The Night Tiger(117)

“Did you know Y. K. Wong, the man who was killed?” I asked. Should I tell the inspector about my suspicious run-ins with him, or would it invite trouble?

“Not really. I saw him around.” He rubbed his jaw, his complexion grey and papery. “In some ways it would be better if it weren’t a freakish accident; if there were a logical reason for him dying.”

“What do you mean?”

Acton made a nervous grimace. “Just a thought. A peculiar fancy. Have you ever felt that things have rearranged themselves a little too conveniently?”

My stomach clenched. This was exactly what Yi had said to me in that deserted train station, that the fifth one of us was rearranging events. Everything’s out of order.

“As if fate changes to suit you?”

It was a stab in the dark, but Acton looked astonished. Then he laughed grimly, “What an extraordinary girl you are, Louise. But you understand. Perhaps I knew you in another life.”

Just then Koh Beng came up from behind me. Startled, I wondered how much of our conversation he’d overheard, but he simply said, “Matron wants to see you, sir.”

“Right.” Acton glanced around. “Don’t leave,” he said to me as he crossed over to the next building.

I’d no intention of obeying him, though I waited a few minutes for the coast to clear. Koh Beng lingered. “What are you doing here, talking to Mr. Acton?”

“I ran into him when I was talking to the police about the accident.”

“The police? Did you tell them about the fingers going missing?”

“No, should I have?”

Koh Beng gave me a sideways glance. Today he was different, nervous and not cheerful at all, as if the death of his colleague had shaken him up. “Did you bring the lists that were in Pei Ling’s package? Remember, I said I’d look at them for you.” As I fumbled in my basket, he added, “And what did he mean earlier, about someone on the second floor?”

“He thinks he saw a figure there.”

“Did he tell the police?”

“I’m not sure if they believed him.” I pulled the lists out. Koh Beng glanced eagerly over my shoulder.

“Well, this proves that Y. K. Wong was selling fingers,” he said. “They’re all patients who came into contact with him.”

“How do you know?”

Koh Beng shrugged. “I keep an eye on things. People in hospital are worried and vulnerable; they’re all looking for some assurance. Look, this chap here was definitely a gambler.” He pointed at the list in my hand. “Gamblers will buy anything; don’t you remember the craze for burung ontong nests?”

Burung ontong was a small bird that built an inconspicuous nest in high and inaccessible places. If a nest was put in a rice bin, it was said to bring great fortune to its owner. There’d been a mania for them not too long ago, with prices reaching ten or even twenty-five Straits dollars for a good specimen. Compared to locating a tiny nest, I supposed selling off pathology specimens was far easier.

“But Y. K. Wong didn’t seem like he’d be good at soft-soaping superstitious people and selling charms.” He was too stiff, too awkward, I thought, frowning. “I’d better turn these in to Dr. Rawlings or Mr. Acton.”

“What for? He’s dead now.”

“There are still specimens missing, and I don’t want them to suspect Shin, since he was the last person in charge of the storeroom.”

A flicker crossed Koh Beng’s face. “I’ll do it for you.” He held out his hand for the papers.

I stared at him. And realized what a fool I’d been. I’d been looking for a pattern all this time, but I hadn’t seen this one. Why hadn’t I paid more attention?

“That’s all right.” I edged away. To my dismay, the walkway was deserted.

“Where are you going?” He was smiling at me, a tight, angry smile.

“Shin’s expecting me,” I lied.

“That’s too bad.” He seized my arm, pinning it behind my back. A stabbing pain in my side. “If you scream, I’ll cut you again,” he said in my ear. Panicked, I couldn’t see what he held in his left hand, only felt that it was very sharp.

“Keep walking,” he whispered, as we marched in a grotesque, loverlike embrace, his right arm locked around my shoulders. Frantically, I looked around.

“Is it the lists you want? I’ll give them to you.”

In answer, he jabbed me again, slicing through the side of my dress. Then we were outside, crossing the damp grass. Still nobody. In despair I found myself frog-marched towards one of the outbuildings.

“It’s a pity you figured it out,” said Koh Beng conversationally. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this. What made you suspect me?”

I shook my head, but he cut me again. Tears ran down my face. “Tell the truth now,” he said.

“You said Pei Ling was a good friend of yours. But she told me she didn’t have any male friends. Not anyone she could ask to get the package for her.”

“That’s all?” We were still walking, not into the outbuilding but behind it. I dragged my feet, but he yanked me along.

“She said the salesman had a friend whom she didn’t like. I thought that was Y. K. Wong, but it was you all the time.” I remembered how Pei Ling had blanched when she’d first met Shin, telling me that he was friends with someone she didn’t like.