CHAPTER 3 – THE RAMADAN BAZAAR AND THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING COOKIES

That evening, the Ramadan bazaar in Kampung Melayu was as lively as ever. The air was thick with the enticing aromas of grilled ayam percik, sizzling murtabak, and freshly made roti john. The bustling crowd moved in waves, each person eagerly selecting treats for iftar. Aiman, Badrul, Johan, and Din wove their way through the throng, their eyes darting about as they searched for something suspicious.

“We need to find cookies that look exactly like the missing ones,” Aiman said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“If we find a stall selling the same cookies, we’ll investigate where they’re being supplied from,” added Badrul, who had been carrying a small notebook since they left home, determined to play the role of a professional detective.

Johan, the tallest among them, stood at the end of a row of stalls, scanning the vendors selling traditional festive treats. Suddenly, he tapped Din lightly on the shoulder.

“Din, look over there,” he said, nodding towards a particularly crowded stall.

The stall had no clear signage, only a small banner that read ‘Special Raya Cookies. Best Prices.’ But what truly caught their attention were the neatly arranged trays of treats displayed on the counter. Almond London, pineapple tarts, batang buruk – they were identical to the cookies that had been reported missing!

“These could be the stolen cookies,” Din whispered suspiciously.

“Let’s buy some first and inspect them properly,” Badrul suggested.

They quickly formed a plan. Johan, being the tallest and most mature-looking among them, would approach the stall to make a purchase without arousing suspicion. With a casual stride, he walked up to the vendor, pretending to be just another customer drawn in by the tempting display.

“Abang, did you make all these cookies yourself?” Johan asked, pointing at the Almond London.

The vendor, a stocky man with a thick moustache, grinned broadly.

“Of course! All homemade, and absolutely delicious,” he replied confidently.

Johan simply nodded before purchasing a small box of Almond London. Meanwhile, across the street, Aiman and Badrul discreetly eavesdropped on conversations between the vendor and other customers.

“Your cookies always sell out every year,” remarked a woman.

“That’s right! This year, I’ve got more stock than usual thanks to a new supplier,” the vendor said proudly.

Aiman turned to Badrul, his expression tense. “A new supplier?” he whispered.

Badrul raised an eyebrow. “This is getting stranger…”

Once they regrouped at a quieter spot, Johan opened the box of Almond London. They all leaned in, scrutinising the cookies with intense focus.

Aiman picked up one and studied the chocolate coating and almond sprinkles carefully. As the son of an experienced baker, he knew his mother’s creations by sight and taste.

With a nervous heart, he took a bite. Johan, Din, and Badrul watched him intently, waiting for his verdict.

“Well?” Din asked impatiently.

Aiman swallowed before speaking in a hushed voice. “This… this is my mum’s cookie.”

Silence fell over the group.

Badrul smacked his forehead. “This is serious. We need to find out who this ‘new supplier’ is.”

“And we have to act fast before more cookies go missing,” Johan added gravely.

*******

They returned to the stall, this time splitting up according to their agreed plan.

Din and Badrul pretended to be regular customers, striking up casual conversations with the stall’s workers in hopes of gathering information. Meanwhile, Aiman and Johan observed from a distance.

Amidst the bustling crowd, Aiman’s gaze fixed on something unusual. A young man carrying a black Nike backpack was delivering several boxes of cookies to the back of the stall.

He was wearing a Puma cap, and there was something familiar about his face.

Aiman nudged Johan. “Do you see that guy?”

Johan squinted. “Wait… isn’t he the worker from the bakery next to your mum’s shop?”

Aiman’s stomach twisted. “Yes. I think I’ve seen him before. He’s always going in and out through the back entrance.”

They hurried back to Din and Badrul, who had just finished ‘buying’ another batch of cookies. Without delay, the four of them stepped away from the bazaar to discuss their findings.

“I think that guy is involved,” Aiman said.

“Who?” Badrul asked.

“The worker from the bakery next to my mum’s shop. I saw him delivering cookies to that stall.”

Johan folded his arms. “So… does that mean the stolen cookies came from that bakery?”

Din scratched his head. “But… that bakery sells Raya cookies too, right? Why would they need to steal them?”

Badrul rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Maybe he’s acting alone. His boss might not even know about it.”

Aiman took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the bakery and investigate. We have to find out what’s really going on.”