A white-coated assistant came in carrying a large cardboard box which he placed on a stainless steel table. "These are Mrs. Wong’s personal effects and clothing," said Dr. Choi. "Do you want to look at the body?"
"I don’t think so," said Inspector Zhang. "But you can answer one question for me. The water in Mrs. Wong’s lungs, was it sea water?"
Dr. Choi shook her head. "It was definitely not salt water," she said. "There were no traces of salt. It was plain water." She looked at her watch. "I have an autopsy that has to be done before lunch," she said. "Please just leave the box here when you’ve finished and I’ll collect it."
Sergeant Lee opened the box as Dr. Choi left the room. She took out the Louis Vuitton handbag and placed it on the table, followed by the dead woman’s dress, shoes and underwear. She started to open the handbag, but Inspector Zhang stopped her with a wave of her hand.
"The clothing first," he said. "Do you notice anything?"
"A dress. Shoes. Bra. Pants." Sergeant Lee shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
Inspector Zhang smiled. "The dress is Karen Millen, is it not?"
Sergeant Lee examined the label. "It is," she said. "You have a good eye for fashion, inspector."
"Karen Millen is one of my wife’s favourite labels. Though she usually only shops there during the sales. It is an expensive brand."
"I like Karen Millen myself, but you are right, they are expensive."
"And the underwear," said Inspector Zhang. "I am less of an expert on underwear, but it also looks expensive."
Sergeant Lee examined the bra and pants. "Yes, it is of good quality," she said. "Real silk."
Inspector Zhang nodded. "Do you think they are the sort of items that would be purchased by a woman who lived in an HDB block?"
"Possibly not," said Sergeant Lee.
"But the shoes, what about the shoes?"
Sergeant Lee picked up one of the shoes. "Poor quality," she said. "Probably made in China."
"And the bag. A Louis Vuitton copy. I thought that strange, that she was happy to pay for a Karen Millen dress but then had a fake handbag. And her shoes were not of good quality. The shoes and the bag fitted with the HDB apartment, but not the Karen Millen dress.
"And the underwear," said Sergeant Lee.
"I wasn’t aware of the underwear at the time," said Inspector Zhang. He gestured at the handbag. "Let’s see what she has in her bag."
Sergeant Lee unzipped the bag and took out a Nokia mobile phone, various items of make up, her wallet, some breath mints, a set of keys and a Parker pen.
Inspector Zhang picked up the keys. "There is no keycard, I see. To get into the main door."
"So someone must have buzzed her in," said Sergeant Lee.
"Perhaps," said Inspector Zhang.
"Inspector Zhang, I am confused. Do you think that Mrs. Wong killed herself? Or do you think she was murdered?"
"She could not have drowned herself and then thrown herself off the roof," said Inspector Zhang. "And it would of course be impossible for to her have drowned after she jumped. There is therefore only one possibility remaining. She drowned and then someone else threw her off the roof."
"But why would anyone do that?" asked Sergeant Lee.
"A very good question, Sergeant," said Inspector Zhang. "For if we know why the crime was committed, we will certainly know who did it. For now, I think we should go and see Mr. Wong."
He picked up Mrs. Wong’s mobile phone and scrolled through for her husband’s mobile phone number. He was just about to press the call button when Sergeant Lee put her hand on his. "That might not be a good idea, Inspector," she said. "He might think that it was his wife calling."
Inspector Zhang realised that she was right, and used his own phone to call Mr. Wong. When Mr. Wong answered, Inspector Zhang arranged to go around and see him early that evening.
"Can’t you tell me what it is over the phone?" Mr. Wong asked.
"Interviews are always better conducted face to face," said Inspector Zhang, and he ended the call.
Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee arrived at Mr. Wong’s apartment at six o’clock and he was clearly not happy to see them. "What is it you want?" he asked as they sat down on the sofa. "This is a very upsetting time for me; the last thing I want is to be answering more questions."
"We have had some more information regarding the death of your wife," said Inspector Zhang. "It might be that you are correct when you say that your wife didn’t kill herself."
"What are you saying, inspector?"
"I need to ask you some questions about what you were doing last night."
"I was here," said Wong. "You know I was here. You were in my apartment."
"But before that. What time did you come home?"
"I came home after work. My wife was here and she said she was going out for dinner with a friend. I cooked for myself and I watched some television. When she didn’t come back by ten o’clock I called her cell phone but she didn’t answer."
"Can anyone confirm that?"
Mr. Wong frowned. "Why do I need anyone to confirm anything?"
"It’s simply procedure, Mr. Wong."
Mr. Wong sighed. "As it so happens, I went to talk to my neighbour at about ten o’clock. His television was on loud and it was disturbing me. I asked him to turn the volume down."
"His name?"
"Mr. Diswani."
"Thank you," said Inspector Zhang. "And one more thing. I noticed yesterday that you have a plaster on your hand."
Wong held up his right hand. There was a flesh-coloured sticking plaster on his little finger. "I cut myself."
"Do you mind telling me how?"
"When I was cooking. It’s just a small cut. It’s nothing."
Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully.