Free Spirit Tiger by Barbara Ismail

snake. ‘Had he taken other land before, the last time you were in trouble?’
    Din squirmed slightly and had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘My kakak gave me some of her land to pay it off.’
    â€˜And you were supposed to pay it back?’He nodded again. ‘And you never will,’ she concluded with irritation. ‘You just took her land and squandered it.’ Maryam laid a calming hand on her arm, warning her it might not do to berate witnesses into submission, but Din had clearly set her off. ‘Now that Yusuf is dead, do you think that means your debt won’t need to be paid?’
    At this, Din seemed to come alive. ‘I think it’s all over. After all, I owed it to Yusuf, and he’s dead, so now I don’t owe anything to anyone.’
    Maryam was happy to disabuse him of his fantasy. ‘Not true, I’m afraid. Cik Noriah will take it over, and she’ll expect payment from you, don’t you worry. Debts like that don’t just disappear.’
    He looked stricken. He’d already counted on the debt’s cancellation. ‘Where were you last week when Yusuf died?’
    He didn’t answer, but began to look frightened. ‘Well?’ Rahman demanded. ‘Where were you?’
    â€˜I don’t remember. I don’t know. What day was it?’
    â€˜Tuesday.’
    â€˜I was … away. In Thailand.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Tak Bai. I was playing there. There’s a place.’
    â€˜Do you owe money there, too?’
    He didn’t answer, clearly unable to process anymore. Rubiah, just as clearly, lost all patience with the process and stood up abruptly. ‘Thank you,’ she said shortly, and headed for the ladder and the plank path. Bemused, Maryam and Rahman followed, picking their way slowly, painstakingly, across the mud to the blessed safety of the road.

Chapter XI
    Mamat, who was usually interested in Maryam’s investigation and happy to help if he could, now had bigger fish to fry: the competition he’d been training for was only days away. He no longer made the pretense of concern for anything other than his birds, who he obsessively groomed, fed and fretted over.
    Much of his day now was spent at Ah Pak’s store. Though in many other contests they might be competitors, Ah Pak was sitting out this particular one and was therefore acting in the capacity of Mamat’s coach and mentor. They discussed the birds’ food endlessly, and practiced running them in their cages up a pole planted in front of the store for just such a purpose. The men stood at the bottom of the pole, watching their star bird, Borek, hop around in his cage and then begin to sing. Mamat smiled delightedly, and Ah Pak watched him like a proud father.
    â€˜He’ll do very well,’ he informed a rapt Mamat. ‘Look at him: so confident, so natural. He has no fear at all,’ he said approvingly. ‘That’s what a champion can do.’
    He nodded, smiling. He believed his regimen of specific foods, seeds and oils had developed Borek’s personality into the great performer they now hoped he was. Ah Pak enjoyed coaching and managing, teaching the ropes to someone not quite as experienced as he was himself, and Mamat had been a friend and a fellow aficionado for many years.
    â€˜Mamat,’ he began hesitantly, in a tone altogether unrelated to the full-throated acclaim he’d just given to Borek, ‘there’s something …’
    â€˜What?’ Mamat remained jubilant, his eye on his bird.
    â€˜No, it’s not about the bird. It’s something else.’
    His tone caused Mamat to tear himself away from the cage at the top of the pole and direct his attention to Ah Pak. ‘What’s the matter?’
    Ah Pak cleared his throat, clearly unhappy with raising the issue. ‘I understand … that is, I hear that your wife is investigating Yusuf’s death. You know, the one