Cha-li sighed, and returned the binoculars to her glove box feeling as if she had crawled out of a black hole where time had warped like a rattan mat left in the sun too long. How long had she been sitting in the car lost in her own thoughts? She was ashamed. This was uncharacteristic. And worse, she’d lost her quarry. Robert Lee’s white Mercedes was gone. The gate of the corner house was shut, and the woman who looked like Rose had disappeared back inside. The house stood in darkness. Butterfly Avenue was wrapped in silence at three a.m. The night air was soft and sweet, as though this avenue was not part of such a densely populated city, as though it belonged to a time when there were few cars and migrant workers from China, India, or Bangladesh hadn’t yet squeezed Singaporeans out of the crowded buses and trains.
Cha-li took out her black notebook, wrote down the time, date, and her observations, and then shut it. It pained her to think of what she’d tell Robina Lee the next day. The woman had phoned earlier to say that she was coming to the temple tomorrow. Cha-li had no wish to see her yet, but an operative must maintain close contact with her client just as a medium must maintain close psychic contact with the spirit she is channeling.
She got out of the car. She had to clear her head. She walked past the corner house and followed the road beyond the silent gated bungalows, their orange roofs gleaming in the ghostly night sky. There was no moon. Just banks of ominous gray clouds. Her mind returned to the woman who looked like Rose. If it was Rose, what was she doing back here? Had she moved up in the world through Robert Lee, son of a hotel chain tycoon? Was he her young lover? Was he bankrolling her?
Information was scarce at this point. Robina Lee was reluctant to tell her more. You are the investigator. You find out, she’d said at their last meeting. And let me remind you of your high fee plus expenses. In return, I expect the strictest confidence.
Cha-li grimaced at the memory of that voice. No, she didn’t want to see Robina Lee tomorrow, and looked up, surprised that her feet had led her to the gate of Cedar Girls’ School. She must have turned onto Cedar Avenue without thinking. This was their secondary school before Rose was expelled for what the school called “unhealthy relationships.”
Monkey! Rose had yelled on the first day. Did you see the school toilet? No shit! No flies! No smell! So clean! You just pull the metal chain. And whooooosh! The water flushes away everything! Rose’s face was glowing. The toilets aren’t like those in Potong Pasir village. When I grow up I want to live in a beautiful house with a clean toilet just like this. And me? What about me? Cha-li asked. Oh, you? You will live in the temple, lor! You will be Lord Sun Wukong’s medium. No, Cha-li protested. But it was not a very strong protest.
She turned away from the school and returned to Butterfly Avenue. A dog barked at her, strident and querulous. Cha-li crossed over to the other side of the road just so the stupid Alsatian wouldn’t wake up the neighborhood. The avenue was U-shaped, and where it curved, there was a small playground with a slide and a swing under the trees. Their shadows fell across the park where a girl’s soft giggles broke the night’s calm. She saw a young Rose and herself on the swing. Rose was pushing her higher and higher, and she was laughing and screaming, Stop! Stop!
What must you say? What must you say?
Mei kwei, Mei kwei, wo ai ni.
Rose, Rose, I love you.
The Alsatian’s barking grew louder, joined now by the yelpings of other dogs. She quickened her pace. Just as she was about to reach her gray Toyota, a glimpse of black hair caught her attention. Near the red car. No, the black one. No. It’s a mirage. An optical illusion. She must be hallucinating. Go home, Cha-li. Get some sleep!
She parked her Toyota in the wasteland next to the canal, formerly known as the Kallang River, that meandered through Potong Pasir village. Wild grass, bush, and creepers grew around the old temple. The wasteland became a fairground every August during the feast of the Monkey King when an open-air stage was erected and a street opera was performed for the gods and devotees. When Kai-yeh was the medium, the entire village of Potong Pasir would gather at the temple to pray, eat, and watch street opera for three days and three nights. These days, however, like the slow-flowing Kallang River that had given way to the rapid Kallang Canal, the street operas had given way to getai in which scantily clad women sang and danced, not for the gods but for the younger devotees who loved MTV. The wasteland had also shrunk, and the concrete blocks of housing board apartments had moved closer to the temple each year.
Cha-li unlocked the side gate, collected the mail from the red letterbox, and opened the door to her private quarters. Exhausted but hungry, she cooked a bowl of instant noodles and ate it while sorting through her mail.
What’s this? She tore open the letter from the National Development Board. Her application to renew the temple’s lease had been rejected. We regret to inform you that the temple’s site has been rezoned for public housing... Cha-li swore under her breath. Lord Sun Wukong’s Temple had been here forever. This was her home. She must see Kai-yeh and let him know the bad news at once.
2
Outside the ward in the Goddess of Mercy Home for the Aged Sick, Mr. Singh, the night watchman, looked flummoxed. The gate, which he had padlocked the night before, was unlocked again this morning.
“The third time this week, Mr. Singh,” the staff nurse said.
“But Miss Tan, I lock the gate last night!”
“No, you didn’t. The gate was open when I arrived. And you weren’t at the gate.”
“I had to go to the loo.”
“We have residents here suffering from severe dementia. The gate must be locked at all times. I have to report this to the matron.”
“If you report, then I susah-lah!”
“If I don’t report, and something happens, then how? I’m not going to be responsible, you know!”
Sitting on a chair next to the bed, arms resting on her lap, Cha-li stared out the window and pretended not to look at Kai-yeh’s wizened face. Curled like a shriveled fetus on his side, Kai-yeh was following the altercation outside his ward with avid interest. Neither of them spoke until the nurse and watchman walked away.
“Troublemaker,” Cha-li hissed. “You did it, didn’t you?”
Kai-yeh’s eyes lit up. For a second, Cha-li saw the simian features pass through his wrinkled face like a wind moving across water. Then his lungs seized up. His chest heaved with the effort to draw in air. Fourth stage, the doctor had told her. The cancer had spread to his lungs. When his coughing worsened, Cha-li summoned the nurse. An oxygen mask was placed over his nostrils. Aahh... ah, Kai-yeh dragged in each breath of air. Cha-li placed a hand on his chest. Gradually his breathing quieted. He waved off her hand, and pointed to the mask clamped over his face. Cha-li took it off.
“I... I... Rose. Bring... her... back here.”
“What? Kai-yeh. Did Rose visit you?”
He coughed again and again, and could not stop. Each explosion was worse than the one before. The young Malay nurse strode into the room and clamped the oxygen mask back on. “You should go. The patient has to rest.”
Cha-li bent down and whispered in the old man’s ear, “Kai-yeh, you hang in there. I’ll find Rose.”
His eyes remained closed; he gave no sign that he’d heard. Cha-li knew he wouldn’t last long. She had to find Rose before Kai-yeh entered the eternal Peach Garden.