Free Inspector Singh Investigates by Shamini Flint

until her release.
    Inspector Mohammad was looking at his Singaporean colleague with interest. 'You were convinced she was innocent, weren't you? I mean, even before this confession from the brother.'
    Inspector Singh nodded.
    'Why? On what grounds?'
    Singh thought hard, understanding that the policeman was asking him a serious question, genuinely wondering why the Singaporean had been so sure that Chelsea was innocent, when all the facts pointed the other way. Finally, he said, 'I'm not sure I was convinced, to be honest. But she had so much strength and what looked like ... integrity, I thought I'd take her word for it and look around for another possibility. And there seemed to be a few about –although I never suspected Jasper.'
    Mohammad nodded ruefully. 'Well, I owe you an apology, I suppose. I was sure she'd done it. Didn't look under many rocks after that ... '
    It was handsomely said and Singh's respect for the man increased. He shook the Malaysian's hand and realised there was nothing to prevent him catching a taxi to the airport and hopping on a shuttle back to Singapore. His work was done albeit without any actual input from himself. He had been sent to see that Chelsea got a fair deal. The outcome was even better than that. She would walk free. His superiors in Singapore would have to find some other way of forcing him into early retirement. He debated asking Shukor to take him to the airport and then thought better of it. He had a curiosity to see how things turned out. He would hang around for a few days.
    Inspector Mohammad, with that perspicuity that Singh was beginning to recognise, must have guessed his reluctance to leave just yet.
    He said, 'Would you like to sit in on the interview with Jasper Lee?'
    It was an olive branch to the Singapore police officer. Inspector Singh seized it at once. The men set off for the labyrinth of detention cells. It was not hard to believe that anyone incarcerated here would be prepared to confess to just about any crime. It was harder to see why Jasper Lee, a free man, had decided to subject himself to this place.
     
    It was an interview with Jasper Lee but he was not saying much. The Malaysian policemen were persistent, repeating themselves, demanding answers –pointing out that he was putting his head in a noose. The self–confessed murderer was indifferent. If anything, he seemed slightly amused by their efforts.
    He said again, 'I've told you I killed him, shot him in the chest. What more do you want?'
    'What weapon did you use?'
    'What do you think?' asked Jasper cuttingly. 'A gun, of course.'
    'What sort of gun?'
    'How do I know? The kind you point and shoot.'
    'Where did you get it?'
    Jasper shrugged. 'You can always buy these things if you really want to.'
    His insouciance was starting to visibly irritate the policeman asking the questions. Inspector Singh suspected that if he had not been there, they might have considered roughing him up by now. And he could see why they might be tempted. This man, voluntarily confessing to murder and somehow finding it amusing, was extremely tiresome. Or perhaps he was doing the Malaysian police a disservice. He could not picture the placid Sergeant Shukor beating up a prisoner. As for Inspector Mohammad, he was the most correct gentleman Singh had ever come across. The idea of him laying a finger on anyone was ludicrous. On the other hand, Singh reminded himself, this was the country where a top policeman had given the deputy prime minister a black eye. It would not do to be sanguine.
    Inspector Singh looked at Jasper curiously. He had, in all his experience, never met a self–confessed murderer who took such pleasure in his role. Jasper Lee was still in civilian clothing. Despite his confession he had not been charged yet. The police preferred to ask him questions first – so unexpected was his arrival on the scene. He was a small, plump man. Conservatively, but casually, dressed. Not handsome like his brother Alan had