TENDER DECEIT (Romantic Suspense Mystery Novel): First Love Series ~ Book 1 (11 page)

“Careful!” Toran reached out and grabbed her arm. He pulled her towards him, away from the pond, and swung her around so that her back was pressed against the trunk of the
tembusu
tree.

His arms came around her. Slowly, he lowered his head towards hers and Leah closed her eyes, holding her breath. His lips were soft, tentative at first, then bolder as he kissed her deeper. She lifted her hands and placed them lightly on his shoulders, still shy, and felt him quiver at her touch. Leah realised that a part of him was just as nervous, just as uncertain as she was. She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him back with all the wild feeling that was in her heart.

The bell rang shrilly and they broke apart. Toran smiled and tenderly brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” he said. “Maybe since the first day I met you.”

Leah blushed. “You were only twelve then.”

“There’s no law on when you can lose your heart.”

“But… why have you been so cold to me all this time then?” asked Leah. “I thought after what happened in the cable car last year—”

Toran hesitated. “It’s like it says in the poem. I have only my dreams to offer you, Leah. I’m not like the other kids at this school, with their fancy cars and designer clothes.”

“I don’t care about all that,” said Leah fiercely.

“Your father does, though,” said Toran.

“My father? What does he—”

“Never mind,” Toran interrupted, smiling and stroking her hair back again. “I’ve decided to forget all that for now. I’m spreading my dreams under your feet, Leah.”

The bell rang again. It was the second bell, the last warning. Leah stood on tiptoe to peck Toran on the lips. “And I promise to tread very softly.”

***

Leah hugged the pillow tighter to herself as the memory of that first kiss with Toran cut through her again. She would never forget that moment—the feel of the rough tree bark against her back, his hands warm around her waist, his lips soft on hers.

But that moment is gone.

Leah sat up in bed and thrust the pillow away. It was time she stopped living in the past. Whatever Toran had once been, he was a stranger now—a stranger who had lied to her, a stranger who couldn’t be trusted.

Well, he wasn’t the only one, Leah thought grimly as she flung back the bedclothes and got out of bed. She had promised Toran yesterday to go
and find the source of the pink tag together—he was expecting to meet her at ten o’clock. Well, he was going to be waiting a long time because she wasn’t going to be there to meet him. She was going first—and she was going alone.

Leah
drew back the curtains. A typically hazy Singapore sky met her eyes. It could easily brighten up into a sunny day later or it could just as easily turn into one of those sudden, tropical thunderstorms that were so common in the region. Either way, it would still be hot and humid.

She chose a loose cotton top and a pair of shorts from her suitcase, and dressed quickly. Then she went over to the hotel desk and drew out a bunch of tourist brochures from the top drawer. Shuffling through, she found one highlighting the shopping options in Singapore and opened up the map on the desk. Her own hotel was on Orchard Road as well and she ran her finger down the long strip, past the names of various shopping centres, until she came to the Merlion Mall. It was at the other end of Orchard Road, but she could get there by walking.

Outside, the sky still looked grey, but at least the air seemed to be fresher. At this early hour of the morning, there was little traffic downtown and even fewer people. The shops were mostly still closed and the tourists were mostly still lazing over their breakfasts. The only people on the streets were locals hurrying on their commute to work. Like a lot of Asian cities, Singapore felt a bit like a ghost town in the early mornings, without the neon lights and noisy hubbub of its usual nightlife.

Leah set off at a brisk pace along the wide pavement of Orchard Road, flanked on one side by the road and tall
angsana
trees and on the other by a succession of giant shopping malls. If Singapore was a shopper’s paradise, then this long boulevard of shopping plazas, flagship stores, and designer boutiques was where shopaholics went to die. Palais Renaissance, ION Orchard, Wisma Atria, Ngee Ann City, Takashimaya, Paragon, Mandarin Gallery, Orchard Central… the list was endless and the choices overwhelming. Leah stared in wonder at some of the newer shopping centres that had been erected since her time in Singapore—especially the sweeping, futuristic exterior of the colossal ION Ochard
centre which resembled an alien mothership about to take off.

After those grand, multi-storey duplexes, the Merlion Mall—tucked away at the end of Orchard Road—looked rather humble in comparison, despite being an impressive size in its own right. Leah wandered into the small atrium, enjoying the cool blast of air conditioning after the humid heat outside, and looked around. Most of the outlets were still shut—shops didn’t usually open until around 10 a.m. or 11 a.m.—but a few food places were trading busily. The sweet smell of buttery pastries reminded her that she had rushed out without having breakfast and she made a beeline for the bakery café.

As she paid for her cup of hot coffee and paper bag of warm, flaky croissants, Leah felt that familiar sensation of being watched again. Turning slightly, she scanned the area. Nothing. Still, she trusted her instincts now. She gathered her breakfast and found herself a seat at a nearby table. As she was biting into her second croissant, she saw him. It wasn’t Curtis, but a different man this time. Still, there was no mistaking the carefully casual way this man sat at a table a few feet away from her, reading his newspaper, all the while studiously avoiding looking in her direction. Leah knew he was shadowing her.

Strangely, for the first time, she felt none of the panicky fear she had felt before when she’d realised she was being followed. Maybe it was because she knew about Warne’s men now and she knew it wasn’t just the product o
f her own paranoid imagination. Somehow, the unknown was always more frightening than the reality.

Instead, Leah felt a cold determination take hold of her. They wanted to follow her? Fine, she’d give them a hell of a chase. She finished her last mouthful of coffee and stood up. Stuffing her empty cup and crumpled paper bag into the bin, she walked briskly away, pausing at a shop by the escalators and pretending to look at a pair of shoes on display. She tilted her head to get a surreptitious view of the reflection in the glass. The man had risen as well and was loitering a few steps behind her.

Biting her lip, Leah considered her options. She couldn’t go to the tailor shop with this man on her tail. Warne’s men might have seen the concealed safe and suspected that she found something in there, but they couldn’t know for sure. For all they knew, she could genuinely be out for some retail therapy. But if the man saw her head straight for the tailor shop and hand over the pink tag, he would instantly be on alert. She had to lose him somehow.

Leah walked over to the centre directory standing between the escalators and looked at a map of the mall. Shop 11 was on the second floor, she noticed, next to a large department store. She glanced back. The man was pretending to be absorbed in a shop display. Making a decision, Leah jumped on the escalator and rode up to the second floor, hoping that the department store might be open already.

She was in luck. The shop assistants were still busy dusting the displays and rearranging the mannequins, but the department store doors were open. Leah wandered slowly inside, pausing every so often to examine a bottle of perfume, pick up a shoe, pull out a dress on a hanger, all the while keeping a wary eye behind her. Sure enough, the man sauntered into the department store a few minutes after her.

Now what? Leah wondered. She’d lured him in here without giving much thought to a proper plan, but unless she came up with something soon, he would simply follow her out of this place again. A pair of Singaporean girls walked past her, chattering excitedly, and she caught the tail end of their conversation:

“…so good discount, you know? We get there early, we get best choice. Very good bras—even designer ones, half price!”

“You tell Wendy also about sale?”
             

“No need, lah! She always get first news.”

Suddenly having an idea, Leah followed them and found herself in the lingerie section, which was the only part of the store that was already busy with customers. From the banners hanging overhead, it seemed that a big sale was starting today and the space by the racks of bras and panties was already filling up with women young and old, eager to take advantage of the promotion. Leah glanced over her shoulder and smiled to herself as she saw the man pause uncertainly by the first rack of bras. He would have to work hard to justify his presence here now if he wanted to continue shadowing her. Already, several girls were eyeing him askance and one of the shop assistants was bearing down on him with a frown.

“Can I help you, sir?” she stopped in front of him, arms akimbo.

“Er… yes, I’m looking for something for… er… my wife,” he mumbled. “A nice bra.”

“What size is she?”

“Um, medium?”

“Bra size, sir.” The shop assistant glared at him.

“Oh, er… 36D?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “What colour? Style? Balconette? Push-up? Multi-way? Strapless? Seam-free?”

“Er… I…”

Leah stifled a laugh and slipped past a few other girls, darted around a rack of corsets, and came out on the other side of the lingerie section. She threw a quick look back. The man was craning his head, looking in vain for her, as he received an armful of bras from the shop assistant. It didn’t look like he would extricate himself for a while, but Leah didn’t waste time. She hurried back out of the department store and turned right. The tailor shop was open and she stepped inside with a sigh of relief.

Up until that moment, Leah hadn’t been sure what to expect. She had even had visions of a white-gloved butler taking the pink tag and explaining that the tailor shop was really a front for an exclusive facility where secret documents could be securely held. Instead, she found herself in a cramped space filled with racks of trousers and dresses, with the whirr of a sewing machine going in the background. A tiny, wizened
amah
rose from behind the sewing machine and came to greet her across the counter. Wordlessly, she held out a gnarled hand and Leah handed over the pink slip of paper. The old woman rifled through a nearby rack and returned a moment later with a grey suit jacket on a hanger, sheathed with a plastic cover.

“Fifteen dollars.”

Leah stared at her uncomprehendingly. This was it? Had she been wrong? Was the tag really just for a jacket that her father had wanted mended?

“Did
the man who brought this jacket in… Did he say anything?”

The old woman looked at her in puzzlement. “Say jacket needs repair. I do good work. Fine stitching, see?” She showed Leah the hem on one of the sleeves.

Leah nodded numbly. Slowly, she fumbled in her purse for the money and handed it over. Then she took the hanger and stared at the jacket. It was of a cheap, grey fabric with ugly brass buttons and wide pockets—nothing like the expensive Italian suits that usually hung in her father’s wardrobe.

She looked back at the old woman. “The man who brought this in—what did he look like?”

The old woman looked blankly at her. “He
ang moh
.”

Ang moh
.
Red-haired
. The word commonly used by many Asians to describe Caucasians or Westerners. Leah hadn’t heard that word in over a decade.

“Was he young or old? Did he have grey hair here?” She indicated the temples.

The
amah
gave her a toothy grin and nodded. “Older man. Handsome.” She tilted her head. “Look like you.”

Leah started in surprise. No one had ever mentioned a resemblance to her father before. She had always been told that she looked like her mother. But perhaps there was more of her father in her than she realised. More than she cared to admit.

Leah thanked the old woman and turned away, still holding the jacket. She wondered what to do with it. Take it back to the hotel room? A wave of disappointment washed over her. She had been so certain that the pink tag would lead to something important, but instead—

Wait.

Leah paused with her hand on the door handle, her mind suddenly racing. Her father was a careful man. Who needed a high-tech secret facility when you could hide something perfectly in the anonymity of a modest tailor shop? What better disguise for a clue than an innocent paper tag? Quickly, she turned back and laid the jacket on the counter.

The old woman looked up in surprise. “Is problem?”

“No, no problem,” Leah said absently as she slid her hand under the plastic cover and flipped the jacket open. Quickly, she searched all the pockets. She was rewarded when she got to the inner breast pocket. Her fingers closed around something small and rectangular, with the smooth feel of hard plastic. Carefully, she drew out her hand and opened her palm.

It was a sixteen-gigabyte USB stick.