by Ben Ezzell
Greg pawed through the heaped clothes, finding fresh underwear, socks, a shirt, pants … and sneakers.
There, he felt better now. Warmer, anyway. Except he couldn’t find his wallet … or any money … and what about…? He had a passport. He had to have a passport, didn’t he?
And he was hungry, too.
Well, not exactly hungry – more like his stomach was so empty it hurt!
Maybe he could raid the kitchen. Quietly so he didn’t wake anyone up. Yeah, some food or something and he could think better. And maybe the headache would go away too.
Greg worked his way downstairs as quietly as possible. At least the stairs were solid and didn’t creak.
Letting himself out the front door, he stopped for a moment, feeling weak again. And his stomach was growling.
Outside, the air smelled so good it made his mouth water. Stepping off the porch, he wasn’t quite running – his stomach didn’t like being jiggled much – but he was walking fast.
Inside the kitchen, he fumbled for the light switch, covering his eyes against the glare again when they came on. Bread? Crackers? No, they ate rice here, no bread … or … yeah, bananas. A huge clump of bananas.
Greg pulled three off the hanging hand, carrying them to the table and pulling a chair out with his foot – his hands were too busy with the peel.
2:30 AM
The refrigerator had been emptier than the one in the apartment back in college. Cleaner too, for that matter. But he had found some kind of cold chicken and there had been some bread – white bread and no flavor but it had gone down well, despite the fact that the mayonnaise had been too sweet. And the chicken could have used salt but he couldn’t find a shaker anywhere. Even the cold rice had tasted good.
Feeling loggy instead of hungry now – he’d eaten too much, too fast – Greg moved to the sink to wash up, pouring a glass of water and wondering where to look for tea.
But maybe that could wait, until some of the food had settled.
His head felt better anyway.
His watch read 4:37 – too early to wake anyone. And he sure wasn’t sleepy.
Maybe he could find a magazine to read. Or a book or something.
In the living room? There or the office, maybe. Yeah, there was a bookshelf, he recalled, in the living room.
The door from the kitchen to the living room opened easily, letting the light from the kitchen spill through.
Damn! What had happened here? Books all over the floor? And a broken statue?
Suddenly, Greg felt worried. Really worried!
2:50 AM
Fifteen minutes later, he was more than worried. He’d gone back to the other house first. The older gay guy – Jeffery Whats-his-name – he’d been up early yesterday. Greg had decided to try their room first. He’d felt more comfortable about waking them up than waking the ladies.
He would have knocked on Nolan’s door but Nolan was in the other house and he didn’t know which room.
Except nobody had answered. Because there was nobody there. The room was empty and just as much a mess as his had been. Or maybe more so.
And so were the other bedrooms … all of them … in both houses.
It didn’t occur to Greg to check the rooms in the rear, the ones behind the kitchen. Having grown up in an apartment in Denver and then a shared apartment a college and another shared apartment for the few months since then, live-in servants – and where they lived-in – simply weren’t an element of Greg’s universe. The only real experience he had of servants came from old movies and the TV series Upstairs-Downstairs … except he’d been upstairs and downstairs in both houses.
Finally, back in the room used for an office, Greg found the phone. But … did you dial 911 here? And would they speak English? Some people seemed to but …
Then he noticed the polaroid photo on the floor. It was him … At least, he thought it was himself. A head shot of him lying on something against a wall. It didn’t look too comfortable and it wasn’t one he’d posed for. His eyes were closed, his hair wasn’t combed and his head was turned to one side.
The photo didn’t show much more – just head and shoulders.
But there was a card on the floor as well. ‘Tourist Authority of Thailand’ – wasn’t that was the guy who’d come out because Mrs. Maguire had been robbed. Some kind of funny police just for tourists?
But, maybe they’d speak English? Right?
Sitting on the floor, Greg reached for the phone and dialed.
DragonTree.com Contents
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Twelve:
Baan Orchid, Chiang Mai, Wednesday, February 7th, 3:23 AM
“Inspector, kahp,” the young policeman stood ramrod straight as he reported. “We find gardener in back room. Tied and gagged, kahp.”
“Is he injured? Is medical treatment required?”
“Kohn sooun saaby de, kahp!”
“Then keep him comfortable. I will speak with him shortly, krahp,” the Inspector turned back to Greg. “Maybe you lucky kamoy not find you. Like you lucky not eat dinner, not get sick.” He stifled a yawn.
“I was sick enough already,” Greg shook his head, then stopped suddenly when the motion made his stomach protest. “Yeah, lucky – right. But everyone’s okay?”
“In hospital, yes,” the inspector nodded. “Doctor say not serious. Return home in morning. You not know anything about dinner?”
“Man, I don’t remember anything about anything. Except for waking up in the bathroom. I must have really tied one on last night. Uh, am I in trouble?”
The Inspector ignored the question. “You not remember? Remember being robbed, mai krahp?”
“I told you,” Greg protested. “I slept through everything. I guess anyway.”
“You not remember being robbed before find you on bank by canal?”
“Uh, not tonight? Last night? No,” he started to shake his head again, catching himself abruptly, “I don’t remember much of anything. Somebody talking … I think … unless I dreamed it. But I don’t remember what. Excuse me, I don’t feel …” he dashed for the bathroom.
3:50 AM
“Mai, not know. Asleep, long day. Come from Mae Chaem to get Saanpa. Grandmother of Saanpa very ill, krahp? Saanpa go see her most urgently, krahp. I work garden all day, go sleep early. Hear singing, wake up, find everyone drunk acting, call ambulance. Try stay awake but fall asleep again. Then someone grab me. Not see who.” Khun shrugged. “Two? Three people? Not see. Kun Tahm say many jii khoh here. Chiang Mai not like Mae Chaem, not safe, krahp?”
“Did kamoy say anything? Tell me what you hear.”
“Not say … Say Khun be quiet, not hurt. Then not say more. Leave Khun tied till dtahm roout find.”
“Inspector?”
“Krahp?” the Inspector turned to face the officer.
“Check all rooms. Much mess, kamoy scatter everything. No way say what taken.”
“Krahp!” the Inspector acknowledged before turning back to Khun. “We leave officer here to guard,” he assured the young man. “Will come back in morning. You tell Kun Mam, Kun Terry when return from hospital, krahp?”
4:20 AM
“Kun Taskin say you kohn kroouh. You make food, mai? Hamburger, mai?”
“Ah, yeah, I can,” Greg admitted. “If we had anything to make one. You like hamburgers?”
“Aroy mak, kahp!” the officer agreed. “American hamburger koo!” – ‘cool’.
“There’s some chicken still,” Greg considered, trying to judge how comfortable his stomach felt. “And I saw some eggs. How would an omelet sound?”
“Om lait? Mai kow jy, kahp! Not know om lait.”
4:45 AM
“Ah, ky jeeoh! Aroy mak! You good kohn kroouh! Om lait very good!”
“Uh, thanks,” Greg blushed. “It’s easy really. You just don’t cook them too fast. Uh, I can make more.”
“Im lao, kahp. No, is enough,” the Thai officer responded. Im lao – is finishe
d.
“Khun?”
“Im lao, krahp,” Khun admitted. “Dee mak, krahp!”
“He say very good,” the officer translated.
“I’ve never made an omelet with dried shrimp before,” Greg admitted. “But, yes, it was good.”
6:30 AM
“Kun Terry say on tohrasahp they be home soon,” Khun reported. “I not say what happen. Wait for later, krahp?”
“Yeah, no point in rushing the bad news,” Greg agreed. “Khun, can you go the market and get some things? I imagine that they’ll be hungry.”
“Krahp, I go market,” Khun agreed readily. “What you want?”
“Uh, I’ll make a list.”
“Not read English,” Khun lied, maintaining his persona. “You tell, I remember.”
Public phone near Farmer’s Market, 7:05 AM
“Forget that young farahng sick, not eat dinner, krahp … Mai pen rhy, krahp! He sick in bathroom, sleep in bathroom, not hear, not see anything. … Mai, police come, let me loose, I tell story. They leave policeman on guard … Mai, people come home from hospital … young farahng say buy food … he cook … Krahp, I go market, then return … Mai pen rhy, krahp! … Mai, I call later. Get food now, krahp.”
Baan Orchid, 7:45 AM
“Kun Terry,” the Inspector was waiting patiently on the lanai to greet him. “Saabai dee, mai krahp?”
“Saabai dee, kahp,” Terry agreed. “We’re feeling well enough. A little confused. No, yoong mak mak! Very much confused. I’m sorry, I haven’t found out what’s missing yet. If you’ll give me a little time …”
“Mai pen rhy, krahp,” Inspector Taskin dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “No, I have question for you.” He stood and walked to the rail facing the banyan tree. “I am wondering if you can tell me,” he gestured toward the shrine. “Is anything new here?”
“Sorry?” Terry joined the Inspector at the rail. The spirit house was in easy reach from the lanai. Leaning across the rail, Terry examined the shrine. The small glass of brandy was now dry, syrupy. The few pieces of fruit remaining – those neglected by both birds and spirits – were dry and brown.
“No,” Terry decided after a moment. “No, I don’t think so.” He started to reach for the glass and the remains of the fruit to remove them.
“Mai, krahp!” Inspector Taskin laid a hand on his arm, restraining him. “Not touch, krahp! You would ask Kun Tahm and Kun Plah come, please?”
7:55 AM
“Mai, nothing, ka,” Plah answered. “I go kitchen now, ka?”
The Inspector nodded, waiting while she departed.
“Kun Tahm?” he inquired. “It is same?”
“Kahp!” Tahm nodded. “All same.”
“Khob khun mak, krahp,” the Inspector thanked him. “But you will tell me if you notice anything, mai krahp?”
“Kahp!” Tahm agreed. “Dtaa mai dee mak, kahp!”
“Krahp!” Inspector Taskin concurred. “Is very bad, krahp!”
“Mai dee mak, kahp!” Tahm repeated, then wai’d. “I go help clean up, kahp.”
“Kun Nolan?” the Inspector invited as Tahm left the lanai.
“Sorry,” Nolan looked again. “Sorry, nothing that I see.”
“Mai kow jy, kahp!” Terry interjected – ‘not understand’.
“Very bad burglar,” the Inspector explained, shaking his head sadly. “Very bad burglar.”
The three men stood silent for a moment with Terry and Nolan looking confused.
Finally, the Inspector continued. “You know Thai shrine, mai krahp?” he asked both men, looking first at one and then at the other.
“Kahp,” Terry agreed.
“Yes, I do,” Nolan seconded.
“You make offering, mai krahp?”
“Kahp!” Nolan exclaimed suddenly. “Damn!” He turned to look at the shrine again.
“You mean …” Terry joined his friend at the rail again, peering as if to find something overlooked.
“Very much,” the Inspector agreed. “Very bad burglar. Kamoy mai dee mak, krahp!”
“Sonnavabitch!” Terry exploded suddently. “Dirty sonnavabitch!”
DragonTree.com Contents
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Thirteen:
Baan Orchid, Wednesday, February 7th, 8:17 AM
“Kun Sarah? Mai saabai, kahp? Something is wrong?” Tahm knelt by the girl where she sat on the floor.
“They smashed it!” she sobbed, holding the remains of a small wooden inlaid box. “They didn’t have to smash it! It opens … It opened … I don’t mind about the jewelry. It wasn’t important. But they didn’t have to smash it! Why!”
“Kun Sarah,” Tahm extended a hand. “You give, I fix, mai kahp? I fix good.”
8:30 AM
“Kun Greg tahm ahahn, ka,” Plah placed the platter on the table. “I taste, is good. Not Thai but interesting, ka. He have more in minute, I bring, ka?”
“Kun Greg,” Joan almost laughed, “seems to have won Plah over. And the crepes look wonderful. Or are they blini?”
“Banana crepes,” Bren announced, mumbling around a full mouth. “Damned good too.”
“Better not be a repeat of last night,” Bob hesitated, then, “They do look good though.”
“Oh hush, Bob,” Roslynn cautioned her husband. “I can remember when you were higher than that. Or should I tell everyone about the time …”
“Never mind, dear,” Bob grumbled, trying to hide a smile of memory.
Surat Thani, southern Thailand, 9:13 AM
“Not address Surat Thani. Not know such address. You Chiang Mai, mai kahp?”
“Chiang Mai, kahp,” Saanpa nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You sure not address here?”
“Not Surat Thani,” the policeman assured him. “Maybe you make mistake. Not remember correct.”
Except Saanpa knew he remembered exactly the address. What he not remember was name of man in Chiang Mai who hire him. That had bothered him when he’d realized. But then he had been on bus, money in pocket, enjoying trip very much. Saabai dee mak.
And had been wonderful trip. See much country, sitting high in first class bus. VP bus.
But now in Surat Thani and address not good. If police say not such address …
Baan Orchid, 9:20 AM
“We do have insurance,” Terry announced. “But we’ll need a list of what was stolen from everybody. And,” he added, “the police will want a report as well. I’m sorry about this but …”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Joan interrupted. “And if anyone should complain, I should. Except, of course that I didn’t have anything for anybody to steal last night. Since they’d already stolen everything, I mean. Not, I suppose that it was the same ‘they’ but it’s really the same thing isn’t it?”
“You think it was the ambulances,” Jeffery questioned. “It would be a twist on ‘ambulance chasers’, I guess.”
“Sorry?” Tanya looked blank at the remark.
“Burglars rather than lawyers,” Bren supplied. “As ambulance chasers, he means.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t lawyers as well,” Bob muttered. “Cost enough. Probably corporate lawyers.”
9:34 AM
“Frankly, my dear,” Bren tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t give a damn.”
“I do, damn it!” Jeffery sulked. “Because you gave them to me!”
“Jeffery, darling,” Bren put his arms around the man. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m still here. And I’ll buy you another set. Don’t cry about it. I love you just fine without them.”
“I … just feel so … so violated,” Jeffery sobbed, curling up against his partner.
9:35 AM
“Money, credit cards, cameras, jewelry,” Terry enumerated. “Both television sets, my cellular phone, three CD players but not the CDs, all of the whiskey but not the wines you brought. Why would they overlook the wines?”
“Doesn’t look like they checked the kitchens at
all,” Nolan suggested. “Guess they didn’t think there’d be anything valuable.”
“They missed a few other things, too,” Terry suggested. “Mam’s jewelry wasn’t touched. She keeps it in one of Tam’s statues – a compartment in the base. And I guess the computer was too big for them to carry?”
“Or the anchor cable was too tough?” The computer and monitor – anchored to the desk by a strong, vinyl-covered cable – had been untouched. “They did take the fax machine.”
“But not the safe,” Terry noted. “Speaking of which,” he pulled out a notepad, “not everybody needs new passports. Tanya, Bren, Jeffery and Sarah had me put theirs in the safe. Along with travelers checks and credit cards. And you were carrying yours, of course. And Joan was still carrying hers. That much is safe. So,” he ticked off the list, “Bob and Rosalyn need new passports and credit cards. And Greg, ditto. Other than that, the losses were mostly cameras, jewelry and cash.”
“I can advance some cash for those who need it,” Nolan suggested.
“Likewise,” Terry offered. “In any case, I guess I’d better take the others over to the Consulate and get them started on new passports.”
“Don’t forget to have them cancel their cards. And I guess they’ll want to arrange to have some funds transferred. Siam Commercial Bank?”
“Or Bangkok Bank,” Terry nodded, leaving his notes on the desk as he tried to fit the pieces of a broken statue together. “Wire transfers are easy. Oh, be sure that the transfers are registered as ‘overseas funds’. Otherwise they may have trouble getting the money out of the country again.”
“Easiest,” Nolan suggested, “if they want to have funds transferred to my account. Or I could simply accept their checks for deposit. But, yeah, I’m already set up as ‘overseas funds’. I don’t think you’re going to get that to stick.”
“No, I guess not,” Terry set the broken pieces of wood on a shelf. “Maybe Tahm can fix it.” The statue – the head separated from the body – depicted a young Thai girl in native hill-tribe dress, the elaborate weavings in the fabric depicted by delicate tracery in the wood.