Singapore Ghost: A mystery-crime story with an historical twist (An Ash Carter Investigation Book 4) by Murray Bailey

Author:Murray Bailey [Bailey, Murray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heritage Books
Published: 2019-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

THIRTY-TWO

Hannah interviewed more villagers before we set off again.

As we drove the lanes through the jungle she said, “It seems ridiculous.”

“What does?”

“These are poor people and yet there is wealth in their places of worship—or at least would be if it hadn’t been stolen. These people go without so that a statue can have a golden rod or a silver skull cap.”

“Same the world over,” I said. “Always has been. The more you give relative to your earnings, the more worthy you are. Same in England.”

“I guess,” she said. “But it’s not as extreme. There’s real poverty here. It’s what makes the thefts so much more painful.”

“For them.”

“Me as well.”

We were lost in our thoughts and back on the main drag west before she spoke again.

“Who’s doing it?” she asked.

I said nothing and focused on the road.

She said, “It can’t be someone religious.”

“Of course it can. Religious wars are as old as mankind—and it doesn’t matter how similar the beliefs are. Sometimes it’s about the way you worship.”

She said, “Temples throughout the region have been raided irrespective of denomination. We’ve seen Hindu temples here but I’ve heard it’s also Muslim and Buddhist.”

We joined Route One and met more traffic. Diesel lorries carrying coal or ore or timber rumbled past.

“A lorry at night,” she said. “Does that make sense?”

“The dark makes sense.”

“I mean the lorry. Wouldn’t it be better to be in and out stealthily? A lorry doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless that’s all you have,” I said.

I felt her eyes bore into me. “D’you have a theory?”

I did. Ever since I’d missed the turn in the rain and seen the tyre marks in the mud. A vehicle, reasonably long, like a lorry. Most of the trucks we saw coming the other way could have fit that description but most were also too heavy and difficult to turn, like we had been. And then there were the tyre marks. Not distinct, but clear enough despite being a few days old—because nothing else had driven over that mud until I did.

“No,” I said. “But you have your story, right? It’s about the thefts and the people rather than the lorry.”

She said nothing for a moment. I heard her breathe out, more of a huff than a normal breath. Then she said what was on her mind.

“I can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I thought you were better. I thought you were an investigator. I thought you’d want to know the truth.”

I didn’t respond until we’d bumped onto the ferry at Perai and parked. I said, “I have a job to do.”

“What’s that?”

She didn’t know about the second death, didn’t know I was investigating that, and Dexter wanted it to stay that way. Hannah was a reporter, and two suspicious deaths at the base were more interesting than some stolen icons. At least that was what I thought.

“More babysitting work for the CO,” I said, trying to sound bored.

“Like I said,”—she climbed out and slammed the door—“I thought you were better than that. I respected you the first time we met.

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