Sergeant Kang walked into the squad room at his usual hour on Monday morning. He had a large latte in one hand and a Straits Times in the other. He was just settling himself at his desk and opening the paper to the sports section when Tay came in.
“My office,” Tay said as he passed Kang. “Now.”
Kang dumped the Straits Times before he went into Tay’s office, but he took the coffee with him. From Tay’s tone of voice, he knew he was going to need it.
“Close the door,” Tay said.
Kang closed the door and sat down. He had hardly popped the lid off his coffee before Tay told him about his Sunday visit from Special Agent DeSouza and the identity of the woman at the Marriott.
“The wife of the American ambassador?” Kang let out a long, low whistle. “Man, oh man.”
“There’s more,” Tay said. “And it’s worse.”
Tay told Kang about Dr. Hoi’s discovery of the gunshot wound.
Kang looked skeptical. “No one heard any shots fired,” he said. “No one heard anything at all.”
“There was just one shot,” Tay said. “And the killer probably muffled the gun. A.22 wouldn’t have made much more than a poof with a pillow wrapped around it.”
Kang still looked doubtful. “The pathologist really thinks someone beat this woman’s face in and then shot her?”
“No. They shot her first. Then they beat her face in.”
“She was beaten after she was shot?”
“Exactly.”
“She was already dead when she was beaten?”
“Apparently so.”
“What about the flashlight? Was it put up her before-”
“I don’t know,” Tay interrupted quickly. “Ask Dr. Hoi if you’re that interested.”
Tay and Kang sat in silence for a while after that. This wasn’t the kind of thing that happened in Singapore. It wasn’t, but apparently it just had.
“I don’t understand, sir,” Sergeant Kang finally said. “Why would anyone do that? Why would anyone beat this woman’s face in when she was already dead?”
“Someone must have really hated Elizabeth Munson. I can’t see any other reason.”
“Either that or maybe someone just hated what she represented, being the wife of an American ambassador and all.”
Tay nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
“Do you think they might have smashed up her face just to make it harder for us to identify her?” Kang asked.
“We have her fingerprints and even her dental work. There wouldn’t be any point in that.”
“Then maybe this doctor just has it all wrong, sir.”
“Look, Robbie, I don’t know Dr. Hoi, but I imagine she can identify a gunshot wound when she finds one in a woman’s head. And I imagine she can figure out in what order specific injuries occurred.”
“Did you look at the body yourself, sir? At the gunshot wound?”
Tay didn’t bother to answer.
“We’ll have the full autopsy report today,” he said instead. “You can read all about it then if you want to. You can even go across the street and stick your finger in the wound. But, for Christ’s sake, for now just accept that the woman was indeed killed by a gunshot and she was beaten after she was dead.”
“Yes, sir.” The chair squeaked as Kang shifted his weight. “But if that’s all true, this wasn’t just an ordinary murder, was it? It was a cold-blooded hit, an assassination.”
Tay nodded.
“Of the American ambassador’s wife.”
Tay nodded again.
“She must have known whoever it was who killed her. She certainly wasn’t kidnapped by strangers and dragged into a room at the Marriott in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Maybe the killer forced his way in,” Tay offered.
Kang rubbed at the back of his neck, but didn’t respond.
“No,” Tay continued, “I don’t think so either.”
Kang nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and let it out again. “Man, that FBI guy must have gone crazy when you told him about the gunshot wound.”
“He probably would have,” Tay replied, “but I didn’t tell him about the gunshot wound. He thinks she was beaten to death.”
Kang looked puzzled. “I don’t understand, sir. Why didn’t you tell him that she was shot?”
Tay made a face. He thought about the various ways he could explain to Kang why he hadn’t told DeSouza about the gunshot wound and finally went with the simplest one. “Because he’s an asshole.”
Kang cleared his throat and looked away.
“Do you have the surveillance tapes from the Marriott yet?” Tay asked him after a moment.
“They’re supposed to send them over today.”
“Go pick them up yourself. And get a picture of Mrs. Munson from somewhere so you’ll know who you’re looking for.”
“I’m sure the American Embassy would have one.”
“Leave them out of this, at least for now.”
“But, sir, why wouldn’t you just-”
“Call that society magazine,” Tay interrupted, “the one that runs all those pictures from parties around town.”
“You mean Singapore Tatler?”
“That’s it.”
Kang crossed his legs and folded his arms. “Now that I think of it, sir, wasn’t there a picture of you in that magazine last year? With that woman you used to go out with who-”
“Never mind,” Tay cut in. “Just call them and see if they have any pictures of Mrs. Munson. Then get whatever they give you and compare them to the Marriott surveillance tapes until you find out when this woman came into the hotel and if she was with anybody.”
Kang smiled and let the matter of Tay’s photograph in SingaporeTatler drop. He knew it was a sore point with Tay and figured he had probably already annoyed Tay enough to last for quite a while.
“Right, sir.”
“Okay, that’s it, Sergeant. Get going.”
TAY knew he should take what he had to the Chief, but he wasn’t certain what would happen when he did so he wasn’t in any big hurry to do it. He decided to sort out the files on his desk first and get his day into some kind of order.
He had two other murder cases open in addition to the body at the Marriott: a woman beaten half to death by her husband who claimed she attacked him first with a kitchen knife, and a Filipina maid whose body was found outside the building where she worked for two British expatriate bankers. The maid had either jumped or been pushed from the balcony and Tay wasn’t yet sure which it was, but it had certainly been no accident. Those two files went into the metal rack on the corner of his desk where he kept his open cases, but they went in the back.
Then he took the Marriott Unknown case file, replaced the label with a blank, and printed Elizabeth Munson on it. That file went in the front of the rack. The other files were just a lot of junk and he gathered them up and pushed them into a bottom drawer.
He was mostly stalling, he knew, but not altogether. He was the son of an accountant and organization for him was a virtue next to godliness. It was a messy, disorderly world out there. Tay’s policy was to keep his little piece of it as tidy as possible.
Eventually Tay could think of nothing else to do and no reason to wait any longer. He stood up and took a couple of deep breaths. It was time to make his way upstairs to the office of the Officer in Charge of CID-SIS and tell him what they had found out about the murder of the American ambassador’s wife.
Tay decided he would use the stairs. It took longer and the exercise wouldn’t hurt him either.