Princess Play Read Online Free PDF Page A

keeping her eyes carefully on the coconut so as not to meet Rubiah’s. ‘I know I said that, but now, there’s so much more to learn.’
    â€˜I knew it. I really did. Even when you said it, I knew it.’
    â€˜Well, cheer up,’ Maryam told her. ‘Aren’t you the least bit interested?’
    Aliza suddenly appeared at the door, lounging against the jamb behind Rubiah. ‘What have you found out, Mak ?’
    â€˜You shouldn’t get involved,’ her mother informed her flatly.
    â€˜I’m not getting involved. I’m just asking. I’m curious.’
    Maryam gave her a sardonic look and continued her conversation with Rubiah. ‘So, Bacok tomorrow?’
    â€˜Are you afraid, Mak ?’ asked Aliza.
    â€˜Afraid?’ Maryam scoffed. ‘Why should I be?’
    *  *  *
    Pak Nik Lah lived in a sprawling ‘urban’ kampong right outside the centre of Bacok, a coastal town and district capital. Even with such a grand designation, its downtown was no more than two blocks long, and chickens wandered the scuffed lawn outside the police station.
    Maryam and Rubiah stopped at a small stall selling a motley assortment of household necessities: budu (a much-loved local fish paste), matches, oil and salt. It all looked very haphazard, but there must have been some order to it, understood by its proprietor, a mak cik preparing coffee on a small gas burner. They hailed her, and she took the cigarette from between her lips and put her hands on her hips. ‘Eh?’ she asked, putting a complete questionnaire into that one syllable.
    â€˜Is the coffee ready?’ Rubiah asked as one coffee stall owner to another.
    â€˜ Hor ,’ the woman replied briefly; yes. Clearly, this was not a case of berteh dalam kuali , popped rice in a cooking pot, making incessant noise. She lifted an eyebrow to ask if they wanted any, and Rubiah nodded silently. The woman watched them with frank appraisal.
    â€˜We’re from Kampong Penambang,’ Maryam said, answering her unasked question. ‘And we’re here looking for Pak Nik Lah. The bomoh ?’
    The woman of few words nodded, but made no comment as to where he might be found. She simply poured their coffees into two cups, set them on the counter, whipped the dishcloth over her shoulder, and sat down, watching them. ‘Are you looking to hire him?’ she asked, finally.
    â€˜Maybe,’ Maryam answered shortly. ‘We just want to meet him now.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜Do you know where he lives?’
    â€˜Back there.’ She jerked a thumb in the direction of a group of houses perched over the sandy soil. ‘He’s there.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    The woman lapsed back into silence, and watched them drink their coffee. When they paid and left, her eyes followed them all the way to the houses before she turned back to work.
    Pak Nik Lah was a big, bluff man who looked as though he could pick up a full-grown patient and hold him over his head. He also had the professional ease of a bomoh , accustomed to handling difficult people in difficult situations.
    He welcomed the two visitors into his house and had coffee in front of them before giving them an opportunity to state their business. He leaned across the low table and opened his large hands as if to envelop them. ‘How can I help you?’ he asked them, his eyes unthreatening but completely alert.
    â€˜ Pak Nik Lah,’ Maryam began, ‘we are here to help the police.’ He nodded as though this was something he heard all the time. ‘We are investigating a murder: Kak Jamillah, from Kampong Penambang. You held a main puteri for her a few days ago.’ He nodded again, and knit his brows.
    â€˜A real shame,’ he pronounced sadly. ‘I heard about it. Murder?’
    â€˜So it would seem. And we know, since you performed the main puteri , you must have spoken to many people about her.’As