Meddling and Murder: An Aunty Lee Mystery. Ovidia Yu

Aunty Lee loved public service crime announcements, but not when she had just been reported as a ‘suspicious person’ herself.

      Obligingly, Panchal turned off the car radio.

      ‘You were telling them one of your friends got burglarized?’

      ‘My friend, Helen Chan. They took her jewellery, a television, and two computers!’

      But even Helen’s losses didn’t interest Aunty Lee very much today.

      ‘Did you have home security put in? You should think about it, you know.’

      Aunty Lee shrugged. The most precious things in her house were the photo portraits of her late husband she had in every room. Housebreakers were hardly likely to take them, and even if they did, Nina had digital copies of all the images. Aunty Lee appreciated Nina even when she was cross with her. And she had not given up yet.

      ‘Here we are,’ Panchal said, pulling up across the road from Aunty Lee’s Delights.

      Nina was watering the row of potted plants in front of the shop. Their branches were heavy with tiny green limes, the larger limau purut or kaffir limes, kumquats, and chillies in various shades of red to be plucked as needed. Until then, they provided good feng shui.

      A familiar car was parked in front of the ‘no parking’ sign.

      ‘Shouldn’t you fine them for parking in front of the fire hydrant?’ Aunty Lee asked hopefully.

      ‘I’ll leave that to the traffic wardens.’ SS Panchal knew the car belonged to Aunty Lee’s stepson, Mark, and his wife, Selina. Like almost everyone else except Aunty Lee herself, Panchal preferred to stay clear of Mrs Selina Lee.

      Selina was expecting her first child, and stressing over what schools and colleges he or she should someday apply for had made her even more tense and terrifying.

      Nina stared at the police car, looking worried. She had been looking worried a lot lately, Aunty Lee thought, feeling a stab of guilt. Well, once Nina was safely married to her policeman she would be happy again. And she would thank Aunty Lee.

      ‘You went to the police post?’ Nina asked suspiciously after Panchal drove off. She could not bring herself to ask if her boss had spoken to Salim.

      ‘I found daun kesum!’ Aunty Lee held up her leaves like a peace offering. ‘The construction people finally took down the hoarding over the drain and I saw the plants, so big already, so I went and grabbed. We must make a laksa special today! I invited people to come and eat! China people, I think. Must let them try real Singapore laksa!’

      Nina Balignasay was the opposite of Aunty Lee in many ways. Aunty Lee was a fair, plump, busybody while Nina was thin, dark and wished everyone would mind their own business as she herself preferred to do. She was not, however, as skinny as she had been when she first came to work for Aunty Lee and her late husband all those years ago. Whatever the complications of working with Aunty Lee, she was as generous with food as with her advice. And Nina was no longer the scared, inept girl who had arrived hopeless at something as simple as separating egg yolks from whites. Now she was competent in the kitchen, powerful on the computer, and financially stable. She knew how much she owed Aunty Lee but she was not going to listen to her and let Salim destroy his future.

      ‘Master Mark and Madam Selina are here.’

      ‘Alamak,’ Aunty Lee groaned dramatically.

      Nina knew Aunty Lee found Selina entertaining rather than offensive.

      ‘Silly-Nah is just Silly lah!’ was one of Aunty Lee’s favourite sayings. But with Mark and Selina expecting a baby, Aunty Lee was on her best behaviour. Her stepdaughter, Mathilda, had two children who Aunty Lee adored. But Mathilda and her family lived in the UK, well out of range of any culinary grand-mothering. Aunty Lee fully intended to be involved with the new grandbaby when it arrived.

      The front entrance was locked since Aunty Lee’s Delights was officially closed on Mondays. Regulars in search of food knew to go round to the kitchen entrance, as Aunty Lee did now.

      Inside, the industrial sized cooker set on low was simmering and scenting the air with a promise of cloves, peppercorns, tender curried chicken, and soft spicy potatoes. Aunty Lee could hear Cherril’s voice but there was no sign of Avon and Xuyie. The girls were in Singapore as students and there was a limit to the hours they were allowed to work. But Xuyie often hung around the kitchen even when she was not on duty. She seemed genuinely interested in Singapore food and enthusiastic about practising English. Avon on the other hand preferred to go out dressed in short skirts and high heels.

      Aunty Lee’s Delights specialized in brunches, lunches, and high teas. In the old days Aunty Lee had simply put up a ‘Closed’ sign when she was booked to handle the catering for a party. Her husband had left her sufficiently well provided for, and the café had been started more as an outlet for her love of cooking (Aunty Lee had been selling pandan and peach cakes, pineapple tarts, and fried curry puffs out of her kitchen) than as a business venture. Indeed the late M. L. Lee had liked to joke that while other husbands had to buy their wives diamonds and Prada he had to buy his Rosie dishwashers and pan holders. Not that he had seemed to mind. He had been very proud of her.

      Now Cherril was actively pursuing catering jobs and talking about buying advertising in lifestyle magazines. A recent attempt at franchising hadn’t worked out, but that hadn’t kept her down for long. Aunty Lee liked Cherril. Since they’d got to know each other over the murder of Cherril’s sister-in-law they had become closer than Aunty Lee was to Mathilda or Silly-nah.

      Still she found Cherril’s youthful energy tiring at times. Aunty Lee knew she must have once been as young, but she could not remember ever having been as eager. She was certainly not as eager now.

      Cherril had her mobile phone clamped between ear and shoulder saying: ‘No … I mean, yes, of course. But are you sure? Yes. Of course but …’ as she made notes on her iPad. Seeing Aunty Lee, she rolled her eyes and jerked her head in the direction of the dining room, warning her they had visitors.

      The spicy fragrance of a good chicken curry … especially one cooked in Aunty Lee’s rich, golden gravy … should have been enough to make anybody feel good but Cherril looked ill. She had taken on a job catering a high tea for a friend that afternoon and, from the tension in her voice, Aunty Lee could tell the news was not good.

      But then again, Selina might have just said something to upset her. Cherril had been a stewardess on Singapore’s premier airline before her marriage and was trained to deal with emergencies ranging from drunks and heart attacks to babies and food allergies without smudging her mascara, but even she was not immune to Selina Lee.

      ‘Don’t worry, lah,’ Aunty Lee whispered to Cherril as she passed her. Even if Cherril’s plans for expansion didn’t work out, Aunty Lee would still have her little café shop – and the best traditional home-cooked Peranakan food in Singapore.

      Aunty Lee put her kesum leaves in a glass bowl which she placed on a shelf inside the cool room. Aunty Lee loved her cool room. Mark had installed it for wine during his (failed) attempt at running a wine business. Now it stored all the ingredients that did not need refrigeration but could not survive long in Singapore’s hot, humid environment. Aunty Lee thought the cool room was one of the best things Mark had ever done. Backing out of the room as she carefully pulled the door shut behind her, Aunty Lee yelped as she bumped into someone.

      ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’ Selina was smiling but her eyes remained aggressive. ‘I was hoping to have a word with Nina first, but she disappeared outside somewhere when I tried to talk to her. She’s so shy, isn’t she?’

      Aunty Lee knew Nina was not at all shy. She also knew Selina usually ignored Nina unless she was telling Aunty Lee off for paying Nina too much (‘Spoiling the market’) or giving her too much freedom (‘You let her use your computer, you let her drive your car … you don’t know what she’s getting up to!’) But Aunty Lee reminded herself of the coming baby and said: ‘Hello. Have you eaten yet?’