Spirit Tiger (20 page)

Noriah's children had not been to visit her since the first day, and to Maryam, that said it all. Rubiah had asked whether the son would take over the business, and while no one knew for sure, it certainly seemed likely.

It was also likely he would follow in his parents' footsteps in both ruthlessness and strength. As his mother's son, he would surely not let such a profitable business fall, even if he was a bit young to take it over. As his father's child, he made up for his youth in size.

Having at least identified the were-tiger, Maryam and Rubiah believed they were entitled to some well-earned rest, with time to see their families and get to know Zakaria. Neither had said a word to Aliza about Rahman. If he was interested, they'd hear from his parents. And if they didn't, it meant nothing. Any afternoon she was home, Maryam would almost expect to see them attacked by the geese in the yard, but so far, not a sound. Perhaps they misread him – extremely unlikely, they agreed – or his mother had already approached someone else, which was the most likely explanation. Either way, Maryam wasn't particularly anxious to have Aliza married and was sure she would have no lack of suitors. They could comfortably wait to see what developed.

Osman was mending slowly, and Azrina would not allow him to go back to work yet. She was thrilled to hear the were-tiger remained the legend it had always been rather than come to life in front of them, and hoped that this might give her husband some peace. On her own, however, she'd been devising her own theories of what might have happened.

She concentrated on the second killing near Pengkalan Kubur, and who in fact might have carried that out. Wasn't the were-tiger technique overused already? Why do it again when it could be explained? Osman had always told her they were lucky most criminals were not smart, and that's how they got caught. This murder might be the perfect illustration of his point.

Perhaps it was an argument among the gangsters where one killed another one by the same method they'd used on poor Ruslan. And then the other two fled, probably disappearing into Thailand, giving their old hangouts a wide berth so as to remain invisible to the police. From what she understood, the Thai police were utterly disinterested in finding them, so avoiding those ‘defenders of public safety' might not be that difficult. As long as they did not become too visible, they were probably safe.

She did not bring up the subject with her husband, who needed time away from this mystery, but could hardly wait to tell Maryam her theory and contribute to the investigation like a real member of the team.

Noriah may have disparaged Perak, but now that her guilt was revealed, her opinions on people from the West Coast were no longer relevant. And Azrina was determined to uphold the honor of her home state and prove that Perak women were just as brave and resourceful as Kelantanese. Of course, this campaign might have been more successful were it launched in Perak itself rather than Kelantan, but she was sure Maryam would applaud the sentiment.

Maryam was concentrating on the crime which triggered all the others. Without Yusuf's death, the trail of mayhem which had consumed Ruslan, Munira, and one of the Thais might never had happened. Yusuf would still be happily terrifying gamblers who couldn't pay, and Noriah wouldn't have any reason to call people in from anywhere to help.

‘There are three people who really benefitted from his death,' Maryam explained slowly to Rubiah. She counted them on her fingers. ‘Khatijah, because there wouldn't be any pressure from him anymore; Ah Pak, because he wouldn't have to worry about Kit Siang anymore; and Din, because without Yusuf, he thought he wouldn't have to pay.'

She held up her hand as Rubiah began to object. ‘I know what you're thinking,' This comment always irritated Rubiah mightily. ‘But we're talking about what Din perceived as his benefit, not what was actually true. Now,' she resettled herself on the porch of her house, as Aliza lounged in the door, listening and learning, ‘For the moment, I'm going to take Din out of the group …'

‘Because he's stupid,' Rubiah announced, then turned to their eager apprentice. ‘You see, Liza, how important stupid can be.'

Maryam turned to notice her, and then turned back to Rubiah. She felt a breakthough coming.

‘Right. He is stupid, but also strong and angry, and I could be wrong.' Rubiah felt this to be an entirely disingenuous self-deprecation. Maryam
never
believed she was wrong.

‘But I think if it were Din, it would be far more obvious. He'd kill him in broad daylight on the street, and this killing was clever. It was possible the current might have taken the body out to sea, and that would have been an end to it. Unfortunately for the killer, it didn't, but to me it still looks like someone thought it through. Someone a lot smarter than Din.

‘And also,' she continued, ‘I've been thinking about it, and I don't think it took a lot of strength to kill him. You know what that mud is like by the river: so slippery. So if you could get him off balance, by surprise, you could easily make him fall, and then stick his head into the river before he had a chance to collect himself. It could be done.'

Rubiah nodded. ‘Easily, if you planned it, and you knew where he would be.'

Immediately, the two women stared at each other. ‘That's who it is,' Maryam whispered.

Chapter XXVIII

Khatijah did not look repentant. Maryam and Rubiah looked at her critically, seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. Khatijah was not the small, dark, gnome-like figure Maryam had originally perceived her to be. At first, Maryam had been contemptuous of her, agreeing with Noriah that she was, as they say,
hidup segan, mati tak mahu
– reluctant to live, unwilling to die. Less poetically: aimless and indifferent.

She hadn't married, hadn't had children, worked in a gambling den and, all in all, appeared to have no plan for her life, no interest in taking charge of her own fate. And then when she
finally
met her, and spoke to her for the first time, her opinion spun around, and then she'd admired her. While perhaps revealing a regrettable lack of planning when it came to marriage, and lamentable taste in men, she was in no way a passive recipient of whatever life threw at her. She was an honorable woman, in her way, and a devoted mother.

The steely core of Khatijah's self was now displayed, and Maryam wondered how they had missed it for so long. She now appeared to be determined to do what she needed to protect herself and her daughter, and was not a woman to be crossed.

It was understandable that Yusuf had not noticed that, for Khatijah had always kept it hidden, at least appearing on the surface to drift – an affect at odds with her willingness to act, however ruthlessly, and not look back. She sat now, in the police station, utterly composed, even slightly bored, thinking only of getting back to Siti Hawa at her mother's house.

‘Why did you kill him?' Maryam asked.

‘Why? I told you why!' Khatijah was amazed, and not a little provoked at the blindness of the question. ‘He asked me to become a prostitute! You didn't know Yusuf very well – he was a bully, and he'd never let up once he got something into his head. Even if I quit, it wouldn't have made any difference to him, because he'd never let you out of his grip once you'd gotten into it. I never let him get too close to me, because I'd seen how he was.

‘And Noriah's no better,' she advised, ‘just more … diplomatic. They both get their claws into you and won't let go.' She was silent for a moment, and spent the time lighting a cigarette and asking for another cup of tea. ‘With milk and sugar,' she reminded the junior policeman, in a quiet and self-assured way. She looked back at Maryam and sighed softly.

‘
Mak Cik
, there was only one way for me to get away from them, from the whole thing. The gambling, the serving and, in the end, working for Yusuf as a prostitute. Can you imagine? I wouldn't even be able to keep my own money! He'd take it all. I'd be a slave, or no better than one. Is that a life?'

Maryam had to agree it wasn't, and was actually quite sympathetic to Khatijah's dilemma. She'd probably have done the same in her shoes, but that didn't matter: it was still murder. She hoped the courts would go easy on Khatijah, or maybe even let her off. The situation she found herself in sounded dire, and who could blame a woman for fighting with all her strength against such a fate? If the decision were left to her, she'd imply tell her to go home and advise her not to do it again. But then, she doubted she ever would do something like that unless the same kind of situation presented itself.

‘
Cik
Khatijah, you know you can't kill people just like that,' Rubiah said gently.

Khatijah obviously worked to keep her impatience in check. ‘
Mak Cik
, please tell me, what would you have advised me to do instead?'

The two adjunct detectives were at a loss. Maryam looked over at the silent Osman, who appeared shamefaced for his lack of a good answer. He knew he could have done nothing to protect her, even if she had called upon him. His involvement would only have made things more dangerous for her, and without a family to protect her against Yusuf and Noriah, a weaker woman might have given in. Khatijah was not, however, the giving-in type. Osman cleared his throat in preparation for speaking, though he had no idea what he might say.

‘I tried,' Khatijah explained, ‘I got married because I thought it might keep Yusuf away. But Suleiman was useless,' she made a face. ‘I pity Puteh, I really do. Poor soul.

‘But anyway, it didn't make any difference, and I realized pretty quickly that wasn't the answer. And, Chief Osman, I needed an answer right away.' She looked at him in frank appeal, with no artifice or drama. He found he liked her and was angry at Suleiman – to have such a decent woman turn to him for help and simply let her down. But then, Suleiman had made a career of that.

‘Blame me if you want,' she shrugged. ‘I did what I had to. And I've noticed not one of the three of you has been able to come up with something else I might have done instead. Maybe run away to Kuala Lumpur? Leave my home and family and try to live somewhere else, far away?'

No Kelantanese would agree to that, or recommend it to another. Maryam stayed silent.

‘No? That's how I felt too. And who mourns for Yusuf?' she argued. ‘Noriah? She doesn't. She never did. Suleiman or Din?' She rolled her eyes. ‘Please. His children?' She thought for a moment. ‘You know, I really don't think so. And that's the saddest part of it all, isn't it?'

She rose from her chair and extinguished her cigarette. ‘I've got to go home now. Siti Hawa will be waiting for me.' She addressed Osman directly. ‘You know where I am. I'm not going anywhere. If you need me, come and get me. But I really hope you'll think about it, and be merciful.'

She nodded politely at Maryam and Rubiah and walked out the door, to where Rahman waited to drive her home to Kampong Tikat.

Maryam was reluctant to raise her eyes from the table. The three sat silently, each embarrassed at their lack of alternative courses of action for Khatijah, Osman most of all. He longed to be able to say ‘You should have come to me. I would have kept him away from you and sent him off with something he wouldn't soon forget.' But it would be a lie, and surely Khatijah deserved better than that.

‘You know,' Rubiah began slowly, her forefinger tracing a design on the table top, ‘I understand why she did it. I mean, forcing someone into doing that …'

‘She wasn't forced,' Osman reminded her, though he felt ashamed to correct her. ‘Yusuf hadn't done anything to her yet, so she wasn't really forced.'

‘She knew it was coming,' Maryam reminded him sharply.

‘I know,' he continued doggedly. ‘But according to the law, nothing happened yet, so Yusuf wasn't guilty.'

‘Of what? Threatening her?' Rubiah looked at him as though she might seriously consider threatening him herself, in order to more clearly illustrate to Osman exactly what she meant.

‘Well, threatening yes. But he hadn't done anything … physical to her.'

‘So she should have waited until he beat her? Or locked her up, or forced her to … you know. By then, it's too late.'

Maryam lit a cigarette briskly and looked at Rubiah. Osman immediately felt outnumbered and outgunned, and knew if Azrina were in the room, she'd be firmly on the side of Maryam and Rubiah. It was depressing, defending Yusuf when he despised him for what he'd done. But the law was clear, and even Khatijah didn't claim she'd been physically coerced. Yet.

‘What are you saying,
Mak Cik
?' he asked as he willed himself to breathe slowly and not panic.

Maryam blew a steady stream of smoke at the floor, then looked at him again. ‘I'm not really sure, Man,' she admitted. ‘I think I'm saying … she was defending herself, the same as she would have been if he held a knife to her throat. And because of that, because she was defending her morals, too,'

Maryam wasn't sure but that she might have gone too far here. After all, this was the woman who married Suleiman: she was no paragon of virtue either. But, she argued with herself, marrying the wrong man and then quickly repenting of it did not constitute an irreparable stain on one's character. It was not a case of
panas se-tahun dihapuskan di hujan sehari
– a year of dry weather ruined by one day of rain – spoiling a good reputation built up over a lifetime by one possibly minor misdeed. After all, marrying the wrong person was practically Kelantan's national pastime.

She squared her shoulders and stopped equivocating. ‘You should let her go,' she ordered Osman. ‘I know she's killed, but she was defending herself – and that makes it different.'

Rubiah immediately seconded the motion. ‘Yes, I agree. That's what you should do.' She began gathering up her purse as if to leave, and why not? Osman had his directive.