Inspector Singh investigates : A curious Indian cadaver by Shamini Flint

Inspector Singh, of the Singapore police force, might just have to look to his laurels.  Courtesy, of all unlikely people, his wife, Mrs. Singh.

In this funny, laugh-out-loud 6th instalment of the Inspector Singh series, we see the Malaysian-Singaporean Sikh going to India for the first time, to attend, of all unlikely things for such an anti-family man, a family wedding.

His wife’s family, of course.

Still on enforced sick leave after his Cambodian escapades, the good detective has no excuse for not attending the wedding of his wife’s first cousin’s daughter.

This is a high-society arranged marriage, a concept alien to Inspector Singh, but not to his good wife:

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Soon after their arrival in Mumbai, there is a suspicious death, and Inspector Singh is plunged headlong into an investigation that includes questioning many of his wife’s family.  As he tramps the dirty streets of Mumbai, lamenting the damage being done to his trademark white sneakers, Mrs. Singh stays close in the bosom of her traumatised family – and becomes, de facto, her husband’s source on the inside.

In her earlier Inspector Singh books, Ms Flint has always used the clever device of an assistant/sidekick/translator who helps the Singaporean policeman on his foreign jaunts.  This local assistant provides the detective (and we the readers) with an insight into a different society, and is the foil against which Inspector Singh views and judges the new country.

Enter Mrs. Singh, a regular visitor to India, a recent convert to the internet and the joys of Google, and now an expert on all things Indian.  She explains the country of which she is uncritically proud to her sceptical, querulous husband, who realises pretty early on that although he may look the part, he is actually 100% foreign.

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Mrs. Singh wants only to prove to her husband that India is modern.  And better than China.

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It is a masterstroke making this thin, sharp-tongued woman her husband’s assistant, for not only does it make for great humour, it also allows us to get to know Mrs. Singh better.

She finally steps out from her husband’s shadow, and becomes a brilliant character in her own right.IMG_9407

Like any first time visitor to Mumbai, the good Inspector is taken aback at the smell, the dirt, the crowds, the noise.

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Other than eating good authentic Indian food, Inspector Singh has very few desiderata.  Avoid Delhi belly and have a ride in an Ambassador car, basically.

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Ambassadors, alas, are not to be part of his Mumbai experience :IMG_9401

The plot is a clever one, keeping us guessing until the very last pages, and the ending is unexpected.  But then, Ms Flint’s endings always are.  What a clever writer she is.

I happen to know Mumbai pretty well, having lived there for several years, and so can attest to the veracity of the writer’s observations and descriptions.

What an accomplished story teller Ms Flint is, putting her finger so easily and yet so firmly on the pulse of India :

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The matching turbans and Nehru jackets are not unique to Mumbai, and up here in Delhi (where I live) they are very much a definite “statement” way of dressing.  Ms Flint is spot on.

 

Another great read, an exciting whodunnit, an exuberant foray into India and weddings and religion and progress and poverty.

And, of course, we get to spend more time with Mrs. Singh.

As I said at the outset, the good Inspector might just have to look to his laurels.

 

If you would like to buy the book, you can do so now, by clicking on the link below:

Inspector Singh Investigates: A deadly Cambodian crime spree by Shamini Flint

I am an unabashed fan of the Inspector Singh series, so please don’t misunderstand me when I say that “A deadly Cambodian crime spree” is possibly the best book in the series thus far.

The previous three books are all brilliant reads, don’t get me wrong.  Good, funny, insightful, all-round great detective novels.

But the Cambodian story reaches new heights.

Not only is it a cracking whodunnit, as we have come to expect from Ms Flint, but in this book we see Inspector Singh confront issues of morality on a colossal scale.  And in the process, we learn so much more about this larger than life man, whom up until now we know delights in irritating his Chinese bosses as he stubbornly refuses to conform to the Singaporean notion of policing.

But in this book we see him out of his usual world and confronted with the on-going trauma of a collective genocide that makes his hunt for the murderer of a trial witness at times seem a puny task. What is one death amongst so many millions?

But Inspector Singh has his own moral touchstone. He is a policeman and as such he will hunt down the killer of one man, whilst attending the court hearings into the genocide trials.

Sent to be the ASEAN watchdog at the War Crimes Tribunal in Phonm Penh, the Singaporean Sikh copper enters a realm of such collective evil and horror that he (and we the reader) often recoil in disbelief at the testimony we listen to. This was one of the aspects of this book that differentiates it from its predecessors – the delving into the history of this poor benighted country.

But all this is not to say that our good Inspector has lost his zest for life. True, Cambodia and the things he hears in court shake this good man to his moral core, but that doesn’t stop him being hungry all the time, and irritated that his trademark white sneakers get dirty as he pounds the dusty streets of Phonm Penh.

He hates the local food, hates the heat, is captivated by a beautiful, enigmatic Cambodian woman called Sovann, and, if the truth be known, he may just have met his match in his local sidekick, the feisty, outspoken, hard-working, driven Chhean.  She is a brilliant character, an orphan searching for her own missing family, and outspokenly contemptuous of the Cambodian police and the Cambodian government.

This delightful young lady is also unable to restrict herself to the limited role of being Singh’s interpreter.  Thank goodness that Chhean doesn’t just stick to translating from Khmer for the good Punjabi Inspector, because her no nonsense approach and her ability to deliver great hit-the-nail-on-the-head oneliners are one of the many joys of this book.

In Menhay, the embattled local policeman tasked to ensure the tribunal is seen to run efficiently, we have a fascinating man.  Stubborn, honest in a country where an honest cop is, seemingly, an uber-rare commodity, we watch the growing relationship between Singh and Menhay, as they are made joint in charge of the murder investigation that threatens the future of the tribunal.

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As Inspector Singh delves deeper into the nitty gritty of Cambodia, he reflects (almost wistfully) on clean little Singapore :

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He is also forced –  for a moment –  to reflect on the nature of family.  So many Cambodians are desperately searching for their loved ones or for closure about their disappearnce.  Chhean, poor girl, has no family and would love one.  Inspector Singh has a rare, fleeting moment of familial insight :

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I loved this book, not only for the story and the brilliant plot, for the trademark humour and Singh’s observations about Cambodia, but also for the fact that this enjoyable story is encased within a wider scenario. I was moved by the horrors we hear about, and, like the good Inspector, ashamed that I knew so little about the recent history of this country.  Inspector Singh is growing in stature before our eyes – he may also be growing in girth, too – and he gets simply more and more delightful.

The ending of the book is spectacular.

Another excellent novel, and one that I cannot recommend too highly.

If you would like to buy the book after reading this review, simply click on the link below:

Inspector Singh investigates : The Singapore School of Villainy by Shamini Flint

Yup, guilty as charged

I am indeed becoming a bit of an Inspector Singh junkie, having just polished off the third in the series in the space of a week.

And books 4-6 are downloaded and ready to go.

In the third book in the series, Inspector Singh is on home turf, trying to find out who murdered a lawyer in a big international law firm.  Questioning highly trained lawyers was never going to be a cake walk and the good Inspector finds himself tackling a wall of corporate solidarity.  But, as he soon discovers, his irritating orders to investigate in the lawyers’ offices rather than at police HQ, to try and keep the press off the trail, does have some unexpected benefits:
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Unlike the first two books in the series, where the overweight, chain-smoking, beer-loving detective was working overseas, first in Malaysia and then in Indonesia, in “The Singapore School of Villainy ” we get to see Inspector Singh in his home environment. And that means we finally get to meet Mrs. Singh, a woman who is very concerned about her reputation within the Singaporean Sikh community.  Since one of the lawyers who may be a possible suspect is not only a young unmarried Sikh boy, but also one to whom she is very, very distantly related, it is especially galling that her husband is seemingly unable to nail the culprit, when all the world and its wife and the local press and her sisters knows who has done it. (The wife.  Or the second wife. Open and shut case.)

Here Mrs. Singh defends the young Sikh man she doesn’t know –  but he is a Sikh, and is very very distant family, from India :

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As in the previous two novels, Inspector Singh has a sidekick appointed to work with him – and cleverly, this is never the same person –  and it is always someone who is initially very uncomfortable around his unorthodox way of working.  And this being Singapore, the young local policeman seconded to this murder investigation is beyond nervous at his boss’s unconventional approach and what it might do to his own shiny-new career prospects.

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For this is, after all, Singapore, a place where there are relatively few murders, and hardly ever a high profile one.

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Singh, too, initially despairs of Corporal Fong, who keeps jumping to attention and is terrified of putting a foot wrong.

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Ms Flint is, as ever, spot-on-perfect with he characterisation of the Chinese, the ex-pats, the Indians and the Filipinas who people this whodunnit.

One suspects that she doesn’t have much time for the entitled culture of European ex-pats.

Or perhaps it is just the portly Inspector Singh who doesn’t:

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Ms Flint’s description of the hefty Singh sisters is oh-so-accurate:
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I live in India, in New Delhi, so the baggy-trousered matrons ring true, as do the flappy arms:

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This third novel in the series brings us closer to understanding Inspector Singh the man, as opposed to Inspector Singh the cheerfully rule-bending policeman who irritates the living daylights out of his superiors.  We see him, for example, in the presence of his wife, and sprawled in his comfy chair at home, and in this book, on his home turf, he seems to be more personally concerned about some of his suspects.  The end of the novel is bleaker and darker and more moving than anything we have seen of Inspector Singh thus far.  He becomes a more rounded character in this book (no pun intended), moving beyond his fat wheezy persona to a man with deep emotions, and he is all the more endearing for it.

But nevertheless, Singh the slightly ridiculous caricatural character (and fully aware of his own image) is as funny as ever:

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He is nobody’s fool, and is realistic enough to know that he is a square peg in a round hole – an unorthodox Indian cop in an orderly Chinese set up:

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Anyway, that’s enough from me.  I’m worried that if I share any more thoughts with you I may inadvertently spoil the plot, which is – as ever – a cracker, keeping you guessing until the last chapter.  Actually, if I can boast a wee bit, I sort-of-guessed who the murder might be, but, like the good Inspector, didn’t want it to be true.

Great read.

Recommended.

Go on, order the book right now.  You won’t regret it.  And if you want to order Book 1 and Book 2, just click on the relevant links.

Inspector Singh Investigates : A most peculiar Malaysian murder

Tell you, gotta love the internet and this whole global village vibe.

Here is the tale of an online comment from a South African friend in Cape Town, about a book I reviewed, sitting here in Delhi, about Shanghai (you are following me here?) in which she recommended Shamini Flint’s books about a Singaporean detective.  After reading just the first book, I am already a loyal fan.  Books 2 and 3 already downloaded and ready to go.

Inspector Singh is going to be a great character, and a hugely likeable one at that. I just know it.

A middle aged, overweight Singaporean Sikh, we meet him at Changi Airport, waiting to fly to Malaysia, where he has been sent to work on a case that sounds distinctly like a poisoned chalice.

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Alan Lee, a wealthy Malaysian tycoon has been shot, and his estranged Singaporean wife, with whom he was locked in a bitter religious-based custody battle, has been arrested for his murder.  And that is why Inspector Singh is in Kuala Lumpur. To try and find who murdered Alan Lee and to try and protect the interests of his fellow citizen, Chelsea Liew.

Inspector Singh is fully aware that he is regarded as an oddity in the Singapore police force – he knows he is considered as the unofficial “most likely to be forced into early retirement” candidate.  And this tricky, convoluted case, which has all of Malaysia and Singapore gripped by its high-voltage drama and religious implications, is his, and his alone, to solve.

Just look at Inspector Singh for a moment.

He is a smoker in Singapore, of all nanny states to live in.

He wears white sneakers instead of sensible black shoes.

He has (possibly) too many pens in his shirt pocket.

He eats too much, he smokes too much, and he really can’t be bothered with excessive procedure.

He is a guts feel copper of the old school, and only wants to get results – arrest the murderer – regardless of political fallout and considerations.

As I said, hugely likeable and an instantly great character.

Ms Flint is a confident and eloquent storyteller, and shines lights on many aspects of Malaysia, as only an insider can.  Religion, for one, and the frightening ramifications it can have for a family.  The environment –  the brutal deforestation of Borneo is a very palpable presence in this murder investigation.  The author highlights cultural nuances and differences with a consummate light hand.

Inspector Singh –  a Sikh, of Indian origin –  is wearily aware of global ignorance about dark men in turbans.

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Chelsea Liew, caught up in a from-beyond-the-grave tale of horrors, develops before our very eyes from a resigned monosyllabic hostile victim to a woman of huge courage, whom we cheer for all the way – well I did, and as for the final glimpse we have of her…Don’t worry, no plot-spoiler here, but our final moments with Chelsea are heart-stopping and gripping, that’s all I’ll say.

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Read this great book for a thoroughly enjoyable whodunnit, as well as for a portrait of a country and her people.

Hugely recommended.

If you feel like buying the book after reading the review, it couldn’t be easier.  Simply click on the links below: