The White Pearl Read Online Free PDF

was
     airless, the walls bare except for a framed photograph of King George VI in an ermine robe, and there was a filing cabinet
     of battleship grey. A table stood in the centre with a chair on either side of it. It felt far too much like an interrogation
     room. It made Connie nervous. She smiled her thanks and remained near the door.
    ‘Good morning, Inspector. I don’t mean to disturb you. I’ve only come to ask for the name of the woman who died in the car
     accident yesterday.’
    He nodded. Not in a good way. ‘I offer my condolences, Mrs Hadley. I’m glad you were not hurt. But I do not think the deceased
     woman’s name need concern you.’
    Connie said nothing. She wasn’t the one who deserved condolences.
    ‘Unfortunately,’ he added, ‘the black sports car that caused the incident vanished from the scene, so we have not been able
     to detain the driver responsible. Is there anything you would like to add to your earlier statement?’
    ‘No.’
    He studied her carefully, eyes razor-sharp, but she asked again, ‘The name of the woman, please?’
    There was a pause, long enough to be awkward, while she kept her eyes firmly on his and he worked out how far he could upset
     a member of the powerful Hadley family.
    ‘Sai-Ru Jumat,’ he said reluctantly.
    ‘Do you know how old she was?’
    ‘Thirty-five, I believe.’
    ‘With two children?’
    He looked away, determined to hide his irritation.
    ‘What was her address?’ Connie persisted.
    ‘I think it best,’ he said, ‘if we leave it there, Mrs Hadley.’ His sigh was as sticky as honey in the room.
    She felt an urge to rip off his moustache and yank the words she wanted out of his mouth. Instead, she smiled and tossed her
     hair at him. ‘Come now, Inspector, I only want to make certain that her poor children are all right. It must have been a terrible
     experience for them to witness their mother …’ The final words stuck like pebbles in her throat.
    ‘You mustn’t concern yourself. Your husband’s solicitor, Mr Macintyre, is dealing with it.’ He reached towards her and for
     one sickening moment Connie believed he was going to seize her, take her wrist in his broad fist and clamp handcuffs on her.
     But he patted her arm consolingly. ‘Don’t fret over it, my dear. These things are best left to us professionals, you know.
     My advice to you is to forget about it.’
    She removed her arm. ‘Inspector Stoner, I would appreciate it if you would take my request seriously. Just because they are
     Malays it doesn’t mean …’
    ‘Mrs Hadley, we have to deal with situations like this with delicacy.’
    ‘I realise that.’
    ‘Have you spoken to your husband about this?’
    ‘Of course. He was the one who suggested I come to you for her address.’
    The lie was blatant. Not for one second did he believe her. Stiffly he opened the door and summoned the duty officer. ‘Forester,
     give what assistance you can to Mrs Hadley.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said in a polite voice, and left the room.
    Palur was a town built by Englishmen for Englishmen. It made them feel that they were walking down Piccadilly in London. In
     this strange country of Malaya that was so alien in every way to European sensibilities,the early colonials had brought their buildings with them to demonstrate to the natives how civilised people lived. Not in
     flimsy
attap
houses with fronds for roofs that blew off in the monsoon, or built up on bamboo stilts looking for all the world like a
     child’s treehouse. These were solid and permanent, with elegant porticos and Corinthian columns. Good, respectable, English
     homes. It meant that if Connie blocked out all her other senses except sight, she could imagine she was at home in England.
    She could look up at the brick-built trading hall where the prices of rubber, copra and spices were argued over, at the British
     banks with their brass plaques or the church steeple, and be transported to England. Only the window boxes