Crimetime

by Maria L. M. Fres-Felix

  MAM’s face turned pale, but he looked indignant. He exhaled loudly.

  “Recognize her?” Tuason’s eyes narrowed.

  “Of course, I do.” He snorted. “She gave me hell. I hope she burns there. That…” He suddenly clamped his mouth.

  “Who was she and what do you mean?” Tuason asked while Joshua, notebook in hand, surveyed the room with its cavalcade of Darth Vader, Superman, and Spiderman statues, and its assortment of photos of celebrities in costume posing with a grinning MAM.

  “Her name is Sheena something.” The loathing in his voice was thick. “She works for The Silangan Group. They ordered a Star Wars ensemble. But this… this woman, she suddenly wanted the red Amidala when all the while she was being fitted for the white and pink one. So last minute! I mean, what about that other girl who had been fitted for the red?” He sighed theatrically, arms flung up. “But she insisted. Called me names. In front of so many people.” It was almost a shriek. “She threatened to void the contract. As if!”

  “What’s all this fuss about the color?” Joshua had joined them.

  MAM turned to him as if he were something slimy. “You don’t know? Well, the red gown was used for the queen’s throne room scene. While the white and pink one was used in the victory parade.”

  Joshua shook his head.

  MAM continued, “Anyway, this Sheena kept insisting she had to have the red because it was Sam’s favorite color. As if! Didn’t she know how difficult it would be to squeeze her into the red? With her double D boobs? She snubbed her original gown. That …” MAM took a deep breath. “Can you imagine that? Her original gown was a work of art. It was no joke stitching all those pink petals on the cape. That ingrate.”

  “Wait, who is Sam?” Joshua asked, jotting down the name.

  MAM shrugged and looked irritated. “Who cares?” Then his eyes brightened. “Oh, maybe he’s that cute guy who dropped by the office when we were having a fitting. He was like a gangster or a politico with an entourage, can you imagine?” He clucked his tongue. “Anyway, not to speak ill of the dead, but that Sheena had it coming.”

  Tuason knit her brows. “Where were you last Tuesday night between 10 and midnight?”

  “What? You think I killed her? I was at home. I stayed in my room upstairs and drank myself to sleep. The embarrassment! My nerves, my poor nerves. That puta.” He finally blurted out the word that he had been suppressing all throughout the interview.

  Tuason narrowed her eyes at him. He cradled his head in both hands, trembling. “If there is anything else you can think of, call me,” she said, knowing this to be a long shot.

  In the Sentra with the poor air conditioner, Joshua said, “He seems to have a motive, but I doubt it’s strong enough for murder.”

  Tuason nodded, then as though in afterthought, cocked her head. “Although, he does look fit enough to strangle a woman as big as Sheena.”

  “But would he try to rape her?”

  “You keep forgetting. Rape is about power.”

  “At least it was not a complete bust. We have a lead on the victim’s identity.”

  She dropped Joshua off at the station to pick up his motorcycle. Then she drove to the Crime Lab in Camp Crame. It was close to seven, and dark, but she knew Zaldy Bernal would still be hard at work. She nearly regretted her decision as she guided her car on a snake dance through EDSA. The U-turn to the camp was a nightmare.

  “So you just presumed I’d go along with your little ruse? How long do you think before relatives claim her? This is not a corpse dormitory, you know. So many requests for tests, even from the provinces.” Zaldy Bernal did not even look up from the body that he was working on. It was as if he had sensed Tuason’s presence. In truth, she was the only one who haunted his lab after office hours. He tolerated her doggedness. It was this trait that helped her track down the man who killed his father years ago.

  “I brought chocolates.” She bit into a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar and laid an unopened Toblerone on the counter beside jars of formaldehyde.

  “I bet you’ll end up eating that too.” Unlike most cops who drank to relieve work-related stress, Tuason devoured chocolate.

  Zaldy covered the body to spare Tuason the sight of the Y-shaped incision that showed the bloody cavity that used to be a man’s body. He had extracted and weighed the organs prior to Tuason’s arrival. The investigator smiled. Zaldy was one of the remaining few chivalrous ones. She did not have the heart to tell him not to bother covering up the body, that she had gotten used to the sight of blood and gore through the years.

  “Eighty-year-old male. Children wanted an autopsy. They suspect his young common-law wife of poisoning him.” Bernal sighed.

  Then he walked to the wall with the steel drawers. “Here she is,” he said. “Couldn’t do an autopsy without the next of kin’s consent. You know how it works.”

  She nodded. “We haven’t tracked down any relatives yet. Meantime, I just couldn’t let her get shipped off to some funeraria, then get lost if no one claims her.” She bit into the chocolate bar. “And worse, her death forgotten.” She sighed, and thought of her father’s unsolved murder.

  Bernal consulted his notes. “Preliminary findings: cause of death is asphyxiation from manual strangulation. See the petechial hemorrhaging of the skin and eyes? And her hyoid bone was fractured. Her assailant must have been quite strong.” He pointed to the neck. “Based on temperature and lividity, she died Tuesday night between ten and midnight,” He said, as if he was discussing the weather.

  He added, “There’s some minute scarring. I’m guessing she had cheek implants. And there’s a cut in her inner cheek. Probably slapped silly before she died.”

  In the silence, he continued, “Hmmm, and you probably noticed that her eyebrows were tattooed. Can’t tell if she was raped, pending autopsy, but based on what I saw, she probably wasn’t. She was roughed up before she died, though. She has bruises on her jaw, arms and back. Seems to me her assailant got amorous, but she resisted. He looked at Tuason, who was intent on Sheena’s face. Bernal continued, “I’ll send the fingernail scrapings to the DNA Branch for testing. Let’s hope she got some off her attacker.” He pointed to the scratches on her throat. “She must have tried to pry off her attacker’s hands, but the struggle must have been short. I’m waiting for the fingerprint analysis, and hoping we can ID her.”

  Tuason bit more vigorously into the bitter chocolate bar. Though she previously worked at the Women’s Desk, she had not become inured to violence against women. But she hid her emotions well. She examined Sheena’s face. She must be in her mid-twenties. She looked like she took care of herself, even went to the trouble of dyeing her hair with blonde highlights that were showing some black at the roots. She had her whole future ahead of her, only to be cut short in that grassy place with the spaceship replica. Tuason crumpled the chocolate wrapper and tossed it into a trashcan.

  “And look,” Zaldy lifted the covering to show thunder thighs with a constellation of scars in different stages of healing. Some wounds were fairly fresh. “She had been cutting.”

  Pity crossed Tuason’s face as she looked at the self-inflicted mutilation.

  “Hey, SJ, stop looking so glum. Shit happens. You can’t save everybody.” Zaldy Bernal was the only one allowed to call her by her first name, or more accurately the initials of her first name. Tuason had requested a change of name when she graduated college, so all her records bore SJ as her given name. Bernal, with his skills and contacts, could have uncovered her name. But he chose to wait for her to tell him out of her own volition, just like she had told him that the reason why she became a policewoman was because of unhappy childhood experiences.

  “Thanks, man. I owe you. But hey, look, your Toblerone is still there. You lose the bet.” She attempted a smile.

  “Stop calling me man,” he called out, but she was gone.

  From the lab, Tuason went to the gym in Kamuning that doubled as a Taekwondo dojang. It was owned by two brothe
rs who lived on the second floor and kept the gym open till late. One end of the gym was devoted to Taekwondo lessons, which the younger brother taught, and he called the place a dojang, literally, a formal training hall for Korean Martial Arts. It was sparsely decorated, unlike the dojangs in Korea, which were adorned with national and federation flags, pictures, and calligraphy of Taekwondo techniques. In the Kamuning dojang, there were mats, target pads, and a kickbag. A solitary banner hung on the wall. In the center of the banner was the round symbol in red and blue representing the Yin and Yang, flanked on both sides by silhouettes of figures executing roundhouse kicks. She worked with the kickbag as the trainer was not around. She hit it with sidekicks and roundhouse kicks, with as much power as she could. She kept punishing the bag till her legs and feet ached. Strangulation cases had that effect on her.

  The following day, Tuason and Joshua went to the office of The Silangan Group in Quezon Avenue and asked to see the HR manager. She was a fat woman with bulging eyes and a fair complexion. Tuason showed her Sheena’s picture. The HR Manager sucked in her breath. Her bangs bobbed and her bulging eyes seemed to pop out from her pasty face. “My God! It’s Sheena. Oh dear, how could anybody think of hurting her?”

  “Last name?” Tuason cut into the beginning of the manager’s hysterics.

  “Mariano. Sheena Mariano. Dear Lord, poor thing.”

  “Why was she there and why was she dressed like that?”

  “The day before yesterday was our tenth anniversary. We had a Star Wars theme party. Our new tagline is ‘Conquering the Galaxy at 10’, you know. Our new president is a Star Wars fan. Oh dear, he will be devastated.”

  Tuason raised an eyebrow.

  “They were close,” the HR manager said. Seeing Tuason’s eyes narrow, she added in a rush, “Oh no, nothing inappropriate. It’s just that they used to work in another company and he was her boss.”

  “Did you try to get in touch with Sheena?”

  The HR manager blinked. “She’s usually absent without notice after big events, and you know, we don’t want to appear too strict. The president might find out.”

  “Where were you between 10 and midnight last Tuesday?”

  “I was here supervising the party.” She sounded hurt and indignant. “Sheena must have left early. I remember feeling thankful not getting any complaints from her that night. Not that I mind, really. They’re more like helpful suggestions.”

  “Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt her?”

  She shook her head. “She was an angel. You can talk to her staff and some of the other account managers, if that would help.”

  “We’ll need her home address.”

  “Let me pull it out of the computer.” She keyed in some words. “Oh no, the field is blank. Must be some clerical error. I’ll get back to you.” Tuason wondered how the woman ever got promoted to manager.

  After some initial weeping and hesitation, the staff of The Silangan Group cooperated, some even becoming quite excited.

  Why would someone hurt Sheena? was the common refrain.

  “Does she have a boyfriend?” Tuason asked.

  “None that we knew of. Between her high-pressure job and looking after her sick old mother, she didn’t have the time. She was such a good daughter.”

  “Yes, and generous too. She used to bring us home-cooked food. Her pastel de lengua is to die for. The crust was perfect.” The speaker almost smacked her lips.

  “Don’t forget her chicken relleno. She was such a darling.”

  “You know what time she left the party and if she was with anybody?” Tuason cut into the food review.

  There was silence.

  “We were having so much fun. We didn’t notice. Sorry.”

  Tuason then questioned a couple of the other account managers who she figured were Sheena’s rivals. But they had only good things to say about her.

  “She got along with everybody. Well, everybody except Joy. But nobody gets along with Joy anyway,” said an account manager with weepy eyes and a huge LV bag.

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, Joy got all the good breaks. Sheena was an honor graduate, while Joy is not. Yet Joy got the better assignments. They came from the same school. Sheena was on financial aid.” She lowered her voice as if being on aid was shameful. She exhaled and added. “Luckily, the new president is more fair. He has redistributed the work and reassigned some of the clients.”

  “Serves Joy right,” said another manager with dark, acne-ravaged face and muscular legs. “Remember the anniversary party?” She glanced at her weepy-eyed colleague, who nodded her agreement. She continued, “On the day of the party, Joy left in a huff because of some misunderstanding about the costume. Such a petty thing. I tell you, that Joy is so full of herself. And to think she is so musculada. She’s built like an Amazon. Must be all that rowing and weight lifting.” She wrinkled her nose, as if imagining a disgusting sight.

  Tuason jotted down the name Joy, and thought, so this is all about money, about client distribution. Bonuses would depend on the quality of clients. “When was the last time you saw Sheena?”

  The acne-faced manager looked up the ceiling. “At the party. But I think she left early. She said she was going out for a smoke, then I lost track of her. The party was a blast.”

  Tuason spotted one woman not participating in the lovefest. She was older than the rest. She sat erect in front of her computer monitor, typing, dressed in a clingy violet blouse, and sporting big hair like it was still the eighties.

  The acne-faced manager noticed Tuason’s stare. “That’s Annie. She’s weird.”

  Joshua had noticed Annie too. With a nod, he took over taking notes from the group and questioning a number of other account managers who were just arriving in the office.

  Tuason sauntered to the woman in violet.

  “You’ve heard about your co-worker’s death?”

  Annie nodded, not taking her eyes off the monitor.

  “Know anyone who would harm her?”

  She shrugged, still not looking at Tuason, as though willing the investigator to leave her alone.

  Tuason swiveled the screen away from Annie. “This is a murder investigation. Would you rather answer questions at the station?”

  Annie sighed and faced Tuason. “I barely knew her.”

  “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  There was that shrug again. “Only in her mind, I guess.”

  Tuason’s gray-green eyes drilled into eyes heavy with blue eye shadow.

  Annie exhaled loudly and said, “There’s this client. Sheena’s been after him for a while. And I don’t mean just his account. But he likes someone else.”

  “What’s the client’s name?” Tuason remembered that MAM had mentioned a client named Sam who liked red.

  “Sam Mendrez,” she said, as if the name should mean something.

  “And who does Sam like?” Tuason kept her face impassive.

  “Joy. Joy Fuentes.” Tuason wondered if she was the Joy that Sheena went to school with. “She’s an account manager, just like Sheena. She’s our top performer.”

  “Where is this Joy?”

  “She resigned. I don’t blame her. After everything Sheena had done to her.”

  “You don’t like Sheena very much, do you?”

  “True, but I didn’t kill her.” She pouted. Tuason looked at her closely.

  Annie continued, “I just couldn’t stand the way she treats us staff assistants. As if she owns us. As if giving us food means she can do anything, make demands. Joy is one of the good account managers. Treated us staff like people, not minions. Sayang.”

  “Seems like you’re the only one who feels that way.”

  She shrugged. “I guess they all want to be on the president’s good side.” She cast a withering glance at the group talking to Rios.

  “And you couldn’t be bothered because…”

  “I’ve been here with the company since day one. I know all the ins and
outs of this place. I may be just a staff assistant. A senior staff assistant,” she corrected herself with an air of self-importance. “But I know things. And I’m not in a hurry to get ahead. So I don’t have to kiss ass like those people hoping to climb up the ladder really fast.” She pointed puckered lips to the group around Joshua Rios. Tuason studied the woman who would rather do her job well than ingratiate herself to superiors. The blue eyeshadow and body-clinging top no longer looked as garish as before.

  “Tell me about the argument Sheena had with the owner of La Fabulosa.”

  “What’s there to tell? She freaked the guy out because she wanted Joy’s costume. Just like she wants Joy’s accounts and everything else. I pity the guy.” She shook her head. “I thought he was going to have a seizure when Sheena threatened to stop payment for the costumes. And the HR manager sided with Sheena. Poor Joy was on an out-of-town assignment that day and couldn’t protest. When the red costume was finally given to Sheena, MAM walked out of the office swearing.”

  “And where were you last Tuesday between ten and midnight?”

  She snapped her head at Tuason. Then puffed up her chest and smiled. “Why, hosting the party as Princess Leia.”

  “Aren’t you too old for the role?” Tuason wanted to ask, but the pride in the woman’s face made her stop. Playing a princess even for just a few hours must have been a welcome respite from a life chained to a computer terminal.

  In the rusty old Sentra, Joshua said, “So this Sheena was either a saint or a bitch.”

  Tuason guided the car along Quezon Avenue traffic. “More like a bit of both, just like the rest of us.” She was wondering why Sheena had aroused such extreme reactions- of either love or hate.

  “Next time, I get to interview the lone wolf. I got nothing from that gaggle.” Joshua said.

  Tuason tilted her head. “We have to talk to that Joy Fuentes. She had been at the receiving end of Sheena’s plots. I guess they were rivals at the company. And Sheena stole her costume, probably her boyfriend too. We also have to locate this Sam Mendrez.”

  “You think another woman could have strangled someone as heavy as the victim?”