“Slow down, honey. What happened with the Police Chief?”
“We saw the photos. He showed us the photos of where they found Louis,” replied Lily. “We’ll tell you all about it in a minute, but it’s way too hot and I’m going to change first into more suitable attire. Stephanie, why don’t you come too?” added Lily, turning tenderly to her younger sister and leading her away by the hand.
Charles was still standing there when Sophie looked up at him.
“Do you want to change too or do you want to share your version of this morning’s events?”
“I’ll wait until they get back,” he said sitting down heavily. He then proceeded to tell her their encounter with the Chief of Police regardless.
“What do you make of it?” asked Sophie thoughtfully after listening to him.
“If you really want to know what I think, I think it doesn’t make any sense. There is more to it than meet the eye.”
“From what you just said, I would tend to agree,” concurred Sophie. “First of all, if the car was overturned, which would indicate that Louis lost control of the vehicle, why was his body lying there without a mark on him? Moreover, didn’t your friend say during your first conversation with him that a doctor had pronounced him dead at the scene and that he was adamant a cobra’s bite was responsible? Was it somehow obvious on the photographs?”
“Not only wasn’t it obvious, but he unintentionally recanted his earlier story by telling us that he was the one who pronounced him dead on the scene and that there were several bites on his chest. Yet the long-sleeved shirt that Louis wore that day wasn’t torn or even dirty and none of the photos showed him bare-chested; with puncture marks allegedly due to snakebites, you would assume that there would be at least one photograph showing that particularly crucial evidence. The body we saw was carefully laying a few feet from the car, in the same position as you see in most crime photos on TV, minus any gore. To tell you the truth, it almost looked staged to me and that’s what bothered me most” he continued, his hand absent-mindedly caressing his chin. “Moreover, I fail to understand how they could have made positive ID in such a short time, since the photos were quite grainy. I would have also thought that, in an effort to establish ID, that any particulars such as tattoos, scars or the like would have been photographed as well. By the way did Louis bear any such markings?”
“He did. First, he had large unmistakable scars along his spine courtesy of a car accident a few years earlier. Secondly, he bore a small tattoo of a schematised eagle with outstretched wings in the nape of his neck. Did he actually say how they identified the body as Louis’s so readily? Did he carry something as mundane as his passport with him?” she paused not really expecting an answer. “Let me also tell you why, in my opinion, this is getting weirder and weirder,” added Sophie.
Sophie then segued recounting how she had gone to the main hospital while they were driving to Nathon and how the doctor in charge had been most cooperative. He had confirmed that the usual procedure would have been for Louis’s body to have been taken to the hospital first to confirm manner of death. Since Louis was a foreigner, then the body would have been sent to the mainland, and a crown designated forensic examiner would have written the death certificate. The examiner’s team would have then proceeded to the embalming for the body to be sent back to the country of residence. It would have been part of his duties to call the relevant embassy, who would then have started the process of repatriation. However, the body never came to the hospital and to his knowledge, outside of a handful of doctors based on the plantations, there was no one else qualified to issue an interim death certificate. He had also shared with her that snakebites would have been recognisable thanks to the quick necrosis of the tissues around the points of penetration and that the victim would have displayed all the obvious signs of sudden asphyxia rather than mimic a heart attack. Lastly, she told him of her short visit to the airport and how only a charter helicopter flight had taken off that morning but no commercial flights. It was evident that the whole normal course of action had been purposely detoured.
Since Sophie was quite hungry after the morning’s events and her sisters still had not returned, she called the hovering waiter and quickly ordered three lime and coconut king prawn entrees followed by Thai beef salads, the whole fare accompanied by a bottle of Rose d’Anjou. Charles followed suit. Sophie was about to continue speculating when Stephanie and Lily finally came to sit down. The latter spoke for both of them when she retold her version of what had happened that morning. They were still rehashing the information they had garnered, trying to make sense of it all and build an adequate timeline when the sudden hush of the diners behind them made them turn around to check what the fuss was about. Pointing to their table, the Maître d’ was directing two uniformed policemen, and from everyone’s reaction, an obviously incongruous and unwelcome visit for staff and guests alike.
What appeared to be the elder of the two men, bowed slightly as did his colleague, and automatically addressed Charles, studiously ignoring the women lunching by his side. Stephanie could not help but think that in some cultures men in position of authority remained undeniably chauvinistic, yet she admitted quickly that the policemen’s lack of English would have made conversation quite difficult anyway. They appeared to have known that Charles was a fluent speaker. The older man was speaking quickly in a low, confidential tone. Charles quickly translated for the three astonished women.
“It seems,” began Charles, “that a young man was found washed up on the beach this morning suffering multiple stab wounds, just past the Viewpoint. According to witnesses they have interviewed so far, it seems that the two people to have last seen him were Sophie and Lily…”
“You got to be kidding!” exclaimed both sisters simultaneously.
“The police insist they have proof. Allegedly, the man you met last night at the Top Banana had a fight with his boyfriend, who had followed him there. When he saw you take him away to another bar, he kept on taking pictures with his Nokia mobile phone. When the boyfriend never came back that night, he went to the police. A few hours later, a fisherman reported the body found. The police have been going from hotel to hotel since 9 am showing the photographs to hotel staff to see if anyone could identify the two women in the photographs. This is why they are here.”
Bewildered, Lily managed to ask whether they were somehow implicated in the boy’s death. Nervously, but not without humour, Sophie added that at least they did not require legal representation before answering any questions. The younger policeman frowned at the latest comment.
The reaction did not escape Stephanie who, in French, quickly told her sisters to be careful, since it was clear that at least the younger of the two men understood English. So Sophie, subdued, looked up at the man who had just spoken and confirmed that they had indeed met a young man last night. They had been sitting not far from the bar when an attractive young man had flirted with them. They had decided to go and have a drink somewhere quieter. He had left quite abruptly and they walked home. She could see nothing sinister in their action, adding she was mortified to learn that he was gay, implying that they would have never taken it that far if they had known. The policeman listened to Charles’s translation and after carefully watching the girls’ faces failed to see any guile in their explanation.
“The jostled lover insisted though that his partner looked like he had been forced to leave the premises, that you had both grabbed him by the arm. According to him, in all likelihood, you followed him once he left the bar.”
This time Lily answered directly, looking at the younger police officer.
“Officer, we admit to have been somewhat tipsy and the nightclub’s floor planks are somewhat uneven and thus dangerous with some footwear. Just look at my sister’s high heels!”
On cue, Sophie obligingly lifted her foot, fitted in a high heel mule and the policeman turned away slightly: in Thailand, pointing feet in anyone’s direction was considered offe
nsive but how else could she have made her point? She disregarded his reaction and continued nonplussed.
“He offered to give us a hand and help us navigate through the crowds and he did that beautifully. He was by no means under duress; suggesting otherwise is pure fiction I’m afraid. After our drink at the roadside bar, he told us he needed to leave and did exactly that. We walked back to the hotel. There was no reason to follow him. And even less reason to stab him to death.”
“And that was the last time you saw him?”
“Well, you already know that it was the last time we saw him since you just claimed that his boyfriend had followed him and photographed the entire process. Could not jealousy be a motive for killing? Isn’t the infliction of stab wounds usually considered personal in nature? What motive exactly could we have had for killing someone we had just met?”
The English-speaking officer jotted down her answers, his brow creased in concentration.
“One last question,” translated Charles. “Did he tell you where he was going afterwards? Or whom he worked for? Or if something was bothering him?”
“As you can see, he didn’t tell us he had had a fight with his boyfriend,” replied Sophie smiling, insisting on the word boyfriend, “and no, he didn’t tell us whether he had any plans to go somewhere, nor had we asked him who he worked for. The conversation was not very intimate, I’m afraid: it was rather typical of two tourists happy to meet a local for a change.”
The police seemed to take her at her word. They had just closed their notebook, ready to take their leave, when Sophie called them back.
“One thing, though, but I’m not sure whether it would help. In the course of the conversation, we admired the unusual jade necklace he wore and he mentioned a Paul had gifted it to him but that’s all we got out of him. Is Paul the name of his boyfriend??”
“No, it isn’t the lover’s name,” replied the policeman in a tone which indicated the interview was over. “Thank you for your time and we apologise for interrupting your lunch. When you have a chance, if you could come down to the hospital to make sure it’s the same boy you saw last night, it would be much appreciated.”
“The hospital, not the police station?” queried Charles.
“The boy wasn’t from around here, so we need to send his body home to the main land. While awaiting transport it remains in the cool room in the hospital,” answered the young policeman politely. They quickly bowed on their way out, followed by everyone’s speculating eyes.
As soon as they left, poolside became alive again as if everyone had held their breath during this brief exchange. Immediately, Stephanie brought the topic back to the necklace itself.
“In the photographs we looked at this morning, Louis was also wearing a jade necklace. The colour was so brilliant it stood out from under his thin pale blue shirt. It vaguely looked like a figure eight or an infinity sign, but with harder edges. It was hanging by what looked like a silk cord or a leather string.”
“Exactly like the young man’s last night! This is why we approached him. Or rather, we approached him because he looked freaked out when he saw us and when Lily came closer, she recognised the same necklace as the one we had noticed around Jade’s neck when she came to Paris,” exclaimed Sophie.
“So are we dealing with some sort of a cult? Is the jade necklace a way for members to identify themselves to the others? After revealing our interest in the necklace, Cam, that was the young man’s name, told us though that we would be hard pressed finding one in any souvenir shop, so it probably means that it is custom ordered. How long though will it take us to figure out who made it? There must be hundreds of jewellers that work jade. This is a nightmare,” sighed Lily. “Every time we think we have discovered something important it seems to vanish just as quickly.”
“Perhaps not,” interrupted Stephanie, perking up all of a sudden. “The three people we know who wore them had something in common: this island. So I’d bet the jeweller is somewhere on this island and I would also bet there can’t be that many around who design and cut jade. Most of the stuff I’ve seen here looks exactly like the stuff you’d find in Bangkok; the majority is unfortunately imported from China. I’m sure we’ll find it and when we do, it’ll give us Paul’s identity. I believe now that he holds the key to what really happened.”
Sophie looked at her indulgently. One hour ago she wanted to go home, believing that their search had been all in vain; now she wanted to see it to the end. Likewise, she felt they were in fact making remarkable progress. She resolved to take a photo of the necklace when they went to identify the body later that afternoon, but not just yet. They stood up, signed the cheque and retreated back to the coolness of their room for a much-deserved nap.
Chapter XII
Till Death Do Us Part
Once Louis had seen the written proof that the money had been wired to his lawyer’s account, to be dispatched later, and that his own share had been credited to a numbered account in Switzerland, with the firm of Ferguson and Freehill holding all the necessary documents to allow him to access it later, he was ready to go through the deal he had agreed to. All he needed still was the delivery of a brand new passport and a new identity in order to help him disappear without a trace. Paul had assured him he would receive all necessary documents in a matter of days, well ahead of the fatidic deadline. Louis nonetheless felt slightly apprehensive about the mechanics of it all, but Paul had assured him that he would be involved in every step of the entire process, so as to be utterly comfortable with all aspects of it. At first, Louis had asked many questions, especially in regards to duping the authorities by faking death for a period of time. He just could not imagine how he would pass examination and be granted a death certificate with his heart still beating, but Paul’s doctors had explained at length the medical procedure they would follow to fool everyone: they had done it on several other occasions without any incident. The deal was to take place on the morning of Bastille day; Paul had explained that on that date, since it was French public holiday, the embassy bureaucrats would be away for the weekend celebrating; it was thus likely that an inopportune death would be treated expediently, bypassing the usual red tape involved in such cases. According to the city of destination, Paul always picked the most propitious periods to avoid close scrutiny and so far nothing had impeded his flourishing business.
On the morning of the 14th Louis’s body was to be found on a steep mountain road, rarely frequented due to its state of disrepair, a few kilometres down from Paul’s compound. Paul had described at length how he would pay off one of the town’s tour guides to take a small group of hikers up the trail, where they would ‘accidentally’ fall upon an overturned jeep, with his body lying next to it. Thanks to the drugs Paul’s medical team would administer him, the body would appear lifeless for all intents and purposes. The intended drugs would slow down his breathing so that it was not perceptible by anyone other than a doctor, and his pulse would be almost inexistent. Beforehand, they would tattoo his chest with small puncture marks to give credence to the theory of snakebite, and they would ink the subcutaneous skin to mimics necrosis around the bites. The drugs would last up to 6 hours. This should give them plenty of time to be transported to the Bangkok morgue and for the forensic examiner, a friend on Paul’s payroll, to issue a proper death certificate, and for the embassy envoy to attest to the fact and sign the paperwork to repatriate the body. Paul banked on the fact that the latter, torn away from his celebrations, would quickly sign on the dotted line, without asking any further questions. Once the paperwork was filed into the system, the same forensic examiner would shock Louis back to life, give him his new ID papers and send him on his way. Indeed, a one-way ticket to Sao Paolo had been reserved under the name of Charlie Vincent. Louis would travel under a New Zealand passport, which had been issued two years before in Auckland. Proudly, Paul even showed Louis how a few entry and exit stamps already littered the pages of the passport, guaranteeing its legitimacy. Louis�
�s photo was already in place, his occupation listed as a marketing consultant.
Paul even drove Louis to the hillside road where he would be found, timing how long it would take the police to arrive from Nathon and factoring in the islanders’ notoriously laid-back attitude where time was concerned as it was never of the essence. Together they also calculated the time it would take the police to drive afterwards to the airport, where a privately hired charter helicopter would take him to Bangkok. Factoring in normal traffic delays on the roads of the capital, it would then take, in worst-case scenario, another two hours to reach the coroner’s office. The French government representative would have been alerted ahead of time and would be there waiting, thus preventing any further delays. Once Louis was brought back to his feet and sent on his way, one of Paul’s associates would come in and fill the coffin with Infinity before it was permanently sealed. In repatriation cases, the coffins were always booked on the next flight out to the country of destination, which in this case would be 11:00 pm, local time. The coffin would arrive in Paris on the morning of the 15th and Jade would be on hand to fill out all necessary entry documentation. She would keep the keys to the locks and remit them to Paul’s acolytes, two of whom would be waiting for her at the airport to escort her to the Pere Lachaise’s funeral home. The locks would then be sprung and replaced later by permanent locks, which could not be picked. Under the cover of night, the coffin would then be emptied at the funeral home, prior to the transport of the coffin to the church and the cemetery. The bags of Infinity would be replaced by bags of sand of the exact same weight.
Louis could not fault the ingenious plan nor object to any phase of its implementation. It was painfully obvious he had not been the first victim and that Paul’s team had it under control. He remained though very concerned by the reliability of the drugs to simulate death and the ability to be later resuscitated. However, Paul needed Louis’s full cooperation for the scheme to work, at least initially. Thus, to alleviate his latent anxiety, he offered to test them first in front of him in order to demonstrate how small the margin for error really was. Cam, one of Louis’s earlier playmates and the catalyst for his fall from grace, was designated as the subject of the experiment. Cam appeared edgy and uncomfortable with the whole idea, yet he did not dare refuse Paul.
The Samui Conspiracy Page 24