The Night Tiger

by Yangsze Choo

  “—none of your business anyway.”

  I hesitated. The next instant, someone rushed around the corner and cannoned into me. It was a young nurse, her face puffy, her eyes watering suspiciously.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She burst into tears. There was nothing to do but offer her my handkerchief; I couldn’t very well leave her crying on the grass. From what I’d overheard, it sounded like the same sad story I’d observed at the May Flower. Married men were trouble.

  “Did you hear everything?” My face must have given me away, for she said, “It’s not like I was having an affair with him. They’re just picking on me. Can you please not tell anyone? I might get suspended if Matron finds out.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m just a visitor.”

  She looked relieved. “It’s just that, of course, you’d be sad if somebody died, right?” Tears welled up again in her eyes.

  People crying always made me feel guilty, especially my mother, the few times I’d found her silently weeping in her darkened bedroom, her eyes wide open and the tears running down her face as though she was sleepwalking. This nurse looked so utterly miserable, with her crooked knees and crumpled uniform, that I patted her back while she blew her nose loudly.

  “I couldn’t even go to his funeral last weekend in Papan, because I had to work.”

  My ears pricked. How many funerals could there have been in that town last weekend?

  “What did he do?”

  “He was a salesman, one of my patients. We were friends,” she said too quickly.

  So I’d found her—the nurse who’d given the salesman the finger. Was it fate, or some dark link, like a cold strand of riverweed entangling us? Too many peculiar events were connected to this hospital. I couldn’t help thinking that if you believed the souls of the dead lingered for forty-nine days after death, then this hospital must be full of them.

  “Were you going somewhere?” she asked, with a guilty start.

  “To the cafeteria, but I got lost.”

  “I’ll take you. I was on my way there myself.” She pursed her lips. “Let me wash my face first.”

  The little nurse—she was almost a head shorter than me, though I was considered tall for a girl—hurried off. I waited, wondering whether she’d change her mind and abandon me. But my experience at the May Flower had taught me that people confided all sorts of things to strangers, and she’d been practically bursting to tell someone.

  Presently, she returned looking better. She still had a rabbity air about her, but it suited her pale complexion and small front teeth. “I’m Pei Ling, by the way.”

  “My name’s Ji Lin. I stayed at the hostel last night, to visit my brother—I mean, my fiancé.” I stumbled over the words.

  She gave me a complicit look. “You mean your boyfriend? They’re awfully strict at the hostel. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. What’s his name?”

  “Lee Shin. He’s an orderly.”

  “I don’t think I know him.” She frowned intensely, as though she was calculating something, then stopped, twisting her hands. “You’ve been kind to me,” she said, cutting short my protests. “No, you have. Lots of people don’t notice me—I’m that kind of person. But will you do me a favor?”

  “What is it?”

  “You said your boyfriend was an orderly at the men’s hostel. I don’t know anyone there. At least, not anyone I trust. Do you think you could ask him to fetch a parcel for me? I’m not asking you to steal. It was mine in the first place.” Face red, voice shaking, she must have been desperate to ask a stranger. Or perhaps a stranger was the best method if she didn’t want to involve anyone she knew. “Yew Cheung had a friend in the men’s hostel who used to keep things for him. He said he’d give it back to me, but he died so suddenly.”

  “Why don’t you ask his friend for it?” That must be Y. K. Wong, I thought. He’d said at the May Flower that he was the salesman’s friend.

  “Because I don’t like him. And he’d probably use it against me.” Eyes averted, lips trembling.

  This sounded suspicious but I might learn something more about Y. K. Wong, if I had to deal with him again. “All right, I’ll ask Shin.”

  Relieved, she said, “It’s in the common room of the men’s hostel. Yew Cheung said he hid it in a vase the last time he came because his friend was out. It was only supposed to be a temporary hiding place, and I’m worried that someone will eventually find it.”

  * * *

  At this early hour on a Sunday morning, there were hardly any people in the cafeteria. Those spooning food into their mouths looked bleary-eyed. They’d probably worked the night shift like Pei Ling.

  “Do you like being a nurse?” I asked as we loaded our trays with tea and toast and soft-boiled eggs.

  “It’s all right.”

  Eagerly, I asked about the qualifications required, and how to apply.

  “But why would you want to be a nurse?” Pei Ling assessed my fashionable cheongsam. “You look like your family’s well-off.”

  “No, I’m just a dressmaker’s assistant. This was made at our shop.”

  She sipped her teh O, sweet black tea, glumly. “Being a nurse isn’t easy—if you make a mistake, Matron chews you out.”

  “But it’s interesting, isn’t it?” I said. “And you can be financially independent.”

  I never heard her answer, because Shin slid into the seat opposite. “Where were you? I was waiting for you at the women’s hostel until someone said your room was empty.”

  There were shadows under his eyes, and his dark hair was sleek and wet, as though he’d stuck his head under the tap. Despite that, he still had a handsome, wolfish look. You could tie Shin up in a sack and roll him around a field, and he’d still come out attractively tousled. Some people were just lucky, I thought enviously.

  I glanced at Pei Ling to see if she had the usual slack-jawed reaction to my flashy stepbrother. That always happened to my friends, but Pei Ling had fallen silent, staring at Shin. It was almost as though she was frightened of him.

  “Shin, this is Pei Ling. She’s a nurse here.”

  He put on his polite smile, the one used to charm old ladies. “I’m Shin,” he said. “Thanks for looking out for…” He paused and I could tell he was having the same confusion about how to refer to our relationship. “Her,” he said finally, jerking his head at me.

  Very smooth, Lee Shin, I thought, exasperated, though I hadn’t managed any better myself. “Pei Ling was wondering if you’d do her a favor. Can you fetch something from the men’s hostel for her?”

  “No!” she blurted out. “Just forget it.”

  “Are you sure?” I’d never seen anyone have that reaction to Shin before.

  “Yes. I have to go now.” Standing abruptly, she shoved her chair back as she fled the cafeteria. Stunned, I followed her as best I could in my stupidly tight dress.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked breathlessly. She’d sounded so desperate this morning, as though she’d had no one else to ask. “Don’t you want Shin to get your package back for you? I’m sure he’ll do it.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Since we were children,” I said, puzzled.

  She bit her lip, looking away. “I’ve seen him around with Yew Cheung’s friend. The one I don’t like.” Not knowing what to say, I recalled Y. K. Wong was Shin’s roommate here at the hospital.

  “Forget it. I’ll get it back myself.” Pei Ling walked off stiffly, her back radiating a clear do not follow sign.

  Returning to the cafeteria, I found Shin eating the remains of my kaya toast. “You’re losing your touch with women,” I said gloomily. “And give me back my breakfast.”

  “Too late.” He stretched his long legs out under the table. I felt like kicking him, except the cheongsam I was wearing was too narrow to allow it. “What was that all about?”

  I told him about Pei Ling and her connection with both the salesman and Y. K. Wong—though when I ment
ioned that his roommate had tried to follow me home on Friday night, Shin’s face darkened.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me yesterday?”

  “Just pretend you don’t know. I don’t want to get involved with him.” Thankfully, Y. K. Wong didn’t seem to have glimpsed my face yesterday. “Though I wonder what Pei Ling wanted you to get for her in the men’s hostel.”

  Everything connected to the severed finger, including Pei Ling and her odd request, cast an uneasy shadow. Half of me was rabidly curious, while the other half warned it was best to forget about it. In any case, we were almost done cleaning up the storeroom—a couple of hours more and I’d be heading back to Ipoh.

  Shin had finished what remained of my breakfast and now gazed speculatively at Pei Ling’s untouched plate.

  “You can have hers as well.”

  “Don’t want it.”

  “Hers is better—she didn’t even take a bite,” I pointed out.

  “I only want your food,” he said languidly.

  I rolled my eyes, relieved we were on friendly terms again. Though I ought to be careful with Shin. He might blow hot and cold again. So I said nothing and ate Pei Ling’s toast instead. It bothered me, that she’d seemed so frightened.

  A shadow fell across us, and I looked up to see Koh Beng, the porky-jowled orderly. Although it was only morning, his face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You didn’t look well last night.”

  It was kind of him to remember. Koh Beng sat down and started eating. Noodles again, with thin succulent slices of pork liver ladled on top of the steaming hot soup. I wished I’d ordered that as well. “Want some?” he asked.

  “We were just leaving,” said Shin, standing. I got up as well, discreetly tugging my dress down. Koh Beng’s gaze lingered on my legs.

  “Eyes on the table!” I said, rapping the wooden tabletop.

  He grinned. “I like a girl who speaks her mind.”

  He was interrupted by a commotion outside. People were running back and forth and shouting.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Koh Beng kept eating his noodles. “Probably a monitor lizard,” he said dismissively.

  Monitor lizards could grow up to five feet long and preyed on stray chickens, rodents, and whatever else they could find. The thought of one roaming the hospital gave me goose bumps. I glanced at Shin but he was frowning, head cocked as though he’d heard something.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Away from the main hospital buildings, the hill sloped downward, connected by little walkways and stairs. Shin was much faster than me, and by the time I came out onto the walkway where he’d stopped, a group of people had gathered at the bottom.

  “Step aside, please!” Two men with an empty stretcher brushed past.

  Shin turned and made his way back towards me. “Don’t look.”

  “What happened?”

  In answer, he seized my elbow and led me swiftly away. Craning my neck, I caught a glimpse of the men loading someone onto the stretcher; I could just make out a small bare foot.

  “How did you meet that nurse again?” Shin asked in an undertone.

  “I ran into her on my way to the cafeteria. Why?”

  “Because she just fell down those steps. It’s quite bad. No, don’t go back. There’s nothing you can do right now.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “Looks like a head injury. Someone found her just now.”

  Shocked, I felt like crying. What a horrible thing to happen to Pei Ling, and barely half an hour since she’d left the cafeteria.

  “Was she running when she left you?”

  “No, she was walking. Shin, what should we do?”

  “She’s already being seen by doctors. A hospital is a good place to have an accident. If it was one,” he added under his breath.

  I stopped. “What makes you think so?”

  “She landed quite a distance from the bottom of the stairs. If you tripped, you normally wouldn’t fall so far because you’d catch yourself. There were railings, too. If you were pushed, on the other hand—” He sighed. “When she told you about her parcel in the men’s hostel, was there anyone around?”

  “Not the first time. But when we were outside the cafeteria, there were people passing.”

  Anxiously, I scanned the scene below. The stretcher with its sad burden, the pathetic small feet sticking out, one bare and one still shod in a sensible nurse’s shoe, had made its way behind another building. The people dispersed, though a lone figure continued to watch from a distance. I recognized the crooked profile as Y. K. Wong’s.

  “I thought you said he was gone last night!” I hissed, pointing him out to Shin.

  “He must have come back this morning. You’re not suspecting him, are you?”

  I wasn’t sure what to think. Pei Ling’s calamity unnerved me; it seemed too coincidental that she should have such a terrible accident right after confiding in me. Once again, I thought of the black shape moving deep in the river of my dreams.

  “Shin, can you look for Pei Ling’s parcel in the men’s hostel common room? She was worried that someone else would find it. We ought to keep it safe for her.” I gave him a pleading glance.

  He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows and walked off. I knew he’d do it though. We’d had pet ducklings when we were younger, two sweet yellow balls of peeping fluff. Mine disappeared one afternoon. Cats’ dinner, people had teased, but Shin had silently and doggedly searched the neighborhood for days, long after all hope for the poor duck was gone. Recalling this, I felt a rush of gratitude. Though Pei Ling’s words lingered in my head: how well do you know him? It was a good question. We were no longer children. Even now, I wasn’t sure why Shin hadn’t come home for almost a year. Besides, how long could I rely on him? The only real family I had was my mother, and she was the one who required looking after.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps, I straightened up, suddenly fearful that it might be Y. K. Wong. There was something uncanny about that man, the way he appeared in unexpected places. But it was only Koh Beng.

  “Hello!” he said cheerfully. “Waiting for Shin?”

  “Yes, he’s gone to fetch something.” I hesitated, wondering whether to mention Pei Ling’s accident to him.

  “Want me to show you around?”

  I agreed quickly. It wasn’t wise to wait near the men’s hostel, where Y. K. Wong might well run into me if he returned. Hopefully, Shin would have the good sense to come looking for me.

  Koh Beng was an interesting guide, full of gossip and colorful stories. This was where the first blood transfusion in the hospital had taken place. That office was where the previous director’s wife had caught him trying on a nurse’s uniform. Size XL. I couldn’t help laughing, even though most of the tales were dreadful.

  “Are you really Shin’s girlfriend?” he asked suddenly.

  “Why?”

  Koh Beng hesitated. “Because he has another girl. Down in Singapore.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He talks about her all the time. Said he met her in Singapore.”

  How was I supposed to react to this news of supposed infidelity? Perhaps just a brave, upset face would be good enough. “Oh,” I stared at my shoes. There was an odd, squeezing sensation in my chest.

  “I’m sorry.” Koh Beng drew a little closer. “If there’s anything I can do—” He put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Ji Lin!” It was Shin, coming down the hallway. “Why’d you go off like that?”

  Koh Beng dropped his hand.

  “He was giving me a tour.”

  Shin slid his arm around my waist, and I stiffened. Noticing my reaction, Koh Beng smiled awkwardly as he turned to go. “Let me know if you ever need any help.”

  * * *

  “What sort of help was he offering you?” asked Shin.

  “Nothing,” I shouldn’t have been annoyed. Koh Beng’s well-meaning advice had
nothing to do with my situation. I slipped out from under Shin’s arm. “We don’t have to pretend right now. There’s no one else around.”

  Shin gave me a searching look. Sometimes, I wondered just what was going on behind those quick dark eyes. When he smiled, they crinkled up at the corners, and he smiled a great deal more nowadays than he ever had when he was younger. I wasn’t sure whether I liked that. He’d learned to use his face to his advantage.

  “I’ve something strange to show you,” he said after a pause.

  “Did you find it?” But there were loud voices, the clatter of footsteps. It sounded like a crowd was coming through the corridor; certainly it wasn’t a good place to examine mysterious stolen packages. Besides, I didn’t want to risk running into Y. K. Wong again.

  Shin tried a door. It was locked. The next door opened into a storage closet, with a small window that let in faint grey light. We ducked inside while the voices chattered:

  “Such a horrible thing to happen! Who was she again?”

  “That small nurse. The one involved with a married patient.”

  “I’d have thought she’d have more sense.”

  “Perhaps the wife put a curse on her.”

  The voices moved farther down the corridor. I discovered that I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a rush.

  Shin said quietly, “It was inside the vase in the common room.”

  The storeroom was cramped and dim, but felt safer than the hallway, especially if Shin really had taken something. He started to unbutton his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “I hid it in my shirt,” said Shin, surprised. Then he grinned, “Oh, were you hoping I was going to strip?”

  “Who wants to see you take your shirt off?”

  “You should talk. You used to go swimming with almost nothing on.”

  “I did not! I barely went in the water. I can’t swim well—you know that!”

  “I’ll teach you if you want.” He leaned closer, warm breath against my ear. For a wild instant, I wondered if he was going to kiss me.

  * * *

  I’d been kissed before. By a boy I didn’t really care for. It was the year before Shin left for medical school, when I was still pining hopelessly after Ming. Ming had a friend named Robert Chiu, a boy from a wealthy family who lived close to Ipoh, and as I always wanted to be near Ming, I couldn’t help running into Robert a fair amount as well.