For The Death Of Me

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 call: 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.