28
The minute Ma and my aunties finish filling me in on what’s happened behind the scenes, they erupt into argument with a flurry of Mandarin, Indonesian, and English.
Big Aunt: “Tuh kan? You see, this is what happens when you don’t listen to me!”
Second Aunt: “Ha! You’re just jealous because for once, I take control of the situation, we’re not just following you around like zombies.”
Ma: “Why did you give them so much absinthe? They’re not drunkards, like you!”
Fourth Aunt: “Excuse me, it’s not my fault if the groomsmen can’t hold their alcohol. And also, I wasn’t the one who drugged them.”
This is so typical of them. Big Aunt and Second Aunt with their rivalry, Ma and Fourth Aunt with their jealousy. I can’t take another second of it, so while they argue with one another, I stalk off.
As though to reflect our mood, the wind’s picked up and is howling like a grieving widow. It snatches at my ponytail, whipping it into my face. Up to this point, the adrenaline has rendered me oblivious to my surroundings, but now, I realize that I’m freezing in my wet clothes. My teeth are actually chattering, and each breath I take makes my jaw clack. I hug the towel around me tight and walk toward the infinity pool. I’m dreading the sight of what was going on while I took stock with my family, but I have to. I have to know.
I’m half-expecting the scene to be crawling with cops, to hear the wail of sirens and see the red and blue lights flashing. But when I get there, the place is almost devoid of people. The hotel’s security team is ushering the last remaining guests away from the site, telling everyone in stern voices to go back to their rooms and stay put. Jacqueline and Tom—thank god—are nowhere to be seen. I check my phone and see half a dozen messages from Seb, telling me he’s been ordered to go back to his room. My heart skips a beat when I spot Nathan on the stage, his tall profile silhouetted against the stormy sky. He’s staring down at the body, and from my vantage point, it’s impossible to see the expression on his face. His back is straight, but his head is bowed as though he’s deep in thought.
“Miss, please, you need to return to your room,” a guard says.
Nathan turns and sees me. “No, she’s fine, she’s with me,” he calls out, hurrying toward us.
Just as I’m about to walk to him, voices are raised, and I turn around to see the sheriff I’d seen earlier that morning shouldering past a couple of the hotel’s security guards.
“Coming through,” he says pompously. “Sheriff coming through.” When he gets near me, he places a meaty hand on my shoulder, even though the path is wide enough for the two of us, and pushes me aside like I’m a shopping cart in his way. “Step aside, ma’am, sheriff coming through,” he says in that self-important voice that makes me want to punch him. Instead, I watch wordlessly as he swaggers down the aisle toward Nathan.
I step closer, not close enough that they’d tell me to go away, but just close enough to hear what they’re saying. It’s not hard to hear the sheriff; even over the howl of the wind, he’s practically bellowing every word.
“Knew something bad was gonna happen,” he says by way of greeting. “You fancy folk think you can just turn up on my island and build your giant resorts—ha! I’ve been waiting for this to happen, boy.”
Nathan places his hands in his pockets, maybe to stop himself from punching the sheriff too.
“And now one of my little birdies tells me you got a dead body—oh, hello, what do we got here? A dead body.”
To my shock, the sheriff actually sticks one of his feet out and nudges Ah Guan’s arm with the tip of his shoe. That does not strike me as correct crime scene protocol, but then again, who am I to judge what’s correct protocol? All I have to go on are episodes of CSI and Law and Order. For all I know, maybe all sheriffs use the tips of their shoes to—okay, who am I kidding? This guy is a nut.
“Sheriff McConnell,” Nathan says, “so glad to have you here again.”
The sheriff snorts, and it’s amazing how much he reminds me of a seal. “Hah, yeah, I bet you’re glad. What a mess. But no worries, you’ve all got someone who knows what he’s doing here,” he calls out to the small audience. He looks around and frowns. “Where’s everyone?”
“We thought it best to have as few people here as possible, so we sent all the guests back to their rooms.”
“Oh ho! Don’t want any witnesses, is that it?” the sheriff scratches his jaw with conscious effort, as if it’s something he’s seen some TV detective do and decided he’d do it too.
A crease forms between Nathan’s eyebrows. “Well, no, everyone’s witnessed the body—”
“Why’s he wearing that silly outfit, then? Is he one of these New Age performers? Baton twirling or whatever?”
“Baton twirling?” Nathan looks so confused I want to hug him and apologize for everything. “Er, no, he was a groomsman.”
“A groomsman, eh?” the sheriff walks around the body and, again, nudges it with the tip of his shoe. This time, though, he pushes harder, until Ah Guan flops over onto his back. I get a glimpse of his slack face before I look away, bile lurching up into my throat. With a superhuman effort, I swallow it back down. “I need to talk to the other groomsmen.”
“Sure, they should all be back in their rooms; would you like to follow me—”
“No, bring them here.”
“They’re—uh, I don’t know how mobile they are.”
The sheriff narrows his eyes. “Bring. Them. Here. Don’t make me charge you with obstruction of justice, boy.”
My hands tighten into fists. Could this man possibly be any more odious? Nathan activates his walkie-talkie and asks someone to escort the groomsmen back to the altar. When he’s done, he looks at the boiling gray clouds and says, “Should we take the body indoors? It looks like it’s about to start pouring.”
The sheriff gives what he probably thinks is a really sly side-eye glance. “I see. So you want to move the victim from the crime scene, eh?”
“Er . . . no? Do whatever you think is best,” Nathan says. He takes out his phone and types something. A moment later, my phone buzzes.
Nathan [4:25PM]: I really hate this guy. He’s such a hack.
Meddy [4:26PM]: Seriously. How did he become a sheriff??
Nathan [4:26PM]: Nooo idea. My guess is he killed off the competition. Or maybe there was none to begin with. It’s a small island.
Meddy [4:27PM]: True. I hope this gets resolved quickly.
Nathan glances in my direction and sends me a small smile that melts all of my muscles. Muscles that almost immediately tighten up at the sight of two security guards escorting a couple of groomsmen down the aisle. I step aside to let them pass. The groomsmen are still clearly out of it, their eyes wild, their heads lolling.
“These are the most sober ones, sir,” one of the guards says to Nathan apologetically.
“That’s fine. I’m sorry for making you guys come out here again,” Nathan says to the groomsmen.
In reply, one of them smiles dopily and says something like, “Shokay,” and the other one just stares blearily at Nathan. I cringe. Ma and Fourth Aunt have really done a number on these poor guys.
Sheriff McConnell wastes no time. He strides toward the groomsmen and points at Ah Guan’s body. “Who was this man?”
They both look to where he’s pointing, and seem startled all over again at the sight of the corpse. I don’t blame them. Even after a whole day of moving it around, seeing an actual dead body is still shocking to me.
“I don’t know, man,” the first groomsman says. The second groomsman continues staring at the corpse, mouth agape. I swear he’s about to start drooling.
“He must’ve been one of your good friends? He’s a fellow groomsman?”
The first groomsman laughs. “Nooo. Don’t tell anyone, okay?” He leans forward as if he’s about to reveal some secret, but his voice is still as loud as ever. “The groom ain’t got no friends. So he hired us to be his groomsmen. Most of us never met each other until last night.” He laughs again. “It’s the funniest shit.”
Now it’s time for my mouth to drop open. This explains so much. No wonder Tom’s been so weird around his groomsmen. No wonder he’s been ordering them around as if they’re his employees. Because they are! He’s employed them for the day. And it explains why the groomsmen quite happily carried Ah Guan down the aisle; aside from the fact that they were drugged and drunk out of their senses, they just plain didn’t recognize one another.
The sheriff shakes his head. “So none of you knew this guy?” He nudges Ah Guan’s shoulder again with his shoe. What is up with him and the need to keep prodding Ah Guan with his foot?
Both groomsmen shake their heads.
“Would the others know him?”
The first groomsman shrugs. “I mean, who knows? Maybe? Tom had to hire people from three different agencies because he needed so many bodies. Oops, bad word choice, lol.” He says “lol” as if it’s an actual word.
Someone nudges my elbow, and I turn to see Ma and my aunties behind me.
“What are you doing just standing there?” Ma whispers. “Come, we go back in, otherwise later you will catch cold.”
I can’t help snorting out loud. Here we are, with the sheriff and the dead body, and Ma’s worried about me catching a cold? “You guys done fighting?” I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
At least they have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “For now,” Fourth Aunt says. She eyes the sheriff and groomsmen and switches to Indonesian. “What’ve they figured out so far?”
“Not much. But I want to stay here, see what else they come up with.”
“I’m going in.” Fourth Aunt pinches my cheek and then turns around and walks back toward the rooms, followed by my other aunties. Only Ma stays with me.
A few feet away, Sheriff McConnell is fast losing patience. “Get me the other groomsmen,” he barks at the two security guards. They glance at Nathan, who nods. As they leave, Sheriff McConnell paces around the altar, his weight making the whole stage shudder. Thunder rolls, and I can’t help but jump.
“We really should go inside, it looks like nasty weather,” Nathan says. “We could question the rest of the groomsmen in their rooms.”
“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Nathan looks confused. “Um, yeah, I guess? Won’t the rain—I don’t know—do something to the body? Make it harder to gauge when it died or something?”
“Hey, I’m the professional here,” the sheriff barks. “All you mainlanders think you’re so sophisticated with all your fancy equipment and technology and all this newfangled DNA shit.”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve got news for you: I’m going to solve this without all that fancy-schmancy techy shit. I’m going to solve it with good old detective work.” Sheriff McConnell taps the side of his head with another one of his trademark cunning looks.
“Um. Okay. I still think we should go inside—”
He’s interrupted by the arrival of two more groomsmen. They’re in worse shape than the previous two—these ones keep giggling and pointing at random things in the air.
“Ma, are you sure you haven’t like, permanently addled their minds?” I whisper.
“Aduh, of course not, lah. Traditional Chinese medicine is very good for your health. Very good!” Still, I can’t help noticing how worried Ma actually looks.
Sheriff McConnell asks them if they recognize Ah Guan, and they both giggle and shake their heads. “Hey, man, time to wake up. You’re lying on the altar,” one of them says.
“Which agency are you from?” Sheriff McConnell asks them.
“Best Days Agency,” one says.
“Party Peeps,” the other one slurs.
“And presumably you would know who’s from which agency?”
The two groomsmen stare at him blankly. “I what now?” one of them says.
Sheriff McConnell pinches the bridge of his nose. “What I’m asking is: This man, he’s definitely not from either of your agencies?”
One of the groomsmen shakes his head confidently, while the other says, “Iono.”
I’m expecting Sheriff McConnell to be frustrated by this, but instead, he rubs his hands with satisfaction and nods. “You two can go. I know who did it.”
I can’t help squeezing Ma’s hand. She squeezes back and pats it reassuringly. “Oh, Tuhan,” she mutters. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
It’s not okay. I’m about to be arrested. I watch, rooted to the spot, every part of me leaden, as Sheriff McConnell walks off the altar and onto the aisle. Coming straight toward me.
Except he stops in front of Nathan and says, in a thunderous voice that matches the weather, “Nathan Chan, you are under arrest for the murder of this man.” He pulls out a pair of handcuffs with relish and, smiling proudly, latches them around Nathan’s wrists.