The Eight Curious Cases of Inspector Zhang (17 page)

“If he arrived at the airport, immigration will have his photograph,” said Sergeant Lee.

“My colleague is correct,” Inspector Zhang said to the man on the bed. “And of course if you are a citizen or a permanent resident your fingerprint and photograph will be on your IC, so one way or another we will be able to find out who you are sooner rather than later.”

“That's good to hear.”

“From my first impression I would say that you live in Singapore, either as a citizen or a permanent resident. And I would say that you are married, so I'm sure that your wife is looking for you.”

“Why do you think that?” asked the man.

Inspector Zhang spoke to the man in rapid Mandarin, but it was clear from the blank look on his face that he didn't understand.

“And as you don't understand Mandarin. I would think that the person you live with is not Chinese. Probably a Westerner like yourself.”

The manager stared incredulously at Inspector Zhang. “Inspector, I can clearly see that he is not wearing a wedding band, so why would you think that he is married?”

“He is not wearing a wedding band now, but you can see that the skin is paler around the base of the wedding finger, so he does normally wear a ring,” said the inspector. “But it was more his suit that suggests he is living with someone.”

“My suit?” said the man.

“Do you like cats?” asked Inspector Zhang.

“Cats?”

“Felines. Are you a cat person or a dog person? People tend to favour one or the other. Myself, I prefer dogs though unfortunately they are not allowed in my building.”

The man ran a hand through his hair. “Dogs, I think.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, dogs.”

“But your wife, she is a cat person, I'm sure.”

The man shook his head, bemused. “How can you possibly know that,” he said.

“Because you have white cat hairs on the legs of your trousers, as if a cat has been rubbing itself against your legs. But there are no similar hairs on your jacket. In my experience cat lovers pick up their pets so from that I deduce that you are not a cat lover but probably live with someone who is. The pale skin on your wedding finger suggests a wife.”

The man looked at his hand. “They just have taken my wedding ring when I was mugged,” he said. “And my watch.” He held out his left arm. “They've taken my watch, too.”

“What about your spectacles?”

“My spectacles?” said the man. “I'm not wearing spectacles.”

“But you have the small indentations either side of your nose that suggests you do.”

The man reached up with his left hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Everything is a bit blurry. I thought it was the bang on my head.”

“Do you have a packet of cigarettes on you?” asked Inspector Zhang.

The man frowned. “Do you think I smoke?”

“There are faint nicotine stains between your first and second finger on your right hand,” said Inspector Zhang. “I would tend to think that you have given up recently. This is a no smoking room so if you are still smoking then that would suggest you were not staying here.”

“I went through all my pockets and there were no cigarettes and no lighter.” He smiled. “But now that we are talking about cigarettes, I do feel like having one.”

“Then I think I am right. You are a smoker who has recently given up the habit,” said Inspector Zhang. “Now tell me, what is the first thing you do remember?”

“I was outside the hotel,” said the man. “I went through my pockets and found the keycard. It was in the little folder that had the room number so I came to see if there was anything here that would jog my memory.”

“And there isn't?”

The man waved his hand around the room. “There's nothing here, as you can see.”

Inspector Zhang looked over at the manager. “The guest who checked in had no luggage?”

“Apparently not,” said Mr. Chung.

“Would that be unusual?”

“Not if the guest was here for business. Sometimes guests check in first thing in the morning and then check out that evening. We are very well located for the business district.”

“And Mrs. Petrova was a regular guest?”

“I will have to check,” said the manager.

“What am I going to do?” asked the man.

“If you would please wait here,” said Inspector Zhang. “If we do not solve this mystery shortly then we will take you to New Bridge Road Station.” He nodded at Sergeant Lee. “If you do remember anything then please tell my sergeant straight away.”

Inspector Zhang went down to the ground floor with the manager to reception. There he tapped on a computer and peered at the screen. “It's the first time that Mrs. Petrova has stayed here,” he said.

“And she paid by credit card?”

“Yes, just for the one night.”

“And was a Russian?”

The manager nodded. “She showed a Russian driving licence as her ID.”

“Can you show me the CCTV footage?” asked Inspector Zhang.

The manager took him through a side door into a windowless office. There was a desk on which there was a computer and a leatherbound diary, and against one wall a bookcase filled with neatly labelled files.

On a table in one corner was a computer monitor on which were half a dozen views from CCTV cameras located around the hotel. The manager sat down in front of the computer and reached for the mouse. “What would you like to see, Inspector?” he asked.

“Mrs. Petrova checking in,” said Inspector Zhang, sitting down next to the manager and adjusting the creases of his trousers.

The manager clicked on a menu and after a few seconds they were looking at a view of the reception desk where the Malay receptionist was handing a keycard to a blonde woman wearing impenetrable sunglasses and a floppy hat.

“It's difficult to see her face,” said Inspector Zhang.

“It is a hot day and fair skin burns easily,” said the manager.

The woman walked to the lifts. She was wearing a blue and white dress and had a Louis Vuitton shoulder bag. It seemed to Inspector Zhang that she deliberately kept her head turned away from the CCTV camera.

“And what time did the gentleman arrive?” asked Inspector Zhang.

The manager peered at the time code at the bottom of the screen. It said 10.35am. “About two hours later.”

“Be so good as to show me,” requested the inspector.

The manager clicked the mouse and a fresh picture filled the screen, this from a camera covering the lifts. The man came into view through the main entrance and walked over to the lift.

“That's interesting,” said the inspector.

“What?” asked the manager, turning around in his chair.

“He doesn't appear to be hurt. And if he had just been attacked, why didn't he go to the receptionist? Why didn't he ask for her to call the police?”

“Perhaps he was confused. Perhaps he didn't realise that he had been attacked. He has amnesia. Perhaps he forgot everything.”

“Also I don't see him holding the keycard,” said Inspector Zhang. “He said that he found the keycard in his pocket and that's why he went up to the room.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So tell me, do you have CCTV cameras inside the lifts?”

“Of course,” said the manager. He clicked on the mouse, scrolled down a menu and after a few seconds a CCTV picture of the man entering the lift filled the screen. The man reached out with his right hand to press the button for the third floor and then stood facing one of the mirrored walls and tidied his hair with both hands.

“That's interesting,” said Inspector Zhang.

“What is?” asked the manager.

“Can you freeze the picture where he is arranging his hair?”

The manager clicked the mouse, then the picture froze.

“You're looking to see if there is a wound?” asked the manager.

“There would be nothing to see,” said Inspector Zhang. “There is no blood, just a bump. No, Mr. Leutzinger, I am admiring the watch on his wrist. It appears to be a very expensive Rolex.”

“But his watch was stolen. Along with his wallet and everything else.”

“Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang.

The manager frowned. “So you think he was lying about the mugging?”

“Oh no,” said Inspector Zhang. “That's not what he's lying about.” He stood up. “Let's go back upstairs and I'll explain everything,” he said.

They went back up to the third floor where the man was still sitting on the bed and dabbing the towel on the back of his head.

Inspector Zhang sat down opposite the man and looked at him solemnly.” It is time to tell the truth,” he said. “If you continue to lie then you will be in even more trouble than you are already in.”

The man looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about the fact that you were not attacked outside. In fact you were attacked here, in this room. By Mrs. Petrova, though I doubt that is her real name. But I am sure that you came here to see her and that she, with or without an accomplice, robbed you.”

“I told you, I can't remember anything. “ He looked across at Sergeant Lee as if hoping that she would agree with him but she looked back at him impassively.

“Let me tell you what I think happened,” said Inspector Zhang. “I think you came here specifically to meet Mrs. Petrova. It was your first meeting and I think that perhaps you met her on the internet. In a chat room, perhaps. Or one of those social networking sites that are so popular.”

“Nonsense,” said the man.

A smile spread slowly across the inspector's face. “But how can you say that if you've truly lost your memory?” he said. “If you really have no memory of what happened before you were attacked, then surely anything is possible.”

The man swallowed nervously but said nothing.

“Well then let us consider the evidence,” continued Inspector Zhang. “In my experience muggers do not take men's wedding rings. Women's jewellery, of course. And diamond rings. But generally not wedding bands. And they certainly don't bother stealing spectacles. I therefore assume that you removed the ring and the spectacles yourself. Now why would a man do that?” He turned to look at his sergeant. “What do you think, Sergeant Lee?”

She looked up from her notebook, in which she had been scribbling furiously. “The glasses to make himself more attractive, the ring because he wanted to appear unmarried?” she said.

Inspector Zhang nodded approvingly. “And did you notice that he dyes his hair? It was unnaturally black for a man of his age and you could see where the roots are grey. He is a man who takes pride in his appearance, who likes to look good for the ladies.” He turned back to the man. “Isn't that so?”

The man's shoulders slumped. He dropped the towel on the bed and sat with his head in his hands. “I've been a fool,” he said.

“Yes, you have,” agreed the inspector. “But now is the time to tell the truth. What is your name?”

“Fisher,” the man mumbled. “Sebastian Fisher.”

“And you live in Singapore?”

The man nodded but didn't look up. “I'm a stockbroker. I sell stocks and shares.”

“And your office is nearby?”

The man nodded.

“And you came here to meet Mrs. Petrova.”

“She said she was here on business and wanted to meet me. She said she was in an unhappy marriage and that she …” He sighed. “I was a fool.”

“Mrs. Petrova will not be her real name, of course. She knocked you unconscious and robbed you?”

“It wasn't her. I was looking at her when I was hit. When I came around they'd taken my money, my wallet, my watch. Everything. I was sitting on the bed when the chambermaid came in. She asked me what I was doing in the room and I panicked.”

“You could have simply told the truth,” said Inspector Zhang.

“And tell everybody why I'd gone to her room? And why I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. What possible reason could I give for being there? Then I saw the keycard on the bedside table and I said that I'd let myself in because I'd lost my memory and found the card in my pocket.”

“You wedding ring and your spectacles are in your office?”

Fisher nodded.

“I think we will find that Mrs. Petrova and her accomplice have been doing this elsewhere,” said Inspector Zhang. “Street muggings are rare in Singapore, but inviting their victim to a hotel makes everything much easier. I have no doubt we will discover that the credit card she used was not hers. I assume you told her you were well off?”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” said Mr. Fisher. “I know, I was stupid.”

Inspector Zhang took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. “So tell me, Mr. Fisher,” he said. “Your wife is the cat-lover in your house, was I correct?”

Mr. Fisher nodded sadly. “She loves those cats more than she loves me,” he said, putting his head in his hands. “That's part of the problem.”

“And you do smoke?”

“I've told my wife that I've given up, but yes, I do sneak out for a cigarette. I feel like a prisoner sometimes.” He looked up at Inspector Zhang. “Does my wife have to know about this?”

“All I need from you is a statement about the robbery,” said Inspector Zhang. “I am prepared to overlook your memory lapse. As to what you do or don't tell your wife, that is completely up to you.” He replaced his spectacles. “But speaking as a man who has been married for thirty years I can tell you that it's best never to try to keep a secret from a wife. They tend to find out the truth about everything, eventually.”

“A bit like yourself, Inspector Zhang, “ said Sergeant Lee, and the inspector beamed happily.

INSPECTOR ZHANG AND THE DISAPPEARING DRUGS

Inspector Zhang smiled fondly at his wife as she placed his kaya toast in front of him. Kaya could be bought in a bottle in any supermarket but Mrs. Zhang made it herself, slow cooking coconut milk, eggs, sugar vanilla and a hint of pandan leaves, using a recipe that had been handed down from her grandmother. She spread it on a slice of wholemeal toast with a little butter and served it with a soft-boiled egg, just the way he liked it. “You make the best kaya toast in Singapore,” he said.