Inspector Singh Investigates by Shamini Flint Page A

stood silently, looking around him. Trying to understand, trying to visualise the murder. He was convinced, based on the forensics, that Alan Lee had known his killer. It was possible that the perpetrator had been frightened off before he had completed the robbery. But it struck the inspector as improbable. It was such a risky murder. It seemed farfetched that robbery was a motive or, if it was, that the killer would have abandoned his crime before completing it.
    Singh walked all the way up to the gates of Alan Lee's residence. He did not know if Chelsea was home and he did not seek to find out. He had nothing to report. There would be time enough to visit the widow when he had made some progress in the investigation into the murder of her ex–husband. She wanted him to exonerate her brother–in–law, Jasper Lee. The inspector did not conduct murder investigations based on who he most wanted to exculpate. He conducted investigations to find a murderer.
    In his heart he knew he would be pleased if he could find proof, contrary to the widow's wishes, that implicated Jasper Lee. If he could prove to Chelsea that Jasper had done it, his confession was in earnest, she would abandon this effort to prove him innocent and get on with her life. Inspector Singh was not of a mind to contemplate the alternatives. If Jasper had not done it, the prime suspect would once again be the ex–wife of the victim.
    Singh decided he needed access to Jasper Lee. He dug out his mobile phone and called Sergeant Shukor.
    He said without preamble, 'Singh here. I need to see Jasper Lee!'
    'Why?'
    'Chelsea has asked me to look into the murder. Find some mitigating circumstances if I can.'
    He decided the complete truth – that he was seeking to absolve the eldest brother – would be too much for the young sergeant to stomach.
    There was hesitation at the other end. At last the policeman said, 'I can get you in. But if Inspector Mohammad finds out, I'll be in big trouble.'
    'I won't tell him if you don't.'
    The men sitting around the polished wood table, made from the cross–section of a single massive tree, were pleased. Things were going well. China's need for wood products was inexhaustible. Ever since the severe flooding around the Yangtze River a few years back, the Chinese government had cracked down hard on excessive or illegal logging on the mainland. But this had not in any way dampened the demand for wood for the massive ongoing construction site that was modern China. And the authorities, so belatedly mindful of the degradation to their own environment, turned a blind eye to wood sourced from overseas. As a result, primary forests across Asia, from Papua New Guinea to Borneo, were being denuded at a rate that would soon see the end of the great jungles of Asia.
    None of these things were a concern to the men in the room. They were at the profitable end of the destruction. The four of them were fellow directors of Alan Lee's timber company. The boss was dead but the men were still doing their best to make money for the company under the guidance of their new boss, Lee Kian Min. Besides, Kian Min had been running the show for years. It would have been much harder to carry on if he had been the one killed.
    Kian Min walked into the room, took the seat at the head of the table, received their respectful greetings and said, 'We are increasing our production out of Borneo.'
    There were nods of approval all around.
    'How come? I thought we had logged all the non–reserve land?' asked one of the men with nonchalant curiosity.
    'Don't worry about it,' said Kian Min. 'We have found new areas.'
    The others understood the implications of this. They had been in the timber trade their whole lives and their fathers before that. New areas after generations of intense logging could only mean wildlife reserves and protected forests.
    'You need to be careful – there is a lot of concern. Those Penan are in the news every day,' said one of the men