Chapter 10

There was a man in the morgue with a kink in his psychological blueprint. He couldn't resist young cadavers. They gave him a fearful hard-on and he had to "do" those poor, cold, lifeless things. A number of years ago, I was wandering round one night when I "overheard" him in the throes of a sick orgasm. I popped in through an open window and headed to where he was humping a newly arrived cadaver. He nearly had a heart attack.

As Willie Nelson puts it, he went 'a shade whiter than pale.' I smiled at him and he begged me not to expose him.

"No problem, feller," I replied. "But one day I will come for a favour and you will grant it." He swore on his dead mother's grave that as long as it was within his power I had only to ask. He was my 'man' after that and years later he gave me a copy of the autopsy performed on Frieda when I asked for it.

The autopsy said she had been raped and tortured and then beaten to death. I grieved but I said nothing. It was such a waste. I knew who had been responsible for her death and I was out for blood. I let the matter lie low for a couple of months before I made my move.

Like many men of his kind, Adnan was fond of dangdut (pronounced dung-dote) which is a song and dance form introduced from Indonesia.

When I was ready to carry out my plans for Adnan I searched several dangdut halls before I found him. Then I made a phone call to his mobile phone. I had gotten his phone number from his receptionist a day before. She had been reluctant to give it to me until I told her I wanted to settle an urgent bill. I waited till it was around ten p.m. before I called his number. Adnan answered almost immediately. I could hear the wailing of a dangdut singer in the background and there was a lot of background noise as well. The place must have been hopping.

Dangdut originated in Indonesia and it quickly became popular in Malaysia. It is a form of dance music that is an amalgam of traditional Malay-Indonesian and modern Bollywood music. Dangdut has become a part of the Malay sub-culture. Drinks and food are served to patrons on request and taxi dancers are available to men who are without dates. Dance halls used to be part of Malaysian night life until the Eighties. They weren't a common feature of Malaysian night life in those early days being exclusive to the cities like Singapore, Penang and Kuala Lumpur. Men patronised the cabarets for drinks and dancing. 'Professional' women danced with the men for a small fee. These women were called cabaret girls or taxi dancers in those days. Most cabaret girls augmented their income by prostitution.

A good proportion of those who haunt the dangdut halls are men past their prime. To put it in its proper perspective, dangdut is lowbrow.

"If you know what's good for you, be at the Golden Happiness Karaoke Lounge in Pudu tonight at eleven," I threatened.

"Who are you and what are you talking about," he asked in a loud aggressive voice.

"Frieda Chong. Does the name strike a bell?" There was a dead silence over the phone and I could almost smell the fear in him. "Eleven o'clock or the police will get your name and telephone transcripts." I lied. There were no transcripts, but how was he to know? It is always easy to manipulate the guilty. Those mysterious phone calls that had upset Frieda had to have been from him.

"I still don't know what you're talking about but I want to see the bugger who has the nerve to threaten me. You will find out who you are dealing wit', you wait and see." No way he was going to skip this meeting and a dollar would get you ten if he didn't bring some of his tough friends with him. I smiled mirthlessly. The more the merrier. About time I did something about this rat.

He was on time and he had two toughs with him. They all wore their shirts sleeves rolled high so as to expose their nice biceps. So when he went into the karaoke lounge I stuck a note under his windscreen wiper and went off to wait for him at the place I had chosen. He must have waited for thirty minutes before he left the lounge. The note told him where I would be. It was now twelve-thirty and Adnan was in a foul mood.

The place was an abandoned iron foundry in a desolate area about five klicks out of the city. The foundry was the current focus of a financial scandal involving a bank manager and the owner. Apparently, the manager approved substantial loans to the foundry for a handsome consideration despite knowing that the business was about to collapse. I had scouted the area earlier on and discovered nobody lived within a mile of the place. They saw my car as soon as they came round the bend. I stood in the shadows and waited.

"He already here boss. His car over dere," his sidekick pointed to my Carrera 4S with his chin. "Wow. Fierce car, man." "Must be big time blackmailer," Adnan growled. "We know what to do with blackmailers. Right, boys?" "Yas, boss," said Sidekick No .1 "Beat up first, then phhhtttt," was No .2's advice, slashing his hand across his throat. Adnan nodded his approval. They wandered around until they finally came to the spot I was lurking in.

"Hi there," I said when Thug #1 found me. "Nice night, yah?" I watched in amusement as his face turned ashen when he saw me. His Adam's apple jiggled up and down. My fangs were out and my eyes glowed in carmine glory. Mandy says that my pallor becomes slightly green when my eyes glow. And I made my voice reverberate just like in the movies. Actually that's where I got the idea from and the effect certainly raised hackles.

"B-b-b-b-boss!" he bawled, pointing a finger at me. I bit it off. He howled and danced around with his hand tucked under his armpit. Adnan and Thug #2 came up in a rush and skidded to a stop in front of me.

"You bastard, what you do to my friend?" Adnan bellowed.

"That one? The one doing a boogie?" I mumbled, "I just bit his finger off. Here it is." I spat out the offending digit into his face. He recoiled and retched. I watched as Thug #2 turned green and gagged. Thug #1 continued to dance around bleating like a ruptured goat. He stopped his dance and shuffled up to us and held up his hand for inspection.

"Look boss," he almost sobbed, "the mother-fucker bit off my finger." I reached out quick as a flash and tore off his left ear. He screeched and sank to his knees. This galvanised the other two and they rushed me. I nailed Adnan to a rigid standstill with a mental command. Then I attended to the other one. I kicked Thug #2 in the guts. He fell to the ground two lengths away with ruptured insides. He had hardly enough time to register his protest before he died. Then I broke Thug #1's neck and that left Mr. Adnan.

I turned to Adnan, ex-policeman and professional ass-hole. I could hear the trickling of water as he released his bladder into his trouser leg. His jaw hung slack and he drooled. I could see that he was quivering like a leaf in a breeze.

"Why? What did I do to you?" "Not me. Frieda. Now it's payback time." Every thing he did to her I visited on him. But I drew the line at sodomising the bastard. I made sure he took two hours to die. I allowed him to scream a lot. He begged too. When I finished with him I left whatever remained of him for his policemen friends to find. It was the first time I allowed myself to be personally involved. I admit it. I was extremely nasty that night. I had no qualms about putting Adnan through all that horror. Let's face it. There are people who don't deserve to die easily.

After the killing of Adnan, I became one of the usual suspects. I don't know what made them suspect me but they came calling. I could have been spotted at the Karaoke lounge. After all, my Porsche wasn't inconspicuous. They found me in my office. My personal assistant, the formidable Mrs. Florence Tan informed me that there was a policeman who wanted a word with me. She gave me a dirty look, like I was a low-life criminal who had committed some vile crime. She was truly concerned for my welfare and her concern manifested itself in her disapproval. Policemen did not call on innocent people.

"Aha, to assist them with their investigations, no doubt, Mrs. Tan," I said.

I always called her Mrs. Tan. Somehow she gave the impression of being Mrs. Tan and not Florence or Flo. One simply didn't take liberties with Mrs. Tan.

"Pull that chair from the corner and put it in front of my table," I said.

I dragged the good visitor's chair away and got her to replace it with the one that had a faulty swivel pin, which caused the chair to sway and dip to one side occasionally. Mrs. Tan merely raised her eyebrows as she complied with my order.

Assistant Superintendent of Police Sufian was shown in and asked politely if I could spare him a few minutes. He seated himself without invitation and the chair dipped, startling him. He fought the chair for a minute and finally discovered how to keep it in balance. I gave him a ten for his sense of balance.

"But of course, my dear fellow," I replied urbanely.

"I understand you know a woman called Frieda Chong?" he asked.

"Knew, my friend, knew. Surely you know that she was found murdered and after I recommended her to a job, too. Poor woman! It was in all the papers." "I understand that you recommended her for the job," he repeated lamely. I had taken the winds out of his sails, sort of.

"Why yes, so I did," I grinned at him. "What has that got to do with this?" Sufian pounced. "Why did you recommend her for that job?" "Why not? We were old friends and she needed a job. I knew Frieda in Penang when we went to school together. Well, not exactly the same school you know. She was from the Methodist Girl's School and I was from the Methodist Boy's School. Went for bicycle rides together." "Did you know that she lost her last job and her husband is in jail for CBT, Criminal Breach of Trust?" "That's what she told me but what has that got to do with giving her a job. Was she involved or guilty?" He was fishing in the dark and I knew it. Sufian fell silent. I pressed on.