Singapore Noir

A black cat jumped onto the bonnet of Robert Lee’s white Mercedes and disappeared down the other side. Cha-li glanced at her watch. 2:38 a.m. Was he spending the night in the corner house? Could he be so bold as to leave his car parked in front of the house till morning? Cha-li rolled down her window and settled in to wait the whole night.

Butterfly Avenue was hushed, and the air was cool under the thick canopy of trees and bush. All the houses down the road had switched off their lights except the corner house at the end of the row of two-story terraces, each with a fenced-in garden, driveway, and a car under the porch, the symbols that spelled middle class and private property ownership. Cha-li doubted she’d ever be able to own one of these prim-looking terraces. She was familiar with this private housing estate known as Sennett Estate in Potong Pasir, which had made history when it voted in Singapore’s sole opposition MP in 1984. A teenager then, she saw how Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew tore into and shredded the academic record of the opposition candidate, Chiam See Tong, and that had so roused the residents of Potong Pasir that they voted for the underdog. That year her heart had swelled with pride as she watched Kai-yeh, her adoptive father and medium of the Lord Sun Wukong’s temple, rally the villagers to vote for Mr. Chiam. 1984 was also the year she crossed Upper Serangoon, the busy main road that separated her village from wealthy Sennett Estate, to attend Cedar Girls’ School, not far from Butterfly Avenue.

Cha-li reached for the night-vision binoculars in her glove box and trained them on the house at the corner. The front door had opened and two figures had emerged. Robert Lee was with a woman silhouetted against the light from the living room. The woman was laughing and pushing him toward the gate. Cha-li’s heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe. Is that Rose? But Rose was dead. Died in Macau. That was what her sources had told her years ago. Were they wrong? Cha-li watched the woman in the red housecoat open the gate, push Mr. Lee out, and shut it. Her eyes following the woman’s retreating figure, she failed to catch the sound of a car engine starting. She didn’t even see the white Mercedes drive away. Something was unraveling inside her head.

Mei kwei, Mei kwei, wo ai ni.

Rose, Rose, I love you.

A song she hadn’t heard for years.

They had grown up together, she and Rose, in Lord Sun Wukong’s temple in Potong Pasir village. She was the medium’s adopted daughter while Rose was the unwanted mewling waif fished out of the temple’s bucket latrine. Throughout their childhood, Rose was caned often, while she, Cha-li, was spoiled rotten by Kai-ma, her adoptive mother, and Kai-yeh, her adoptive father who channeled the spirit of Lord Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

In those days, Potong Pasir was a stinking labyrinth of filthy lanes, muddy ponds, duck and vegetable farms, attap huts, and outhouses with bucket latrines. The latrine is in your flesh! Kai-ma railed at Rose. Go and bathe, you filthy rag! But no matter how often Rose took a bath, she could never shake off the stench that seemed to seep into her clothes, her hair, and under her skin. Rose cursed the mother who gave birth to her and dumped her in the temple’s outhouse. The children teased her. Sai! Sai! they yelled in Hokkien. Even the adults called her Ah Sai — lump of shit. The village boys would kick open the door of the outhouse whenever Rose was crouched inside. One day, Cha-li heard a loud quacking and flapping of wings. The bullies had jumped into the duck pond splashing and yelling as they frantically washed themselves — evidently, Rose had suddenly opened the outhouse door and hurled several brown lumps at them. You are the sai! Not me! I am Rose the beautiful! she screeched. Cha-li laughed.

Rose ran away from the temple several times, away from the stink and choke of joss and other incense. Away from Kai-ma’s caning and the boys’ taunting. But the trail of rot pursued her wherever she went. The faster she ran, darting this way and that among the huts, the more lost she felt. Sometimes Cha-li found her crying in Yee Soh’s outhouse with the mangy bitch snarling outside. Sometimes Rose hid under the bushes after Kai-ma had caned her. Once Cha-li found her on Upper Serangoon Road, a wiry urchin gulping exhaust fumes from the city’s buses as though they were fresh air. The fumes overwhelmed the stench in her flesh, Rose said, her eyes bright as stars. The world outside Potong Pasir was a heady mix of new smells, speed, and ceaseless motion to her. She gripped Cha-li’s arm. Run! she yelled, and pulled Cha-li along. Cars honked as they dashed across the busy road, dodging bicycles, motorcycles, hawkers’ carts, and trishaws ferrying women and children.