Aunty Lee’s Deadly Specials Read online

  “The Chinese papers said her boyfriend phoned her right before the operation to tell her that everything was going to be all right. She said she already knew something was wrong because even over the phone she had heard angels singing.”

  “The English papers didn’t report that.” Aunty Lee looked put out. “Nina, I wish you would learn to read Chinese. Chinese news is much more interesting than English news. What else did the Chinese paper say?”

  “The Chinese papers interviewed one of the women staying in the one-room flat where Bi Xiao Mei stayed. She said they pay five dollars a day to sleep there. Bi Xiao Mei went out to search for her fiancé all day, then went back and cried all night. She could not find any record of his death or of the operation. Because the operation was illegal, she was afraid the people who did it did not bother to properly dispose of his body but just dumped it somewhere.

  “Anyway, the woman said that that night before she died they went to Bukit Timah Plaza and Bi Xiao Mei said she heard the same angels singing as she did over the phone. And then she died.”

  “Did the woman also hear angels singing?”

  “She only heard the getai people playing their music outside. There is an uncle at BTP with Alzheimer’s. When people play getai music he will sit in his chair there and sing.”

  “You don’t really know that China man is really dead,” Nina said. “Probably the guy is not really dead. He didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to marry her, so got people here to tell people back home he’s dead.” Nina’s previous experiences with men had not left her with a very high opinion of them.

  Aunty Lee’s lips pursed appreciatively. There was nothing she liked more than a good gossip based on romance, betrayal, and death.

  “The Chinese papers also said the fiancé Zhao’s father told reporters his son said he was going to Singapore to work and save to pay for his wedding. The father was sure his son would never have come here for an illegal operation.”

  “That boy wanted to come here to work and earn enough to save money for his wedding? He must be crazy! Here, every time you earn one dollar you spend two dollars on food, three dollars on housing!”

  “Not really, Nina,” Cherril said. She handed each of them a banana (so full of necessary potassium, healthy fiber, manganese, and vitamins C and B6). “Eat this to keep up your energy. I know this PRC guy who came over less than five years ago. He rented an HDB flat—yes, illegally—then subrented rooms out. He did the cleaning for them once a week when he collected the rent. Then he got a second apartment and a third apartment . . . now he’s a millionaire!” Singapore’s Housing Development Board had strict rules on the renting and subletting of the HDB flats, especially where noncitizens were concerned. But new arrivals from the People’s Republic of China seemed able to get around anything.

  “I wonder how much you get paid for a kidney,” Aunty Lee said. She looked thoughtfully at the portable food chiller Nina was filling with crab cakes and prawn patties, ready to go onto the grill.

  “Not worth the risk,” Nina said sharply. “That is illegal.”

  “The girl’s family said she had been depressed since news of his death. And with the baby coming, it must have made things worse. One of the letters they found was from Zhao’s family telling her not to make any more trouble because they had accepted the rest of the payment promised to Zhao for his kidney. Apparently the advance he got was only enough to pay for his ticket to Singapore. That shows his family must have known what he was going to do.”

  “What we are going to do is serve food. Come,” said Nina firmly. The last of the food and equipment in the car, she turned the sign to CLOSED and locked the door, wishing she had the time to go at the kitchen with a scrubbing brush and mop after all the food preparation. People who came in and said how beautifully organized everything in the shop was did not realize how much constant work it took to maintain everything dust-free and functioning despite the stream of people passing through.

  “Isn’t that Mark’s car?” Cherril asked as they drove off.

  “I already told him the shop is not open today,” Nina said firmly. “If he can’t remember, too bad. He will have to come back.”

  Aunty Lee was torn. Her kiasu (fear of losing out) side dictated that she leave immediately in order to arrive at least thirty minutes early for the catering project, but her kaypoh side that made everybody else’s business her own wanted to stay and find out whether it was indeed Mark Lee in the car and what it was that he wanted.

  “Maybe he came to talk to me about the handover,” Cherril said.

  “Sir Mark just wants to come and look at his wine bottles,” Nina said. “His precious babies. He will stand there and talk to them, his precious wine bottles.”

  2

  Sung Office Law

  GraceFaith Ang knew she was looking beautiful that Saturday morning. She always looked good, but her new green dress with its flared skirt and bright blue and white stars made her stand out even more than usual. As always, her hair and makeup were perfect and she was aware of appreciative glances from her fellow Mass Rapid Transit commuters. The best were the ones tinged with envy. GraceFaith found envy the best monitor of her progress; as long as others wanted what she had, she had to be doing all right.

  Of course, these days GraceFaith knew how well she was doing even without the envy, but she still enjoyed it. The Caucasian man who had stood up to let GraceFaith have his seat caught her eyes and smiled at her. GraceFaith returned the smile but lowered her eyes modestly, blocking off further contact. As far as GraceFaith was concerned, no man traveling on public transport was worth smiling at unless he was the Minister of Transport (who was, incidentally, one of the better-looking ministers). Still, she was not going to burn any bridges unnecessarily. Her eye fell on the newspaper the man was carrying: another woman had committed suicide for love, apparently. Such losers did not interest her. GraceFaith could well understand being driven to kill in desperation. But it was not herself she would kill.

  When GraceFaith found the main door to the Sung Law office unlocked, she was only mildly surprised. The cleaners were in, she supposed. Or whoever had been the last to leave last night had been careless. GraceFaith felt a small tremor of pleasure thinking how angry Mabel Sung would be when she told her. Mabel, founder and big boss at Sung Law, was obsessive about security and privacy. GraceFaith thought it was a lawyerly trait. Mabel’s daughter, Sharon, also a lawyer in the firm, was the same way. GraceFaith herself had become a legal assistant intending to become a lawyer’s wife. That had been almost two years ago, and until certain recent events GraceFaith had been beginning to think it was time to move on. Mabel’s husband, Henry, and son, Leonard, were the only men she encountered regularly at Sung Law. The Sung money and connections had made Leonard Sung look like a possible option for a while. But there was a limit to what GraceFaith was willing to put up with. Leonard Sung had not even managed to pass his O levels in Singapore. If he had come from a poor family, the boy would have been shunted into vocational training. Instead he had been sent to America. GraceFaith had heard such stories about what he had got up to there—even all that family money had not managed to buy him a degree—but she still liked Leonard better than Sharon. GraceFaith generally preferred men to women. Things were in her favor at Sung Law now and she might as well put away as much cash as she could till something better showed up.

  The door to Mabel’s office stood slightly ajar. If the cleaners were in there unsupervised, Mabel Sung would really freak out. At least a Mabel Sung tantrum would be more interesting than the utterly dull and pointless brunch party at the Sungs’ house was going to be, GraceFaith thought. Perhaps she should call and let Mabel know that the door had been left open and the cleaners were in there unsupervised. Mabel had been boringly subdued over the past couple of weeks. Her making her daughter Sharon a full partner in the firm had not surprised anyone.

  GraceFaith did not like Sharon Sung. Despite a drab wardrobe and a loser haircut, Sha
ron Sung showed no sign of even noticing GraceFaith’s superior appearance. Sharon Sung was a spoiled rich girl who thought she was so smart when all she had done was pick up what was handed to her on a plate. GraceFaith resented this and resented giving up her Saturday morning to go all the way out to Bukit Timah to celebrate something no one cared about. Still, she had dressed carefully. No one could call her silky vintage-looking dress revealing. But the way it fell open at the neckline and clung to her hips emphasized GraceFaith’s best assets. And why not? She had paid for them and it was time they worked for her. But until they paid off, she had other work to do . . .

  GraceFaith pushed open the door of Mabel’s office and stopped, taken aback.

  Sharon Sung was sitting behind her mother’s enormous desk, reading. GraceFaith felt a sudden urge to turn and run. But why? Just because Sharon was in Mabel’s office didn’t mean she knew anything. After all Mabel herself had no idea what GraceFaith was doing . . .

  “You’re here so early?” GraceFaith said brightly.

  “Still here.”

  “You mean since yesterday? You spent the whole of last night in the office?”

  Sharon did not answer.

  GraceFaith knew her first duty at Sung Law was to play personal assistant to Mabel Sung and keep her happy. Keeping Mabel Sung happy was top priority for everyone at Sung Law except perhaps Sharon. Sharon seemed to go out of her way to provoke Mabel. She was not a typical spoiled second-generation money brat, which Mabel might have found easier to handle. No, Sharon prided herself on being a good lawyer, good enough to point out flaws in Mabel Sung’s own work.

  “You should be getting home. Isn’t your big partnership party this morning?”

  Sharon didn’t bother to answer this. Her head hurt and her eyes hurt and she had a crick in her neck. But what hurt most of all was that she had spent all night in the office and no one from her family had been worried enough to call.

  “Did Mabel send you to get me?”

  “No. I just came in to look up something—”

  “I could have died here and they wouldn’t care,” Sharon said.

  “What?”

  Sharon thought GraceFaith a miserable excuse for a legal assistant. In her opinion, no one who put so much time and effort into makeup and manicures could be of any real value. Sharon was proud of how little time she spent on her own appearance. It was a matter of being organized. Sharon had worn her hair in the same bob since her school days. Every year she bought herself five new sets of shirts and suits for work and three black dresses and one blue or green dress for Chinese New Year. This was a compromise. Though a fervent Christian, Mabel Sung would have preferred her daughter wear red for New Year fortune, but had only succeeded in weaning her off black.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home preparing for the party? After all, it’s your big day!” GraceFaith tried again.

  “It’s not a big day. It’s a big responsibility. That’s what I’ve been trying to prepare for.” Sharon slammed shut the ring binder she had been staring at. Misaligned papers muted the impact, spoiling the effect. “It’s not as though dressing up for some fancy party is going to get the job done.”

  “How can you not be excited about your own party? Mabel will be so disappointed. She organized it just for you, you know. She’s so proud of you.”

  “She called some stupid friend of hers to bring Peranakan food. She should know I can’t stand Peranakan food.”

  “How can you say that? Everybody loves Peranakan food. Besides, once you’ve tried Aunty Lee’s otak—remember even you said it was so shiok.”

  “Grace, you are such an idiot sometimes. You and all the other idiots that make such a big deal about the kind of food that makes you fat and unhealthy!”

  Sharon collected the folders on the desk and returned them to a shelf in the cabinet, which she pointedly locked, taking the key with her before leaving the room. Perhaps she expected to shock GraceFaith. After all, Mabel Sung’s locked file cabinets were even more sacrosanct than her locked office door.

  GraceFaith looked suitably taken aback. She also remembered to look hurt by the “fat” epithet thrown in her direction. Why not, if it made Sharon Sung happy?

  After Sharon stepped into the elevator, GraceFaith got down to work. She would have to hurry, but she would still manage to do what she had to and get to the Sungs’ place by eleven.

  And GraceFaith had her own keys to Mabel’s private cabinets.

  Mabel Sung was a woman with a great ability to impress people. She had complete belief in her own powers of organization and sufficient force of personality to convince others to believe in them too. The truth was that Mabel crashed into situations, stirred them up, and let the pieces fall down into new patterns. This was very often enough to break a stalemate and open new channels. When it worked, Mabel took all the credit, and when it did not, she found someone else to blame. GraceFaith had survived longer than any other assistant in Sung Law largely because she had mastered the art of serving up other people for Mabel to blame. And because GraceFaith believed anything was worth putting up with if the goal was big enough. In this case, her goal was definitely big enough.

  3

  Good-Class People

  Number 8 King Albert Rise was a GCB or “Good-Class Bungalow.” What this meant to someone familiar with Singapore real estate guidelines laid down by the Urban Redevelopment Authority was that the gently sloping land the two-and-a-half-story bungalow perched on had a plot width of at least 18.5 meters, a plot depth of at least 30 meters, and a plot size of at least 1,400 square meters in a desirable residential neighborhood (this being Singapore, rules clearly defined not only what constituted a luxury bungalow but where such bungalows were permitted to be built). And of course it also meant those able to afford it were good-class people

  Henry Sung liked the idea of the King Albert Rise house. It was the right size and in the right location to send all the right signals to the right people. It was expensive enough to show everyone that his family had made it, that they had enough money to be a force to be reckoned with in Singapore. At least that was what his wife, Mabel, said and he believed her. Mabel was right about most things. It was her financial investments that had paid for most of what they had. And even when Mabel wasn’t right, life was more comfortable when he agreed with her. So he did. Henry liked things to be comfortable. Who didn’t? And that was the problem Henry Sung had with the house. It had been designed by an award-winning architect and furnished by a world-renowned interior designer. It had also been featured in two lifestyle magazines in articles about Mabel Sung, first female dean of the law faculty at the National University of Singapore and founder of Sung Law, a top-tier firm in Singapore.

  But 8 King Albert Rise was not a very comfortable house.

  On the camera monitor he watched the caterer outside the back gate talking and laughing with her assistants. Rosie Lee had been a second wife. Maybe one day . . . he smiled as he thought of someone. Someone other than the woman who shared the house with him. Even thinking of her felt slightly clandestine, though they had been doing nothing wrong. Anyway his wife was in their son’s room, and once in there she could stay there for hours, oblivious to everything going on outside.

  “Not long now.”

  But he knows they are bound to live for eternity in this beautiful prison. No escape unless he acts. Finally there is a person who is both his reason for wanting to break away from Mabel and the one who has been urging him to stay and be patient, telling him things will work out for them if he just waits a little longer. No one who has seen Mabel Sung crushing all opposition in court or at home (and Henry has witnessed both) can believe there is any hope. But he is willing to dream a little longer because he knows that once Mabel feels challenged, it will be a battle to the death.

  “Where’s Sharon?” Mabel demanded accusingly from the doorway.

  “Maybe she went to the office,” Henry said without turning to look at her.

  “Don’t b
e ridiculous. Why would she go to the office today? Guests will be coming soon. Find her and tell her to get ready! I think somebody is here already!”

  A buzzer sounded, but not from the gate. Since their son, Leonard, became too weak to get around on his own, Mabel had installed a buzzer call system as well as a camera monitor in his bedroom. And Henry knew she had planned many more things that would involve wiring and foreign workers walking all over his house, and he winced at the prospect. The buzzer sounded twice more, followed by their son’s voice: “Mum! Nobody came to change my sheets!”

  “Maybe Lennie would be more comfortable in the hospital—or in a nursing home,” Henry said, not for the first time. He did not like being around bad smells and soiled sheets. It had been bad enough when the children were babies, even though he and Mabel had had servants to do the actual work. It was far worse now that his son was making bigger messes and bigger fusses. “He’ll have trained professionals looking after him there—”

  “You’re just trying to get rid of him—your own son, and all you can think about is shipping him off somewhere you don’t have to bother with him. What kind of father are you?” Mabel could go on for hours, but Leonard’s buzzer was sounding and she started toward the stairs. “Go and find Sharon. She should be helping. This is all for her and she can’t even be bothered to help!”

  The office phone rang. GraceFaith ignored it. She had more important things to do than answer phones. And thanks to Sharon seeing her there, she would have to come up with something to justify her presence in the office that morning.

  Aunty Lee’s Delights had been commissioned to cater a brunch for fifty people to celebrate Sharon Sung being made partner in Sung Law, the law firm founded by her mother, Mabel Sung. Even though this made it almost a family affair, Aunty Lee had been surprised that a company function was being held at the Sungs’ residence rather than a hotel or country club. Didn’t lawyers usually go to expensive restaurants and celebrate with expensive wines and liquors? But Mabel Sung, the founder of Sung Law, was also said to be very Christian. Aunty Lee had thought perhaps Mabel Sung believed in giving money to the poor rather than spending it on alcohol and restaurants for herself. But once Aunty Lee saw Number 8 King Albert Rise, it was clear to her that the Sungs did not mind spending money on themselves.