Princess Play (7 page)

He shrugged. ‘Me, definitely not. Jamillah, bless her, I don't think so. To be frank, she wanted someone with some money for Zaiton, or at least more money than this boy Rahim has, but saying that doesn't necessarily mean she wanted Kamal. Murad? Never. So, that would leave Hamidah, his wife. I never hear her talk anymore, so I don't know.'

‘Anymore?'

‘We grew up together, you know; all of us, in Semut Api. She was very spirited; laughed a lot, flirted. I mean, this was a long time ago!'
Seperti gading dilarek:
like polished ivory she was, a pretty girl.

‘Murad was quite a catch in the
kampong
. They had money and he would captain his own boat. Mind you, the family was never a friendly one. Murad is just like his father: never happy, never talking. No fun at all. Well,
harimau menunjokkan belangnya:
the tiger shows his stripes, you know. You can't avoid blood.'

He took a sip of coffee and, with that, the flow of homilies paused. It was a good thing, too, or Maryam's new-found respect for Aziz might well have dissolved.

‘I was surprised when she married him. I mean, I know most parents want their daughters to be comfortable; I want it for my own girls. But they knew the family and how miserable they were! And let me tell you …'

Maryam braced herself for another nugget of wisdom. ‘After a few months of being married to him, you never saw her anymore. She was a like a ghost. If she was out, she was silent, her head down, never talking to anyone. Like the life had been sucked out of her. Now,' he turned to Mamat, ‘why would I ever let my girl marry into a family like that?'

Mamat nodded. ‘Never!' he averred.

‘But you invested in his boat,' Maryam mused.

He snorted. ‘Business is business,
Kakak
! That's not marrying him!'

She had to agree.

*  *  *

Osman made his familiar way down the aisles of the main market towards Maryam's stall. Why was he always finding her to ask what happened, and never Maryam volunteering information to him? He pondered that unhappily.

But it was only another few days before he left for Perak to be married, a thought which cheered him up immeasurably. Now he would pass from the not particularly gentle ministrations of Maryam and Rubiah to the more familiar orders of his own mother. He wouldn't need to make a single decision about anything while he was home!

He was unsure of what his married life would be. He vaguely remembered this cousin who would be his bride, but he never knew her. However, his mother's side of the family definitely ran to strong women, so it was entirely possible that, young and sweet-looking as she was, she had a core of steel on which he could lean. He couldn't accurately say whether this pleased him or terrified him.

‘Ah, it's you!' Maryam greeted him from her perch atop her counter. Her immediate neighbour, Rashidah, peered around the divider and smiled. ‘Come to get your
kain songket
for the wedding now?'

Osman tried to staunch the current carrying him away from his chosen conversation. ‘Well, I don't …'

‘Of course, he is!' Rashidah hopped off her own counter to stand in front of Maryam's. ‘You must be leaving for Perak very soon.'

‘Yes, I …'

‘Cream!' Maryam announced, overriding his half-hearted mumbling. ‘I said so before, right, Dah? It's all the colour right now.'

Rashidah agreed enthusiastically and helped Maryam open an especially heavy piece of creamy silk, shot through with gold threads that appeared and disappeared in the fabric. Maryam was triumphant. ‘It's a beauty, isn't it?' Rashidah stroked it appreciatively. ‘Gorgeous.' They both looked expectantly at Osman.

‘Well, I think …'

‘I told you,' Maryam said to Rashidah, smiling broadly. ‘I knew he'd like it. And his wife … well, she's bound to love it.'

‘Of course,' she agreed. ‘Is the rest of the wedding in cream as well?'

‘I don't really …'

‘Yes, why would the groom be involved in that?' Maryam asked rhetorically. ‘I mean, he's here, working.' She turned to Osman as she expertly folded yards of fabric into a rather large bundle. ‘You just tell her,' she advised him, ‘that you've got wonderful
songket
.'

‘Made right here!' Rashidah interjected.

‘Where else? And that it's cream! She'll know what else to do, believe me.' She and Rashidah laughed merrily. They'd seen this before.

‘But I wanted …'

‘What?' asked Maryam kindly, handing him a skilfully wrapped package which weighed a lot more than it appeared it would.

‘To talk to you,' he finished lamely. ‘About the case.'

‘Ah.' Maryam regarded him expressionlessly. ‘Go ahead.'

Now he felt lost. ‘Well,
Mak Cik
… I mean, what's happened?'

Maryam sighed and shook her head. ‘Go up to Rubiah then and ask her to come, and we'll tell you together. And bring some coffee and
onde-onde
.' She watched him leave, and as he passed Rashidah, he knew she watched him too and thought him an ungrateful whelp for bringing this into the presentation of such a fine piece
of songket
. He felt guilty, but reminded himself, as he trudged up the stairs, that he was the chief of police!

*  *  *

Maryam and Rubiah slowly descended from their trishaw, shielding their eyes from the sun. Though it was low in the sky already, throwing long and slanting shadows, it was still damnably hot. On the sand at Pantai Cinta Berahi, brilliantly painted fishing boats were pulled up along the shore, the crews carefully stowing their equipment while fish wholesalers were wrapping up their stock amid large chunks of ice in stout wooden boxes. They searched anxiously for Rahim.

‘Do you think he's already left?' Rubiah asked worriedly. ‘Maybe we should have reached here right when the boats came in …'

Maryam shook her head. ‘And be so conspicuous? How would that look for Rahim?' She narrowed her eyes and tried to pick him out of a crowd of sunburned young men with batik kerchiefs tied around their heads. It was tough going.

After their first circumambulation of the boats, one man detached himself from the crowd and presented himself to them – a blessing, for otherwise Maryam was convinced they would never find him, and she wasn't sure she cared to continue walking on the sand. However, here he was.

‘
Mak Cik
? What are you doing here?'

‘Rahim!' Relief flooded her voice. ‘I'm so glad to see you,' she told him fervently.

He was surprised by her intensity. ‘Why? What's wrong?'

She felt she may have been too emotional in her greeting. ‘Nothing, really. But it's so hot!'

Rahim grinned at her. ‘No trees.'

‘I see, yes.' Maryam sought to compose herself. ‘Well, it's only that I had a few questions, no more than that.'

‘Well, something to drink first!' He led them off the sand to a wooden bench under a coconut palm. ‘Wait here.'

‘Such a nice boy,' Rubiah sighed as he walked off to find some cold drinks. ‘Aziz should be pleased to have such a son-in-law.'

Maryam nodded; it was true. Lovely manners, even after a full day's hard work, which said a great deal for his character. ‘I don't see how he could be involved in a murder himself,' Rubiah stated firmly. ‘He's not that kind of man.'

Maryam raised an eyebrow, and fanned herself with the ends of her headcloth. ‘Anyone could be that kind of man.'

As Rahim returned, carrying three bags of iced tea, she reflected that she didn't really think he was that kind of man, either. But to admit it meant she wasn't really looking for the real killer, she would only be looking for someone she didn't like who might plausibly kill. This was a completely different kind of search, and not one she cared to find herself undertaking. She sighed. It was hard meeting people you liked in the course of an investigation.

‘What did you want to ask me?' Rahim took a long pull on his straw.

‘You know
Pak Cik
Murad pretty well, don't you?'

He shrugged.

‘You've worked for him. You must know him, perhaps better than you think.'

‘Listen,
Mak Cik
,' he began hesitantly, ‘I don't really know what to say. You see, he's a rich man around here. He's made a lot of money. Is he a better captain than all the others?' He paused. ‘No. He's good, I mean, he knows what he's doing, but no captain lasts long if he doesn't.

‘He's tight-fisted,' he stated flatly. ‘He hardly spends anything. He won't even treat his crew to drinks!' He shook his head. ‘I don't know if you can get rich that way, but he's certainly tried.'

Rahim wiped his sunburned face again, and waved another one of his crew over to them. ‘Mat,' he said simply. Mat nodded and sat on the ground with his back to the trunk of the palm. ‘She wants to know about Murad,' he explained. ‘How he got rich and what kind of a captain he was.'

‘The kind who never spent a cent,' Mat stated firmly. He lowered his voice and looked hard at Rahim. ‘But they say …'

The two men carried on a silent conversation as Maryam watched them. It seemed as though they came to a conclusion, and Mat cleared his throat.

‘That is, they say, you know …' he hesitated, and Maryam forbore to encourage him, fearing he would stop altogether. ‘His family has had, well, a pelesit, they say. For a long time.' He nodded again, and looked around furtively, as though the very mention of a familiar spirit might summon it to appear before him.

‘Really?' Rubiah asked. ‘And that's how he got rich, through this evil spirit?'

Rahim answered, his eyes still on Mat. ‘He keeps it in a bottle,' he added, his voice hardly above a whisper. ‘I've seen it on board sometimes. It looks like a grasshopper.'

‘He feeds it on his blood,' Mat murmured. ‘You know, he pricks his finger to feed it. Or his wife does, and it's robbed her of her mind. And it goes out and brings back money for him. Or makes sure money comes to him,' he amended.

Rahim picked up the thread. ‘It's not just fishing. How do you think they got all the rice land they have?' Maryam looked interested, but said nothing.

‘They got it all during the war, the Japanese time. People were losing their land left, right and centre, families had nothing to eat except what they could catch. But this family collected land. They never suffered when the Japanese were here.'

Maryam had heard of families collaborating with the Japanese and growing wealthy, but didn't expect to run into one of them here, now.

‘But,' she sputtered, ‘do they still have it?'

The two men nodded solemnly. ‘They never let go of anything they get,' Rahim assured her. ‘They still have it.'

‘It isn't just the Japanese, it's that evil spirit as well. And you don't want to talk about it too much, in case Murad notices. He could send it after you,
Mak Cik
, to punish you for talking about it.' He was speaking faster now, more nervously. ‘Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but you must be careful.'

‘He still has it,' Mat added. ‘It's still active. Believe me. The other owner of his boat didn't make much when he sold it. Just him.'

Mat then stood up to leave and said his goodbyes. Rahim stood to follow him, but first dug his toe into the sand and kept his gaze on it.

‘You must be careful,' he said softly. ‘You don't know how he could be if he thought you were after him. And his pelesit, it knows things, and it won't like you asking questions. You may not believe me,' he lifted his head suddenly, and looked right at her, ‘but I'm telling you the truth.'

He looked around nervously, then leaned forward to them. ‘Look what happened to
Mak Cik
Jamillah!'

‘Was that the pelesit? Why?'

Rahim appeared to be in an agony of apprehension. He whispered again. ‘It didn't want her asking questions about the boat! It's protecting the money!

‘They say,' he added hoarsely, ‘there was a huge grasshopper in her yard for the next couple of days, and no one could kill it.'

With an anguished glance, he said goodbye and began to walk away. But his manners got the better of him.

‘Come,' he said, returning to them. ‘I'll find you a taxi.'

Chapter X

It happened so fast, Maryam could never really remember the order of events. She had just left her yard with a particularly good batch of
nasi kerabu
which she felt she must share with Rubiah (who ought to have been impressed, it was really that good) when she was felled by a hard smack across her forehead, which dropped her unconscious onto the path before she could utter a sound.

The heavy stick with which she was hit made a solid thud as it connected, and this alarmed the geese. Their frantic honking and flapping brought Mamat down the steps to investigate, and in the dark, it took him a few moments to see Maryam lying still and silent, the plate shattered and
nasi kerabu
flung to the ground.

He did not remember calling out as he rushed to her, but it brought the neighbours, who helped him carry her into the house and lay her down on the couch. In the light, he could see her forehead, already swelling around a braided mark. They all recognized it: the
enam sembilan
, or 6-9, was a traditional Kelantanese weapon, generally used to teach a lesson rather than for mayhem. A club wrapped in thick rope at both ends, it could pack a wallop, and also left a distinctive bruise – the rope pattern. It was not used to kill, but to humiliate.

Aliza slipped out of the door, walking around the edges of the small crowd surrounding her mother. She stood on tiptoe, peering over the shoulders of the neighbours to see her mother lying deathly still on their living room couch and her father's panicked face. She also heard the murmuring of concerned neighbours. She went silently and swiftly through the
kampong
to Rubiah's house, arriving out of breath and with growing anxiety.