Jake Needham - The Ambassador's wife

NEARLY three weeks after DeSouza’s death, early on a Saturday morning, Tay found the note pushed under his front door.

It was a single piece of white paper, folded over once. When Tay went downstairs in the morning to make some coffee and saw the paper on the polished hardwood of the entry foyer, he had no doubt at all what it was. Picking it up, he carried it into the kitchen without unfolding it and put it on the counter.

He scooped some beans from the coffee jar and put them in the grinder. Pouring the freshly ground coffee into a filter and filling the reservoir of the coffee maker with water, he flicked the switch and walked over to the window while he waited for the coffee to brew.

It was a nice morning, the sky clear and perfectly blue. Maybe it wouldn’t rain today, he thought to himself, or was that entirely too much to hope for? There were no birds on his garden wall this morning. He wondered if that meant anything.

The coffee maker made little spitting sounds when it was done. Tay turned away from the window and filled a heavy, white mug.Then he picked up the folded sheet and took it with his coffee to the small, round table by the window. He sat down, placed the folded paper on the table, and took a long sip from the mug. It was so good he took another. Then he put down his coffee and drew the paper toward him. He unfolded it, spread it flat, and read the two lines laser-printed on it:

Singapore Airlines to London at 1240.

Come say good-bye.

There was nothing else on the paper.

There didn’t need to be.

Tay finished his coffee and looked at his watch. Nine-fifteen. Plenty of time.

He would go back upstairs and shower and dress. Maybe he would even go somewhere for breakfast before he went to the airport. All of a sudden he was starved.

Tay’s warrant card passed him smoothly through the employees’ entrance into the departure area at Changi and he took the escalator in front of the Times-Newslink bookstore up to the Singapore Airlines lounge. At the entrance, Tay showed his warrant card to the attendant and explained that he was meeting a colleague who was waiting for a departing flight. There was nothing to be alarmed about, he told the pretty young girl in the Singapore Airlines uniform, nothing at all.

He hoped he was right about that.

He turned right into the first class section of the lounge and walked past the bar to the buffet. He wandered around as if he were perusing the selection of food on offer while he scanned the lounge.

It was a large room, tasteful and elegant with leather furniture set out in groupings scattered among colorful aquariums and large flat-screen televisions. It was as quiet as a library. There was no music in the background and no audible conversation, just the occasional sound of an espresso machine spitting out coffee or silverware rattling decorously against a china plate.

Late morning was not a busy time for flight departures from Singapore. Most European and North American flights went out either early in the morning or late at night and about all that left for midday were short-haul regional flights that carried relatively few first class passengers. That meant there were not very many passengers in the lounge right then.

Tay had no difficulty spotting his man immediately. He was in a far corner, his back to the buffet, sitting in one of four brown leather lounge chairs arranged around a granite cocktail table. There was a black leather briefcase on the floor next to his chair and a small, black carry-on bag beside it. It looked like a Prada bag, but at that distance Tay couldn’t be certain.

There was no one in any of the other chairs around the table. The man was alone.

Still, Tay took his time and watched for a while before going over. He poured some tonic water and helped himself to a curry puff. When he had finished, he wiped his hands on a napkin, dropped it into a bin, and walked to where the man was sitting.

“Good morning, Ambassador Munson,” Tay said. “May I sit down?”

Without waiting for an answer, Tay settled into a chair and Munson looked at him over the top of the International Herald Tribune .

“On your way back to Washington, sir?” Tay asked.

“No,” he said, “to London. I’m speaking to the Harvard Club.”

The ambassador was clearly puzzled, not quite certain who Tay was. He peered at Tay more closely.

“Dammit, I know you, but…” Munson snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering. “You’re that policeman, aren’t you? You came to my office right after Liz was…after Liz died.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tan, wasn’t it?”

“Tay, sir. Inspector Samuel Tay.”

Munson folded the newspaper and put it down. “Where are you headed today, Inspector?”

“Nowhere.”

“But…” Ambassador Munson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Why are you here then?”

“I’m here to see you.”

“You are?” Munson leaned back and crossed his legs. “You could have just come to my office. You didn’t have to drive all the way out here.”

“I thought it was better this way, sir.”

Munson nodded at that. Tay noticed he didn’t ask why it would be better.

“Well, then, I’m all ears, Inspector. What do we have to talk about? I assume it doesn’t have anything to do with Liz.”

“It does, I’m afraid, sir.”

“But her killer’s dead. Isn’t that right?”

“No, sir, it isn’t. Dadi was just a fall guy. He was killed so nobody could prove he’d been framed. Dadi wasn’t responsible for your wife’s death.”

“He wasn’t.”

Tay didn’t hear a question mark.

The ambassador shifted his weight. He uncrossed his legs and re-crossed them again in the opposite direction, adjusting the crease in his trouser leg as he did so. It was an oddly prim gesture and Tay wondered how much nervousness there was in it.

“Do you know who was responsible?” the ambassador asked.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

Tay watched the ambassador carefully. His eyes drifted away from Tay’s, but he said nothing.

“You were responsible, sir,” Tay said after a long while had passed in silence. “You killed her.”

Munson didn’t react at all, which was pretty much what Tay had expected.

“Mrs. Munson had access to the duplicate security card the Agency had for the Marriott and you had a duplicate of your own. She used her card to meet what she thought was a source in room 2608 and you used your card to follow her there. So neither of you showed up on the hotel’s security system. And then you killed her.”

Munson’s eyes traveled across the ceiling and came to rest on the other side of the room.

“You have probably never known a woman like Liz, Inspector. If you had, you wouldn’t ask why…”

Munson lifted both hands and then let them drop in a gesture of hopelessness. “She wasn’t always that way. I wondered sometimes what the hell happened to her. The stress from her work maybe. I don’t know. She had always fucked around a little, but it got completely out of hand.”

“She was having an affair with a woman, I understand.”

“Jesus H. Christ, where did you hear that?” Munson looked startled. “I guess it doesn’t matter. It was true. Several women, I think.”

Tay nodded.

“I told you when you came to my office that Elizabeth and I were heading for a divorce,” Munson said. “You remember that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I didn’t want a divorce. I really didn’t. I tried everything I knew…” The ambassador stopped, then seemed to gather himself. He cleared his throat. “She was awful, Inspector. She beat me down to nothing. She humiliated me in ways I hope you can’t imagine. When she told me she was going to leave me for a woman, I…”