Princess Play (14 page)

Chapter XIX

I guess everyone's getting married now: Azmi and Osman, Zaiton and that poor Hayati. I feel so sorry for her! Murad and Noriah together, and Kamal, who we never met. But if Noriah thinks he's wonderful …'

‘You're worried for no reason,' Rubiah grumbled. ‘She's probably never been happier.'

‘Why don't we meet her?' Maryam suggested firmly. ‘I can't help but think that family was more to do with this than anyone else.'

‘I vote for Murad.'

Maryam tried to be patient. ‘I know you do. But it can't just be the person we like least.'

Rubiah gave her a look which clearly conveyed ‘indeed, it could be', but said nothing. ‘Let's meet her then. Why not ask them both to come here? That way you can save your strength, and also not have to see Noriah. In your current weakened state, that could be dangerous.'

Maryam laughed, a sound heard far more rarely than it was before the attack. ‘You're right. I'm tired. Bring them here. And maybe …'

‘What?'

‘More cake.'

*  *  *

Rahman was dispatched to pick up Kamal and Hayati, and brought them to Maryam's after dinner. Together with two other policeman and Mamat, Maryam and Rubiah sat quietly on the porch, listening to the conversation inside, trying to be discreet so as not to frighten their suspects. Aliza joined them, ever curious, but still frightened. She squeezed herself between her father and Rahman, protected from both sides.

Rubiah had been correct. Hayati was a younger version of her mother: proud and talkative, radiating self-satisfaction. She entered the house, greeted everyone politely and sat down on the couch, smoothing her sarong with a pleased look.

Kamal was tall and saturnine, with a serious, even scornful expression. He looked down at the offered coffee cup as though he hadn't ever seen one before and feared it might wet the carpet.

‘I hope you don't mind us inviting you here. I find, since the attack, I become tired so quickly.' She sought any reaction at all to the mention of the attack, but found none. Kamal said nothing, but Hayati's chatter made up for both of them.

‘I've heard,
Mak Cik
. Horrible what people will do. I'm shocked! Morals have certainly crumbled, wouldn't you say? We try to act as we should, to work hard and avoid trouble.

‘My husband, you might know, is now the captain of his own boat,' she said proudly, patting his knee. ‘He works very hard. And if I may say so, his men all admire him, young as he is. They look up to him. Such a young captain; most of them could never have contemplated such responsibility at his age.'

‘Did you take over the boat from your father?' Rubiah asked innocently, trying to remind Hayati that Kamal had hardly saved his own money to buy it.

‘He did.' Hayati looked momentarily puzzled as to why anyone would mention that. ‘And he's running it well. Discipline. You know,
Mak Cik
, that's what the others lack and what we have.'

Maryam hastened to interject, heading off an outburst by Rubiah. It was unimaginably rude for this young girl to lecture her elders on her husband's excellence. Rubiah may have been forced to listen to it from Noriah, but it was unlikely she would sit quietly for it from this puffed-up youngster.

‘Can you help me with this?' Maryam asked. ‘The night
Mak Cik
Jamillah died, poor soul, do you remember where you were?

‘Not at the
main puteri
,' Hayati sniffed. ‘We don't really believe in it. My mother always says people should pull themselves together instead of calling on
jinn
or spirits. You should only depend on yourself. It makes you strong.'

‘Does it?' Maryam asked mildly. ‘I'll remember that.'

Hayati clearly didn't know how to read the danger signs in her audience.

‘So we wouldn't have been here. Not that we'd have any reason to be anyway. Our families don't get along that well. You know,
Pak Cik
Aziz had a big fight with my father. You must have heard.' She smoothed her sarong again, admiring the pattern. Rubiah's fuse appeared to be growing shorter by the moment.

‘What about your mother?' Maryam asked Kamal.

He seemed surprised to be spoken to. ‘My mother?'

‘Yes, did she get along with
Mak Cik
Jamillah or not?'

‘Well, naturally, she would support my father.'

‘Were they ever friends?'

‘She knew
Pak Cik
Aziz growing up.'

‘Yes. But I asked about how she got on with
Mak Cik
Jamillah.'

‘Well!' This was clearly a young man unused to being corrected. His nose rose higher into the air, his lips pursed ever tighter, and his shoulders tensed. Maryam thought he looked ready to punish them all like naughty schoolchildren. ‘They weren't close, no. My mother keeps to herself. She had no reason to seek out friends like that.'

‘Indeed.'

Kamal grew angry. ‘She's a very delicate woman. She devotes herself only to her family. To my father and to me. She doesn't need to run around in the market like some.'

‘Who are you talking about?' Rubiah asked, dangerously soft.

‘Why,
Mak Cik
Jamillah! My father says she spent time in the market to gossip and to loaf. To talk to other men. That was perfect for
Pak Cik
Aziz,' he said. ‘A lack of modesty. My father says if you act a certain way, then you are inviting certain things to happen to you.'

Outside on the porch, Mamat and Rahman sat perfectly still, expecting an explosion.

‘Is that what you think of everyone in the market?'

Hayati first realized his mistake. ‘Not everyone …'

Maryam cut her off. ‘I asked him.'

He floundered. ‘Well, my father says …'

‘That
Mak Cik
Jamillah deserved what happened to her?'

‘Not really.' He snapped his mouth shut as though he would never open it again. ‘I didn't mean it that way.'

‘Perhaps you felt that you would be the person to deliver what you think
Mak Cik
Jamillah deserves.' Maryam's head had begun throbbing again. These people were literally driving her crazy. ‘Did you think that?'

‘Me?' Now he looked frightened. ‘No, I would never … Why would I? I'm just telling you what we thought. You asked me that! Not that anyone would do anything.'

‘How could you think such a thing,
Mak Cik
?' Hayati chimed in, looking nervous herself.

‘How can you be so disrespectful
of Mak Cik
Jamillah? She was working, just like you say you do. How have you been raised?' Rubiah burst out, unable to hold back any longer. ‘
Kurang ajar
! Badly brought up! And you so proud of yourselves when you should be ashamed. How dare –'

At this juncture, Rahman charged into the room, anxious to avoid physical violence, which he felt might be mere moments away. ‘I think it's time I brought these two people home, don't you?' he began hopefully.

‘Wait a minute,' Rubiah ordered him. ‘We're not finished yet.'

‘You aren't?' Hayat squeaked. Maryam surmised it must have been one of the only times in her life where she did not look pleased with herself.

Maryam turned to Kamal. ‘Your mother told the police she was with you on the night I was attacked. What does that mean?'

‘Well, it means we were together …'

‘She wasn't asked
who
she was with, just
where
she was.'

He bristled. ‘My mother never lies.'

‘Then tell me, where were you?'

‘I … I don't remember.'

‘But you remember being with your mother.'

‘Yes,' he said slowly, afraid to commit himself to any one story.

‘I ask you now, again, where were you? The night
Mak Cik
Jamillah was killed, and the night I was attacked. Where were you?'

‘Are you accusing me of killing her? Of hurting you?'

‘Not right now.'

‘I can't remember. You're confusing me.'

‘I have heard your family keeps a pelesit, and that's how you've gathered your money.'

Now he was angry. ‘That's not true! I don't believe in such things anyway. And besides, it would be evil. How can you say that?' He turned to Rahman. ‘Is she allowed to say such things?'

‘It's just a question.'

‘It's wrong. I won't discuss it.'

‘I'm done,' Maryam said to Rahman. ‘They can go home.' Sandwiched between Rahman and another policeman, who without touching them, still appeared to be leading them, they were escorted to the car without a word.

Maryam rubbed her forehead, trying to still the throbbing, but it wouldn't stop. She leaned back in her chair, and Rubiah went to fetch her some tea.

‘You know, I never believed the pelesit story, and still don't. But after listening to him, I may be willing to change my mind. She took a long sip of tea and closed her eyes. ‘And I apologize, Rubiah. You were absolutely right about that girl.'

Rubiah nodded quietly, her correct assessment was beyond discussion. ‘I know,' she agreed. ‘She's as bad as her mother. Worse, maybe, because she's still young. Can you imagine her at Noriah's age?' She walked into the kitchen with her eyes closed, trying to blot out the vision she had just conjured.

Chapter XX

Pak
Nik Lah was preparing for the ceremony, as he always did: talking to the family, chatting with neighbours, and in this case, even speaking to the police about Maryam's role. Speaking to Maryam herself, he found the conversation turning more towards Jamillah, as Maryam peppered him with questions with far more determination than he approached her. Afterwards, he was amused to find that she was as skilled an interrogator as he, though admittedly their styles were quite different.

Pak
Nik Lah took a far more avuncular, even passive role, encouraging his informants to speak at will, following the wanderings of their mind with interest. Maryam could appear either sweet and motherly, completely sympathetic, or stern and motherly, tolerating no evasions, demanding a straight answer. The
bomoh
was unused to being on the informant's end of the conversation and found he talked as much as anyone.

Maryam told him about her illness: the aftermath of a concussion, complicated by what appeared to be a rational fear of more attacks to come. She told him of her previous case, and the black magic, together with poison, which had been used against her. At that time, at least, she'd found the charm, and she was grateful it hadn't touched any of her children. But now, though the
enam sembilan
assault had been directed entirely at her, Aliza had been hurt in what Maryam considered a related act of violence.

‘And I can't even find out who did it!'

‘Do you have any ideas?' asked
Pak
Nik Lah gently. ‘I'm sure you have your suspicions.'

She thought for a moment.
Pak
Nik Lah offered her a cigarette and she accepted it absently, took a deep drag, and started speaking slowly, as though just now putting into words what had been inchoate thought.

‘I like Rahim. I do. He's a hardworking boy; well, a man really. And even though I can't condone what he and Zaiton did, at least no one else was hurt. During my last case, everyone I spoke to had second wives, and their first wives were miserable. Now Rahim, he did the right thing as soon as he could. But I wonder …'

She stared off into the greenery. ‘Is he protecting someone else?' she mused. ‘Zaiton says she told her mother, who agreed to the marriage, but that doesn't mean much because I can't check it. But then,' she now argued for the other side, ‘what else could Jamillah do? Forbid them to marry when her daughter was pregnant? Of course not!' she answered her own question. ‘It's impossible. She'd allow them to marry, no, she'd
force
them to marry.

‘Did Zaiton realize that? Well, she should have! She'd have no reason to fear her mother's refusal.'

‘And Rahim no reason to protect her?'

‘I doubt the two of them have ever discussed it,' she said morosely. ‘He's in love with her; he'd do anything to keep her safe and happy, don't you think?'

‘Me? I don't know anything about it.'

‘Yes, you do,' Maryam corrected him. ‘You spent time finding out about Jamillah and her family, and even Murad and his. You probably know the killer already; you just don't know you know.'

This was an interesting angle. He considered all he'd found out, trying to perceive it differently and see if a suspect jumped out at him. He leaned back against the wall and drank some more coffee in the companionable silence. Finally he said, ‘I don't want to accuse anyone without evidence.'

‘Just give me your impressions of the people. You have no idea how much that would help me.'

‘I'll try,' he agreed, and then sat silent, gathering his thoughts.

‘Jamillah, as I said, was troubled. I think she felt herself becoming less important to her family, with her children grown and Aziz preoccupied. It happens a lot at that age, I think. She worried Aziz would leave her, though I couldn't see any real reason why she thought so.

‘He was worried about money, after that deal he had with Murad. I didn't ask about money details because it doesn't concern me.' He paused. ‘She detested Murad, which is no surprise after what happened, and his wife as well. Jamillah thought she was faking her vagueness to cover up how jealous she was of her.'

‘Why jealous?'

‘Jamillah worked in the market, had freedom, had friends. She wasn't bossed around by her husband.'

‘I should say not! She made most of the money, I'll bet.'

Pak
Nik Lah smiled. ‘Maybe. But she lived the way most women live here, I think. Murad would never let his wife work in the market, or socialize with friends. She lived a very lonely life, and Jamillah thought that made her spiteful. She knew about the
pelesit
they kept, and she said it was really Hamidah's, that she cared for it, and she sent it out against Jamillah to drain her spirit and make her as unhappy as Hamidah herself.'