That brought a silence from Lucinda that Tay interpreted as slightly speculative so he figured he had better put an end to any suppositions in which she might be inclined to engage before they got out of hand.
“I’m working on a murder case that hasn’t become public yet,” he added quickly, “but when it does it’s going be a real mess. I think you might be able to help me with it.”
“Help you? With a murder case? A
Tay was momentarily at a loss for words, but words from him were entirely unnecessary since Lucinda started talking again almost immediately.
“I was just going to the club to play tennis, but I wouldn’t dream of that now. Do come over right away, Sam. Don’t waste a moment. Do you remember where I live?”
“I do if it’s in the same place.”
“Of course it is, Sam. I’ll never leave this house, not unless you ask me to move in with you and there’s no chance of that, is there? Are you coming right now? Have you had lunch?”
“Yes, thank you, I’ve had lunch.” Tay glanced at his watch. “I could be there in a half-hour. Would that be okay?”
“Wonderful, Sam, I’ll put some champagne on ice.
LUCINDA Lim lived in a big house on Cluny Road, a neighborhood that radiated exclusivity to the point that visitors felt unwanted. Perhaps that was because visitors
Tay recalled the drive to Lucinda’s house clearly. He loved the thick jungle that swallowed the roadway just past the Botanical Gardens, leaving you wondering if you were still in Singapore at all. A tropical forest of palm and banana trees were knitted together over the roadway and bound with swirls of gray moss. They turned the last moments of a drive to Lucinda’s house into a slide down a dark, green, sweetly cooling tunnel.
Although he couldn’t summon up any recollection of Lucinda’s address, he thought he could find her place without too much trouble. The house, he remembered, was dark red brick with green shutters. It sat so far back off the road, as most of the houses in the area did, that nothing could be seen from Cluny Road but a pair of black iron gates. He recognized the gates as soon as he saw them.
When Tay told the taxi driver where to drop him off, he saw a flash of suspicion in the man’s eyes. He wondered briefly if he should show the driver his police warrant card to prove that he wasn’t a burglar casing his next job, but the idea of that was so humiliating he quickly pushed the thought aside. After he got out of the taxi, the driver gave him a long look. Tay just stared back without saying anything until the man finally drove off.
When he pushed the intercom button on the gate box there was no answer, but the gates began to swing open and he walked down the driveway toward the house. Even before he got there, Lucinda burst out the front door and stood watching him with her hands on her hips. He crossed the red graveled parking area at the front of the house and mounted the stairs to the veranda.
“You still don’t own a car, Sam?”
“No car. But I did buy a bicycle. That’s almost the same thing, isn’t it?”
Lucinda stared at Tay as if she was deciding whether or not he had gone completely mad, then broke into an enormous grin, threw her arms around him, and kissed him on both cheeks.
“God, some people never change, do they?”
He pecked at her cheeks in return.
“I keep trying,” he said, “but nothing much happens.”
Lucinda grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind them. Her hand felt warm and smooth. It was also somehow smaller than he remembered it.
“Come into the living room,” Lucinda said. “Would you like a drink? Champagne? Yes, of course. Let’s have some champagne, Sam.”
“Just a glass of wine maybe. I don’t like to drink during the day.”
“Ah yes, I forgot. The stalwart Inspector Samuel Tay manning the ramparts of the country, single-handedly repelling the onslaught of the barbarians and keeping us safe from criminals and the lower classes.”
“I wouldn’t put it exactly that way.”
“Of course not, silly. That’s why I did.”
When they reached the living room, Lucinda waved Tay toward the fireplace where two silk-upholstered couches and two wing chairs formed a cozy-looking group.
“Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Lucinda disappeared through a door Tay knew led to the kitchen so he took his time crossing the living room and stopped to examine two paintings that had appeared on the walls since the last time he had been there. He didn’t recognize their style so he bent to try and decipher the artists’ signatures. Not surprisingly, that didn’t help either since Tay knew almost nothing about art. Lucinda, on the other hand, seemed to know a great deal, at least enough so that he had no idea how much she actually knew and how much was just bluffing.
He had just seated himself on one of the couches when Lucinda returned with two glasses of white wine. Handing one to Tay, she took the couch opposite him, curled her legs up under her, and lifted her glass in a toast.
“To old friends.”
Tay summoned up a small smile, but avoided catching Lucinda’s eye as he lifted his own glass and drank.
“Okay, Sherlock.” Lucinda took another sip, then put her glass down on the coffee table between them and folded her arms. “So what’s going on?”
“Does the name Elizabeth Munson mean anything to you?”
“You mean the American ambassador’s wife?”
Tay nodded and put his own glass down on the coffee table.
“Are you telling me she has something to do with your murder case?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What?”
“She’s the victim.”
Lucinda’s right hand flew to her mouth. It was a movie pose, a stagey and artificial gesture, but somehow Lucinda made it look natural.
“Liz is dead?”
Tay nodded.
“Murdered?”
Tay nodded again.
“Oh, God.” Lucinda shook her head as if to clear it. “What happened? Can you tell me?”
Tay did.
“Oh, God,” Lucinda said again.
She took her hand away from her mouth and folded her arms, pulling them tightly around her body as if that would keep her safe from the malevolent forces loose in the land.
“I need to know whatever you can tell me about Mrs. Munson,” Tay said.
He thought he saw something like a flicker of wariness behind Lucinda’s eyes, but he might have been mistaken.
“Such as what?” she asked.
“Anything really. If I can start building up a picture of her life, it would be a start. Without that I can’t even begin to guess at a motive.”
“I only knew her socially.”
“How else is there? She was an ambassador’s wife. She didn’t have a professional life, did she?”
“No, I guess not.” Lucinda hesitated. “What I meant was that I didn’t really know her personally. I just saw her at parties now and then.”
“Go on,” Tay said.
He leaned back on the couch and took a notebook and pen from his shirt pocket.
