A Bali Conspiracy Most Foul by Shamini Flint Read Free Book Online

incinerated.’
    Bronwyn continued, ‘I suppose that means it’s conceivable that the perpetrator died in the bombings too?’
    â€˜Shot the guy and then was blown up? It’s possible, I guess.’
    Singh was disappointed. His jowls drooped. He wanted to find a murderer, not identify another corpse.
    Bronwyn noticed this and said cheerfully, the dimple putting in a fresh appearance, ‘Probably the killer is lying
under a beach umbrella, watching the sunset, sipping a pina colada and thinking how lucky he – or she – is.’
    Singh’s face brightened. He said, ‘I certainly hope so!’
    Â 
    Tim Yardley sat under a thatched umbrella, leaning back against its sturdy wooden trunk. He was shirtless and a stiff breeze ruffled the hair that blanketed his belly. His breasts drooped over his stomach.
    A low full moon, hanging like a paper lantern in the sky, provided the only light. The sea waters were ebony against a midnight-blue sky. Only the frothy wave tops reflected the moonlight, each strand racing the others to shore, occasionally colliding in a wheeling eddy. It was peaceful.
    Tim did his best to forget the hurtful things his wife had said to him. Karri was becoming more unpleasant by the day, playing with his emotions with the capriciousness of a young child pulling the wings off a butterfly. Indeed, she had used her spiteful tongue with good effect throughout the course of their marriage, mocking his weaknesses, insisting her maliciousness was just humour – that he was being too sensitive in taking it all to heart.
    They had been married almost fifteen years now. He had met her in a Bali hotel, the sort that catered to Taiwanese package tours and low-budget corporate retreats. She had spotted him balanced precariously on a bar stool, sipping a Bintang and waiting for his colleagues from the engineers’ conference to put in an appearance. With her usual self-confidence, she had sidled over and begun a conversation. He remembered being bowled over by the energetic skinny woman with the exotic hairstyle.
    Half an hour later, he had abandoned his fellow engineers to perch on the back of Karri’s rented scooter, holding on to her flat stomach gingerly. She took him on a tour of rowdy
bars and strobe-lit nightclubs where he sipped a beer and watched her dance, proud that he was there as her escort. They had ended up in his hotel room, the first time he had had sex with a woman he had not paid for upfront.
    Tim remembered how certain he was that he could not let this vibrant creature out of his life. He had been terrified of being left to his old sedate existence and regular job in Canberra, no one to come home to except his old mother who relied on him and despised him at the same time.
    In desperation, he had blurted out a proposal of marriage and then cringed at the thought of her horrified response. Karri had rolled over, her hair tousled. She had gripped his naked belly, already starting to protrude, in a firm hand. He had felt ashamed of his physique, flabby and untoned, compared to her brown wiry muscularity.
    To his amazement, she had burst into loud laughter and said, ‘Why not?’
    Tim had immediately faxed his resignation to the Canberra head office from his hotel, his hands tremulous with anticipation as he gave the scribbled letter to the desk clerk. He was a new man, embarking on a new life. He had married Karri wearing the suit he had brought for the conference but was determined to burn it right after the ceremony – a symbolic rejection of the regimentation and tedium of his previous life. He would dress in cotton vests and comfortable surfer shorts, knock himself into shape jogging on the beach and get a tan. Tim remembered how he had peered into a mirror just before the ceremony, looking at his high forehead and wondering whether there was a Balinese potion that would magically restore his hairline. For a short while, he had truly believed