The Heritage Theatre Company was there, all right, one floor up. ‘Wait here, Marie,’ I told my escort. ‘I’ll go up, on the off-chance that there is somebody there.’ I confess that I hadn’t thought this through properly. I was supposed to be the guiding genius in the background with Mike doing the legwork, so what was I doing heading for an office where my presence might have tipped off Maddy, through her boyfriend, that I was looking for her? God knows, but I did it.
The office was in a narrow corridor lined with glass-walled suites. It was distinguishable from the rest by the posters which were plastered all over it, advertising performances past and some that were still to come. I couldn’t see inside, for the glass was opaque, but it appeared that Heritage had all the space on the left of the corridor as I walked down it.
A Chinese face beamed at me from the entrance door; it was on yet another poster, but this one carried only that smile and the name, ‘Lee Kan Tong, Director’. Other than that there was nothing, no list of office hours to say whether they were open or closed. What the hell? I thought, and turned the handle.
The door opened. Marie was right, nobody was there. . but somebody had been. The lay-out was simple: there were open-plan areas on either side of a single private office. Its door was gaping wide, and the room had been trashed. The place had been turned upside-down: desk drawers and filing cabinets lay open and their contents were all over the floor. The chair behind the desk was upside-down, as if someone had thrown it aside. Lee Kan Tong was either a very untidy human being, or he had a big problem. Whatever it was, I knew I shouldn’t be witnessing it.
‘Fuck!’ I whispered, and then I started behaving sensibly. I took off my T-shirt, used it to wipe the door handle very thoroughly after I’d closed it behind me, then put it back on and got the hell out of there.
Marie was waiting in the foyer, as I’d asked. ‘You’re right,’ I told her. ‘Office closed on Sundays.’
20
We walked out to Merchant Road, where I stopped a taxi, one with wheels this time. I dropped Marie back at the Esplanade, then told the driver to take me to the Stamford. I still had fifteen minutes before I was due to meet Sammy and Dylan, and I figured that a fresh shirt might be in order.
I was heading for the lift when the foyer concierge called out. ‘Excuse me, Mr Blackstone, I have a message for you, sir.’
As I walked over to him, I guessed it might be from Dylan, telling me that he was crashing out for the rest of the day. Could I have been more wrong? No.
‘A lady called, sir,’ he told me. ‘She asked to speak to you. I told her you were out, but that she could leave voice-mail. She said she had to speak with you in person, and she left this number, asking if you would call her back.’
He handed me a notelet bearing the hotel crest and a number; I glanced at it and saw it was local. ‘Did she say anything else?’
‘No, sir, only that it was urgent.’
Many things in my life seem urgent to the other people involved, but not to me. I thanked him and headed liftward. On the way up, I found myself wondering who it might be. Probably the girl from the television station; but she had left a message before, no problem, so why not this time? A journalist? Maybe, but wouldn’t she have left a name, or more likely called back every half-hour till she got a result?
I was still pondering when I got to my suite. I chose a Coke from the mini-bar, popped it and took it into the bathroom, where I had a quick shower. By that time I had almost forgotten about the calclass="underline" my mind was back at Riverside Point, wondering who had given Lee Kan Tong’s office such a duffing up. My best guess was a theatre rival, looking to blag a copy of a script that Heritage held; these things happen in the arts world, although we’d never admit it to outsiders.
The note was still on my table as I pulled on a dry T-SHIRT, this one advertising Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville in Las Vegas. I had half a mind not to bother about the woman, just to head downstairs and out with the lads. Fortunately, or not (you decide later), the other half made me pick it up and dial the number.
‘Yes? Who’s speaking?’ The voice on the other end was female all right, but not Singaporean. . at least, not Asian. It was mature, not a youngster, but not old either; my age maybe. It was also clearly agitated.
‘This is Oz Blackstone. I have a message asking me to call you. Assuming I have the right number, who are you?’
The woman sighed, and I could have sworn it was with relief. ‘Oz,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m so glad you called me back. God, you don’t know how glad.’
‘I’m glad you’re glad, but who the hell are you?’
‘We’ve never met,’ she replied, seemingly determined not to answer my straight question, ‘but we have something in common. My ex-husband is your brother-in-law. My name’s Madeleine January, and I need to see you.’
Everywhere’s a village, I thought. Four million inhabitants or not it’s still a fucking village. I paused, just to give myself some thinking time. ‘Are you, indeed?’ I replied at last. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I heard a trailer for tonight’s Mai Bong Show on local telly. They said you were on it.’
‘No, I meant how did you know I was in this hotel?’ My master plan had been hit right on the head. I decided to stall her until I could come up with another.
‘I called around. You weren’t in Raffles, and you weren’t in the Fullerton; this was third choice.’
‘Remind me to chastise my secretary for booking me in downmarket,’ I murmured. I had Plan B: it was, let her make the running. ‘Since you know I’m on air this evening, you must realise that I’m pretty busy.’
‘I appreciate that, but this really is very urgent. Can we meet?’
‘When?’
‘Two o’clock.’
I let her hang on for a few seconds. Finally I sighed. ‘Okay, if you insist; but be clear, I’m only doing this because of the Harvey connection. Where?’
‘There’s an island called Sentosa, near the port, with lots of attractions on it. One of them’s a place called Fort Siloso. Go there and then follow the yellow route till you get to the children’s playground at the top. I’ll be there. Make sure you get there just after two. I want to be sure I’m there before you.’
‘Okay, but why the drama? I’m on holiday, remember.’
‘I’ll explain later. Just be there, Oz. It’ll be worth it to Harvey in the long run, I assure you.’ She hung up.
21
I stood in the window for a while, staring out at Singapore and thinking as I sipped my can of warm Coke. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn’t going to be a need for all the subterfuge I’d planned; maybe Mike’s air fare had been a waste of money.
I called his suite, but there was no answer. I checked my watch; it was ten past midday.
He and Sammy Grant were waiting for me. They were sitting in the foyer bar; each of them looked the worse for wear, and they appeared to be chewing, rather than drinking, two Corona beers.
‘Where have you been?’ Dylan moaned. ‘Pumping iron in that fucking gym again?’
‘That was a while ago. I’ve been on the river since then.’
‘Have a beer, then, and work it off.’
‘Don’t be disgusting, Benny.’ I thought it politic to remind him that we were travelling under his new name, just in case he had forgotten; I had also decided to keep him in the dark about Prim’s good news. That could wait for a while. ‘You know I never drink before lunch.’ I clapped my hands together and looked enthusiastic.
Sammy jumped to his feet; Dylan seemed to slither to his. That’s the only way I can describe it. ‘Okay,’ our new friend began, ‘I thought I’d take us to Orchard Road. Ah know you guys won’t usually do the shops on a stag trip, but there’s a place up there called the Lucky Plaza. It’s just fuckin’ magic; you’ll get every sort of fake you can imagine. There’s even a wee tailor’s shop there called Armani.’