TENDER DECEIT (Romantic Suspense Mystery Novel): First Love Series ~ Book 1 (16 page)

“In his office,” said Toran, nodding in the direction of the hallway. “Why? Where have you put the data?”

Leah smiled. “I’ll show you.”

Dieter’s office was a cluttered mess. They had to climb over boxes and piles of toiletries to reach the laptop on the desk. Toran powered it up, then watched curiously as Leah opened a browser window. Understanding dawned on him as he saw her navigate to the cloud storage site, log in, and open the folder contained there. Three video files showed on the screen.

“Shall I?” Leah moved the mouse over the first one.

Toran nodded. They both leaned forwards as the video began to play. It was dark and grainy, probably taken with a low-resolution webcam, but clear enough to make out two women’s faces. They were close to the camera, their brows furrowed in concentration as they adjusted something which caused the camera angle to tilt up and down, left and right.

They were both startlingly attractive, with high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, and pouting lips. Their long black hair was styled seductively around their faces and the low cut tops they wore showed ample cleavage. Leah frowned. The face on the right looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. They were nudging each other, saying something in Thai, and giggling, their voices low and excited. Then the video cut out.

Leah started the second video and, instantly, she recognised Bentley Warne. He was standing in the room, further away from the camera, beside a bed on the far wall. The image had a surreal quality as everything in the room was washed in a red light from the neon sign that was hanging outside the window. Warne was wearing one of his usual pinstriped suits. Next to him stood one of the women who had been in the first clip. She was draped suggestively against his shoulder, one hand stroking his lapel. Warne said something, she answered, then he threw his head back and laughed. Putting a hand in his pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and handed it over.

The woman simpered and moved off camera. Warne began undressing himself. The woman came back into the frame and began to take her clothes off as well. Leah drew a sharp breath as the woman took off her underwear. Something wasn’t quite right. The long, dark hair and pretty features, the big breasts and tiny waist on a feminine body… and then below the hips, suddenly, the woman was a
man
. It was completely disconcerting, like seeing some mythological creature made up of two halves—a mermaid, half-woman, half-fish.

“
Katoey
,” murmured Toran.

“What?” said Leah.

“Ladyboy,” said Toran. “She’s a Thai ladyboy.”

They watched as the ladyboy approached Warne and pushed him onto the bed. Then the clip ended. Leah was almost afraid to start the third clip. She clicked the mouse and the video player opened up again, showing the same grainy picture of the same room. This time, however, Warne and the ladyboy were both on the bed. She was on her knees and he was behind her. Harsh, explicit sounds came through the speakers.

Leah shifted uncomfortably. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

Toran nodded wryly. “Yeah, I think we get the picture.” He clicked the video shut. “So… that’s Warne’s dirty little secret. It would certainly give him a motive for murder.”

Leah looked at him in puzzlement. “But I don’t understand—is that a crime?”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of whether it’s a crime. Prostitution is actually legal in Singapore. Homosexuality isn’t, although I’m not sure if it would be classified as a homosexual act, in the case of a transgender prostitute.”

“So then, what’s the big deal?” asked Leah

“It’s Warne’s reputation,” said Toran. “Warne’s built his billions on the back of his image as a wholesome, family man. He has massive support from the community and he is well known as a philanthropist who is very vocal about traditional virtues… You know, he brands his companies with this image of pure, moral values—even maintaining that it’s strictly upheld in his workplace. Only last month, he fired a senior manager for having the Playboy channel on his home TV. So if it comes out that he himself has been visiting prostitutes, and not even just standard prostitutes, but ladyboys… well, he’d never live down the public humiliation and outrage at his hypocrisy. His
company’s shares would plummet. His investors would pull out. He would lose positions of influence and power in society. He just couldn’t afford to let that happen.”

Leah watched Toran speak, fascinated at the change that had come over him. This wasn’t the passionate lover of last night or the tender friend from her childhood. This was a side of Toran she had never seen—the cold-eyed journalist hunting down a story with the same predatory cunning of a lone wolf.

“Why not just pay her off then?” she asked.

“Warne’s a control freak,” said Toran. “He wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of somebody having a hold over him like this, able to force him to do anything with the threat of blackmail over his head.” Toran sat back. “I’m guessing that this ladyboy and her friend set up the secret webcam and filmed Warne with the intention of blackmailing him. But when she actually met him and demanded money, it backfired. Things got heated, maybe they had an argument or something and Warne knocked her out by mistake. He’s notorious, you know, for having a short fuse and a vicious temper, in spite of the pains he takes with his public image. There were a couple of cases of assault brought against him by employees which were quickly squashed.”

He didn’t add “
by your father
” but Leah caught the implication. Toran gave her an apologetic look and continued. “Maybe Warne hadn’t planned to kill her, but once she was unconscious and he thought about the whole situation, he must have realised that the only way he could win was if he silenced her permanently…” He looked at Leah. “What?”

Leah stood up excitedly. “I just remembered where I’ve seen her face! The ladyboy who was with Warne.”

“Where?”

“On the front page of the
Straits Times
. It was her body that was dumped in the Singapore River. They showed an artist’s impression of her face. They probably couldn’t show a photo of the real thing because it might have been too disturbing for the public. They couldn’t find any ID on her so they were asking for anyone with information to come forward.” Leah added thoughtfully, “And I understand now why Inspector Ravi told me that hers was a ‘particular situation’. He must have been talking about her ladyboy status.”

“Which has been kept from the public so far,” mused Toran.

“Yes,” said Leah. “All the reports always just said a woman’s body was found in the river.” Her eyes drifted back to the computer screen. “We should find her,” said Leah suddenly. “The other ladyboy in the video. If she’s willing to testify against Warne…”

Toran nodded. “Yes, her testimony would make a big difference.”

“But how do we find her?”

Toran looked thoughtfully back at the computer screen. “That red neon sign outside the window of the bedroom… I recognise that. It’s the logo of The Naughty Minx bar. That bar’s in the one place in Singapore that’s well known as a ladyboy hangout. Orchard Towers. ‘The Four Floors of Whores’, as the locals call it.”

“Orchard Towers?” Leah said disbelievingly. “But that’s a shopping centre on Orchard Road! You’re not telling me that next to all those Prada and Versace stores—”

“It
is
a shopping centre in the daytime,” said Toran. “Albeit nothing like the high-end, designer palaces on that road. But after dark, it becomes something else. There are clubs and bars there and it’s well known as a place to pick up girls.” Toran grinned. “Or boys that look like girls.”

“But how can you be sure that you’ll find her there? You don’t even know her name.”

“I’m
not
sure,” said Toran. “But we’ve got to start somewhere and Orchard Towers is as good a place as any. As for finding her…” He clicked open the first video again and freeze-framed it on a shot that clearly showed the two ladyboys’ faces. Hitting a button on the keyboard, he took a screenshot, then instructed the computer to print it.

A whirring noise came from the corner of the office as a printer awoke and began consuming paper. A second later it spat out a single sheet, covered with a grainy image. Toran went over to pick it up.

“It’s pretty low-res, but I think it’ll do.” He held it up for Leah to see. “We’ll head over to Orchard Towers after dark and see if we can find her.” He hesitated. “But even if we do find her… it might still not be enough.”

“What do you mean?” asked Leah. “If this ladyboy testifies that her friend was going to see Warne that night and was planning to blackmail him… and then her friend’s dead body turns up in the Singapore River… well, suspicion would naturally fall on Warne.”

Toran shook his head. “There’s no ‘naturally’ at all. Warne has a reputation as a respectable, upstanding citizen of the community. The
last
thing anyone would suspect him of is murder. And even if there were questions raised, Warne could say that there is no proof he actually killed that ladyboy. Your father was the only witness to that. Warne could say that he paid her off and when they parted, the ladyboy was fine. Then she was mugged and killed later on.” Toran moved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “Nothing to do with him.”

“It would still be really suspicious—”

“Suspicious, yes, but not proof that Warne did it. Besides, it would be his word against the ladyboy’s friend and you can bet that he’ll have the best defence lawyers in town. Who do you think people are going to believe—the respectable businessman or the transsexual hooker?”

The outside door slammed and they turned around as they heard footsteps in the hallway. A moment later, Dieter came into the office. Leah looked at Toran’s friend with interest, as she barely remembered meeting him last night. He was tall—as tall as Toran—with close-cropped, dark brown hair and eyes an unusual shade of piercing blue. He smiled briefly at Leah then put something on the desk in front of Toran.

“You might want to see this,” he said.

Toran looked down. Leah could see that it was the latest edition of the local newspaper. She moved closer to Toran as a small headline in the bottom right-hand corner caught her eye.

Journalist survives explosion?

There has been an unconfirmed sighting of local journalist, Toran James, who was believed to have been the victim of a fatal gas explosion aboard a yacht last week. His body was never recovered from the wreckage. An anonymous source has reported seeing Mr James last night in the Tanglin area…

Toran cursed under his breath. “I’ve been half-expecting this. Last night, Warne’s man… he must have recognised me. I thought the dim light and confusion during the fight might have helped, but obviously not.”

“So now Warne knows you’re alive,” Leah said worriedly.

Toran gave a grim smile. “I always knew that he would find out sooner or later anyway—this was only ever going to be a temporary thing” He looked at his friend. “I’m sorry, Dieter. We probably shouldn’t stay here anymore. I don’t want to involve you in anything that could be dangerous.”

Dieter laughed. “It doesn’t bother me. It wouldn’t be the first time I have been involved in something ‘dangerous’, as you call it. But you should take care. Warne is not a man who gives up easily.”

“Neither am I,” said Toran.

Dieter nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Good. Then
viel glück
, as we say in German.”

“I just wish we had something more.” Toran dropped back in the desk chair and exhaled with frustration. He looked at Leah. “Your father told me that he had definite evidence to incriminate Warne. He was a lawyer; he must have known that just this video footage wouldn’t be enough—even if we manage to get the ladyboy friend’s testimony—so there must have been something else. Are you sure there was nothing else in the hidden safe?”

Leah shook her head. “No. You’re thinking of a weapon, aren’t you?”

Toran inclined his head. “Means, motive, and opportunity.”

“We’ve got the last two,” said Leah slowly. “And we know that Warne used his dagger to kill her—”

“Dagger?” Dieter said suddenly.

Toran swung around to look at his friend. “The one that Warne wears all the time. His personal
kris
dagger. Never goes anywhere without it.”

“He’s no longer wearing it,” said Dieter.

“What?” 

“I saw him last weekend at the annual Premier Business Club dinner. He didn’t have it on him.” Dieter folded his tanned arms and leaned against a bookcase. “I noticed because—like you say—it’s almost become Warne’s signature look, even though he’s teased for it. Personally, I think a man with a temper like his is better off not carrying a sharp weapon,” he said with a dry smile.

“Last weekend?” said Leah. “Toran, when did the murder take place?”

“Wednesday last week,” he said.

“And has anyone seen Warne wearing the dagger since?” Leah asked eagerly. “Like, was he wearing it on Thursday?”

Toran met her eyes, reading her thoughts. “You’re thinking that if he hasn’t been seen wearing the dagger since, it might mean that he lost it on Wednesday. That he might have given it to your father to get rid of, as well as the other evidence?”