The smell of durians permeated strongly through the air. Despite the local police force’s best efforts to keep the crowd away, a sizeable crowd had gathered to watch the carnage. The stench of death and rotting durians was palpable, yet the crowds stayed around, slack-jawed and fascinated.

Destruction was uncommon in a sleepy town like Tanjong Ole.

The carnage was an overturned lorry carrying a truckload of durians. Inspector Jamal made his way through the spiky fruits, careful not to trip and fall. His assistant Sergeant Izwan was already by the victim’s side, an unfortunate passerby who was at the wrong at the wrong time. The sergeant held a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

“What a waste,” he commented.

Inspector Jamal was unsure if he referred to the durians or to the young man crushed underneath the weight of the fruits.