died. These days computer cooks believed
success came from following online recipe measurements to the precise second and centigram.
Real cooks knew that a successful meal came from taking everything into consideration,
right down to the color of the plate you served it on.

Cherril was also texting on her phone, presumably to her husband, because it rang
a moment later and she answered it with “Mykie, you’ll never believe what just happened!
Mabel Sung and her son are dead, poisoned, and the police are here talking to us.
We’re part of a murder investigation!”

As she listened to what her husband said, her face changed.

“Mycroft says we may be in big trouble. We shouldn’t say anything until he gets here.”