“You want to take the elevator?” Cally asked Tay when they were outside the ambassador’s office. “Or the stairs.”
He looked at Cally and said nothing. Fishing through his pockets, he pulled out a box of Marlboros.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but smoking isn’t allowed in the embassy.”
Tay tapped a cigarette out of the box anyway, briefly rotated it between his fingers, and then stuck it into his mouth without lighting it.
“How about sucking?” he asked. “Is sucking allowed?”
Cally giggled slightly and Tay, unreasonably pleased he had raised a giggle in a pretty young woman, returned the cigarette to the pack and put it away.
“What a load of politically correct crap,” he muttered. “Whatever happened to individualism?”
“Hey, don’t take it out on me,” Cally said. “I just work here.”
Cally cleared her throat. Her eyes drifted around for a moment and then met Tay’s.
“Look,” she said, “I’m probably way out of line saying this, but I thought you handled yourself well back there.”
“Why?” Tay asked. “Because I didn’t shoot the asshole? I would have, but I left my gun in my other suit.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Your ambassador? He’s an arrogant prick.”
“Well now, Inspector, don’t be coy about your feelings. Just tell me what you really think.”
Tay didn’t smile. He really didn’t feel like it.
“The man’s wife has just been murdered, Inspector. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”
He was in no mood for stupid American idioms. Cut him some slack? What in God’s name was that supposed to mean?
“And so he’s going to try and sell some ridiculous story about his wife committing suicide?” Tay snapped. “How does he think he’s going to do that? Does he expect me to just forget that a murder has been committed here and go along with him? If he thinks he can do something like that in Singapore and make it stick just because he’s the American ambassador, the man’s an idiot.”
“I’m not sure he really meant that,” Cally said. “When he thinks about it, he’ll know that’s not the way to go.”
“And what is the way to go?”
“To find out who killed Mrs. Munson as quickly as possible and get him off the streets. Then everyone can move on.”
Tay shot a glance at Cally, but her face told him nothing. “And you think your Mr. DeSouza is the man to do that.”
“I think Tony can help you a lot. Give him a chance.”
“I don’t think helping me is exactly what good old Tony has in mind.”
“Meaning what?”
“Your heard your ambassador back there. Don’t call us, we’ll call you, Inspector. That is, if we need you, which is of course very unlikely since my boy DeSouza is going to be running the whole investigation.”
“I think you took what he said the wrong way.”
“Really? And how should I have taken it?”
“As an offer to the Singaporean police of the full help and cooperation of the government of the United States in solving this murder.”
Tay folded his arms and stared at Cally.
“Are you serious?” he asked. “How can you say something like that with a straight face?”
“It’s a real talent, isn’t it?” Cally said. “Some people have it and some people don’t. I do. I really do. Actually, I think it’s why the State Department hired me.”
Then abruptly she laughed, sticking her tongue into the corner of one cheek and rolling it around.
Tay didn’t know what to say.
“You want to have lunch?” Cally asked all of a sudden. “The embassy cafeteria’s not bad. My treat. Order anything you want. Up to five dollars, of course.”
Tay glanced at his watch. It wasn’t even noon yet.
Cally could see what he was thinking.
“We eat early around here,” she said. “When you come into the office at seven, by twelve you could eat a horse.”
Tay’s first instinct, of course, was his usual one. To say he was busy, to say perhaps they could make it another day. He would say it very politely and with just the right touch of regret in his voice, but he would still say it. Dr. Hoi had him dead to rights on that. He declined invitations by reflex, even when he really wanted to accept them.
Perhaps it was thinking of what Dr. Hoi had said that caused him to bite back the words this time. When was the last time a woman had asked him to lunch anyway? He couldn’t remember. So why was he about to say no?
Tay doubted this was an entirely spontaneous social invitation on Cally’s part, of course, if there was any social aspect to it at all. Cally Parks had just been appointed as his keeper for the duration and more than likely she just wanted to get a close look at what was in store for her. Regardless, she was still an attractive and apparently intelligent young woman and she had just asked him to have lunch with her. So Tay, for once in his life, stopped and thought before he opened his mouth and said no.
The embassy cafeteria was smaller than Tay had expected. There was a modest food service facility on one side and on the other side a dining room that held about a dozen round tables with matching chairs, all blond wood with chrome frames. It was an altogether pleasant setting, bright and airy with a collection of colorful framed children’s drawings scattered over the walls. Still, something about the place was almost too cheerful and gave the room a forced quality that didn’t feel entirely right. Tay figured it was the same sort of feeling he might get visiting the cafeteria at a school for troubled children. Well, Tay thought, there you had it.
They went through the cafeteria line, but nobody else was in it so it really wasn’t much of a line. They pushed their pink plastic trays along the chromed rails and Tay selected a chef ‘s salad and tomato soup. Cally ordered a cheeseburger and fries. When they carried their trays out into the dining room Tay saw only two other tables were occupied. He let Cally lead him to a corner that was out of earshot of the other people in the room and they transferred their plates from the trays to the table.
“Do you always eat such a sensible lunch, Inspector?”
Tay sifted Cally’s remark for hidden meanings. Was this woman saying his choices for lunch had been intelligent? Or was she saying they were boring? No, he was being overly self-conscious again.Of all his many faults, the one he hated most was his tendency to overanalyze everything. That and being five or ten pounds overweight. Fifteen maybe.
“That certainly looks very healthy,” Cally went on when Tay didn’t immediately reply. “I suppose.”
“I like salads,” Tay said, and then mentally kicked himself for sounding so defensive.
“I like cheeseburgers,” Cally said. “They’re my comfort food.”
“Are you in need of comfort now?”
“Not really. But I sure am in need of a cheeseburger. I may even put some onions on this one.”
With that Cally flashed Tay a smile that seemed to him so spontaneous, so very much directed at him alone, that he felt a slow spread of warmth moving through his body and a slight buzzing sensation in his ears. Maybe this woman’s invitation to lunch had been personal after all. He could at least admit the existence of that possibility, couldn’t he? Then again, that was probably complete nonsense. It was more likely by far that he was just one more middle-aged man basking in the glow of a younger woman’s smile, desperately trying to believe that he had played some part, however small, in causing it to appear.
They made small talk for a while after that. Cally told him a few of her stories and he told her some of his. Against all the odds, Tay was feeling pretty good, comfortable even. He was chatting inconsequentially with this woman he hardly knew and it was all going just fine.
“Look, Inspector…” Cally began, then abruptly stopped. “That sounds very formal, doesn’t it? Can I call you Sam? I mean…well, if you don’t want me to then…”
“No, that’s okay. Sam will be fine.”
Tay was rewarded with that smile again.
“Sam then,” Cally said. “Anyway, I like that name.”
“I’ve always thought it was a rather dull name.”
“It’s not dull. It’s straightforward. I like straightforward. Do you just have a straightforward name or are you also a straightforward man, Sam?”
Tay had never thought about that very much, but now that he was thinking about it he decided he did indeed see himself as a straightforward man.
“I try to be,” he said.
Cally tilted her head and looked at Tay very carefully, almost as if she was seriously weighing the truthfulness of his reply. He watched her and decided that she was doing exactly that.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Yes, I think you probably are, Sam. I think you may actually be who you appear to be.”
At just that moment, a burst of tinny music sounded from somewhere very close by. Tay couldn’t figure out where it was coming from or what it signified until Cally pulled the tiny telephone from a pocket and flipped it open.
The sound of a telephone had become another one of those fundamental divisions between the old and the young that Tay thought might never be bridged. The old generally had telephones that rang like…well, like telephones. The young had telephones that rang with unsettling blasts of something that was presumably supposed to be recently recorded music. Of course, Tay had to take that largely on faith since he was pretty certain that he couldn’t identify any music recorded after 1980.
“Hang on a minute,” Cally said into the telephone.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Tay, “but I’m going to have to step outside to take this.”
No need to be sorry,” he said. “I hate listening to people talk on cell phones.”
Tay speared a bit of hardboiled egg out of the remains of his salad and allowed his eyes to follow Cally as she walked away.
Get a grip, Sam Tay, he told himself. This attractive young woman is just doing her job and chatting you up. It’s nothing more than that. She’s playing the good cop and letting DeSouza play the bad cop, which was really the only way they could have cast the parts anyway.
Tay poked through the salad bowl again and this time came up with some beetroot. His eyes drifted over the room as he chewed on it and caught those of a woman at another table picking at a melting cup of ice cream. She didn’t react, her expression one of practiced boredom, and she appeared to have no interest at all in him. Still, he had caught a glimpse of an earpiece partially concealed by her hair and couldn’t help but wonder about it. Perhaps the woman was just listening to an iPod during her lunch break. Perhaps she was waiting for a call on her cell phone. Perhaps she was part of a super-secret unit of spies tasked with the surveillance of any Singaporean policeman who appeared in the cafeteria of the American embassy. Perhaps his imagination was running amuck.
Tay finished his salad and pushed the bowl away. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that it was now nearly one. He was drumming his fingers on the table and was just beginning to wonder if he should go look for Cally when she came back to the table.
Cally sat down without saying anything. Tay could tell that something had happened by the way she was looking at him.
“We’ve got another one,” she said after a moment.
At first Tay didn’t get it.
“Another body,” Cally said when she realized that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Another woman beaten and posed.”
“Where?” Tay asked. “Oh my God, not at the Marriott again?”
“No, not in Singapore at all. In Bangkok. In an apartment in Bangkok.”
Tay was frantically trying to refocus his thoughts from his cafeteria-table infatuation with Cally to what she was telling him.
“Bangkok?” he repeated stupidly, struggling to get his mind working again.
Cally nodded. “I don’t know much yet. They called me because I’m the acting security officer for the embassy in Bangkok. The guy there just retired and they haven’t been sent a replacement yet. Until then, I’m it.”
“Are you saying there’s some connection with-”
“I don’t know,” Cally interrupted, glancing at her watch. “The way they’re describing the scene to me, it sounds like the same kind of thing. They’re trying to get me on a two o’clock plane to Bangkok. I’ve got to get going.”
She pushed her chair back so abruptly that the legs squealed over the floor and the few people left in the cafeteria all looked at them to see what was going on.
“Say,” she said, pointing her forefinger at Tay who was still sitting, “you want to go with me?”
“Me? What for?”
“What for? Don’t you think it looks like we may have a serial killer on our hands here?”
“Serial killer? I thought the party line around here was that Elizabeth Munson was the victim of terrorists.”
Cally gave Tay a long look.
“Are you coming or aren’t you?” she asked.
“Look,” Tay said, getting to his feet, “aren’t you rushing this a little? You don’t even know whether there’s any connection.”
“The Thai police got an anonymous call this morning and went to this apartment in Bangkok. The door was unlocked and they walked in and found a woman’s body. She had been beaten and posed in exactly the same way as Mrs. Munson.”
“I guess I still don’t understand. What has the American embassy got to do with this dead woman in Bangkok?”
“When the Thai cops found the body, they called the American embassy immediately. Why wouldn’t they?”
“Why would they?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?”
Tay examined Cally’s face for signs that he was about to be the butt of some kind of elaborate joke. He found none.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Another ambassador’s wife?”
“No. It’s worse than that.”
Dear God, Tay thought to himself, what could be worse than finding another ambassador’s wife murdered the way Elizabeth Munson had been murdered?
The answer, of course, occurred to him at exactly the same moment Cally said it.
“This time it’s an ambassador, Sam. The dead woman is Susan Rooney, the American ambassador to Thailand.”