by Ben Ezzell
And big question why someone want hurt Kun Sarah? This not like before when very bad burglar become very clumsy burglar – this different; leave something, not take.
Was this connected with Kun Joan’s luggage stolen? Tahm think so but not have evidence. Not have reason, just feeling.
A group of monks – saffron clad and heads shaved – approached carrying their begging bowls.
Hastily Tahm stood and wai’d his respects. Only one was real monk – others were young, novices studying to be monk for short time just as Tahm had but, where all tried for time, few stayed long time. Young ones had bright saffron robes; older monk wore faded robes, carried well-worn bowl, wore much-fingered beads.
Begging their patience, Tahm stepped inside, selecting fruit and prepared noodles as offering for the saffron-robed figures outside.
As Tahm returned to the street, a woman from the laundry next door was filling bowls with hot coconut soup and asking they remember her grandmother in their prayers. Tahm wai’d again, waiting as the monks drank the soup before offering the two bags but uncertain what – if anything – to ask. Finally, he satisfied himself with a simple, “Tahm boon, kahp.” – “make merit.”
It was well, he thought, offering a final wai to the departing monks, not to ask too much. So much had already been granted without asking. Not least, Inspector not think package belong Kun Sarah. That much good; good very if package what Tahm think maybe. Tahm suspect Inspector think same.
Tahm sat down on curb again, taking sip from his drink. If package drugs, then very bad package – not good if think Kun Sarah have. Drug laws very serious. Police not like farahng buy much drug – put many in jail, long time. Not like Thai buy much drug either but especially not like farahng buy.
Tahm especially glad Kun Joan suspect something not good. Kun Joan, Tahm nodded to himself, chalaht very! Wyprip dee mak, kahp! – clever, intelligent very.
Tahm was finishing his soda when an ancient Harley sputtered to a stop by the curb. Two men dismounted, then one began unstrapping a cardboard carton while the other wai’d, asking Tahm if he was expecting them.
The two men, Tahm thought, were dressed like workmen – their clothing was worn and not completely clean – but their hands were too clean, their hair too well trimmed. The one with the box particularly did not look comfortable in his khaki and denim outfit.
“Come,” Tahm instructed. “I guide through vacant house, then along river bank, kahp.” Why, Tahm didn’t mention – Inspector not say why, only how and what – but not hard to guess why. Even if Tahm not see anyone obvious watching … except, of course, for policeman who pretend to be tuk-tuk driver.
Baan Orchid, 11:53 AM
Following the Inspector’s directions, the two new arrivals opened the carton to reveal fingerprint equipment, starting by taking fingerprints from those present. “Compare with any print find and eliminate, krahp,” the Inspector explained to Mam, Plah and Kuhn, then repeating the explanation in English for Terry and Mrs. Maguire.
Next, the plastic wrapped package resting on the table like a centerpiece was removed from the bag to receive a careful dusting and examination. “One partial print, kahp,” the technician reported, after loosening a piece of tape and lifting a flap of the wrapping for dusting. Then uncovering the inner package revealed a great many prints, each of which was carefully photographed while the second officer recorded the proceedings in his notebook.
Kuhn watched all of this, fascinated by the careful process. It was, he thought, every bit as painstaking as making a carving. Different very, of course, but thorough very much.
Kun Mam and Kun Plah had left, explaining that there was lunch to prepare, but Kun Terry and Kun Joan seemed no less fascinated than Tahm.
Finally, satisfied with the package, Inspector Taskin instructed his subordinates to carry out an examination of the upper rooms. “Kun Tahm,” he added, offering Tahm a pair of surgical gloves, “will assist, krahp. But pay careful special attention to bathroom and toilet.”
Why toilet, Tahm wondered? Then he remember movie where gun hidden in toilet tank. Yes, he decided, these American style toilet with tank; Thai style flush toilet very different – squat to use and not have big tank – but what hide?
Upstairs, the two technicians began with the bathroom, starting by lifting prints from the bathroom door frame and door handle, then continuing with the inside of the door before checking the toilet and sink. When one finally lifted the lid from the tank to glance inside, Tahm was disappointed when the cover was replaced without comment.
Kun Sarah’s room was next. Tahm unlocked the door, then stood in the hall while various surfaces were given the same careful treatment as the bathroom had received. The inspection not only included removing the contents of the chifferobe and checking Sarah’s luggage but moving the cabinet away from the wall to check behind it and underneath.
When one of the officers lifted the puzzle box from the shelf, Tahm quickly offered to demonstrate how the box was opened, showing both compartments empty. He then repeated the exhibition with the puppet and the soma block set, concluding by restoring each to it’s original position. The jury-rigged camera at the end of the shelf – obviously too small to conceal anything beyond batteries – was dismissed with only a cursory examination.
Next, the two chairs offered little opportunity for subterfuge but were given the same methodical scrutiny afforded the other furnishings. Since the bent bamboo frames could not have been altered without readily evident signs, the searcher satisfied himself by examining the cushions for less obvious indications of alternation.
Left for last, the small desk had a single drawer concealing nothing more than few sheets of stationary bearing the Baan Orchid logo, a map of Chiang Mai and a few tourist brochures.
Finally, satisfied there were no other concealed objects – or none at least relevant to their attentions – the group moved to the next bedroom to continue the process.
12:24 AM
By the time the upstairs examination was completed, Tahm was more than ready to take a place at the table where Plah was offering bitter melon soup, glass noodles flavored with onions, tiny shrimp and barbequed pork and plump stuffed chicken wings.
Nothing of import had been found, the technicians reported. A great many fingerprints, yes, but these would require time to eliminate. Besides, one technician added, they would still need prints from other guests.
They would eat first, the Inspector decided, and then return to station. Then when, Kun Terry pick up guests from cooking school, he would bring guests to station for prints. “Mai pen rhy, krahp,” the Inspector dismissed the problems. “The question remain,” Inspector Taskin switched back to English, “whether wait for crime be reported or bring criminal in immediate.”
“Since your men need time to check the prints,” Kun Joan responded, “there isn’t any rush. Would it not be better to let them show their hand first? We could, of course, play it out and wait for…”
“Pardon,” the Inspector interrupted, “play it out? What mean?”
“I mean pretend to let Sarah be arrested. Not really, of course, but she could stay somewhere else for a few days while I make a few phone calls. Raise the alarm as it were and then let the fox come back to the coop. Oh dear, that really is a terrible metaphor – do you have foxes here? – well, no matter. The point is that it would be a very strong case and would tell us for sure. Except that there’s always the chance of something going wrong, you realize. So maybe it would be better not to wait.”
“We have flying fox, yes,” Inspector Taskin considered. “Think maybe not same but maybe understand. You think very bad burglar return one more time, krahp?”
“Or maybe not,” Joan nodded. “It would be taking a chance and there’s really not that much more to learn. I have most of it right here,” she tapped on a folder lying on the table. “It probably isn’t worth the risk. Of him getting the wind up and running, I mean.”
“Getting wind u
p?” Inspector Taskin thought for a moment, then smiled, “yes, understand – like hunter, krahp? I think you very careful hunter,” he nodded. “But not want lose quarry, mai? I think maybe right not wait. Wait little bit, krahp! But, if not hear by evening, then not wait longer, krahp?”
“Ka!” Joan returned the smile. “I think that’s reasonable. I doubt very much that he’d wait any longer than absolutely necessary. Not considering how anxious he’s been.”
“Do you think maybe,” Terry entered the conversation on a plaintive note, “that you might fill the rest of us in on what you’re planning?”
DragonTree.com Contents
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Baan Orchid, Saturday, February 10th, 1:07 PM
Following lunch, Tahm slept fitfully for a few hours, making up for his late hours the night before and his not late enough hours that morning. He should rest for evening, Kun Mam order this; Kun Joan agree.
Initially, he found it difficult to relax – too many questions and too few answers. Finally, remembering encountering the monks earlier, he drew on his own days as a provisional monk, using meditation techniques to quiet the unruly voices and calm his mind before finally dropping into slumber, however restless.
While Tahm rested, others in the household were busy. While Mam and Plah removed all traces of the fingerprint powder – the bed had already been remade with a plain brown envelope replacing the earlier package – and gave the wood floor a once-over with a mop, Joan was downstairs, still at the table, making notes as she referred to the assembled faxes.
Outside, Officer Kanoontong had resumed his role as gardener, this time making more realistic contact with the ground as he raked the always-falling leaves. Across the wall, Kowit could hear tuk-tuk changing position again, this time moving to a location down the street where surveillance was possible but customers were unlikely. Probably, Kowit considered, tuk-tuk would again have mechanical problems – unless, of course, there was need for activity.
Among those present, only Terry Hollands was finding himself at loose ends. There was paperwork to do – there was always paperwork – but he couldn’t keep his attention on the task. It seemed, he thought, standing and pacing the office, that Joan Maguire knew what was going on – and, of course, Inspector Suchinda Taskin – but Terry didn’t have the vaguest idea what was happening. Nor what to do about it, for that matter. He wished, Terry thought, that Nolan were there instead of with his students at the cooking school – not that Nolan would know any more than Terry but at least he’d be company in indecision.
Near Holiday Inn Green Hills, 2:15 PM
“I am speaking Police Lieutenant Phibun, TAT, kahp? I wish to report crime involve farahng, kahp,” the man smiled in satisfaction without allowing the emotion to enter his voice. “Mai,” he continued after a brief pause, “not crime against farahng. Farahng make crime, have much bad drug, kahp. Not good break law … No, not want reward, want report crime, kahp!”
A few minutes later, he hung up phone, turning to look for tuk-tuk for airport. Soon, he told himself, be back in Bangkok; he patted the inside pocket, feeling the thick wad of American bills.
On the other side of the street, a local police officer was clipping a cell phone to his belt before crossing with a brisk pace. “Your pardon,” the officer addressed the uniformed man and wai’d briefly, “but you are requested to come to station, kahp.”
“Not possible,” the uniformed man countered. “Must catch plane immediate. Very important reach Bangkok quickly.”
“Regretful that you are delayed,” the officer insisted firmly. “Your presence at station is more important very, kahp.” As silent emphasis, two additional officers appeared, grasping the uniformed man’s elbows while a car – emblazoned with the TAT seal on the doors – came to a halt in the center of the street, entirely ignoring the inconvenience to other drivers, an act itself lacking all customary Thai politeness.
Baan Orchid, 2:32 PM
At Baan Orchid, Jeffery Watts and Bren Thorne had taken over the guest kitchen to collaborate on a dinner menu featuring a Penang curry with yum kai kem – salty egg salad – as a counterpoint. To accompany these spicy dishes – one hot and spicy and the other sharp and salty – an elaborate dish called pahk boong fai daeng – literally, water spinach in flames – would provide both a visual and gustatorial counterpoint while a relatively simple gaeng jeute woon sen – a clear soup with minced pork and bean thread noodles – would be served as the appetizer.
For dessert, again to contrast all elements of the main meal, Bren had decided on a simple dish of oranges in a chilled jasmine syrup. “No way we could serve this at home,” Bren lamented. “Can you imagine trying to find a source for fresh jasmine flowers? In this kind of quantity?”
“Rose water,” Jeffery suggested. “Or orange blossom water. We can get both. Might be able to import jasmine water, for that matter.”
“Maybe,” Bren sounded doubtful. “It wouldn’t be as good though.”
“Nolan said we should expect a couple of extra guests,” Jeffery recalled. “I have the impression that something’s up. You hear anything?”
“Just what you did,” Bren set the syrup aside to cool and busied himself grinding spices. “But I don’t think Nolan knows either. My impression is that Mrs. Maguire and that snappy Inspector have something cooked up. He is kind of attractive – for an older man.”
“What do you mean older? He’s our age.”
“So? We aren’t? Older, I mean.”
“Never, darling. Mature, yes. Older, no!”
“Well,” Bren smiled a moment, then resumed grinding, “Anyway, I heard Terry saying that the Inspector would be back later. So I guess he’s one.”
The pair worked silently for a few minutes, Bren added, “I think he’s married anyway. So I guess he’s straight. Pity really.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to make me jealous, would you?” Jeffery turned to his partner.
“A little,” Bren grinned, “just a little.”
Tourist Authority of Thailand office, 2:48 PM
“Sawaa di krahp, Kun Lopburi,” Inspector Taskin remained seated as the prisoner was escorted into the office.
A none too gentle nudge from the prisoner’s escort sent him to his knees on the hard floor, only a restraining hand preventing the man from sprawling on his face. The prisoner was barefoot, his hands were cuffed behind his back and the uniform he had worn when arrested – the uniform of the Tourist Authority of Thailand, not of the National Police – now lacked any insignia or badges of rank.
Despite his words, regarding the kneeling prisoner, the Inspector’s expression was not smiling and his eyes held all the warmth of a cold winter’s rain. “I think,” he continued once the man was stationary – two officers standing ready behind the man – “maybe National Police very interested to hear ex-Lieutenant Panyarachun join TAT. I think maybe many people very interested, krahp?”
After a long moment without a response, the Inspector opened a manila folder, fanning through a sheath of papers before selecting one to lay on the desk facing his unwilling guest. For the kneeling man, the paper was just below eye level but the prisoner’s gaze did not rise to examine the offering.
“You very easy identify, krahp! Officer Kanoontong make full report, krahp. Officer Singhaseni follow when leave Baan Orchid – say very easy, krahp,” the Inspector tapped the paper. “Also leave fingerprint. Mai dee, krahp! Mai dee mak mak, krahp!” He smiled finally but the smile was merely superficial, tight-lipped and did not extend to the policeman’s eyes. His words were not complete truth – report from lab not received yet – but not need tell prisoner all details – unkind give prisoner false hope. And not matter much anyway – many witness even if not fingerprint.
Across the desk, Kun Lopburi/Panyarachun’s eyes continued to avoid the offered paper, remaining focused – or unfocused – toward the floor.
“I think,” Inspector Taskin co
ntinued after a further pause, “officer of National Police not need remember penalty for drug traffic, krahp? I think maybe officer of National Police not need Kun Taskin explain why officer now prisoner? Not need explain what ex-officer expect in prison? If only prison, krahp? But maybe Kun Taskin kind and recommend prison, krahp? Yes, maybe Inspector speak with court, krahp? Maybe recommend best prison, krahp?”
The Inspector rose from his chair, stepping around the desk to stand next to the kneeling prisoner, his polished tan shoe tapping slowly against the concrete floor.
“Or perhaps not speak,” the Inspector decided, then “Return prisoner to cell, krahp!” the Inspector ordered. “And keep careful watch, insure prisoner not injure self, krahp? Insure no person injure prisoner, krahp!” He turned away as the kneeling man was jerked upright. Then, his back still to the prisoner and the door, he added, “Later, perhaps ex-officer, now prisoner Panyarachun wish consider assisting Inspector Taskin, krahp? Perhaps later time Kun Taskin feel different when speak to court, krahp?”
Baan Orchid, 3:25 PM
“First, Joan won’t tell me anything,” Sarah complained. “And now you won’t say anything. What’s going on, anyway?” She leaned back against the banyan trunk, folding her arms with an annoyed expression.
“Not know,” Tahm spread empty hands. “Tell you about package and officer and – not know what call farahng with officer. Kun Joan say she tell later – at dinner. Say have much to explain but not now.” Tahm fidgeted, wishing he had something for his hands to do.
“And when Joan clams up…” Sarah didn’t finish the sentence. “She’s not really as flighty as she acts.”
“Flighty? Mai khao jai, kahp?”
“Like butterfly,” Sarah laughed, pointing at a particularly colorful one flitting by and then blushing as she remembered that it was impolite to point.