Inspector Zhang and the Perfect Alibi Read online

  “Did you know Miss Chau? Miss Sindy Chau?”

  Mr. Yip frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  “She was a flight attendant with Singapore Airlines.”

  “So?”

  “I think you know why that is significant, Mr. Yip. At your last trial you confessed to robberies at the homes of more than a dozen employees of Singapore Airlines, specifically pilots and flight attendants. The prosecution alleged you were receiving help from someone within the airline who was tipping you off regarding the flight rosters. So more often than not you knew when the person would be away and also if they were married or not.”

  Mr. Yip grinned. “It was a perfect scheme,” he said. “I knew the homes were empty and I had all the time in the world to get in and out. The only reason I got caught was because one of the pilots had installed a silent alarm in his villa.” Mr. Yip leaned across the table, licking his lips. “But don’t you see, Inspector Zhang, that proves exactly what I’ve told you. I would never break into a house that was occupied. I wouldn’t have to. I’d have known exactly when Miss Chau was due to fly out and I would have waited until she was out of the country.”

  “Unfortunately Miss Chau’s shift was changed at short notice. The flight she was due to leave on was cancelled because of engine problems. Your contact probably didn’t know about the shift change.”

  “Inspector Zhang, I swear I did not kill Miss Chau. Even if I had been there and she’d seen me, I wouldn’t have killed her. That’s not in my nature.” He leaned across the table. “Between you and me, the person who was giving me the information left the company months ago.”

  “I will need that person’s name,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “Why?”

  “Because I will need them to confirm what you have just told me.”

  Mr. Yip shook his head and sat back in his chair. “I can’t do that, inspector.”

  “Honour among thieves?”

  “I just can’t,” said Mr. Yip. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Then how are we to believe you aren’t still receiving information about Singapore Airlines employees?”

  “You have my word, Inspector Zhang.”

  Inspector Zhang shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid that won’t be good enough,” he said. “This is a murder investigation and when people are accused of murder they tend not to tell the truth.” He looked over at Sergeant Lee, who was writing in her notepad. I think we have done all we can do here,” he said. “Now we need to look at the crime scene.”

  “What about me; can I go?” asked Mr. Yip.

  Inspector Zhang stood up and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Yip. At the moment you are still the prime suspect in the murder of Sindy Chau. And once we have worked out how you got out of your cell, you will be charged with that offence.”

  Mr. Yip moaned and put his head in his hands. “This is a nightmare,” he said.

  Sergeant Lee gathered up the file and followed Inspector Zhang out of the interview room. They headed outside and got into Sergeant Lee’s car. The address of Miss Chau’s house was in the file and it took less than half an hour to get there.

  They had to show their warrant cards to the security guard at the gate to the cluster of townhouses and he told them which way to go. There was no mistaking the crime scene as the door was criss-crossed with blue and white police tape. Sergeant Lee had the key to the front door and she let them in. “The kitchen, I believe,” said Inspector Zhang. He walked down the hallway into a kitchen with a terracotta tiled floor and top of the range appliances. There were dark patches on several of the tiles by the sink which Inspector Zhang realised were dried blood.

  “Can you pass me one of the crime scene photographs?” he asked, and Sergeant Lee passed one over. Inspector Zhang compared the bloodstains with the photograph and he shuddered. “So young to have died like this,” he said. He looked at the photograph again. “I do not see any defensive marks on her hand.”

  “There was the bite mark,” said Sergeant Lee.

  “But no cuts from the knife. The investigating officers thought she had grabbed for the knife with her left hand.”

  Sergeant Lee looked through the file, pulled out the post mortem report and quickly read through it. “You are right, there were no defensive cuts,” she said.

  “Which is strange,” said Inspector Zhang. He handed back the photograph and went over to examine the French windows that led to the rear patio. One of the panels had been broken and there were still shards of glass on the floor. The remaining glass panels and the door handles inside and outside had been dusted for fingerprints.

  “Were Mr. Yip’s fingerprints found on the door or the glass?” he asked.

  Sergeant Lee pulled out the forensic team’s report and studied it before shaking her head. There were no prints, she said. “Other than Miss Chau’s.”

  “But his fingerprints were on the kitchen knife?”

  Sergeant Lee nodded. “That is correct.”

  Inspector Zhang frowned. “So we are to believe that Mr. Yip managed to break into the house without leaving any prints, but when he stabbed Miss Chau he held the knife with his bare hand?”

  “That is strange, isn’t it?” said Sergeant Lee.

  “Strange indeed,” said Inspector Zhang. “It would mean he wore gloves when he broke in and then removed them to kill Miss Chau. That makes no sense at all.” He sighed. “Well, I think we need to search the house thoroughly, from the top to the bottom.”

  They started in Miss Chau’s bedroom and bathroom, then searched the spare bedroom, a guest bathroom, the sitting room, and a small dining room. It took more than an hour, after which Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee went back to the kitchen. Inspector Zhang looked at the wooden block that held the kitchen knives. There was one empty space, presumably belonging to the knife that had killed Miss Chau. He shook his head sadly. “So what do you think of the house, Sergeant Lee?” he asked.

  “It is neat and tidy.”

  “An expensive property, do you think?”

  “Oh yes, I couldn’t afford it,” she said.

  “And neither could I,” said Inspector Zhang. “Perhaps she rents. We should check that.”

  “I will,” said Sergeant Lee. “But even if she rented it, could a flight attendant afford it? And only one bedroom is used so she did not share.”

  “You think she lived alone?”

  Sergeant Lee frowned. “There were only her clothes in the bedroom,” she said. She waved at the photographs on the wall. “The pictures are family pictures of her and her parents; I don’t see any pictures of her with a boyfriend. Why Inspector Lee, do you think someone else lives here? If that was the case, why haven’t they come forward?”

  “A good question,” said Inspector Lee. “Did you notice there were two toothbrushes in her bathroom? Two brushes in two glasses? And no toothbrushes in the guest bathroom.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Inspector Zhang waved away her apology. “And there were two types of shampoo. One a more masculine anti-dandruff brand. That suggests to me that a man stays here, at least some of the time.”

  “But he leaves no clothes here?”

  “Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang. “Which suggests what?”

  Sergeant Lee’s eyes widened. “She has a boyfriend.”

  “But why are there no photographs of him?” asked Inspector Zhang. He knew the answer but he wanted his sergeant to work it out for herself.

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Because he is married.”

  “Exactly,” said Inspector Zhang. “He either told her not to keep photographs of him, or he removed them.”

  “You think her boyfriend might have killed her?”

  “It is possible, Sergeant Lee. It is very possible.”

  “But how does that explain Mr. Yip’s fingerprints on the knife?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t,” admitted Inspector Zhang. “Not yet, anyway.” He rubbed his chin t
houghtfully. “And of course it doesn’t explain the bite on her arm. It is the bite that worries me the most.”

  “Dental forensics is not an exact science,” said Sergeant Lee. “Though when accompanied by the fingerprint evidence, it does look bad for Mr. Yip.”

  “It would if he did not have the perfect alibi,” said Inspector Zhang. “Do you know how the match was made between the bite and Mr. Yip’s teeth?”

  Sergeant Lee flicked through her notebook until she found the relevant page. “Mr. Yip was identified first from the fingerprints on the knife that killed Miss Chau. The investigating officer then obtained Mr. Yip’s dental records from his dentist and they were sent to the Forensic Management Branch who made the comparison.”

  “That is most interesting,” said Inspector Zhang. “So no comparison has been made between Mr. Yip’s actual teeth and the bite mark?”

  Sergeant Lee frowned and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Why is that significant?” she asked.

  “It might not be,” said Inspector Zhang. “To find out, we must speak to the dentist.”

  The dentist was a Dr. Henry Hu and his surgery was in the busy Orchard Road, a prime tourist area lined with up-market shopping malls and prestigious office buildings. Sergeant Lee drove them in her car and parked in the underground car park. They rode up to the sixth floor in the lift. The door was mirrored and Inspector Zhang adjusted his tie as he looked at his reflection. It was a dark blue tie with small white magnifying glasses on it. His wife had bought it as a novelty Christmas present, but truth be told, Inspector Zhang was quite proud of it and wore it often.

  “I really don’t like going to the dentist,” said Sergeant Lee.

  “We are here to ask questions, not to have our teeth checked,” said Inspector Zhang. “There is nothing to worry about.”

  “I know, I’m just nervous,” she said. “I have been like this ever since I was a child. Actually that’s why my teeth are in such good condition now, I was so scared of going to the dentist that I brushed and flossed three times a day.” She flashed him a beaming smile and he had to admit her teeth were flawless. Inspector Zhang’s teeth were not in such good condition. Four of his back teeth had been replaced with gold ones when he was in his forties. And he had more than a dozen fillings. He had always had a sweet tooth as a child and his love of sugar had caught up with him in middle age.

  Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee both showed their warrant cards to the receptionist, a fierce looking Chinese lady with hair like spun glass who stared at the cards intently as if trying to memorise the information on them, then asked them to take a seat. She hurried off down a corridor and when she returned she explained that Dr. Hu was with a patient but could see them in fifteen minutes.

  “We shall wait,” said Inspector Zhang.

  Sergeant Lee busied herself on her BlackBerry while Inspector Zhang picked up a copy of the Straits Times and began to methodically read his way through it. He tried to read every article in the Times each day, not because he enjoyed reading the paper but because he never knew in advance what information was going to be useful in the pursuance of his profession.

  He had just reached the letters page when a man in a white coat walked into reception. He was in his early forties, short and with a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He nodded curtly at Inspector Zhang and walked over. “I am Dr. Hu,” he said. “You wanted to speak to me?” He had a mobile phone in a leather holster on his right hip.

  Inspector Zhang got to his feet and fished out his warrant card. He showed it to Dr. Hu. “I am Inspector Zhang of the Singapore Police Force, and this is my colleague, Sergeant Lee.” Sergeant Lee showed her warrant card, but stood slightly behind Inspector Zhang as if she was trying to keep him between her and the dentist. “I would like to ask you some questions about your patient, Mr. Yip.”

  “Ah yes, the burglar,” said Dr. Hu. “How did the dental records I sent compare with the bite?”

  “You weren’t told?” asked Inspector Zhang.

  Dr. Hu shook his head. “I was just asked to supply Mr. Yip’s dental records so a comparison could be made,” he said.

  “And you were told about the case?”

  “Just that there had been a murder and that Mr. Yip was a suspect.” He smiled. “It was a very unusual occurrence,” he said. “Like something off a TV show.”

  “No, it is very real,” said Inspector Zhang. There was a young couple sitting close by who were obviously listening to the conversation. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  “I have a meeting room we can use,” said Dr. Hu. He took them along the corridor and opened a door. It was a small room with a polished teak table and four plastic chairs. Dr. Hu ushered them in, closed the door, and they all sat down. Dr. Hu looked at his watch. “I have a patient waiting,” he said. “I hope this won’t take too long.”

  “We just have a few questions, Dr. Hu. Mr. Yip’s dental records were up to date, were they?”

  “In what sense?”

  “The records you supplied matched the bite marks on a murder victim. So I need to know if those records are an accurate depiction of his teeth.”

  “Of course they are.”

  “When was the last time you treated Mr. Yip?”

  “A month ago. Well, we started treatment a month ago and we finished two weeks ago. The last X-rays were taken then. “

  “What treatment did Mr. Yip need?”

  “He had a rotten molar,” said Dr. Hu. “He needed root canal work and then I fitted a crown.”

  “His teeth are not in good condition?”

  Dr. Hu shook his head. “Too much sugar,” he said. “And an ineffective brushing technique. He will need more crowns in the future, I’m sure.” He scratched his chin. “Though I suppose if he is sent to prison, I won’t be able to continue as his dentist, will I?”

  “I think the prisons have their own medical staff,” said Inspector Zhang. “What sort of patient was he?”

  “A very nervous one,” said Dr. Hu. “I had to give him nitrous oxide while I did the root canal. Some patients can manage with an injection, but Mr. Yip has a thing about injections.” He smiled thinly. “Which is ironic considering he stabbed a young woman to death.”

  “Indeed,” said Inspector Zhang. “Now can you tell me where the records were kept?”

  “In the reception area, in filing cabinets. They are also fully computerised. The files in the cabinets are more of a back-up, these days.”

  “So were the detectives who called given an actual file or a computer file?”

  “A computer file,” said Dr. Hu. “They were supplied on a thumb drive.”

  Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “Is it possible the records could have been tampered with?”

  Dr. Hu frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, inspector.”

  “I need to know if there is any way the records you supplied were not in fact the records of Mr. Yip. Is that possible?”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Could someone have gained access to your computer and changed Mr. Yip’s records?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You seem very sure, Dr. Hu.”

  The dentist nodded. “I am. The only person who is able to access the records on the computer is myself. And it is password protected.”

  “So your staff cannot access the records?”

  “They can access them. They can read the files and look at the X-rays and photographs but they cannot make any changes. Only I can do that. As I just said, the files are password protected.” He interlinked his fingers and leaned forward. “Is something wrong, inspector? I assumed the case was - what do you call it -open and shut?”

  “It has become somewhat complicated,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “In what way?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge any details of the case,” said Inspector Zhang.

  “But Mr. Yip did kill that gir
l, didn’t he?”

  “That is what we are trying to ascertain,” said Inspector Zhang. He stood up. “There is no need for us to take up any more of your time,” he said.

  “I am more than happy to help the police in any way I can,” said Dr. Hu. He stood up and held out his hand. Inspector Zhang looked at the hand for several seconds, and then shook it.

  “Do you validate?” asked Sergeant Lee.

  “Validate?” asked Dr. Hu.

  Sergeant Lee held out her car parking ticket. “We parked downstairs,” she said.

  “My receptionist can handle that for you,” said Dr. Hu. “I am afraid I do have a patient waiting.”

  The receptionist stamped Sergeant Lee’s car park receipt which allowed them to park the car free of charge. They went downstairs. “What do we do now, Sir?” asked Sergeant Lee as they walked towards her car.

  “What you think we should do, Sergeant?”

  “I still think we should be looking for a twin brother,” said Sergeant Lee. “That is the only explanation.”

  “Then you should follow up that line of inquiry.”

  “I have already put in a call to the Registry of Births and Deaths.”

  “Excellent,” said Inspector Zhang. “But now I think we need to speak with the officer who arrested Mr. Yip.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” said Inspector Zhang. “It seems to me the crucial question we need answered is whether or not Mr. Yip wanted to be arrested that night.”

  The sergeant frowned, opened her mouth to ask a question, then changed her mind.

  The constable who had arrested Mr. Yip was an Indian in his early thirties, dark-skinned with a thick moustache. He was slightly overweight and made a soft wheezing sound when he breathed out through his nose. Inspector Zhang and Sergeant Lee arranged to meet him on his beat, standing outside a public housing block. “I’m sorry to take you away from your work, Constable Patel,” said Inspector Zhang. “I just need to ask you a few questions about your arrest of Mr. Yip on Sunday night.”

  “Is there a problem, inspector?” asked Constable Patel. “Has he made a complaint?”

  “Not at all, Constable. So far as I am aware, everything about the arrest was as it should have been.”