A Deadly Cambodian Crime Spree
Page 26
“Bandages,” replied his wife, who was being unusually economical with her words. Perhaps there was a silver lining to his present condition.
“Well?” demanded Superintendent Chen.
Singh thought about what Menhay had done – killed eleven men. And then he remembered Ta Ieng and Huon, who had escaped all forms of formal justice. He would not judge his friend and colleague, would not decide what was right and wrong, as he had done with Sovann Armstrong. Menhay had made a mistake and chosen to pay the ultimate price. Who was he to gainsay that?
His senior officer was glaring at him, demanding answers.
Singh shrugged and winced as the movement pulled on various cuts and bruises he didn’t even know he had. “It was just an accident,” he said firmly. He sighed. “A real waste of a good man,” he added and he meant it.
Superintendent Chen looked disbelieving but something in Singh’s eyes told him that no further information would be forthcoming. He muttered reluctantly, “You’ve received a lot of praise for wrapping up the Huon investigation.”
Singh raised his right hand in a gesture of acknowledgement and dismissal and saw the intravenous drip embedded on the surface. He demanded loudly, his voice petulant, “I’m hungry and I’m thirsty. Can’t I have some beer or curry put through this thing?” He turned his back on the superintendent and saw that his wife, who had been watching him carefully from the end of the bed, was smiling.
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