Aunty Lee's Chilled Revenge

by Ovidia Yu

Vallerie grabbed a piece of toast off the plate Nina had just put down beside her and smeared jam thickly and furiously on it. She paid no attention to Nina. “Thank you,” Aunty Lee mouthed. Nina acknowledged her with a token twitch of the lips, not quite a smile.

  Nina and Aunty Lee might live in the same country in the same house, but as a foreign domestic worker Nina was exposed to a lot more of the hidden underside of people. Nina had observed people were generally worse than they appeared socially; if this was Vallerie’s social side, Nina was not looking forward to encountering her dark side. And though as a “foreign worker” rather than a “foreign talent” Nina’s experiences of Singapore were far worse than anything Vallerie or her sister could have encountered, Singapore had made it possible for her to keep her family alive, and Aunty Lee had become family to her. As far as Nina was concerned, this crazy woman could mouth off at Singapore all she liked, but Nina was going to keep a sharp eye on Aunty Lee and Aunty Lee’s property while this unwelcome guest was around.

  7

  Sunday Morning Café

  Cherril had been the first to arrive at Aunty Lee’s Delights that morning. She had arrived just after nine and now, at almost ten, she was still the only one there. Sundays at the café didn’t start till eleven, but Aunty Lee generally liked to get in early. Even after her fall, she would often have her breakfast at one of the café tables while watching Nina set up for the day. Of course she had that woman staying with her now—Cherril grimaced at the thought. Mechanically she checked the cordials and glasses and the rest of the drinks preparation. While she didn’t feel at all like talking, she badly wanted to figure out what had happened—not just to Allison Love but to all of them.

  Cherril was tired. Vallerie Love had gone home with Aunty Lee after talking to Salim and Panchal at the café, but she, Josephine, and Brian had been taken to the Bukit Tinggi Police Hub to answer questions and give their statements. Vallerie was a bereaved relative but they were suspects, Cherril realized. Allison Love was dead and her sister had accused them of killing her. Cherril had thought they were being questioned to placate Vallerie Love, who had alternated sobbing with shouting hysterical accusations at them. But at the station they had printouts of some of the comments from the “Puppy Killer” forums of five years ago, and Cherril was shocked by how vicious their comments sounded now. “We were young and angry,” was all she could say. “We weren’t the only ones angry with her.”

  It had been late by the time she was finally allowed to leave the police station the night before, and that was only after Mycroft came to get her and pulled all the strings of influence he could reach. Apparently several other customers had heard Josephine say they should have killed Allison. Giving their statements had been a long, laborious procedure with much repetition and waiting in between sessions. As Brian had joked, it almost made you want to confess to something, just to get it over with. But Cherril often stayed back later than that at the café and had not thought to call home. She had been surprised when her husband showed up at the police station.

  “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come earlier.”

  “How did you know we were here?”

  “Josephine called.”

  “Josephine? She didn’t tell me she was calling you.”

  “I think she probably called every lawyer contact she had in her phone. She probably forgot we’re married.”

  “And you came because Josephine needed a lawyer.”

  “I came because she told me you were here at the station with her.”

  “Did you get them to let her go too?” Cherril had not seen Josephine again after a desk sergeant had come to tell her that her husband was waiting for her outside.

  “I don’t know. They probably did.” Mycroft didn’t seem interested in Josephine’s fate.

  It was unlike Mycroft, who was normally punctilious about seeing things through. But Cherril had to admit a nugget of satisfaction. She could not help wondering at Josephine calling Mycroft for help without mentioning it to her. Why hadn’t she just asked Cherril to call her husband? Even as she wondered Cherril knew the answer: Josephine believed she had more insight and influence (especially with men).

  Josephine had told the police she and Cherril had arrived at the café around the same time, with Brian joining them soon after.

  “It’s less complicated,” Josephine had explained in the ladies’. “The police aren’t good at dealing with complicated things.”

  When Mycroft asked her why she hadn’t told him about the threatened lawsuit, Cherril could only say that Josephine had been so certain they would easily talk Allison out of it, that she was only trying to get money out of them. But going over the police printouts of their forum posts made her see that if any of the enraged commenters on the Animal ReHomers website had killed Allison Love, they were all responsible for inciting her death.

  Her phone was flashing with updates. Aunty Lee (or more likely Nina) had sent a message telling Cherril they could manage without her if she didn’t feel up to coming in. But that day Cherril far preferred being in the shop than back home where they were so sensible and reasonable. Right now Cherril needed someone to be irrational with, like Aunty Lee.

  If Cherril had said, “If she hadn’t come here just to make trouble for us, she would still be alive now, but I can’t help thinking that if we hadn’t made such a fuss over the dog years ago none of this would have happened, which means it’s sort of our fault she’s dead, not that we shouldn’t have called her out for killing the dog, but maybe we shouldn’t have let her have the dog in the first place,” Aunty Lee would have agreed without correcting her grammar (Anne) or logic (Mycroft).

  And though Cherril dreaded the questions Aunty Lee was certain to ask (Aunty Lee had no qualms about being impolite), now she was feeling let down that Aunty Lee was not there to ask them. Instead, Cherril supposed she was looking after Allison’s sister and felt a twinge of jealousy. Just as she was wondering whether she should call Aunty Lee to see when she was coming in, Nina arrived and said that Aunty Lee was still talking with Vallerie back at the house.

  “Yesterday’s two helpers coming in again today so it will be okay,” Nina assured her. “If you got to go and talk to the police some more I can stay here and supervise.”

  “Thanks. I’ll manage. You can go back to the house to help with Vallerie.”

  Mark and Selina also turned up at the café right after church. They had been spending less time at the café since Mark handed over the drinks business to Cherril, but Aunty Lee’s twisted ankle had brought them back. Selina considered it her Christian duty to help the weak and incapacitated—whether or not they wanted her help—especially when there might be profits involved.

  “We read about the murder in the papers and saw your names and Aunty Lee’s Delights mentioned, so we thought we better stop by just to make sure this place hasn’t been closed down—again!” Selina said brightly. There was nothing Selina loved so much as poking (helpfully, of course) through other people’s dirty laundry. This morning she was radiant in anticipation of a good gossip. “Where’s Aunty Lee? They haven’t arrested her, I hope! Ha ha! Isn’t it terrible how dead bodies seem to show up in Aunty Lee’s vicinity? Everybody was talking about it during post-service fellowship. They asked me, ‘Isn’t that Mark’s stepmum’s place?’ and I looked and couldn’t believe it, so Mark insisted we rush over right away and find out what’s happening, didn’t you, Mark?”

  Mark smiled at Cherril. “Are you okay, Cherry? You look tired.”

  “Oh yes. I’m fine. Just a bit tired, thanks.”

  “Look, sit down and I’ll get you a coffee.”

  Cherril felt certain it was Selina rather than Mark who had rushed over for news, just as it had probably been Selina who directed any lurid post-service discussion.

  “She works here, why are you offering to get her coffee in her own kitchen? Anyway, tell us what happened! And where’s Aunty Lee? Is she at the police station? What did that wo
man die of? The newspapers didn’t say. Was she poisoned? Here?”

  “She wasn’t poisoned here.” Cherril’s previous airline training gave her an edge in dealing with difficult people, but she still found Selina Lee a challenge. “She never came anywhere near here.”

  “Selina almost had the whole church taking bets on whether the woman was poisoned, stabbed, or pushed out the window,” Mark said genially, “with heavy odds on poisoning.”

  It seemed to Cherril that since Mark had saved Aunty Lee’s life last year he had become much nicer to everyone at the café. He seemed more comfortable in the role of generous benefactor than supplicant—and it suited him better too.

  Selina ignored Mark’s attempt at diversion. “According to the papers you were one of the people the dead woman was coming here to meet. So, tell all!”

  But Cherril didn’t have anything to tell, except that she, Josephine, and Brian had been at the police station answering questions till late.

  “It’s nothing to do with us and the café at all. We just happened to arrange the meeting here—in fact the meeting didn’t even take place here, so really we’re not involved at all.”

  “But you were in the papers, Cherril,” Selina insisted. She looked at Cherril, who had moved to sit by the drinks counter while Mark warmed up a cup for her coffee. True, the café did not officially open for over an hour, but normally Nina would be rushing around and Cherril would be sorting out fruits and vegetables and syrups for her drinks. Instead Cherril was sitting motionless, staring into space.

  Selina continued. “I recognized you at once even though your hair was so funny in the photo. I told Mark there’s a jinx on this place. Everybody who works here gets involved in all kinds of funny business. Luckily he got out in time, ha ha.” But her banter was wasted. Cherril did not seem upset. Indeed she barely seemed to be listening to Selina. Neither, it seemed, was Mark.

  “Try my new health cocktail mix?” Mark broke into Cherril’s thoughts. “I think it will do you more good than a coffee. Come on. Just try it. Don’t worry, I made it according to your recipe. I just added a dash of vodka and Tabasco, like a Bloody Mary. And don’t worry about what happened to that woman. Nobody thinks you people had anything to do with it. And I don’t think anybody is really sorry she’s dead.”

  Mark would have made a good nanny, Cherril thought, or a good father. A cool, soothing swallow of the sweet, sharp blend of celery, carrot, and lemongrass made her feel better. Mark’s innovation worked too—she made a note to try introducing mildly alcoholic cocktails at weekend brunch buffets. She was glad she had come in to work instead of staying at home. She was even glad Mark and Silly-Nah had shown up. Thinking of Aunty Lee’s name for Selina made her smile and Mark took this as a good sign.

  “You knew the dead woman years ago, didn’t you? It must have been a shock for you.”

  “Even if you weren’t friends,” Selina put in. “Were you? If you didn’t know her then, why were you meeting her here? Why did the police have to question you for so long?”

  “I only met Allison once, when I went with Josephine and Brian to find out where she had sent the puppy, and she called the police. Everything else was by phone and e-mail. I was handling most of the secretarial stuff so my name was on the mailers; I suppose that’s why she wanted me here. The police interviews last night took so long because they didn’t have enough staff on duty to take our statements and because they wanted to go over the online stuff. The sister kept saying we had threatened her sister so we must have killed her, and I think they can’t ignore accusations, so every time she accused us they had to record what she said.”

  “Anyway, it’s over,” Mark said firmly. “And it’s nothing to do with us or Selina’s old friend Josephine.”

  “You know Josephine DelaVega?” Cherril was surprised.

  “We were in the same school,” Selina said primly. “I would say I knew of Josephine. But then everybody did. She was what people called ‘havoc.’”

  No one would ever have called Selina Lee “havoc.”

  8

  Back at the House

  “Inspector Salim on the phone,” Nina announced, bringing the phone out to the patio where Aunty Lee and Vallerie still sat over the remnants of breakfast. Once Vallerie had been persuaded to try to eat just a little, to keep her strength up, she had managed to put away quite a bit, and Aunty Lee was pleased with both of them. Vallerie was looking more relaxed—almost ready to talk, in fact. Without seeing her (or supplying breakfast), Salim was clearly hoping the same thing.

  “What does he want?”

  “He wanted to find out how Miss Vallerie is this morning. He wants to ask her some questions if she is feeling better. Also he needs her to identify her sister’s body and tell them if anything is missing from the hotel room.”

  Vallerie’s sullen look returned. “I already answered all his questions yesterday. They should be questioning those animal people and Mike Fitzgerald.”

  “Vallerie isn’t comfortable going to the morgue or going back to the hotel alone.” Aunty Lee started her side of the conversation even as she reached out for the phone. “Even a policeman should understand her being afraid of that hotel. Hello, Salim? Have you had breakfast yet? Look, if I had a sister and she was killed in a hotel in England I also would be scared to go back to that hotel alone. And how can you ask her to go to the morgue when she doesn’t even know what happened to her sister? She has to prepare herself first, right?” She lowered her voice. “What happened to Allison Love?”

  Inspector Salim swept past her questions. “We need her to officially identify her sister’s body. How long before she feels better?”

  “I don’t know how long. How long do you take to solve a case? She is still in shock. Later I will make her some soup—my soup is very good for people in shock. Anyway, I have lots of room in my house; she can stay here until she is feeling better.”

  As Salim’s silence conveyed his exasperation and amusement she added, “I can invite who I want to come and stay at my house, I suppose. This is a free country.”

  “Nothing is free in this country. But yes, of course you can invite Miss Vallerie to stay with you. She will be much more comfortable staying with you than in the hotel, given that she doesn’t know anybody here. But I need her to make a formal identification of Allison Love’s body and sign the autopsy agreement.”

  “Bloody stupid cops,” Vallerie said when Aunty Lee conveyed the request. “Who else would it be? What would they do if I wasn’t here then—label her ‘Jane Doe’?”

  “They would ask England to send DNA and dental records,” Nina said, stung out of deferential silence (reserved for visitors she didn’t like) by the insult to local police.

  Vallerie stared at her.

  Aunty Lee looked cautiously in Nina’s direction before addressing Vallerie. “Shall I tell him you will go to the morgue this afternoon just to get it out of the way?” She took Vallerie’s shrug as assent.

  Aunty Lee returned the phone to Nina after switching it off. “Salim’s application for a sabbatical to study law will probably be approved soon,” she commented. “He’s very smart, that one. Shouldn’t have any problem if he works hard. That young man will go far.”

  “Crazy! With people getting murdered on his watch he wants to run away to study?” Vallerie shook her head.

  “Singapore has too many lawyers already,” Nina said. “Not enough policemen to do the real work. Who is going to look after the police post when he is away studying?” It was the first agreement Aunty Lee had heard between Nina and Vallerie.

  “People will always be dying, Nina. If Salim waits until nobody is dying that may be because everybody is already dead.”

  Vallerie wasn’t interested in Salim’s career path. “The police don’t care. The bloody police don’t care what crimes are going on in front of them as long as they get their bloody salaries. You won’t believe the times I’ve called the police only to have them tell me there’s nothi
ng they can do. There’s nothing they can be bothered to do, that’s what they really mean!”

  Getting very worked up very fast seemed to be something the two Love sisters had in common, Aunty Lee thought, remembering some of the outbursts attributed to Allison Love years ago. Was this due to something in their shared upbringing or a personality trait inherited from an excitable parent? It would have been interesting to see them all getting worked up at the same time.

  In the Lee family Mathilda was the excitable one, though fortunately she remained sweet natured when she got worked up. By contrast Mark grew more quiet and withdrawn under pressure. Had Mark married a talkative woman to restore some natural balance? Selina was very different from Mathilda, but they had the same energy and ebullience. Somewhere in this was an important point, Aunty Lee felt, but she could not put her finger on what it was. Allison and Vallerie Love had not been close as sisters until Allison needed help. Vallerie had left her own life behind and come to the other side of the world with her. Did Aunty Lee’s mind keep going back to this point only because she did not have a sister who would do the same for her, or was there something more there?

  And was her own lack of a sister the reason Aunty Lee felt a growing responsibility toward this stranger? Vallerie Love was not at all the kind of woman Aunty Lee would have chosen for a sister-confidante. Of course, if they had actually been sisters they would have adapted to each other growing up. No, for Aunty Lee, taking Vallerie into her home was an extension of her feeding and fussing over people in her café. People as disparate as psychiatrists, librarians, and urban social landscape planners saw their professional craft as an art shaped by vocation, and like them Aunty Lee found it difficult to draw a line between feeding people as customers and nurturing them as family.

  Admittedly, Aunty Lee had been no more than curious about Vallerie on first seeing her at the café with Cherril and her friends. But on hearing the news of her sister’s death, this curiosity was superseded by concern. What a terrible thing to happen to somebody in an unfamiliar place! Of course it must have been far worse for Allison, who had been killed. But at least that was done and over, and there was nothing Aunty Lee could do for Allison Love except perhaps nose out what had happened to her. Vallerie, on the other hand, was still adrift in Singapore. The police clearly had further questions for her, which meant she was staying on for a while at least.