The Singapore School of Villainy by Shamini Flint Read Free Book Online

– it will help us narrow the time of death.’
    The fat policeman continued, ‘Corporal Dass, check the CCTV tapes – if big brother was watching, I want to know.’ Dass looked puzzled at the reference but nodded his head at once. ‘You two,’ said Singh, pointing a grubby finger at a couple of uniforms – he had no idea what their names were – ‘start trawling through bank accounts and computers. If this was a matter connected to Hutchinson & Rice, the law firm – money is most likely at its root.’
    â€˜We need to look into who benefited from his death,’ interjected the superintendent. He had obviously been brushing up on his investigative techniques, thought Singh dismissively, in all likelihood by re-reading his Agatha Christie collection.
    â€˜Check his finances – ask his lawyers if he left a will,’ said Singh to the only female officer in the room, a pretty Malay woman with heavy make-up to cover what he suspected was an attack of acne.
    He continued, addressing the room at large this time, ‘Do we have the preliminary scene of crime report yet?’
    A middle-aged man with thick, black-framed glasses handed over a bulging file. Singh raised an eyebrow and the forensics man interjected hurriedly, ‘To summarise – no fingerprints on the murder weapon – it was wiped. Prints of the deceased and a number of lawyers and staff were found in the room.’
    â€˜There’s nothing particularly sinister about that,’ remarked Singh.
    The man nodded in agreement. ‘The blood in the room matches the blood type of the deceased only .’
    â€˜Anything else?’
    â€˜The swabs of the sinks on the premises found the deceased’s blood in the pantry sink.’
    â€˜So the killer washed his or her hands…’
    â€˜That is the most likely conclusion, sir,’ agreed the forensics specialist.
    â€˜A shame that they didn’t use the bathrooms instead,’ muttered Singh.
    A front row sergeant looked puzzled but it was only Superintendent Chen who dared put the question into words: ‘Why does that matter?’
    â€˜Male and female toilets, sir. Our perpetrator was in a hurry to clean up and get out. I’m sure he or she would have used the appropriate facilities!’ He continued, ‘We had better search the residence of each of the partners as well as the wife and ex-wife. We might get lucky and find a rolled-up, bloodstained T-shirt at the back of the clothes cupboard.’
    â€˜What about witness statements?’ asked Chen.
    Inspector Singh looked around the room at his bright-eyed, bushy-tailed subordinates. His glance fell on Corporal Fong, his latest right-hand man, leaning forward in his chair so earnestly that Singh feared he might tip over and end up on the floor. ‘I’ll do the interviews myself,’ he said, his voice at its most gravelly.
    He realised that he had assigned tasks to no more than half the enthusiastic youngsters in the room. What in the world was he going to do with the rest of them? He glanced at the superintendent – the lines on his brow were like a child’s drawing of waves in the sea. The boss wanted more tangible progress; muddy footprints and half-smoked cigarette butts soaked in DNA-ridden saliva. Very well, thought Singh, he would investigate, but he would also play the pantomime investigator. ‘The rest of you,’ he said, ‘divide yourselves into teams of two and follow every single one of those partners. I want to know everything ; where they go, what they eat, how many times a day they take a leak – got it?’
    There were enthusiastic nods around the room.
    Superintendent Chen looked pleased.
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    All the partners of the Singapore office of Hutchinson & Rice, bar one, were gathered together at the penthouse club of their office tower block. The absent partner lay in a chilled steel drawer at the morgue of a