“Por la Patria,” she had said to shut him up. He did not look as if he understood Spanish.
Rolly the IT guy nodded, a half-smile on his lips as he tapped away at his computer.
“What are you smiling about?” Sison had found someone else to bully. “Do you understand that?”
“For the country,” Rolly said softly, not looking up from the keyboard.
Sison laughed. “For the country, eh? What crap.”
For once, nobody laughed along.
“And what’s with this affectation about your name? What does SJ stand for?”
Tuason had no intention of telling him what her name was. She had been bullied for it countless times in school. And Sison was just an over-aged bully in uniform. Neither would she admit to him that her reason for joining the force and working like a madwoman was deeply personal. That she had vowed to become a policewoman who would help the needy. “Some help,” she murmured then went back inside the house.
There were no listings on the phone book or the Internet for “Wellness Center.” Tuason briefed Chief Inspector Michael Christopher “Big Mac” Maquera. Like Wimpy in Popeye, some of the old timers would say about the chief’s fondness for burgers. But there was nothing wimpy about CI Maquera, at least not before he started telling Tuason that honey attracts more flies than vinegar.
“Sir, maybe we should release descriptions of the bodies and ask the public for help in identifying them. Maybe those women have been missing, but went unreported.” Tuason knew she was pushing it, that Big Mac barely tolerated her. The NAPOLCOM has been encouraging gender sensitivity and she was one of only two token female officers in Lakeview. She was sure Maquera would reassign her given the flimsiest of reasons.
“We can’t afford bad publicity now. Not with the APEC Conference. It will give Kyusi a black eye not only locally, but internationally too.”
“But Sir, there will be no APEC events in Kyusi. Maybe an announcement will not cause uproar.” She watched his mestizo features darken.
“Haven’t you seen or read the news? Some controversy had arisen over the relocation of informal settlers from Manila to points unknown. You think two unsolved murders will slip by?” He shook his head. “Work your informants harder,” he barked.
She stood up. Just when we needed media, we can’t use them, she thought. She sank on her chair. As she sat back on the chair, her partner looked at her expectantly. She sauntered to his desk and whispered to him. Joshua glanced uncertainly at Big Mac, then nodded. Unlike Joshua, Tuason was not a Facebook netizen. But she guessed that Joshua had lots of lady friends and she was betting that one of them would recognize the logo of the wellness center where the PT worked.
Joshua received several messages giving him the name and address of the wellness center. It was “The Wellness Center.” Surprise, surprise.
“Good, your popularity with the ladies has paid off,” Tuason said. They went directly to the center.
The building had no exterior identifying signages, just a discreet number in well-buffed brass. It reminded Tuason of those restaurants that expected their clients to know exactly where to look. It was cool and pleasant inside The Wellness Center, a welcome respite from the hot, vehicle-clogged streets. Spa music drifted in the air scented with rosewater. The receptionist sat behind a light-colored wooden desk with a computer monitor, like the gatekeeper of a pleasure palace. On the wall immediately behind her was the logo of the stylized rose, in shades of mauve and pink. Recessed shelves with track lighting displayed lotions and other unguents as if they were art pieces.
The manager was out, but the receptionist said she would try to help them. Joshua, his thinning hair concealed by his police hat, had charmed the receptionist. He was calling her by her first name—Clarisse. When asked if any of the masseuse had not been reporting for work, she said that a number had sometimes called in sick, and she suspected that they were seeing clients on the side because they made more money that way.
“We’re looking for someone who had gone missing for two weeks or more,” Tuason said.
“Hmmm, let me see. Yes, here, we have Maricar Velez.”
Joshua took a deep breath. “We’re sorry, Clarisse, but we have to ask you to look at this and see if you recognize the body.”
“Body? As in naked?” Distaste laced her voice.
“No, body as in dead.”
“Naku, God!” She made the sign of the cross, eyes scrunched. Then she gulped, opened her eyes and said, “Ok, ok. Let me see.”
When Joshua showed her the crime scene photo, the receptionist automatically scrunched her eyes anew. Slowly opening them, she focused on the victim’s rubber shoes. “Yes, that’s Maricar. I recognize the minion’s shoelaces. She got them from a client.
“Can you give us the client’s name?”
She shook her head, and took a tissue out of a box. “Naku, God, she’s dead. I thought she was just cooling off after that fight with Conrad.” She dabbed her eyes.
“Who’s Conrad?” Tuason asked.
“Her boyfriend. Oh God, what’s happening?”
“Is he here?”
“In an hour.” She blew her nose.
“Again,” Tuason said, “Do you know the client who gave Maricar Velez the shoelaces?
“No, sorry. She didn’t tell me.”
“Don’t you keep logs?” Tuason prodded.
“Like I said, not all services are recorded.”
“Can you give us a list of her clients for the past three months?” Tuason tried to sound cool.
“It’s going to take a while…”
“We’ll wait.” Joshua gave her his matinee idol smile, and she seemed reassured.
She started tapping away at her keyboard, cross checking the computer display with a book-bound log.
A few minutes after the receptionist handed the list of Maricar Velez’ clients and appointments for the last three months, a tall muscular man entered The Wellness Center. He had a pimply but otherwise handsome face of a gigolo-in-waiting. The pimples might have been a side effect of steroids.
“Conrad,” the receptionist beckoned to him, “the police want to talk to you. It’s about . . .” she could not finish her sentence. She bit her lip, as though stifling tears.
A shadow of fear crossed Conrad’s face, but it was swiftly replaced by a neutral expression.
“Yes, detectives. What can I do for you?”
He automatically assumed we were detectives, thought Tuason, not traffic cops.
“It’s about your girlfriend Maricar,” she said.
“Ex-girlfriend.” He looked appreciatively at Tuason, giving her a wide smile.
What a prince, Tuason thought. “Oh, ex- girlfriend then. Why did you break up?”
“That’s private. Why, what’s up?”
“She’s dead.”
He remained quiet. The neutral expression still pasted on his face.
“And you were seen and heard fighting with her the day before she died.”
“What? No. That couldn’t be.”
“Does she live near Duhat Street?” Tuason studied his face.
He shook his head. “She’s from Novaliches.”
“What can you tell us about her?”
“She was pretty, a little flirty, good with her hands,” he smiled suggestively.
“Where were you on Wednesday two weeks ago?”
“Why, here, of course.”
The receptionist consulted her records. She turned her wide eyes on them, then focused on Conrad. “You were not on duty that day.”
“Want to try that again?” Tuason’s voice was low, but her eyes were menacing.
“Okay, okay,” he lowered his voice. “I was on a date. The whole day.” He winked.
Tuason wanted to arrest him, but there were no laws against being a two-timing asshole. “Name and address,” she said with barely disguised contempt.
Before they left to interview Conrad’s date, Tuason asked the receptionist where s
he was on Wednesday two weeks ago.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with it,” she sounded flustered.
“Just routine,” Joshua reassured her.
“I was here. Look. My name is on the duty roster.
But you’re in charge of the roster, my dear, Tuason wanted to say, but kept it for later. Instead, she said, “Do you know anyone else who would like to harm Maricar?”
“I don’t know, maybe Estelle. They’ve had a few run-ins because they accused each other of poaching clients. I don’t think people kill for that, though.”
“You’d be surprised,” Tuason said.
The mole under Estelle’s right eye could not be concealed by her make-up. Old folk said that this meant she would become a widow early in life. Her unnaturally dark coarse hair was combed back to reveal a widow’s peak.
“When was the last time you saw Maricar Velez?”
“Two weeks ago, here.”
“A witness said you two fought a lot.”
Estelle shrugged. “She poached my clients.”
“Not the best of friends, eh?”
She shrugged again.
“Where were you on Wednesday two weeks ago?”
“I taught an aerobics class then had back-to-back therapy sessions till the afternoon.”
The receptionist checked her logbook and nodded.
“You should talk to her clients. Some of them are weird.”
Kadyo woke to find himself in the garage. Sarya said he had been out. He had no idea where he had been.
“I must have gone out for a burger,” he told Sarya.
She looked troubled.
“See, I must have spilled ketchup on my shirt,” Kadyo said. When he drew closer to her, she flinched, glancing at her bruised arms. She remembered the kind officer, Ma’am Grace. She had told her to be careful. That she may not be so lucky next time. She closed her eyes. She needed a lot of good luck.
“Come, Kuya. I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Kadyo brightened up. Coffee always relaxes him.
The same thing had happened the week before last. He had told his doctor about these episodes, but all she did was give him more medicines.
A number of policemen from Lakeview Station had been temporarily assigned to augment the police presence in Manila for the APEC Meetings. Big Mac was out attending an interagency meeting.
“You think this APEC thing will increase our pay?” Grace Vega asked the remaining personnel around her. She needed a break from preparing a report on domestic violence. It was giving her tension headache. Her colleagues shrugged. “What do you think, Tuason?” She raised her voice a little more.
Tuason had just finished talking to Zaldy Bernal. He told her that he had also found wooden splinters on the PT’s body, and that they matched the ones he had found earlier on the girl in gray. This time he was definite that the splinters were from a baseball bat. Tuason replaced the receiver, said something unintelligible to Grace and pored over the documents on her desk with focused fire. Grace knitted her brows, shrugged and went back to her report. Joshua was glued to his computer.
Tuason double-checked the client list from The Wellness Center with the files that she had, on a hunch, borrowed from Grace. “Guys,” she said, in the low, controlled voice she used when on the verge of a breakthrough. Joshua and Grace walked over to her desk.
“Ricardo Dimaculangan, one of Maricar Velez’ clients, is Kadyo. Sarya’s brother.” She exhaled audibly. “I thought the name on the list sounded familiar, that’s why I borrowed Sarya’s files. And look at the dates when Sarya was taken here.” She jabbed at the paper with a candle-shaped forefinger and traced several lines on the entries. “Two of them were around the times of the murders.”
Grace peered at the dates. “You think he went on a rampage and killed those women after roughing up Sarya?”
Tuason’s face was grim.
Grace shook her head. “I should have let you do a Rambo on him. What if he had killed during all those other times, and we don’t know where the bodies are?” she continued.
A thought entered Tuason’s mind, but she kept it to herself.
“I was just searching Facebook,” Joshua said. “Kadyo has curly hair.” He paused. “And among his interests, he listed baseball.”
Tuason remembered what Zaldy Bernal had just told her. She stood up. “Let’s go get a warrant.”
Slabs of concrete lay on the street, casualties of the DPWH drillings. There were no signs of workers, and only half the street had been laid with cement. Tuason rang the doorbell on the Dimaculangan’s house. She was accompanied by Joshua, Grace, and Rolly the IT guy. They were so shorthanded at Lakeview that even Rolly had been assigned to join them.
Sarya ushered them in, looking bewildered and fearful at the same time. “I told you, Ma’am Grace, all my injuries were caused by accidents. I am clumsy and bump into things, falling all the time.” She looked anxiously from Grace to Tuason. “My kuya wouldn’t hurt me.”
Kadyo was in the sala, playing solitaire with a well-used deck of cards. Video solitaire and other games disturbed him, with their lights and sounds. He looked up from the cards and smiled when he saw Tuason. He automatically run his hand through his curly hair to smoothen it. He sucked in his stomach. Even in uniform, Tuason was strikingly attractive.
“Mr. Dimaculangan, we want to ask you some questions about Maricar Velez,” Tuason said, training her eyes on Kadyo.
He showed a flicker of recognition, but he remained silent.
“Did you know her?”
He nodded. “Why do you ask?
“She was found dead and her last appointment was with you.”
He sucked in his breath. “I don’t understand.”
“She was found dead not far from here. Her face had been bashed in. Where were you on Wednesday two weeks ago?
“I was here at home, with my sister.” He answered too quickly. He glanced at Sarya, who avoided his eyes.
“How about this girl, do you know her?” Tuason showed him a picture of the unidentified girl in gray, bloody face and all, the better to catch him off-guard.
His face turned ashen.
“She was also found dead in a warehouse along Chico, on Monday a week ago.” Tuason studied his face. “Where were you last Monday morning between ten and noon?”
“Here. I was here. Please, Sarya, tell them.”
“Yes, I was with him.” She glanced briefly to her right.
“But you see, police records showed that Sarya was at the police station on those times.” Tuason walked closer to Kadyo.
Sarya concentrated on her hands as they clasped and unclasped, seemingly out of their own accord.
“Have you seen these?” Tuason showed Kadyo pictures of the earrings.
He shook his head, but Tuason knew that he too was lying.
“We have a warrant to search the place.”
Joshua, Grace and Rolly searched the house, from first floor to third floor. They could not find any trace of the earrings or a baseball bat. After a few more minutes, Joshua said, “Found something,” He held a bat with his gloved hand. “It was in his closet, hidden at the back, behind his sneakers and backpacks.”
“No! Nobody touches that!” Kadyo tried to grab the bat from Joshua. “It’s my championship bat. Give it back!” It took both Joshua and Rolly to subdue him. The bat fell with a clatter on the crazy cut marble floor.
“Cuff him,” Tuason said.
“No, please, Ma’am Tuason. My kuya didn’t do anything.”
“We have to take him in. He attacked a police officer, and we’ve found the murder weapon.” Tuason knew that they still needed another crucial piece of evidence. But at that point, it was best to isolate the siblings.
“Please,” Sarya continued to beg, now looking at Grace.
“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Kadyo said, regaining his composure. “Wait, before you cuff me, let me get this.” He took out his wallet
and gave Sarya a calling card. “Call Attorney Torres. I’ll be fine.” He sounded unnaturally calm. Sarya took the card, and remained standing in the middle of the sala, her face inscrutable. Then she walked to the phone and started to dial.
Joshua and Rolly marched Kadyo out. “Take him to Lakeview. I’ll stick around,” Tuason whispered.
“Without a back-up?”
Tuason tapped her holstered gun and kept walking, as if she was leaving with the rest of the group. Then she surreptitiously stayed behind, taking cover among the trees and shrubs. She tiptoed back to the Dimaculangan house. She went around to the back, and settled near a window, angled such that she stood in the afternoon shadow, with a clear view of the entire first floor.
Sarya had turned on the CD player. Frank Sinatra’s voice wafted to where Tuason stood. “And now, the end is near,” he crooned, voice as cool as ever. For a moment, a completely random thought entered Tuason’s mind. Isn’t the karaoke death song a bit too old for Sarya? She dismissed the thought and once more concentrated on the unfolding scene.
Sarya walked to the kitchen and poured herself a goblet of red wine. Then, humming along to Sinatra, she took some ice cubes from the freezer and put them into the goblet, much to Tuason’s dismay. What did she think was she drinking, Coke? Still humming, she went to the foyer and stood before the mirror. She sipped some wine. Tuason swiftly went to the living room window for a closer look. Sarya placed the goblet on the foyer table, then fished out a melting ice cube and popped it in her mouth. After a few seconds, she pushed out a gold stud with her tongue. She put it on. She took another ice cube, sucked on it, producing a ruby earring, which she also put on. A smile lighted up her face as she admired herself on the foyer mirror, wearing the mismatched earrings. She glanced at the bronze Buddha head on the foyer table. “I look pretty, don’t I?” she preened for the Buddha.
Tuason rang the doorbell.
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