Read Online Shadow Play by Barbara Ismail - Free Book Online Page A

… fool around now the way you couldn’t before?” She buried her head in his shoulder, embarrassed to have said as much as she did, but wanting reassurance just the same.
    He threw his head back and laughed. “Are you serious? You are!” He drew her hair back from her face. “Why? What’s wrong?”
    â€œNothing’s wrong, I’m just concerned. Are you getting … bored?”
    He smiled again, as though he would burst into laughter at any moment. “Bored? You drive me crazy! What other woman would be out investigating a murder, and intimidated the whole police force into letting her do it? That’s why I love you.” He leaned back on the bed, still holding her hair. “Come here,” he said softly. “I’ll prove to you I’m not bored.”
    The next morning she was shy in front of Mamat, though she scolded herself for unbecoming maidenly modesty. She was themother of four children, and had been married to Mamat nearly thirty years! Yet when she looked at him and remembered their lovemaking of last night, she felt like a girl again, as she did when they were first married, and her own passion surprised her. Now she tried to hide it by keeping her head down as she made nasi kerabu: wrapping blue-tinted rice, vegetables and bit of fish in a banana leaf as lunch for her two youngest children to take to school. Mamat seemed to know what she was thinking, and grinned at her; she lightly slapped his arm. “You can see I’m busy,” she reprimanded him. “What are you looking for?”
    He smiled again and wandered off to find coffee and take some rice for his own breakfast. Ordinarily she would be leaving for the market around this time, but today she and Rubiah planned to visit Kuala Krai to see Faouda. Mamat announced he would go with them. “It’s OK with me if you ignore me,” he said through a mouthful of rice, “but I’d feel better if I were there, just in case something happens”
    Maryam agreed. “I’m leaving plenty of nasi kerabu; no one will starve if we don’t get home for dinner.”
    Osman had been prevailed upon, or rather, ordered, to have them driven to Kuala Krai: it was such a long trip, and difficult for them otherwise. The young police chief obeyed Maryam when she commanded him, but after she left, and he felt her spell lifting, he couldn’t understand why he acted so spinelessly around her.
    He railed at himself for allowing her to take over the investigation, and yet, he admitted to himself, he was relieved by it, too. He’d been ready for all kinds of robbery and domestic mayhem, but he hadn’t counted on murder so soon! And Maryam at least seemed unfazed by it, while he was hourly becoming less sure of himself.
    He longed to speak to his own mother. She’d tell him how to resistthe pull of a domineering older woman—as long as he continued to listen to her. Or she might read something into it, and take it as an indirect criticism. He winced at the thought, and decided not to risk it.
    His lack of volition led directly to Rahman, his junior officer, sitting quietly behind the wheel of their one unmarked car (Maryam had been very specific about that) waiting to drive her wherever she wanted to go.
    She and Rubiah bundled into the back seat, to enjoy the rare treat of a private car. Mamat sat up front with the driver in a fraternity of silence.
    None of them had ever been so far as Ulu Kelantan. Maryam and Rubiah looked out the window with undisguised fascination, as the coastal plain began to disappear and the darker jungle began to close in on them. The road from Kota Bharu headed south, following the Kelantan River to its source in the central mountains of the peninsula. Kampong were now farther apart, and rice fields became oil palm plantations, which alternated with untamed forest. The blacktop shimmered in the heat, even though the tangled greenery formed deep