Goddess Bless You From Death
Case File 10.
After handing over the money they found to Lieutenant Khem, instructing him to deliver it to the deceased's family according to procedure, the young inspector brought the troublesome kid to the interrogation room as commanded. At this moment, he stood watching Thup being questioned by the head of the investigation team.
"I've read the history and the previous interrogation report. But asking again shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"No, sir."
"Ah, even if there is a problem, it wouldn't change anything. It seems Inspector Singha has been negligent in his duties by allowing a murder suspect to roam freely!"
"P'Singh wasn't negligent at all!" Thup interjected almost immediately, causing King to glare at him with even more intensity.
"P'Singh? Are you that close?"
"N-No, sir."
In the observation room, Singha cursed a bit, causing Sergeant Prom beside him to step back instinctively.
"Will he drag on much longer?"
"Should I go in and tell them, Inspector?"
"No need."
"By the way, Inspector, are you planning to release the kid? Without clear evidence, we can't hold him any longer."
Singha didn't respond. It was true that without concrete evidence, they would have to release Thup. However, the kid had volunteered to stay with him, which was beneficial for observing his behaviour and keeping him under control.
"This kid volunteered to help us with the case."
"What? How would he?"
"He has information that might be useful." Singha kept his eyes fixed on the one-way mirror, observing the interrogation. Even when he was the one asking questions, the kid was shaking like a leaf—let alone with King, who had the demeanour and tongue of a hunting dog. The kid's chances of success were slim.
"You're a freelance artist, so you probably have enough time for other activities, right?"
"I have loads of commissions, online and on canvas. But if by 'other activities' you mean committing crimes, then no, I don't."
"Hmm, you've got a way with words. Got a good adviser, I see."
King glanced at the mirror, knowing full well that Singha was likely listening in.
"The first interrogation report says you were at the crime scene before the police arrived. What made you go there? And if you choose to give the same answer, I might just throw you in jail."
Thup knew that if he answered as he had with Singha, the person in front of him wouldn't give him a chance to prove the truth, as Singha had. But lying was also not an option for him.
"...I think I've seen a body in that condition before."
"You've seen it? Do you mean the murders from five years ago?"
"No, sir. It happened even earlier."
"You talk like you did it yourself."
"I know it's hard to believe, but if you look at the evidence P'Si-Inspector Singha has gathered, it should be enough to confirm that I didn't roam around before at all. The autopsy results also show the dates each victim died. Most importantly, I'm willing to help Inspector Singha solve this case, with no ulterior motives.
Singha watched Thup's earnest expression before glancing at King's stern face. Neither said anything more, locking eyes in a silent standoff.
"Let Lieutenant Khem know to call me once he has all the search warrants."
"Yes, Inspector," Singha smirked before heading into the interrogation room.
"Good timing, Singha," King greeted as the newcomer walked in.
"You can interrogate this kid as many times as you want, but it'll be the same. So read the file. Thup, get up." Thup obediently complied.
"I'm not done yet. You can't take the suspect away."
"This kid is just a suspect, not a convict. I still need his statement. And if you check the CCTV footage, the autopsy reports, and the condominium manager's statement and still have doubts, I'll bring him back for questioning."
"Then he should be detained here." King moved to block Singha's path, eyes full of displeasure.
"Detained? You must be used to abusing your father's authority. What grounds do you have to hold him? We're nearing the forty-eight-hour limit."
"Just looking at his behaviour and initial statement is enough."
"Look." Singha stepped closer, brushing the lapel of King's neat black suit roughly with a smirk.
"I'm the inspector here. This is my station. If that bothers you, run back and tell your daddy."
King's shoulder was pushed hard, causing him to stumble away from the door. Singha merely glanced at him before walking out, with Thup hurrying to follow.
They walked to Singha's car and drove straight to the inspector's home without stopping.
"Am I causing you trouble?"
"What trouble?"
"With work... and with friends."
"It's the law. We can detain you for no more than forty-eight, not even close to that."
Thup nodded in understanding but still felt there was something more between the two than Singha was letting on.
When they arrived at Singha's house, Thup excitedly unloaded his bag from the car. He had never stayed over at a friend's house or anywhere other than the temple and his current condo. He never experienced the joy of sleepovers like those in the movies. As soon as Thup crossed the threshold, he felt a chill that quickly turned into a soft, comforting breeze.
"You said you could sleep on the sofa." Singha's voice brought Thup back to reality. The boy looked around the house and was surprised to find it messier than he expected. What he saw earlier was just a glimpse.
One side of the dining table was covered with various documents, while the other was littered with instant noodle cups and takeout boxes. The sink was full of dirty dishes, and beer cans were scattered around. Paper was everywhere.
"That's the kitchen. The bathroom's over there. Don't think about going upstairs. Do whatever you want downstairs. Eat whatever's in the kitchen. Got it?" Thup nodded quickly, his hair even bouncing.
"I'm going to bed."
Thup watched Singha disappear up the stairs before exhaling in relief. He began tidying up the documents on the grey L-shaped sofa, stacking them neatly on the coffee table. The young man looked around, exploring the house; though it was chaotic, it didn't make him feel anxious.
It was cool and gave a sense of peace he couldn't find elsewhere. After surveying the house once more, he took out a white short-sleeved shirt and went to change in the bathroom. He had promised to be useful, so the first thing he did was clean the house for his big brother.
His two beautiful hands put trash into black bags and organised the documents he found by category. He flattened beer cans with his feet and placed them in a separate trash bag. The dishes were washed until they gleamed. Brooms and brushes were used to transform the messy house into a clean and spacious one. When Thup opened the fridge to put in the water bottles, he was shocked to find only water, beer, and frozen food. He wondered how his big brother lived his life.
Once everything was in order, Thup sat down on the freshly cleaned floor, leaning against the sofa. He stretched slightly to relax his muscles after nearly an hour of cleaning, but the sound of footsteps descending the stairs startled him. He quickly sat up, cross-legged, properly.
"You cleaned all this?"
"Y-yes."
Singha shrugged and walked over to the dining table. He looked at the documents, now neatly organised by case. Usually, he would bring unfinished work home, and even after closing a case, he would let the paperwork pile up, sorting it only at the end of the month. Despite the need to organise these, the current murder case occupying his mind left him no time to deal with his household chores.
"Here's a pillow and blanket. If you feel hot, turn on the fan or the air conditioner."
"P'Singha"
"What's the matter?" Singha looked at the young man, whose eyes sparkled as he got up to receive the pillow and blanket.
"Are you hungry? I can cook." Singha crossed his arms and leaned against the table, examining Thup more closely. If he wasn't losing his mind, this case might be haunting him. He felt like he saw the boy in front of him, having perked ears and a wagging tail.
"No, I'm going upstairs to work. Keep it quiet." Singha started to head upstairs but stopped. "Actually, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"You said you saw the ghost of a woman who looked like the current murder victim twenty years ago, right?"
"Yes."
"Can you remember her face?"
"I can."
"Draw it for me."
"Draw her?"
"Yeah, and do you have any relatives or acquaintances back in your hometown?"
"I have no relatives left," Thup said sadly, "but there's an uncle I know. He was a liaison when Luang Pu was alive."
"Can you contact him?"
"Yes," Singha handed his phone to Thup. He took Singha's phone, quickly typing on it, and then handed it back. "His name is Uncle Samak. He's not a liaison anymore. He's turning seventy this year.
"Got it."
"Do you want some coffee? I can make coffee too." Singha glanced at Thup's eager face once again.
"Why don't you spend your time figuring out where you lost your Buddha amulet instead? Stop hanging around me." With that, Singha headed upstairs, leaving Thup looking forlornly after him before returning to sit alone on the sofa.
"What will I do if I can't find it?" Thup muttered to himself in the Silence.
Singha entered his study next to his bedroom. The investigation board was filled with photos, notes, and strings connecting clues. He tried to find links between all the cases, but it always came back to the same things. Sitting at his desk, he read through the case summaries again.
He was fairly certain this case didn't start fifteen years ago and that the culprit they arrested might be a scapegoat. Suddenly, his desk phone rang amidst the silence. Seeing the name on the screen, he answered without hesitation.
"Hello?"
[Hello, Inspector Singha. We've reviewed your request. You can come in tomorrow.]
"Thank you very much."
[But it might be difficult. The prisoner hasn't spoken to anyone, not even his family.
"That's okay. I believe I can get him to talk." [Alright, call me when you arrive tomorrow.]
"Will do." Tomorrow, he would finally find out whether the culprit they had caught was the real one or just a scapegoat. His phone rang again, this time an unknown number. Singha answered it while continuing to read the documents.
"Hello?"
[See? You can be polite with me.]
"Such a waste of time," Singha rolled his eyes.
[You'll miss important news if you hang up.] King interjected before he could hang up.
"Say what you need to. I'm busy." [Busy or just don't wanna talk?]
"The latter," Singha replied bluntly, making King chuckle.
[Where did you put the kid?]
"None of your business."
[Singh.]
"Are you sure you want to use that tone with me?" Singha warned, noting the commanding tone King used.
[I'm helping you out to make up for the previous case.]
"Unnecessary. You're just getting in the way. Look at how you snatched the first lot of search warrants." Singha barely paid attention to King, focusing instead on the crime scene photos.
[If I didn't, would we be talking now?]
"We wouldn't be talking either way. Anything else?"
[Where's the kid, Singha?]
"At my house."
[You let him stay at your house?]
"So what?"
[Are you sure that's a good idea?]
"I didn't think," Singha retorted, switching on his computer.
Clicking on the image files from the evidence storage, he zoomed in repeatedly to get a clearer view of the object he was investigating. As he waited for the image resolution to adjust, a sigh from the other end of the call caught his attention.
[We have safe houses, you know.]
"Who do you think you are, King?" (Someone who used to sleep with you.]
"And?"
[Singh.]
"If that's all you wanted to say, don't bother next time. You're wasting my time."
[Too busy screwing around with that little murderer?]
Singha rolled his eyes in annoyance and ended the call to focus on the evidence. Thup was right. There was a doll. After searching for 'Sia-Kaban Doll' online, images of crude clay dolls resembling humans appeared on his screen. He read the description carefully.
The Sia-Kaban Doll is a clay figurine representing both men and women, often crudely made because it is considered an offering to spirits. 'Kaban' originates from the Khmer word for 'head,' so these dolls are usually found with broken heads or necks. In superstitious beliefs, people create these dolls when in pain or to ward off bad luck, using them to appease spirits or to address karma from past lives. They are used to represent their living owners as offerings to spirits. Therefore, they are often seen with banana leaf trays and other offerings at crossroads or being floated down rivers.
After reading, Singha compared the dolls from the internet with those at the crime scene.
"Different..They're different," he muttered, his face tense and anxious. "The dolls at the crime scene... had their heads twisted backwards."
Tiger heads...The dolls at the crime scene had tiger heads. Out of the corner of his eye, Singha glanced again at the phone screen, which illuminated once more. The message there caused him to rest his arms on the table and exhale heavily, visibly weary.
'Someone intruded on the crime scene.'