by Mark Tufo
Sunan resisted the urge to reply with a glib “someone’s killing them” and instead settled for a small frown. “The killer appears to be targeting American servicemen. That’s the only commonality so far. That, and the way he’s doing it.”
“Which is?” Hal asked.
“They’re being torn apart. We’re convinced he’s using some sort of blunt instrument that has an edge of some kind. But I’m waiting for the analysis to come back from forensics. The skin is torn in multiple spots, the flesh beneath it brutalized…and this latest victim had his throat torn out.”
“Good Lord…” Hedges blurted.
Sunan nodded. “Yes. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hal eyed him. “Have you worked many homicide cases?”
“Fifteen years in Bangkok on that desk, so enough,” he said. “I presume you have some relevant experience?”
Hal grunted. “Some.”
A pause settled over the room. Ratana cleared his throat and offered an insincere smile. “We have your men in a holding cell. They were quite drunk.”
The colonel nodded. “That’s been known to happen on a Friday night.”
“I want to see them,” Hal said.
“They have already been questioned,” Ratana said.
“Not by me, they haven’t,” Hal answered.
Ratana shifted his attention to the colonel. “I have their release paperwork here. It will take several minutes to complete. I have no problem with your man here speaking to them, if you don’t.”
Hedges looked uncomfortable, but nodded. “Can’t see any harm in it.”
Sunan placed the folder he’d been holding on the captain’s desk. “Polaroids from the crime scene.” He gestured to Hal. “If you want a look at what you’re dealing with before you talk to your men.”
Hal opened the folder and went through the photos slowly, the colonel looking over his shoulder, noting the lacerations and the throat wound. When he was done, the colonel’s face had lost three shades of tone. Hal’s expression conveyed nothing. He nodded. “It’s an ugly one. You have shots of the others?”
“Of course. Same thing. Wasn’t much left of the first one, but the second was in decent shape.”
“I’d like to see those as well, when you have a chance.” Hal stood. “Can someone show me to the prisoners?”
Ratana glanced at Sunan. “You can take him back, Inspector. They’re in the first holding cell.”
Hal followed the Thai inspector down a corridor that reeked of urine and body odor, and stopped at a cell where two conspicuously hungover young men were seated on a filthy concrete bench. They looked up in unison when Sunan called to a guard, who approached with a ring of keys as the men glared at the Thais and snuck curious peeks at Hal. The guard opened the barred door and Hal entered with Sunan. The guard stood just out of earshot, a look of boredom on his face as he fingered his truncheon.
“Gentlemen, I’m Chief Warrant Officer Four Hal Shaw. I’m an investigator with the CID. We’re looking into the death of your friend Sergeant Kyle Walkins.” Hal paused and sniffed the air. “Bet you’re about ready to get out of here.”
“You can say that again,” Nick agreed.
“We’re working on it, but in the meantime I want you to tell me what happened last night. Just start from the beginning, and I’ll ask any questions once you’re done, okay?”
Cody darted his eyes to Nick and nodded. “We were at this bar, hanging out, playing pool, you know? It was getting late, so we decided to hit the road. I was…I must have gotten some bad food, because I got sick outside the bar, and Nick stayed with me while I…recovered.” Cody paused. “Kyle went to take a leak, and when he didn’t come back, we went looking for him. We spotted him in the alley and then went back to the main street and had someone call the cops. The rest you know.”
Hal nodded. “Did you hear anything?”
“No. It’s kind of loud on the main drag from all the music, but still…I mean, somebody really messed him up. And Kyle wasn’t a pussy. He could fight with the best of them.”
“He looked like he was pretty powerfully built,” Hal agreed. “Is that everything?”
“Nothing else to tell,” Nick chimed in.
“There were two other men murdered in the last week. Did you know them?” Hal asked.
Nick and Cody exchanged a quick look. “Not really.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” Hal asked, his smile in place.
“I mean, we might have said hello or something in the mess. But we worked in different areas. There are a lot of guys on base.”
Hal nodded. “It’s a big place.” He waved a fly away. “Was Kyle into anything that might have gotten him killed?”
Cody shifted nervously. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. These are routine questions. Anything—a fight with some locals, a woman, drugs, black market stuff…?”
Nick gave Cody a sidelong glance. “No. Nothing like that. I mean, he could get rowdy, and sometimes the locals could take it the wrong way, but nothing serious.”
“So he was squeaky clean?”
“We didn’t know him that well,” Cody said with a slight stammer. “I mean, we’d go drink and shoot pool, but it wasn’t like we were best buds or anything.”
“So he might not have been all that clean?” Hal corrected.
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s either one or the other,” Hal said agreeably. “It’s okay to tell me if he was maybe just a little dirty. Everyone’s human, right?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know anything. He liked to drink beer and shoot pool. That’s about as much as I knew about him, other than he was from Arkansas.”
“Guess you boys didn’t spend much time talking, huh?” Hal asked.
Noise sounded from down the hall, and the captain approached with the colonel, a sheaf of papers in hand. Hedges nodded at the men as the guard opened the door. They rose and saluted, and the colonel returned the salute. “Gentlemen, sorry to hear about your friend. But now it’s time to head back to base and get cleaned up—your work isn’t going to do itself.” He looked at Sunan and Ratana. “I’ll see that they’re available if you have any further questions. Within reason.”
Sunan nodded. “Of course.”
The colonel eyed Hal. “You going to ride back with us?”
“I’m thinking I’ll head over to the crime scene, Colonel.”
“Very well. You’ll find your own way back?”
“With your permission.”
Hal and Sunan watched the men troop down the hall with Ratana and the colonel. When they’d disappeared through the door, Hal turned to Sunan. “You have a car?”
Sunan nodded. “What did you think of their answers?”
Hal chose his words carefully. “Didn’t knock me out as being complete or truthful. You?”
“I thought maybe it was my English.”
Hal studied Sunan with new appreciation. “We’re not hearing the full story.”
“I’m used to it. Everyone lies to the police.”
Hal smiled sadly. “That doesn’t change wherever you go, does it?”
Sunan shrugged. “Not that I’ve seen.”
— 5 —
Sunan directed Hal to a dented police truck with balding tires and a cracked windshield. Hal eyed the vehicle without comment and waited until the inspector slid behind the wheel and twisted the ignition key before climbing in. Sunan revved the motor and backed out of the slot, narrowly missing a tuk-tuk zipping along like the devil was on its tail.
“So crime scene first, then talk to the workers at the bar?” Hal asked.
Sunan checked the time. “We need to wait for later. Night shift won’t be there for hours.”
“That’s okay. We can walk the scene, and you can tell me what you’ve put together so far in terms of theories.”
“Not much for theories,” Sunan said.
Hal nodded. “You don’t have any ideas?”<
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“An old lady said it was a white devil.”
Hal blinked once. “What does that mean?”
Sunan shrugged. “Don’t know. But that’s what she said.”
“You think it’s another American killing them?”
“Anything’s possible. But I don’t have an opinion yet. Or a motive.”
“Most of the time it’s either money or a woman.”
“Except when it isn’t,” Sunan said, his voice flat.
They arrived at the dirt road and the inspector parked the truck. Hal tailed him to the alley, which had been cleaned of human remains, leaving only a coagulated rust-colored stain in the mud that was crawling with beetles and ants. Sunan walked Hal through the scene, describing how the body had been positioned, but after studying the alley from one side to the other, they had nothing to show for their time but sopping shirts.
“You say this woman lives around here?” Hal asked, taking in the shanties with a sweep of his head.
“Somewhere. I don’t know where.”
“Your men went door-to-door?”
“They were supposed to. I assume they did.” Sunan spit into a clump of bushes. “Nobody will talk, though. They don’t trust us.”
“Why?”
“Because often we’re worse than the criminals.”
Hal absorbed the frank statement. “How?”
“Many are corrupt. They abuse their power. Extort. Demand sex for protection. Take bribes.”
“Why aren’t they fired?”
“Corruption goes all the way to the top. Everyone makes money.” Sunan shrugged. “The system isn’t a good one.”
“Obviously not everyone’s a crook.”
“Some of us are too stupid.”
Hal chuckled. “So what now?”
“We get out of the sun and wait for dark. Maybe go to the second crime scene.”
“Worth doing,” Hal agreed.
Four hours later, a bruised sky was fading from salmon to lavender as they sipped sodas on the main street. The visit to the second scene had been worse than useless. Local girls barely old enough to wear makeup padded in twos and threes to work, laughing and joking as they dodged puddles from a late afternoon cloudburst. Sunan watched as pimps and low-level pushers skulked into position in the shadows, the light having gone out of the sky like the flipping of a switch. The volume of the music that blared from every bar notched up with the arrival of the first of the American soldiers in civvies, the men standing a foot taller than the average Thai.
“You from Pattaya?” Hal asked, making conversation.
Sunan shook his head. “Bangkok born and raised.”
“What brought you here?”
“Bad judgment. The universe. Glutton for punishment. Take your pick.”
Hal let the subject drop, sensing the older man’s reluctance, and was surprised when Sunan asked him where he was from.
“Texas,” Hal answered.
Sunan nodded. “That’s why you talk funny.”
“Didn’t realize I did.”
“Sure. Like John Wayne.”
Hal smiled. “Not hardly, pardner.”
Sunan chuckled. Hal tossed back the remainder of his soft drink and stretched his arms over his head.
“So we go in and talk to the bartender?”
Sunan shook his head. “Won’t work. That bar’s protected.”
“What do you mean?”
“Owner’s connected to the government. Bartender won’t tell us anything.”
“Then how do we handle this?”
“We talk to the bar girls. They know everything.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Sunan signaled for a waitress and gestured for the check. The woman, wearing go-go boots and shorts so tight they could have been a tattoo, strode over and named a figure in Thai and then in English to Hal. Hal extracted a small wad of baht and handed her a few bills. She smiled and clomped away, bottom wiggling. Sunan caught Hal’s interest and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
The inspector led Hal across the street to the bar and murmured to him as they reached the curb, “Let me do the talking.”
Hal nodded. “I’m just here to see how it’s done.”
“The girls will know I’m police in two seconds. But a little money goes a long way.”
“Maybe I should do the questioning?”
Sunan shook his head. “Only if you want fairy tales.”
Speakers on either side of the door pulsed “I Can See Clearly Now” as they neared, the six girls on shift undulating unenthusiastically as they sized up Hal and Sunan. The inspector grinned wolfishly and offered a greeting and the girls tittered replies, though several of them appeared guarded. One moved closer to Hal and slipped her arm around his waist.
“Hey, soldier boy. You look for love?” she purred.
“Maybe later,” Hal said, returning her smile.
“Special for you, big man.”
“Every day,” Hal replied with a wink.
Sunan asked a question in Thai, and the libidinous smirks changed to blank expressions. Two of the girls shook their heads and made for the bar door. The remaining four exchanged glances and then returned to eyeing the street for more promising fare.
Sunan was undeterred and pressed the girls, with no success that Hal could see. Hal was preparing to intercede when Sunan removed several large-denomination baht notes from his pocket and showed them to the bar girls. The one still holding onto Hal like he was going to make a break for it stood on her tippy toes and whispered in his ear.
“You pay my bar fine, maybe I tell you what happened.”
Hal looked her up and down, trying to tell whether she was lying, but couldn’t read her. “Maybe doesn’t cut it.”
“Okay. I tell you.”
Sunan had caught the exchange and frowned. The girl whispered a number in Hal’s ear, laughably cheap by American standards for the fine, which was payment to the bar for the hours of profit they would lose by letting the girl leave with him.
“Let me think about it,” Hal said, and she pouted.
“I worth it.”
He nodded, eyes roving over her toffee skin. “I’m sure you are, little lady.”
She giggled. “I like how you talk.”
“I’ve been getting a lot of that,” Hal said.
Sunan didn’t seem to be having much luck and, after a few more minutes, motioned to Hal to accompany him to the next bar. Hal detached himself from the bar girl and gave her a final smile, and then joined the inspector at the doorway of the next watering hole, this one featuring a borderline pornographic depiction of a tiny Thai girl riding a stampeding bull.
“How’d it go?” Hal asked as another group of bar girls descended on them.
“They won’t talk. A couple said to come back later. I get the feeling they’re afraid to say anything.”
“Why?”
“Habit.”
Hal nodded and told him about the girl’s offer. Sunan’s eyes glittered in the blinking neon from the club.
“You feel like throwing money away, that’s one way,” he said.
“What if she’s on the level?”
“Anything’s possible,” Sunan said, his expression doubtful.
“Why don’t you give me a half hour, and I’ll see what I can get out of her?”
Sunan smirked. “Only half an hour?”
“I’ll know by then whether she’s making things up.” He paused. “I can’t believe you didn’t get statements from them last night.”
“Welcome to Pattaya. I wasn’t on the case until this morning.”
“If one of them saw something…”
“Then your new friend might be worth the price.”
“Only one way to find out.”
“It’s your money.” Sunan glanced at his watch. “Meet you at the corner in an hour? Just in case you decide to get your money’s worth?”
“Split the difference—forty-five minutes.”
Hal returned to the bar and the girl’s face lit up. He took her hand and walked inside with her, where an older woman shaped like a fire plug was sitting on a stool. The girl rattled something off in Thai and the woman held out her hand. Hal paid her, and then the girl disappeared into the back of the club. Two minutes later she reappeared wearing shorts and a black top, and then they were back outside, the other girls trying to coax him into buying one or two more of them.
“Come on, Yankee Doodle! We make party time!”
Hal waved them off and allowed the bar girl to lead him down the street. “Where can we talk?” he asked.
“Uncle own a hotel. Super cheap for all night.”
Hal slowed. “That’s not what I paid for.”
“Not for you. For me. He know the mama-san. She think something up, she ask, he say I there with you.”
Hal tried to see a way out of the girl’s trap, but couldn’t, and realized that there might have been more going on behind her eyes than he’d first thought. He was used to the hustle, having been in-country for a year, but he thought he was smarter than that and grudgingly had to consider he might have overestimated his acumen.
They rounded a corner and fifty yards down reached a single-story motel built around a courtyard.
“What’s your name?” Hal asked as they neared the office.
“Lucy. But my real name Pui.”
The man behind the desk was no more than five feet tall. His teeth were yellowed from smoking, and the small reception area reeked of stale cigarettes. Hal forked over more baht and the clerk handed him a key, never saying a word. Hal nodded and left with Pui, who directed him to one of the doors.
The interior was everything he’d expected from the grounds—a peeling linoleum floor, a window fan instead of air conditioning, a bed that looked like it had been there longer than Hal had been alive. Pui threw herself down on the bed and bounced on the end, grinning from ear to ear. Hal moved to the bed and sat beside her, and she immediately moved to rub his shoulders. He stopped her, trying not to show his irritation.
“No, Pui. We need to talk.”
“We talk while I massage?”
“Better if we just talk.”
She pouted. “You no like me?”
“I need information.”
She frowned at the word. He tried again. “Tell me about last night. At the bar. Three Americans were in there, playing pool?”