Spirit Play

by Barbara Ismail

  Osman stuck his head in the room, frowning at the tableau confronting him. Azmi and Ashikin led him into the hallway and sat him down.

  ‘You can see,’ Azmi began, stern in his uniform, ‘my parents are exhausted. My mother has to rest, and I’m afraid my father is worried to death. Look what’s happened here! My little sister is hurt, my mother is hurt…don’t you think this is too dangerous for them?’ Azmi demanded.

  Ashikin frowned at Osman, and he actually felt a little frightened. ‘I had no idea your sister would have done anything…’

  Ashikin cut him off mercilessly. ‘We’re all involved now. Tell us, have you found Rahim?’

  ‘I’m not sure I really should talk about it.’

  ‘Surely, you can try,’ Azmi wheedled politely. ‘I mean, we are all in it now.’

  ‘I understand,’ Osman replied, equally polite, ‘but perhaps…’

  ‘You understand?’ Ashikin hissed at him. ‘After what’s happened to my mother and sister, you’re not sure? Chik Osman, I can’t accept that.’ She paused, giving him a moment to contemplate his failings.

  ‘Now,’ she ordered him, ‘tell me what you’ve found.’ She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her beautiful eyes.

  Azmi shrugged his shoulders minimally, and Osman understood he could expect no help there. He sighed. And began speaking.

  ‘We can’t find Rahim. We’ve gone to Semut Api, and no one’s seen him since the evening your mother was hurt. No one knows where he is, or…’ he amended, ‘no one’s saying.

  ‘Zaiton doesn’t have a very coherent story to tell, though I think if I leave her father to it, it will get clearer. She was afraid Rahim was at your mother’s, which I interpret to mean she was afraid Rahim had attacked your mother. And as best as I can understand—and I’m no expert on female psychology—’ Ashikin rolled her eyes and he quailed, ‘she had some vague plan about grabbing Aliza and holding her as a kind of hostage in case Rahim was involved.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘I know, but I do think that was her plan… If you can say she actually had one. It seems she acted more on impulse.’

  ‘Why would Rahim attack my mother? I thought she liked him.’

  Now Osman shrugged. ‘If he did, which we don’t know, maybe he wanted to stop her from investigating.’

  Ashikin seemed to relent slightly once he’d begun to talk. He reflected that she would make an excellent interrogator. She was small, but very intimidating.

  ‘Zaiton knows more than she’s saying,’ she announced, more to her brother than to Osman. ‘No one is that confused. She might think she can get away with it talking to a group of men who don’t want to make her cry, but I’m sure I can get the truth out of her.’

  Osman agreed wholeheartedly. If he were Zaiton, he’d start talking as soon as Ashikin entered the room. Though it was possible Zaiton herself had more steel in her than he had imagined.

  ‘I can go over with Auntie Rubiah,’ she decided. ‘Mi, can you watch Aliza?’ He nodded. She turned to Osman: ‘Can you drive me home?’ He also nodded and did as he was told.

  Ashikin and Rubiah arrived at Aziz’s home as they were; there had been no consideration of what to wear or with how much jewelry. Rubiah carried a small packet of cakes which she pressed into Aziz’s hands when they arrived, but small talk was kept to a minimum.

  ‘I think you know why we’re here, Abang,’ Rubiah greeted him. ‘We must speak with Zaiton.’

  He nodded and waved them into the house. ‘You’d better answer them, and no fooling around,’ he told her sternly, and then retreated to the porch, where he could hear the conversation but did not appear to be part of it. He lit a cigarette, his head cocked towards the door.

  ‘Coffee?’ Zaiton asked, trying for a social tone. Ashikin agreed, but hardly unbent. Rubiah took her cigarettes from the fold of her sarong and passed one to Ashikin. She did not offer any to Zaiton, who was not yet married.

  ‘Zaiton,’ Ashikin cooed when she’d sat down, ‘you know Aliza is in the hospital now. Just avoided being killed! Thank God.’ The others echoed her.

  ‘But I’m still not sure what happened. Oh, I heard from the police,’ she waved her arm as though scattering useless information, ‘but let’s be frank, they didn’t really know what you were talking about. And maybe they were too polite to push you too hard, you know, as you were crying.’ Here both Rubiah and Ashikin tightened their lips and looked hard at her.

  ‘But we’re all women here, we know truth from lies, right?’ Zaiton looked from one to the other. ‘And I’d like some answers,’ Ashikin finished, taking a small sip from her coffee and tapping her cigarette on the saucer. They waited in silence for Zaiton to respond.

  At her first sniff, Ashikin immediately rebuked her. ‘No crying now. We aren’t impressed by it, and I’ve got to get back to the hospital to watch Aliza. You can cry later if you want, but not on my time. Come on!’

  Zaiton twisted her hands for a few moments, but as soon as Ashikin reached for the younger woman, no doubt to administer a sharp slap to still her, she stopped. ‘Oh, I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘Tell the truth!’ Ashikin ordered her in her flintiest voice.

  She sighed. ‘You know I’m going to marry Rahim. Well, that is to say, it isn’t completely set, but I think it’s definitely happening. He’s a good man, and he works hard.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, well, Pak Chik Murad’s been horrible to him!’ she burst out. ‘He’s horrible to everyone! He has a familiar,’ she lowered her voice, ‘and it does whatever he tells it. It drinks his blood. Rahim’s seen it.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So? He’s a frightening and evil man! You know what a spirit like that can do. It takes money from everyone else and brings it to him! That’s why he has so much and other people all lose when they invest with him! My father did and look what happened! And he would even take it on his boat, and that’s where Rahim saw it. It brought the fish to his nets and left other boats with no catch at all.’

  ‘What has this got to do with my mother?’

  ‘This Pak Chik Murad, he spoke to Rahim the other day, and he told him that he’d be found guilty of killing my mother, which he didn’t do, wouldn’t ever do. Rahim knows Pak Chik Murad is setting the spirit to catch him, to have him be accused while Murad walks free.’

  ‘Then Pak Chik Murad killed your mother?’

  ‘Or the familiar!’ she whispered.

  ‘Can we leave the familiar out of this for now? There are enough people running around who could have done it without inviting in evil spirits.’

  ‘But don’t you see? My mother was killed when we were all here, my father sleeping next to her. How could a person, a full-grown person, have come in without waking anyone, kill her without a sound, and leave? Think about it.’

  ‘And you’re telling me this spirit hit my mother over her head? And where was Rahim?’

  ‘Well, I was afraid he might, might have lost his mind! Yes, the worry, the fear! He would try to stop your mother from going on with this investigation!’

  ‘Zaiton,’ Ashikin said angrily. ‘You aren’t making any sense. Why did you think Rahim was with my mother?’

  ‘He said he might talk to her. The day before, he said he might have to talk to her to tell her what Murad was going to do. So she would know and not believe him.’

  ‘And you thought he then might have hit her over the head?’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t believe him.’

  ‘No one spoke to her before she was hit. She was leaving the house to come and see me,’ Rubiah added.

  ‘Are you sure? No one spoke to her on the road?’

  ‘So you’re telling me it was Rahim who hit her.’

  ‘No,’ she wailed, ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Did you do it?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Did you want my mother to stop so you could marry Rahim without worrying about Murad any further? But why grab
Aliza?’

  Looking exceptionally miserable, Zaiton mumbled, ‘If Rahim did do it, I thought maybe I would have Aliza, and then they would let him go.’

  ‘Have Aliza? You mean, kidnap her?’

  ‘I guess.’

  Ashikin was amused. ‘And keep her where?’

  ‘Here.’ She looked around the room.

  ‘And your father wouldn’t say a word.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘You didn’t think this through, did you?’

  ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘No. But you’ve gotten yourself into a lot of trouble. And where is Rahim now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She hung her head.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know he isn’t at home, in Semut Api. Maybe he’s gone to Thailand?’

  ‘That looks pretty guilty to me.’

  ‘Oh, but he isn’t! He didn’t want my mother dead!’

  ‘Did he want mine?’

  Zaiton gaped at her, for all the world like a hooked mackerel, Ashikin thought. And though she moved her mouth, no words came out: how could they? What more was there to say?

  Chapter 12

  ‘AUNTIE RUBIAH, TELL ME what you think!’

  On the porch, the two sat smoking cigarettes. Ashikin felt Aliza’s absence keenly; ordinarily she would have been making coffee, listening to the conversation, sitting by the door. And now she was lying in a hospital bed.

  ‘I’m ignoring the whole familiar spirit thing,’ Rubiah said briskly, ‘although it’s strange someone could get into a full house and kill Jamillah without anyone hearing a thing.’

  ‘Unless it was someone in the house to begin with.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Rubiah said approvingly. ‘But, back to your mother and Aliza, poor thing. It could be Murad himself, or Rahim, or actually Zaiton.’

  ‘That doesn’t help at all.’

  ‘No, but first, let’s find Rahim. Thailand?’ she said. ‘That’s a job for Osman. We’ve got to get back to the hospital.’

  Aziz walked slowly into the main police station on Jalan Ibrahim in Kota Bharu. He had rarely had reason to visit before and was visibly uncomfortable. Standing stiffly before the front desk, he asked for Osman, and the young desk sergeant importantly asked his business.

  ‘I will tell him myself,’ Aziz said slowly. ‘I must speak to him directly.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s possible,’ the officer said airily. ‘I’ve got to make sure first, you know, that he can see you.’

  ‘He knows me. He’s investigating my wife’s death.’

  ‘A suspect, then!’ He rose and walked around the desk and reached out to take Aziz’s arm. Before he could grasp it, Aziz pulled back, and pushed him away, knocking him back against the desk, scattering paperclips all over the floor. The commotion brought other policeman over, roughly grabbing at Aziz as their fallen colleague stumbled and tried to right himself.

  ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ an older man began, ‘but you don’t treat policemen like that, and especially not here at the station.’

  ‘I need to see Chief Osman,’ Aziz cried loudly as he wrestled several officers. ‘I need to see him now!’

  Osman came out of his office to find Aziz on the bottom of a scrum. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  The sergeant stood breathlessly, his uniform somewhat askew, his hair sticking up. ‘This man came in to see you, sir, and I realized he was a suspect. He resisted me! So we have disarmed him.’

  ‘Was he armed?’

  ‘Well, no, not really. But he was fighting us.’

  Osman shook his head and looked unhappily at all of them. ‘He’s part of an investigation. Why are you wrestling with him?’

  ‘I just asked to see you.’ Aziz was muffled as he was now being helped up and dusted off. ‘I didn’t expect this!’

  ‘Of course not!’ Osman soothed him as he guided him into his office. He jerked his chin at the sergeant, signalling for coffee and cakes. Aziz would need to be mollified.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Pak Chik,’ Osman began. ‘I feel terrible at the way you were treated.’

  ‘Why did they do that?’ Aziz asked, ‘I just came in here and asked for you.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. Ah! Here’s some hot coffee for you…and curry puffs. Please, Pak Chik, have something to drink. You’ll feel better.’

  Osman gave him a big smile, which he turned off as he looked towards the man bringing in the refreshments, who blushed and quickly retreated.

  ‘Tell me now, why did you come here?’

  ‘I can’t find Zaiton.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s gone, she’s left. My older daughter thinks she’s gone to Thailand to find Rahim.’

  ‘But why run away?’ Osman cursed himself for not taking her into custody. How could he explain losing a suspect?

  ‘Maybe to marry him. Maybe to protect him.’ Or protect herself, Osman thought, but wouldn’t say. ‘To get away from Murad, who wants to marry her to his son!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘Shouldn’t you be finding my daughter before something happens to her? What if she’s run away to get married in Sungei Golok?’

  ‘Is that where you think Rahim might have gone?’

  ‘I heard,’ he said expansively, ‘he had relatives outside Sungei Golok.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’

  ‘I didn’t know then. And I don’t know now, but it’s a place to start.’

  ‘Could your older daughter help us?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, we’d do anything to get her back.’

  ‘Let me talk to her,’ Osman said, picking up his hat and calling for one of the men to drive. Maybe he could find both of them at once and get the truth out of them.

  Chapter 13

  MARYAM HAD LEFT the hospital and returned home, though she was now wearing a headscarf down low on her forehead to hide the mark of the enam sembilan. With Ashikin caring for the family, and Aliza still recovering from her injury, there was no one she trusted to take over the stall, which had remained closed for over a week. That had never happened before, and Maryam was anxious to get things back to normal as quickly as possible.

  Aliza was mending and her previously boundless energy now reasserted itself. When she first realized she was now bald, she cried for a day and wouldn’t be comforted. ‘I’m a freak!’ she wailed to Ashikin, ‘No one could be this ugly!’

  ‘It’s only hair,’ Ashikin reminded her. ‘It’ll grow back.’

  In response, Aliza buried her head in the pillow. Azmi walked in on the scene. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, alarmed.

  ‘It’s just her hair.’

  ‘Just?’ came the indignant cry. ‘How would you feel…?’

  ‘I know,’ Ashikin sought to control her irritation, remembering what Aliza had just been through. ‘Azmi, what do you think?’

  ‘Well, I’m a man, so what do I know? But if you ask me, you look beautiful even without hair, and as Kakak says, it’s going to grow back before you know it.’

  Aliza did not lift up her head. ‘Abang,’ Ashikin began, ‘have you ever thought about getting married?’

  Azmi stood stock still, and even Aliza was silent. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m just asking.’

  ‘You have someone,’ he said flatly, knowing she would never bring this up as idle chatter.

  Ashikin shrugged. ‘I could suggest someone, if you like.’

  ‘You’ve already started something,’ he stated, not knowing whether he was angry or excited.

  ‘No, just talking to Mom about it. You’re old enough, you know.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Aliza chimed in.

  ‘You stay out of this,’ he commanded her. ‘Who?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure. But I was thinking maybe of Rosnah. Do you remember her?’

  He thought hard. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘She went to school with me.’

  �
��Is she pretty?’

  ‘Of course, she’s pretty!’

  ‘Very pretty!’ Aliza added, now sitting up on the bed, her hair forgotten. ‘She’s nice, too.’

  Azmi gave her a gentle shove. ‘How far has this gone?’

  ‘It hasn’t gone anywhere. I’m just asking.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  Before leaving for southern Thailand, Osman devoted himself to finding out who had attacked Maryam, but the more closely he looked, the larger the body of suspects grew. Aziz said he was home, but no one was there who had seen him. Rahim fled to Thailand, Zaiton was wandering around contemplating mayhem, and her older sister Zainab claimed to have been picking up a few things at a nearby stall, though the timeline was vague.

  Murad refused to account for his whereabouts at the time, which Osman took to mean he wasn’t anywhere which would definitively clear him, and was therefore possibly the attacker. His wife, whose name Osman could not remember, was almost a wraith, and seemed to have trouble understanding what he was asking her. He wondered whether she was quite sane.

  He asked Murad if he could speak to her, and Murad snorted in disgust. ‘If you think it will do any good,’ he answered, accurately foretelling how Osman would feel after meeting her.

  She was timid, and seemed afraid of her husband, who roughly (and, Osman thought, quite rudely) gestured for her to meet him. Murad then illustrated his contempt for the whole process by stomping off the porch and into the village, not even bothering to stay for the discussion. Osman thought he would be forced to insist that Murad leave so he could speak to the wife privately, but then Murad no doubt knew just how frustrating a conversation with her could be and decided to leave the policeman to it.

  ‘So, Mak Chik,’ he began with a smile he hoped inspired confidence, ‘have you heard about what happened to Mak Chik Maryam?’

  She regarded him quietly, but did not respond. She was small and pale, with steel-grey hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She seemed stooped and old, but when he thought about it, she was probably no older than Maryam and Rubiah, who seemed years younger and infinitely more energetic. She seemed to be melting into the background whenever he took his eyes off her, and perhaps she’d perfected that trick in order to stay out of Murad’s way.