Red Ribbons (Chapter Seven part 3)

Posted on | Wednesday, August 17, 2011 | No Comments

Chapter Seven (Part 3)

Venkath was anticipating the move and stepped aside, sending Nicholas crashing into the wall. The younger man was on his feet in two seconds, ready to attack Venkath again. However, Venkath had already run out of the examining room and towards the front door. As soon as he reached the door, Nicholas pounced on him again, this time knocking them both to the floor. He managed to get on top of Venkath and put his bare hands around his neck, his face twisted with rage.


“You're finished,” he sputtered, tightening his hold on Venkath's neck. Venkath pushed at Nicholas with all his strength, but the younger man was too strong. It was getting harder to breathe by the second, even harder to struggle.

“Get off him, or I'll shoot!” Lawrence stood in the doorway, his gun aimed directly at Nicholas.

Nicholas ignored him and continued to strangle Venkath, whose eyes had rolled back into his head. His whole body had gone limp. A shot rang out and Nicholas screamed in pain, clutching at his right leg. He rolled to the side, groaning, while Lawrence handcuffed him. Against his better judgement, Lawrence kicked Nicholas' leg. The latter cursed him, screaming louder this time.

Lawrence rushed to Venkath's side and felt his pulse. He heaved a huge sigh of relief when he felt the weak, erratic rhythm of his cousin's pulse. He was alive, he had arrived just in time. “Hang in there, cousin, help is on the way,” he said to his unconscious cousin. He radioed the police car outside and asked them to call an ambulance. There was still one more call to make.

“Mr. Ling? It's Inspector Lawrence. We've caught the man who killed your daughter.”

There was a pause on the other end and then Mr. Ling heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you so much, Inspector. God bless you and your team,” he said.

Lawrence hung up the phone and looked down at Venkath, who was regaining consciousness. He groaned a few times before opening his eyes. Lawrence was looking down at him, shaking his head reprovingly at his cousin.

Venkath tried to get up off the floor but his strength failed him. His neck hurt and his head felt heavy, but he'd live, he thought to himself. He took the hand that Lawrence extended him and with the latter's help, managed to get to his feet. He leaned against Lawrence, still a little unsteady on his feet.

“You had me really scared there, you twit,” Lawrence said, helping Venkath towards the door. Nicholas was still lying on the floor, groaning in pain. Venkath shot him an angry glare.

“Leave the scumbag alone, he's not worth it,” Lawrence said. “Besides, I'm not letting you risk your neck trying to play hero again,” he said, only half joking.

“Yes, boss,” Venkath joked back feebly, his voice a hoarse whisper. It was over. It was really over. He had helped catch Shoba and Alicia's killer. No more sleepless nights, all the pent up anger had dissappeared.

“If you ever decide to quit medicine, the police force could use someone like you,” Lawrence said more seriously this time.

Venkath laughed. “Don't tempt me, I might just take you up on that and then we'll have some real adventures.”

“Let's get out of here, dear cousin. I could use a break from your sleuthing and all the paperwork that goes with it. Let's get you to the hospital,” Lawrence said, laughing.
























Category:

John Cusack To Play Poe

Posted on | Sunday, August 14, 2011 | No Comments

According to The Rap Sheet, actor John Cusack is set to play Edgar Allan Poe in a movie called "The Raven" scheduled for March 2012. Quoting an Associated Press article, the blog said that in the movie Poe forms an alliance with a police detective to catch a murderer who kills his victims by following elements of Poe's stories. Being somewhat of a John Cusack fan, I'm intrigued, especially since the actor hasn't been in a watch-worthy thriller since "Identity". It'll be fun to see if he pulls it off, more importantly, if the movie makers keep the film authentic, instead of white-washing it in Hollywood-esque superficiality, like what happened with "Sherlock Holmes".

Category:

Red Ribbons (Chapter Seven part 2)

No Comments


Chapter Seven (Part 2)

It was dark when they arrived at the state veterinary clinic. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, breaking the silence of the warm night. Lawrence's was the only car in the car park.

“How do you know he'll show up?” Lawrence asked.
“He will. He knows I have evidence now. Trust me, he'll be here,” Venkath said.

“I still don't like the idea of leaving you here with him. The kid's a psychopath.”

“It's the only way. I can't get a confession out of him unless he knows I'm alone. I'll be fine,” Venkath assured Lawrence. The trouble was, he wasn't sure either this was going to work. This wasn't the movies; Nicholas Lim was a very intelligent and meticulous killer. Things could go badly for Venkath very quickly even if he was careful.
Lawrence sighed. He knew there was no arguing with his cousin once his mind was set on something. “All right, here's how it's going to go down; you get in there and get a confession and the moment something feels off, get the hell out of there. I can't afford to take any chances.”

“I hear you, I'll be all right. Don't worry, cuz,” Venkath smiled weakly at him.

Lawrence didn't smile back. “You know this is a bad idea.”

“Yes, but it's the only way to stop Nicholas from killing again,” Venkath said. He watched Lawrence drive away. As soon as the car was out of sight, he began walking towards the clinic.

The clinic front door was open. Venkath stepped inside; it was dark and unwelcoming. In the air lingered a faint odor of antiseptic, along with the smell of dogs.

“Hello? Is anyone in here?” he called out. His voice echoed throughout the corridor, fading away into silence.

It was then he noticed a light at the far end of the clinic. Someone was in one of the examining rooms. He walked up to the door.

Inside, he saw Nicholas Lim seated in a chair next to a grey medicine cabinet. He manufactured a thin stretch of the lips, more a snarl than a smile when he saw Venkath.

“Where's your police sidekick, doc?” he asked.
“I'm here alone,” Venkath replied.

“What can I do for you on this fine evening?” Nicholas' smile grew wider, but there was nothing friendly about it. Just hatred that contorted his features, making him look far older than his years.

“You know why I'm here. I want answers.”

Nicholas laughed, a thin, ugly sound that turned Venkath's blood cold. But Venkath ignored it. “I know you killed Shoba and the other women. It's over, Nicholas.”

The younger man laughed again, then face took on a nasty, twisted look. “You've got nothing on me and you know it.”

Venkath smiled at him. “You messed up when you killed Shoba, you left some evidence without knowing it,” he said.

“You're lying.”

“For a while there, you had us on a wild goose chase by framing Paul. You covered your tracks so well, but what you didn't count on was Shoba stealing a roll of red ribbon from your little flower shop in Seremban. When it comes back from the lab, they're going to find your prints and sweat on it. There's no escape this time, Nicholas.”

“That doesn't prove anything and you know it. I work there, it's part of my job to use ribbons for flower baskets and bouquets. It doesn't mean squat,” Nicholas snarled, rising from his chair.

It was then that Venkath noticed Nicholas holding a long strip of red ribbon in his right hand. The latter took a step towards him.
“What I want to know is why you did it, even sociopaths like you have their reasons,” Venkath said, not moving despite Nicholas taking another step towards him. The latter's eyes were like little glass beadsm cold and empty as they glared at Venkath.
Nicholas threw back his head and laughed again. “You're wearing a wire and you expect me to confess to something I didn't do?”

Venkath reached inside his shirt and removed the wire taped to his chest. He laid it carefully on the examining table. He turned the tape recorder off. “There, no wires, no tapes. Now, tell me what you've been dying to say all along.”

Nicholas still stared at him suspiciously but his ego got the better of him. “That's better. Now, ask me anything.”

“Why did you do it? Why kill Shoba after all these years?” Venkath asked.

“Because she bloody started it! She fired me just because I was in love with her. She broke my heart and ruined my medical career. She should have just stayed in Penang and moved on, given us both another chance. Instead she laughed at me. No one laughs at Nicholas Lim,” he said menacingly.

“And the others?” Venkath asked, taking a step back. A bead of sweat started rolling down his back from the effort of keeping his emotions in check. For anger was slowly bubbling in him.
“Collateral damage,” Nicholas said, shrugging his shoulders. He took another step towards Venkath. “How did you know it was me?”

“The first time I suspected you was when you said you had two jobs. Seven years ago, one of Shoba's medical interns fell in love with her. He would send her flowers with a signature red ribbon. She got sick of it and had the person fired. When I saw the roll of red ribbon Shoba left me, I realised it was you. Your second job was at Simply Floral, the florist that Shoba had bought flowers from for the charity dinner.”

“Very good, Dr. Venkath. You should have been a police officer, like your cousin,” Nicholas sneered.

“You didn't have to murder Shoba, if it was me you were after. We were both separated. You could have tried wooing her again, why did you have to kill her?”

“Because she was back here looking for you!” Nicholas slammed his fist on the examining table. “I left her a note pretending to be you to meet me in the park at eleven. She told me she was back here to get back with you. I killed for her and she broke my heart all over again. The next thing I knew, she was lying dead in my arms.” A tear rolled down Nicholas' left cheek, but his eyes were cold.
“Why my mother-in-law and Sruthi, the student you killed in KL? You didn't even know them,” Venkath prodded further.

Nicholas took another step towards Venkath. He began winding the ribbon tautly around his wrists. He's trying to intimidate me, Venkath thought to himself. Best if I play along.

“That skinny bitch was having an affair with you, which upset Shoba. So I got rid of her. But then your stupid mother-in-law tried to get you and Shoba back together, she was an easy kill,” he said, smiling coldly at Venkath. “Just like you're going to be.” He lunged towards Venkath.









Category:

The Higher They Climb, The Harder They Fall

Posted on | Tuesday, August 9, 2011 | No Comments

Ok, who am I kidding here? Certainly not myself. Call it wishful thinking that the high and mighty get their just desserts under the super speedy law of karma. But you and I both know it doesn't happen that way in real life.


What am I going on about? Manners. The lack of common courtesy among those who consider themselves the "upper crust" and hence feel they are entitled to be rude to "everyone else". Well, since this is a rant I better make it a good one, I wish them a prosperous fall--because the higher they climb on someone's back (or several backs) to get the higher rung, the harder they fall.


When you're on the receiving end of bad manners, it's easy to feel that there's something not right with you. I've felt it (not today, because I was hopping mad), but in the past. You may question yourself: is it me? Did I say something wrong or not look the way I was supposed to? Did I not wear the right clothes or shoes?


Do yourself a favour. If someone is rude to you, don't offer the other cheek. But do walk away. It's your god-given right to. No human being has the right to demean or demoralise you just because they can. I'm not asking you to run him or her over with your car. I'm saying: experience it and let it go. Buddhism has several teachers who preach the art of letting go. And it works.


I tried this today and I hope it helps you to let go of the unhappiness when something (or someone) throws a spanner in the works. Letting go, according to the late Buddhist monk Ajahn Chah, used the analogy of the flashlight to demonstrate this. He said it is about holding but not clinging:


When we see a flashlight we wonder: "What is this?" So we pick it up: "Oh, it's a flashlight." Then we put it down again. We hold things in this way."

Isn't that beautiful? I just wanted to share that with you because I had an encounter of the rude kind today and didn't really feel that much better until I arrived home and read this analogy. Before that I searched my mind, conversations with friends who comforted me and the past for some comfort. All the while it was lying right next to my pillow, in a little book called "A Tree In The Forest" by Ajahn Chah.

So now it doesn't feel that good anymore to curse that person, far from it. I wish the person a good climb, may he land on his nice cushy butt when the time comes. Amen.

Category:

Red Ribbons (Chapter Seven) part 1

Posted on | Sunday, August 7, 2011 | No Comments

Chapter Seven (Part 1)

“Death was definitely due to strangulation; she died sometime between 11.00pm and 11.30pm yesterday,” Dr. Chin told Venkath. “The murder weapon was a fabric of some kind measuring about half an inch thick, just like in the Alicia Ling case,” he added.


“Were there red fibres on the body?” Venkath asked.

“Yes, there were some embedded in the ligature wounds, but I found none elsewhere on the body. She didn’t have any defensive wounds either. But she did have an RM1 note folded into a pyramid inside her purse. Her identification card was missing too.”


“Thanks for the update Dr. Chin. Please call me if you find anything else,” Venkath said before hanging up.


He looked around the hotel room. A police officer was dusting the door knob for fingerprints, while another was searching the bathroom. Shoba’s things were scattered on the bed, just the way she had left it. It had always amazed him how meticulously put together she had always looked, yet was steadfastly untidy with her belongings.

“Sir, we found this taped to the underside of the bathroom sink,” said the officer who had been checking the bathroom. He handed a slightly damp white envelope to Lawrence.

“Here, it’s addressed to you,” Lawrence said, extending the envelope to Venkath. Venkath put on a pair of plastic gloves handed to him by one of the officers and took the envelope. His name was written on the front. The handwriting was Shoba’s. He opened the envelope and to his surprise, there was a key inside. There was no note inside.


“What’s it for?” Lawrence asked.

“It’s the key to a bank safety deposit box,” Venkath said, raising an eyebrow.

“Which bank?”

“Bank of ----. She must have known something and left this for me in case anything happened to her,” Venkath shook his head sadly.

“Come on cuz, let’s go find out who did this,” Lawrence said, placing his hand on Venkath’s shoulder.


The bank manager was a short, portly man of about fifty, with a slight squint. A worried look came over his pug-like face when Lawrence showed him his police badge.

“Good afternoon, Inspector. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Danny. We’re here to look for a safety deposit box by one Shoba Muthu,” Lawrence said.


“Certainly, Inspector. Give me a minute while I check our system,” the manager said.

The manager tapped away at the computer for a few minutes; agonizing minutes for Venkath, who felt that too much time had already been wasted. “Could you hurry up?” he said impatiently.

“We don’t have a Shoba Muthu in our system, but we do have a Shoba Das,” the manager said a little crossly.


“Yes, that's her. She must have used her married name. I'm her husband,” Venkath said.

“My condolences to you sir,” the manager looked sympathetic.

The manger escorted Venkath and Lawrence into the safety deposit vault, where he opened locker no. 5605. Venkath's heart pounded as the manager opened the box. What had Shoba left for him?

The box was empty save for a single roll of red ribbon. Lawrence put on a pair of gloves and picked it up. The ends of the ribbon had frayed, leaking fibres that looked very much like the red fibres that were found on Alicia and Shoba's bodies, he thought.

“Looks like she found the murder weapon,” he said.

Venkath looked at his cousin, realisation dawning on his face.

“What is it?” Lawrence asked.

“I know who killed them,” Venkath said.















Category:

The Star interviews Mo Hayder

No Comments

Today's edition of The Star features an interview with British crime novelist Mo Hayder, writer of "Birdman" and the hugely successful "Walking Man" series. Here's an excerpt:

BRITISH thriller writer Mo Hayder says her gruesome and gory tales help her deal with the darkness in her own mind.
“I don’t know what other writers are like, but I’m very unsettled in my head,” the 50-year-old says over the telephone from her home in the west of England. “My books are a way of metabolising my fears.”


Read the rest of the article here.

Category:

Red Ribbons (Chapter Six)

Posted on | Wednesday, August 3, 2011 | No Comments

Chapter Six


Venkath stared at the body on the examining table. Her skin was a shade paler than its usual olive colour. The red ligature marks around her neck stood out against the fair skin, not as fair as Alicia’s, but a colour he remembered and still loved. Shoba's eyes were closed, but her lips were slightly apart in a silent ‘o’, just like Alicia’s had been. Just like her own mother, when they’d found her in the park four years ago.

“Venkath, it’s time to go. Let Dr. Chin do his job,” Lawrence placed his hand gently on his cousin’s shoulder.

Venkath nodded wordlessly and allowed Lawrence to lead him out of the mortuary. A volcano of emotions coursed through him. Anger at the killer for doing this to the only woman he had loved. Anger at himself for not being able to stop it. But most of all, a deep shame he couldn’t shake. Shame that he felt triumphant that Lawrence now could no longer deny they were dealing with a serial killer; one that was taunting Venkath with his killing spree.

“This can't be happening,” Venkath finally said when they were back at the station. His estranged wife had been in town and hadn't even told him she was here. And now she was dead, lying in a morgue like some lab rat for this Dr. Chin to cut her open. He had an image of a surgical knife slicing her chest open, sending a wave of nausea over him.

Lawrence said nothing, sensing his cousin's need to absorb what had happened. It wouldn't be easy;

Venkath had loved Shoba very much, even after she had left him four years ago. It had started with the case in KL. Venkath had had an indiscretion with one of his interns, who turned up dead outside a club in KL. Somehow Shoba had found out, but they managed to save their marriage. A year later, Venkath's mother-in-law was murdered while jogging in the park. Venkath was assisting the Penang police for the case, but none of the police's leads turned up anything. One evening after work, Venkath had found all his wife's things gone and a note on the fridge that said: “I can't pretend anymore. Goodbye.” Heartbroken, he decided to leave Penang and start life afresh in Kuala Pilah without her.

That hadn't worked out as planned. For whatever reason, the killer had resurfaced after four years to torment Venkath again. He was sorry he hadn't believed they had been looking for a serial killer, Shoba's death now proved that the killer had a personal vendetta against Venkath.

“Did you know she was back in town?” Lawrence asked, breaking the silence.

Venkath shook his head. “No, we haven't spoken in four years. I heard from mutual friends that she sometimes visits her old friends here, but they never tell me more than that. She certainly does...didn't,” he corrected himself.

“Okay. What I'll need is a list of friends she has here, I'll need to visit them to find out more about what happened,” Lawrence said.

“There are only two—Saras and Mala, her former schoolmates,” Venkath said, scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Give me the addresses, I'll see to this. You'd better go home and get some rest, I know you haven't slept much since Alicia's murder,” Lawrence said.

“No, I'm coming with you. Besides, they're more likely to open up to me than to you,” Venkath said, his mouth set in a thin, determined line. Lawrence knew there was no point in arguing.

They dropped by the home of Mala, Shoba's oldest friend at around 6pm. They were greeted at the door by a thin, bespectacled woman dressed in a white blouse and black slacks. There were fine lines around her mouth and eyes, although she couldn't be older than thirty-five. Her eyes were hidden by huge bug-eyed spectacles, darting nervously around the room every few seconds. Her nose meanwhile was pointy and a little crooked, giving her an overall appearance of a giant mosquito.

“Will this take long? I have a cake in the oven for a friend's housewarming party,” Mala Rani asked, looking nervously at a clock decorated with ceramic birds that hung on one wall.

“We'll try and make this as brief as possible Ms. Rani,” Lawrence reassured her. “Perhaps you could start by telling us the last time you saw Mrs. Venkath,” he added.

“Why? Has anything happened to Shoba?” The woman's eyes grew wide with concern.

“I'm sorry to tell you that your friend was killed last night. The body was found in the park. Do you have any idea why she was in the park at that time of the night?” Lawrence asked.

Mala's eyes teared up and she put a hand up to her forehead. “I think I need to sit down,” she said, almost in a whisper. She wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek.

“We were at a charity dinner in the Royal Hotel in Seremban last night, Shoba had only checked into the hotel yesterday afternoon. She left early, after a long talk with Mrs. Ling. Mrs. Ling must have said something to upset her. Shoba seemed distressed after that conversation and left early, at around 8.30pm,” Mala explained.

“Did she say where she was going?” Venkath asked.

“No, she said she was tired, so we assumed she went up to her room,” Mala said.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Lawrence asked.

“Why, Saras and myself. We hosted the dinner to raise funds for a local orphanage,” she said.

“Did you hear from Shoba after she left?” Lawrence asked. Venkath listened quietly. His mind was full of cotton, making the voices around him seem far away and irrelevant. He forced his attention back to the present.

“She called me around 10pm, saying that she felt peaceful. She said she’d tell me everything in the morning. We spoke for about ten minutes, mostly about the dinner, then I went to bed,” Mala said.

“We found an ATM slip and a receipt from one Simply Floral in her purse. Did she purchase any flowers yesterday?” Lawrence asked.

“Oh yes, she ordered the centre piece for the VIP table. It was lovely, a nice bouquet of red roses. Shoba was always so thoughtful and generous like that,” Mala said, wiping away another tear. She began crying softly.

A visit to the victim's other friend Saras didn't turn up anything. Her story wasn't any different; Shoba had checked into the hotel the afternoon before and attended the dinner at night, then left early.

At the Ling residence, they were greeted at the door by Mrs. Ling, who didn't appear surprised to see them. “Come in, I've been expecting you,” she said simply.

She ushered them into the living room. “I know you're here to ask me about my conversation with your late wife, Mr. Das. Ask me anything,” she said.

“How did you know my wife has passed away?” Venkath said, frowning in puzzlement.

Her lips formed a small smile. “This is a small town. News travels fast, Dr. Das. Please accept my condolences,” she said, looking calmly at him. Again, Venkath felt that twinge of something unsettling about the woman.

“I didn't know that you knew Shoba,” Venkath said.

“I didn't,” Mrs. Ling replied calmly. The two men raised their eyebrows quizzically at each other. She continued: “I only met her at the charity dinner last night. She expressed her condolences over my daughter's death and then asked me a very strange question.”

“What was it?” Lawrence asked.

“She wanted to know if my daughter had received red roses from anyone the week before she died. I told her that Alicia had received many bouquets, for her birthday was the previous week. Shoba appeared very distressed suddenly and said she was feeling tired. She said she was going to get some air and then retire for the night,” Mrs. Ling said.

“Did Alicia receive red roses from anyone?” Venkath asked.

“Yes, her friend Boon Yee, for her birthday. But what does it have to do with anything?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“Four years ago, my mother in law was murdered in the park, just like my wife. She received a bouquet of red roses from her best friend for her birthday, which was a week before she was murdered. It can’t be a coincidence. Where is Boon Yee right now?” Venkath asked.

Mrs. Ling looked shocked. “You mean this has happened before? Why didn’t the police catch the killer before he did this to my daughter?”


“The Penang police didn’t find any evidence at the crime scene, Mrs. Ling. The trail ran cold four years ago so they gave up looking for the killer. But it appears as if he or she has resurfaced,” Lawrence said. “We must speak to your daughter’s friend Boon Yee. She may know something,” he added urgently.


“I’ll go get her, she’s upstairs watching TV,” Mrs. Ling said.

A few minutes later, she reappeared with a bespectacled young lady by her side. The girl was petite, nearly a foot shorter than Mrs. Ling and had serious eyes. She wore a white t-shirt that said “I’m With Stupid” across the front and black track pants. She looked at them curiously.

“Boon Yee, this is Inspector Lawrence and Dr. Venkath Das. They have a few questions about Alicia,” Mrs. Ling said.

The girl looked surprised. “But I already told everything I know to Officer Ong,” she said.
“Officer Paul Ong came to see you? When?” Lawrence asked.


“He called me, we know each other through Alicia. He was dating her, you know,” Boon Yee said.


Out of the corner his eye, Lawrence saw Mrs. Ling raise an eyebrow. He ignored it and continued: “Mrs. Ling mentioned that you had a bouquet of red roses sent to Alicia for her birthday about a week ago,” he said.

“Yes, so?” the girl shrugged her shoulders.


“Where did you order the flowers from?”


“Oh, I ordered them online through my cousin’s website. How is this relevant, Inspector?”

“Everything is relevant, Miss Boon Yee. When was the last time you saw Alicia alive?” Lawrence asked.


“On her birthday last Thursday. We, as in Alice, Alicia and I, went out for dinner at Alicia’s favourite Japanese restaurant in KL. But I did speak to her on the phone from Ipoh on Saturday morning, she seemed happy and said she was going with Officer Ong to the Purple Room that night,” the girl said.


“When did you return from Ipoh?” Lawrence asked.

“I hurried back on Monday evening as soon as Mrs. Ling told me about what had happened to Alicia. Alice was on the bus with me too, she’s also from Ipoh,” she explained.

“Do you know where Alicia was on Sunday?” Lawrence asked, jotting down what she had said.


Boon Yee hesitated. She looked at Mrs. Ling out of the corner of her eye before speaking. “She said that she was meeting Nicholas for brunch in Bangsar. He wanted to borrow money from her and she said okay. She was supposed to have returned here to Kuala Pilah by evening to have tea with me and Alice, but she never showed up. That’s when I called Mrs. Ling,” she explained.

“That good for nothing boy borrowed money from my daughter? How could you keep this a secret from me, Boon Yee?” Mrs. Ling said, looking disappointed.

“I’m sorry, aunty. But she made Alice and me promise not to tell you she was still friends with him. She took the money from her savings and lent it to him so he could complete his studies,” she explained.


Mrs. Ling looked furious and opened her mouth to speak however Lawrence interrupted her. “Yes, we know about that. But Nicholas said the last time he saw her was at the brunch, which ended at around 2pm. We still don’t know where Alicia was for the rest of Sunday," he said. Or how Shoba ended up dead in the park, he thought to himself. The murders were somehow linked, he was sure of it now. But how? he wondered silently.

Category:

Search This Blog

Followers