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began gathering up her fabrics and putting her money neatly away in the cardboard box she used as a cash register. ‘Let’s get Rubiah and start planning.’
    She led him up the stairs to Rubiah’s stall, where her cousin presided over an immense assortment of Kelantanese kueh , each of the cakes artistically arranged with an eye towards colour combinations and flow. She smiled as she saw Osman, and began picking out the most fattening collection of cakes for him, as part of her private goal of putting some weight on him. She looked up from the hillock of pastry she built and noticed Maryam’s expression, and her own changed from pleasant anticipation to deep concern.
    â€˜You aren’t,’ she said to Maryam.
    â€˜I am,’ Maryam said calmly. ‘I want to see what these people are like.’
    â€˜Like anyone else,’ Rubiah told her.
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ Maryam considered. ‘There’s something different about them, I think, that made them start gambling and all that,’ she waved her hand to encompass drinking and loose women. ‘I want to know.’
    â€˜You could get hurt again,’ Rubiah argued.
    Maryam dismissed this, as though no reprobate could possibly overpower her. ‘Anyway, we’re here to plan.’ She looked closely at Osman, applying himself diligently to the cakes before him. ‘I hear the gambling is closed down now, after Yusuf’s death. I think the best think to do it talk to Noriah, and find out who were the customers, and then go talk to them.’
    â€˜You think they’ll confess immediately?’ Rubiah asked sarcastically.
    â€˜Probably not.’ Maryam refused to be baited. ‘It might take some time.’ She turned to Osman. ‘Will Rahman come?’ He nodded. ‘Azrina?’ This was Osman’s wife, relatively new in Kelantan, who’d just begun teaching math at the Sultanah Zainab School. She was a crime fiction fan, who, Maryam could see, itched to try her hand at detecting. Maryam thought she’d be good at it, too, since she was smart and tenacious. She was sure Azrina had already tamed Osman (that would have taken only a short time) and was now ready for some real work.
    Osman looked startled, and then thoughtful. ‘I don’t know,’ he said slowly. ‘I mean, she’s a math teacher…’
    â€˜And I’m a cloth seller,’ Maryam reminded him. ‘What does that mean?’
    He considered what to say. It’s too dangerous for my wife ? That would go down badly. And Azrina’s ability to understand Kelantanese, though not to speak it, was improving far beyond his. And most important, he could not possibly stop her if she made up her mind to do it.

Chapter VI
    Noriah and Yusuf lived not too far from the family home they used for gambling. It was in a large and airy kampong house with a wide covered porch, convenient for lounging while avoiding the direct glare of the sun; a large front room complete with television; sofa and loveseat; and bedrooms and kitchen behind. It was freshly painted and beautifully kept, quite near the main road running from Kota Bharu to Pantai Cinta Berahi, through Kampong Penambang.
    Mariam and Rubiah had known Noriah for years as a neighbour, albeit a slightly disreputable one, and went to her house bearing both cakes and laksa , as befitted a call on a recently bereaved family. Dressed in their everyday clothing, calling in the middle of the morning, it was as informal an event as they could contrive. (Rubiah’s two daughters were drafted to mind both of their stalls for a few hours – how much damage could they do? Maryam didn’t like to think about it.)
    Noriah, no fool at all, immediately understood why they had come and therefore dispensed with preliminary chitchat and got right down to the business of naming anyone she considered a suspect. However businesslike this discussion would be, it