Purser, Stanley Yip.
“The captain would like to talk to you,” said the steward. “He is by the cockpit.” He moved a second curtain and motioned for the inspector to go through.
There were thirty seats in the business class section, two seats at each window and a row of two in the middle. A large Indian man wearing a crisp white shirt with black and yellow epaulettes was standing by the toilet at the head of the cabin, talking to a stewardess. He looked up and saw Inspector Zhang and waved for him to join him. “I am Captain Kumar,” said the pilot, holding out his hand. He was at least six inches taller than Inspector Zhang with muscular forearms and a thick moustache and jet black hair.
Inspector Zhang shook hands with the pilot and introduced himself and his sergeant. The pilot nodded at the sergeant then turned back to the inspector. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “We have a problem, Inspector. A passenger has died.” The pilot pointed over at the far side of the cabin and for the first time Inspector Zhang noticed a figure covered in a blanket huddled against the fuselage. The window’s shutter was down.
“Then it is a doctor you need to pronounce death, not an officer of the law,” said Inspector Zhang.
“Oh, there’s no doubt that he’s dead, Inspector. In fact he has been murdered.”
“And you sure it was murder and not simply a heart attack or a stroke? Has he been examined by a doctor?”
“According to the chief purser he is definitely dead and there is a lot of blood from a wound in his chest.”
“Who put the blanket over the victim?” asked Inspector Zhang.
“The chief purser, Mr Yip. He thought it best so as not to upset the passengers. He did it before he informed me.”
“The body should always be left uncovered at a crime scene,” said Inspector Zhang. “Otherwise the scene can be contaminated.”
“I think it was probably the first time he had come across a crime scene in the air, but I shall make sure that he knows what to do in future,” said the captain.
“I still don’t understand why you need my services,” said Inspector Zhang. “We are on Thai soil, this is surely a matter for the Thai police.”
“It’s not as simple as that, Inspector Zhang,” said the captain. “I have already spoken to my bosses back in Singapore and they have spoken to the Commissioner of Police and he would like to talk to you.” He handed the Inspector a piece of paper on which had been written a Singapore cell phone number. “He said you were to call him immediately.” He waved a hand at the door behind him. “You are welcome to use the toilet if you would like some privacy.”
Inspector Zhang looked around the cabin. The four cabin attendants were watching him from the galley and there were seven passengers sitting in the first class section all looking at him. “I think you’re right,” he said. “Please excuse me.” He nodded at Sergeant Lee. “Sergeant, please make sure that no further contamination of the crime scene occurs and make sure that everyone remains seated.” He handed her his briefcase. “And please put this somewhere for me.”
“I will, Sir,” said Sergeant Lee as Inspector Zhang pushed open the door to the toilet and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and looked around. The room had been recently cleaned and smelt of air freshener.
Inspector Zhang took out his cell phone and slowly tapped out the number that the captain had given him. The Commissioner answered on the third ring. Inspector Zhang had never spoken to the Commissioner before, and had only ever seen him at a distance or on television, but there was no mistaking the man’s quiet authority on the other end of the line. “I understand that there is a problem on the plane, Inspector Zhang.”
“Yes, Sir, there is a body.”
“Indeed there is. And from what the captain has said, it is a case of murder.”
“I can’t confirm