The Feng Shui Detective's Casebook (3 page)
Still, the gap was big enough for two slim adults. The young mother slipped through first and then Wong handed her baby through the gap. The
feng shui
master then slipped into the semi-darkness, pushing the door shut behind him.
They found themselves behind a wall of cardboard boxes marked with the words: Che Foo. Next to it was a pile of boxes marked Great Wall. The original front door of the building evidently led into a temporary structure now used as the storeroom for a wine shop.
The woman put the baby down on a box of Dynasty Wine and started to move boxes aside. She noticed that one box to her left was already open and peered at the words on its side: YEO’S BRAND GRASS JELLY DRINK. ‘Allah be praised. I need a drink. You want one?’
Wong took his usual stool at the nightmarket.
There was nothing obvious to differentiate this table from any of the others. It was a rickety round thing with metal legs and a topping of chipped fake wood. The table was covered by a stained plastic sheet bearing a pink and white gingham design—a cheap, disposable tablecloth that had been used repeatedly for months or years.
Nor was the table in a position that made it obviously attractive. While the front of the open-air seating area filled up first, Wong’s table was almost the furthest back, and was angled off to one side. Only a
feng shui
master would immediately see that he had chosen the table in the command position. From his vantage point furthest from the dining area entry point, he could see all the other diners. But more importantly, he could see when Ah-Fat arrived to start cooking his legendary oyster pancakes.
The part he had just played in the White Tiger Incident (the creature had escaped from an over-authentic launch party for The Bak Fu Theatre Group) had left him drained of energy, and he was happy to just sit in a peaceful, familiar place and allow the world—spinning much too fast—to gradually settle back to its normal rhythm.
He and Dilip Kenneth Sinha, a tall Indian astrologer dressed in an immaculately-cut black Nehru-collared suit, had arrived at their table during the final minutes of dusk. As the
feng shui
master watched, night fell as suddenly as if a hand had turned a dimmer switch. The sky over the horizon of watching skyscrapers was navy blue. He looked over at Ah-Fat’s stall—still empty. He glanced up at the sky again and it had turned black.
The absence of light from above seemed somehow to affect his other senses, too. Sounds became sharper, more vivid. The murmur of conversation took a louder, more party-like tone, with a smattering of laughs and shrieks. Glasses clinked and plates clattered dramatically. A child being bathed could be heard laughing and splashing from a building nearby. A distant, constant hum rose from an overpass carrying lorries to the main road west out of town. And, incongruously in this humid, tropical scene, a music system was adding the melodious overlay of Bing Crosby singing
Let It Snow.
Desperately needing to excise the tiger from the front of his mind, the
feng shui
master concentrated on the array of comfort food that was about to arrive.
There were thirty-five stalls in the marketplace, serving a variety of dishes from kapok kapok to fried kway teow. He knew them all. What other place in the world had such a fine array of cuisine? As well as Ah Fat’s Fried Oysters, there were other gems: Ah Lum’s Hokkien Big Prawn Mee, Munch Munch Satay Hoon, Kang Kong Korner, Hong Kee Famous Chicken Rice and Tong Kee Fish Porridge. Tonight he would get a dish from each of them.
He took a deep sniff with his wide, flat nostrils. The smells also seemed to double in power as night fell. The night breeze carried with it the scents of candlenuts, turmeric, shrimp paste, daun salam, tamarind pulp and jaggery.
CF Wong was suddenly ravenous.
Hunger drove the original purpose of the meeting out of his mind. This evening’s nightmarket dinner gathering of the investigative advisory committee of the Singapore Union of Industrial Mystics had been officially called by the
feng shui
master.
But if he had something urgent to relate to the other two members who had turned up, Sinha and Madam Xu Chongli, he wasn’t immediately ready to share it.
Even before fortune-teller Madam Xu had arrived, Wong had already started to eat. This was certainly a
faux pas
in terms of etiquette, but it happened too often in Singaporean society to excite complaint. Eating was the holiest religious rite and diners were above having to follow the conventions of secular society.
Madam Xu, who was frequently late for appointments, was used to Wong’s rudeness. But even she was taken aback by his cartoon-like blurring into a one-man eating machine, virtually inhaling the dishes before him. Expensively upholstered in silk and linen, she watched his technique with fascination. The geomancer barely chewed each mouthful of food before the pair of chopsticks hovering before his lips shovelled another pile into the breach.
‘Goodness me,’ said Madam Xu. ‘Is he practising for one of those chilli-eating contests or something?’
‘No,’ said Sinha. ‘He had a shock.’
‘What? One of his clients paid a bill?’
The elderly astrologer smiled at the fortune-teller’s witticism as he picked up a plate of assam pedas and spooned a generous portion of the tamarind brinjal fish onto her plate. ‘A white tiger was being delivered to someone up the road and it decided to do a little shopping.’
Madam Xu, picking up a popiah pancake with her chopsticks, bit delicately into it, releasing the warm, pungent odours of fried lettuce, prawns, egg and turnip. ‘A
real
tiger?’
Sinha nodded. ‘Mee siam?’ he offered, expertly lifting a small portion of vermicelli noodles in sour gravy with his chopsticks. ‘Yes, a real tiger. And unfortunately, Wong decided to do some shopping at the same time and ended up stuck for some minutes discussing the price of rice with the beast.’
‘Does sound rather distressing.’
The tall Indian astrologer stole a dish of chee cheong fun from Wong’s side of the table and scraped the remains onto his companion’s plate. ‘Hungry tigers are not much fun,’ he agreed.
Madam Xu shook her head. ‘No, it’s not the fact that it was a tiger that is distressing. It was the fact that it was a
white
tiger. You couldn’t really complain if your friend is eaten by a white tiger. Such a rare beast. It’s rather an honour if you see what I mean.’
‘Ah.’
The astrologer looked to see if Wong would agree that it would be a privilege to be eaten by such a cat, but the
feng shui
master remained buried in carnal satisfaction, noisily slurping down the last drops from a bowl of black chicken herbal soup.
Wong placed the cracked bowl down with a thud and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Now is time,’ he said.
‘Time to tell us why you called this meeting?’ Sinha asked.
The geomancer shook his head. ‘No. Time for or luak.
Ah-Fat is here.’
Sinha followed Wong’s gaze and spotted the thin figure of Ah-Fat expertly whipping oyster pancakes out of his steaming wok.
Two minutes later, a large dish of or luak, giving off a powerful smell of singed, eggy seafood, arrived on their table, accompanied by a generous portion of extra-hot chilli dipping sauce.
Only after the serving platter was as clean as the day it came out of the furnace—which took these three diners less than six minutes—did Wong finally lower his chopsticks. He sat back, sated at last.
‘Ahhhh,’ he said, patting his extended belly and picking at his teeth with a bamboo toothpick. ‘Better-better-better, yes.’
Sinha and Xu looked at the
feng shui
master expectantly. ‘So?’ said the astrologer.
Wong extracted the toothpick from his mouth and glared at the morsel of shredded chicken on it. He popped it back into his mouth.
‘Have to go away,’ he said. ‘Mr Pun has plenty work for me outside. He call me today. I think I will go next week, maybe week after. Away I think for three-four week.’
‘So long?’ Sinha was surprised. ‘Mr Pun must have bought a very big property somewhere.’
‘No,’ Wong said. ‘Every year, Mr Pun gives Christmas gift to members of international board.’
‘Oh?’ Madam Xu inquired. ‘He wants you to go round and deliver the gifts? You are the delivery boy now?’
‘No. I am gift.’
Sinha chuckled. ‘So he wraps you with a red ribbon and leaves you naked under a Christmas tree somewhere.’
‘Unh?’ Wong didn’t get the joke. ‘My service is gift. He offer free
feng shui
reading to each member of international board of director of East Trade Industries Company Limited. Five-six out of nine members accept the offer already. So Mr Pun paying me to visit their projects.’
Sinha lowered his chopsticks, scenting paying work for himself. ‘You want us to cover for you?’
‘No. Already I ask Mister Sum to cover for me. I want you to come with me for some of the jobs.’
‘He’ll cover our expenses too?’
Wong’s brow wrinkled with irritation. His expression said: Would have I asked you otherwise? ‘Of course. Three board members are in Singapore. I can do that no problem. One in India. I told Mr Pun I need you to come help me with that, Sinha. Do some
vaastu
, you know?’
The Indian astrologer nodded. ‘Of course. It would be my pleasure.’
‘One in Australia, one in Philippines, one in Thailand, one in Hong Kong, so on—I hope you can help me with Philippines one, Madam Xu. Client there request fortune reading also.’
Madam Xu elegantly bowed her perfumed, coiffured head. ‘I would be delighted, it goes without saying.’
Sinha chuckled. ‘He’s dipping deep into his pocket. If the next few weeks are going to be a no-expenses spared junket, I suppose that means Pun expects you to take Joyce with you?’
Wong plunged instantly into a deeply morose state.
He nodded gloomily. ‘Aiyeeah,’ he growled, under his breath. ‘Yes. He want me to take Joyce also.’
Sinha laughed out loud and looked at Madam Xu. ‘Ha. I think he’d prefer the company of the tiger,’ he snorted.
A scholar sat on the Plain of Jars reading
The Book of Changes
.
He wanted to know where the Life Force came from. So he closed his book and made a vow. ‘I will travel on and
on and on, never stopping, until I find the primary source
of
ch’i
.’
He walked across the city. He walked across the county. He walked across the kingdom. He could not find it.
So he decided to sail around the world.
He got into a ship and sailed far away. He saw many
strange things. He saw in the ocean a great fish. The great
fish was also travelling very far.
But he could not find the source of
ch’i
.
The scholar did not give up. He travelled very far, to the
other side of the world. He went to the four points of the
earth and the four corners of the
lo pan
.
Many times his path crossed with the path of the great
fish, who also seemed to be seeking something.
But although he went to a thousand places, he could
not find the source of
ch’i
.
One day he travelled to the land where people can talk
to creatures and creatures can talk to people. He saw the
great fish passing his boat.
He asked the fish: ‘Are you looking for something?’
The fish said: ‘Yes. Are you looking for something?’
The scholar said: ‘Yes. I am looking for the source
of
ch’i
.’
The fish said: ‘What is
ch’i
?’
The scholar said: ‘It is
prana
, it is the life force, it is Tao,
it is the way, it is Heaven, it is God. You have travelled far. You have seen it?’
The fish said: ‘No. I have been everywhere in the whole
world. I have not seen the source of
ch’i
.’
The scholar was very, very sad. He cried very much.
After his tears dried, he asked the fish: ‘What are you
looking for?’