by Vas, Mahita;
“Absolutely. Those bins are the newer designs, introduced a year ago to prevent cats and rats from climbing on to them and lifting the covers. Those cats are just waiting to get lucky. I’m sure the staff in these places feed them with scraps. I’ve seen it often at Holland Village.”
“How sweet of them,” said Uday, staring at the bins.
Perumal asked, “Which bin, sir?”
Ashwin pointed to the one two doors away from where he was parked. “That one. The satay shop. Similar kind of food waste.”
Uday felt peckish when he smelt barbecued meat. The sign read, “Come here for Best Satay in Singapore!” Uday was tempted. “Do you think we should take a break? Maybe get some satay? Fancy some?”
Ashwin checked the clock on the dashboard and glanced towards the open door of the restaurant’s kitchen. “It’s late, Dad. And looking at how busy the kitchen is, it could be a long wait, but if you insist, go ahead.”
Uday stared at the signboard as he watched Perumal ambling towards the car with his hands in his pocket. “No, best not to. Not worth the risk in case my order leaves a trail we can- not hide.”
Ashwin started the engine as soon as Perumal shut the door. “Get ready, people. We’re off to look for a boat.”
“You never said anything about a boat. We agreed that one bag will be sunk in the river near the stadium. A boat involves a witness. What’s wrong with you, Ashwin?”
“The sea is safer than the river, Dad. The boatman doesn’t care. He’ll probably just assume I’m throwing away the cremated remains of a close relative. Hindus have specific times for these things so it’s not like this hour would raise any suspicion.”
“Ashes? In a bin liner? Which will probably float back up. He’ll believe you, you think? Let’s just get away for here. I think sleep deprivation is making you reckless.”
“Dad, I know this area really well. Spent nearly all my army years around here. You’re right about the boatman. But that bag still needs to be sunk and it’s better for us to dump it around here, rather than at the Kallang River.”
Ashwin drove out of the carpark and turned right into Changi Point Road. At the traffic lights he turned left into Telok Paku Road. As he approached a curve fifty metres ahead, Ashwin slowed down and checked for traffic, before stopping at a bridge. When they were both sure there weren’t any cars around, Ashwin asked Perumal to take the bag he had, which was also the smallest but heaviest bag, and throw it in the river. The smell of diesel and stale seaweed filled the car as soon as Perumal opened the door. Within seconds, they heard a hard splash, courtesy of the large river stones Ashwin had salvaged from the top of his potted plants. Uday and Ashwin looked at each other briefly, satisfied that the head of a monster, along with her severed hands and feet, had made its way through filthy water and hit the muddy bed of Sungei Changi, destined to rot away with the currents.
Uday felt a sea burial, even if only for body parts, was too kind for what Sharon had done to Lavinia. Rubbish dumps were far more appropriate.
Perumal got back in and slammed the car door shut as Babu chided him for taking his turn. Perumal ignored him and simply said to Ashwin, “Next one for Babu, sir. Last stop.”
Ashwin yawned as he turned on the radio. “Yes, one last stop. We’ve covered the west, north and east, two stops in the east. We’re now south-bound to dump her things.”
As they made a U-turn on Telok Paku Road, heading back towards Loyang Avenue, Ashwin saw a rubbish bin outside the Hindu temple on the corner, next to the traffic lights. “Look, Dad! A huge rubbish bin outside a little temple. I wonder why. Maybe they have feasts here on auspicious occasions.” Ashwin stopped outside the temple, and again, checked to see if there were any cars or people around.
“A temple. We kill a woman, butcher her body and use a temple’s precincts to get rid of the evidence. Even as an atheist, I feel there’s something not quite right about that.” Uday handed back the last bin bag which he had earlier taken from the two men. “I don’t like the idea of my feet kicking against it every now and then, even if it’s just her things.”
Ashwin drove away from the temple. “You’re right. Not a good idea anyway, to have three bags within a kilometre of each other. I was getting lazy.”
“And complacent.” Uday yawned. “I’m ready to call it quits.” Uday saw the signs for the airport. “The airport must be no more than ten minutes away. Why can’t we drive them straight there? We’ll drop the last bag off ourselves somewhere near home, which is close enough to the south.”
“Who’s being complacent now? The airport is full of cameras! We can’t put ourselves in places where we could be filmed with them. Added precaution. Just taking your advice, Dad. Let’s just drop them off near Serangoon Road, where they can get a cab. They’ll just look like two men out of over a hundred all over Singapore, on any given night, who head for the airport to catch the 3am flight to Chennai.”
As they neared Serangoon Road, Uday retrieved a large manila envelope from under his seat. He opened it and checked that the eight stacks of hundred-dollar notes were intact.
They spoke in Hindi. “Five thousand in a stack. Forty thousand, twenty each. That’s what you promised them, right?”
“Yes, but that was to kill the bastard as well. I ended up being the murderer. We should give them half.” Ashwin turned around to speak to Perumal and Babu, but Uday cut him off.
“How much each were you promised?”
Perumal answered. “Twenty.”
“But you didn’t do the hardest part. You should get less. Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
Babu wanted to know what they were discussing. Perumal told him. Babu chimed in, “Feeteen!”
Uday waved his hand. The two men had taken on the worst task—chopping, cooking and packing the parts, especially the head. That alone was worth a tidy sum.
“Fine, have your fifteen each.” Ashwin slowed down and stopped outside the shops along Serangoon Road, shutters down and litter lining the corridor and pavements. He turned around and spoke to Perumal. “You know you don’t deserve that much but that’s what you’ll get. But if you so much as say a word about this, trust me, I will find men to hunt you down and kill you. Don’t mess with me.”
“Sir, I won’t talk. Babu also. We want to forget Singapore. Very bad place. Your money will give us new life. Good life. Maybe after few months, we go to Qatar. Build stadium for World Cup.”
“Qatar? Much worse than Singapore, we’ve heard.”
“Like lottery, sir. For some people, Singapore good. For some people, Qatar good. Maybe for Babu and me, Qatar good. We try.”
Uday wished them luck as Ashwin handed over the money and their passports. “You’re done—”
“No, they’re not. Just one more, Dad. Let them finish it. I’ll drive to Holland Village. I know the perfect spot.”
“Near Dr Dubash’s?”
“Yes. There’s a market next to his block.” Ashwin turned to Perumal. “Where’s the plastic bag, Perumal?”
“Next to my feet, sir. I throw?”
“Leave that to me. It won’t be a problem. You can catch a taxi from here. Grab your bags and go. Good luck.”
“Sir, you please go Syed Alwi Road. More easy to find taxi and many place to throw bag. Now quiet. Very safe, sir.”
Ashwin did as Perumal asked, stopping at the junction of Lembu Road. While Babu removed the luggage from the boot, Perumal ran to a bin near an alley and hurled the last bag in.
Ashwin thanked the men and drove off.
By 1am on Thursday, Sharon Lin had been strangled, dismembered, cooked, her body parts thrown into the sea and into four rubbish bins all across Singapore.
24
Early Hours, Thursday
Uday and Ashwin sat in the rented car in the basement parking lot of their condominium.
“You okay, Dad?”
Uday shook his head slowly and leant back. “Up until a few days ago, we were decent people. Today we’re
no different from hardcore criminals.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, Dad. But yes, we committed a crime. I killed her. Maybe someday, I’ll regret it. When Lavinia is well and living a happy, healthy life years from now, I might think it wasn’t necessary to kill that devil. Right now, though, I feel nothing but relief to know she is out of our lives.”
“We won’t be entirely safe until we deal with that other, bigger, problem.”
“I know, but right now, Dad, we both need some sleep. I really want to see Lavinia first thing in the morning.”
Uday thought of the crucifix above Lavinia’s bed. “There is something so unjust, so cruel, about the good Catholic girl, the one who symbolises purity and goodness more than anyone in our family, to be so viciously attacked and to be fighting for her life. I’m glad her new-found religion gave her the comfort I didn’t even know she was seeking, but right now, I am angry with her god for not protecting her enough, for failing her in her time of need.”
Ashwin snorted. “She must’ve prayed for her life as she begged for mercy. Where was divine intervention when she needed it? I’ll always be a devout atheist, Dad. Especially after this.” Ashwin yawned and let out a soft whoop. “As I’m sure you can tell, I am dead exhausted.”
“Me, too. But I’d like to see Sayana and ask for his help with those phone messages. I’m sure they’re all there, messages between mother and daughter. And the two men who … who …” Uday bit his knuckles and faced the window.
“We know what they did, Dad. No need to torment yourself by spelling it out. Let’s sleep on it. See you later in the morning.” Ashwin handed the keys to Uday. “Don’t forget to ask Wati to wash the car, and to give the interior a proper wipe down. Remind her to use gloves! Don’t forget another wipe down when you leave it at the car park. Wipe the key with your handkerchief before putting it in a re-sealable bag or pouch. Also—”
“I know what I need to do, Ashwin. Trust me. Go get some sleep.”
“We’re all tired and it’s easy to forget certain details.”
“Yes … yes, my son. I didn’t pay eight hundred dollars in cash just to rent this toy car, for which Grab drivers pay a mere eighty a day. Paying ten times more was the cost of covering our tracks with no questions asked.”
Uday checked his phone. Eleven missed calls from Tamara. She had probably driven herself insane wondering what was going on. Uday smiled, left his phone on silent mode, placed it on the charger and went to bed.
The room was pitch dark when Uday sat upright, jolted by a dream. Lavinia had sat by his bed and asked him where he had been. She told him about her first day as an intern at the migrant workers’ welfare centre. There were two men who had dropped by in the early afternoon and given Lavinia five thousand dollars. A donation, they said, to help the hundreds of workers abused and injured with nowhere to go, while they waited for justice from the Ministry of Manpower. Justice which is either slow or non-existent because employers game the system. Lavinia laughed as she described them—Obelix and Asterix. Uday was about to laugh along with her when he woke up.
The clock said 8.04. Uday jumped out of bed and drew open the blackout curtains. He turned away from the glare. It was a hot and sunny morning. He checked his phone again. Another six missed calls and eight messages from Tamara.
Uday called Tamara. She answered before he even heard the ring tone.
“Uday! I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday afternoon! Where were you?” Tamara was livid, her voice shaking, her tone cold.
Uday used his business voice, the one he reserved for potential partners who played hardball, yet whose partnership he coveted. He smiled as he spoke with a light touch, a musical lilt. “Tamara! I’m very well, thank you. And how are you?”
“Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Hundred times I tried to call you.” Uday could imagine her sulking while admiring yet another fresh manicure.
“Darling, I’ve been so busy—”
“Too busy for me?” She had suddenly switched to that coy younger woman he had pursued some years ago. Her voice was so sweet, he could taste the cloying stickiness in his mouth. It sickened him.
Uday laughed. “No, of course not, my darling. It’s just that so much has happened. I’ve been meaning to call you but was waiting to make sure everything was alright—”
“What happened? So, is Lavi going to be alright? It must be so hard for you.” Tamara was sounding quite the actress. It made it easier for Uday to string her along. Fun, even.
“I have excellent news for you. Lavi made a miraculous recovery yesterday. Opened her eyes on her own, recognised people, said a few words. It was magic. Only Angela was there at the time, but she called all of us and we rushed to the hospital to witness it ourselves. The doctor could only describe it as a miracle. Said he’d never seen anything like it in all his years in medicine. We’re all thrilled! Of course, it’ll be some time before she comes home, but for now, it looks like in time, Lavi will be her beautiful, happy self again.”
There was a pause. Uday wondered if Tamara had heard everything he said. Sometimes, intermittent breaks in calls to China were to be expected.
“Hello? Tamara, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, Uday, I’m here. Sorry, I was a little distracted.”
“With what?”
“Oh, nothing. Just … just looking for my … earrings.” She was a terrible liar.
“Uday, I’m a bit worried. I haven’t heard from Sharon in a few days. I tried calling many times but there’s no answer. Can you please check on her?”
“But you hardly ever speak to her. You’re always saying she never calls and yet on those rare occasions when she calls, you yell at her. And you wonder why she doesn’t call. When was the last time you spoke to her, or even bothered to see her?”
“I saw her two weeks ago but last spoke to her on Sunday morning.”
Uday nodded and smiled. Tamara was not as bright as he’d thought. “That’s barely four days ago. I’m sure she’ll call you next week. Or maybe you should just come back soon and pay her a visit. Maybe you’re right, you should fly out tonight. Not for me, but for Sharon.”
“For you especially, Uday.” That voice again. Uday shuddered. “You’ll send the car?”
Why not, thought Uday. It would be her last ride in his newly serviced BMW 750Li. “Yes, of course.”
Uday had a quick shower, called the office for updates, asked for his afternoon meeting to be cancelled and promised to be in by 4pm.
Lavinia looked the same as when he had last seen her nearly twenty-four hours ago. A nurse walked in to check her vitals. Uday asked to see the doctor as he sank into the armchair next to her bed.
A young man who looked like a medical student knocked as he entered the room. Uday stood up and walked towards him. Extending his hand, the young man said, “Hello, I’m Doctor Low, Miss Aurora’s neurologist. You must be her father?” Uday made no effort to hide his consternation. “Oh, I’m thirty-six, Mr Aurora. I get this a lot, especially from parents. Your daughter is in good hands, I assure you.”
Uday shook the doctor’s hand. “Yes, I’m her father. Why are you here? What happened to her other doctor, Professor Goh?”
“I’m so sorry, Mr Aurora, but Professor Goh had to take emergency leave. He flew to Kuala Lumpur last night to visit his father, who is very ill.”
Uday felt bad for lashing out at the young doctor. “How is she, Doctor Low?”
Dr Low took a deep breath. “It’s hard to say. Did Professor Goh give you an update yesterday?”
“Only to say that there was no improvement and that she was being closely monitored. Is there anything else you can tell me?
“Based on her response in the first twenty-four hours of severe brain injury, statistics—”
“Statistics? And what? Lies? No, don’t give me statistics. My child is not a number. Tell me what you think her chances are, given your assurance that she is in good hands.”
<
br /> “Mr Aurora, I can only hazard a guess, given the information I have now. Miss Lavinia has not opened her eyes. She has not made a sound, which means she has not shown signs of speech. She withdraws from painful stimuli—”
“Painful stimuli? You are deliberately inflicting pain on my daughter?”
“Oh no, nothing like that, Mr Aurora. It’s a technique to assess a patient’s level of consciousness, especially as with Miss Lavinia. Professor Goh went through the same motions when Miss Lavinia was first admitted. We first performed a trapezium squeeze test near her shoulder, away from the broken area. Miss Lavinia grimaced. We then pinched the sides of her finger, but there was no response. Based on a scale we use, the Glasgow Coma Scale, Miss Lavinia’s score is four out of fifteen, which means she has suffered severe brain injury—”
“We already knew that her injuries were severe, but what are her chances of recovery? Is she brain dead?”
Dr Low hesitated. “I don’t know for sure, Mr Aurora. It’s hard to make a prognosis until at least two weeks later. All I can tell you now is that her brain injury is irreversible, and that she is breathing via a ventilator.”
Uday gazed at Lavinia and stroked her hair. “I really hate statistics, but what are her chances, Doctor? Please tell me honestly.” The numbers would have a bearing on what he would decide to do with Tamara.
Dr Low took a deep breath. “If Miss Lavinia does not emerge from her coma within a month, it means that when she does emerge, she will most likely be severely disabled. Based on Miss Lavinia’s score of four on the scale, she falls into the category where almost ninety percent of such patients either die soon after or remain in a vegetative state. Then again, that means about ten percent do recover, so—”
“Say if she’s one of the ten percent—will she be able to practice law? Play Scrabble, or tennis?”
Dr Low glanced at Lavinia. “We can only wait and see, Mr Aurora.”