by Ben Ezzell
“Flighty, kahp,” Tahm agreed quickly, stuffing his own hands in his pockets. “Kun Joan not flighty, kahp!”
“What’s bothering you,” Sarah questioned. “I mean, you’re acting … well, embarrassed. Look, I like you. I think maybe a lot but… Hey, no strings, okay?”
Tahm mulled the words over for a moment, translating to himself. “Not that,” he finally replied. “Tahm like Sarah mak mak!”
“What then?”
“Kun Sarah say maybe she model for Tahm, kahp?” Tahm felt himself blushing.
“That’s right,” Sarah agreed hastily. “If you’d like, I mean. If you wanted me to, I mean.”
“Like very,” Tahm agreed, then paused before adding, “Tahm like very much but want surprise Sarah maybe…” he broke off again.
“Go on,” Sarah prompted softly, moving away from the tree to take Tahm’s arm.
“Tahm think put camera in Sarah’s room this morning,” he admitted. “Not have chance to tell. Think maybe Sarah let Tahm have picture to work with.”
“I like it,” Sarah laughed. “Just you wait – Sarah maybe surprise Tahm.”
“Not that,” Tahm relaxed. “But camera there in morning. On shelf next to puppet.”
“I’d model for you live, too. Or model while you take pictures,” Sarah suggested, leaning against him. Then what Tahm was saying finally struck home. “But that’s wonderful,” she suddenly turned holding him by both arms, “you mean you have pictures of the intruders this morning? Have you shown them to anyone? What did the Inspector say?”
“Not tell,” Tahm assured her. “Not sure if Kun Sarah…”
“Oh,” she looked startled for a moment, her own face coloring. “You mean … you and me … but can’t you just erase some of the pictures?”
“Not there last night,” Tahm hastily admitted. “Only this morning. But not sure you want anyone know. Tahm mean…” he stopped unsure what he meant.
“My dear knight in shining armor,” she laughed easily. “You really think there’s anyone here who doesn’t know? Come on,” she tugged him by the arm. “Let’s go see if you caught any fish. Then, later, maybe I let you catch a mermaid.”
“Mai khao jai ‘mermaid’,” Tahm protested, following meekly. “Dee mak, mai pen rhy, kahp”
Tourist Authority of Thailand office, 3:39 PM
“Sawaa dii, kahp, Inspector,” the speaker waii’d as he spoke, his companion duplicating the gesture of greeting. The speaker was medium height although too tall for a Thai, a dark-skinned man, neatly attired in a light blue shirt and matching slacks above polished black shoes, holding a cream-colored straw hat in his hand.
His companion was of equal height, light-skinned but tanned, thinning blonde hair and matching mustache, dressed in dark slacks and a yellow knit shirt.
“Sawaa dii, krahp, Kun Royce. Sawaa dii, krahp, Kun Thomas,” the Inspector returned the greeting with every evidence of warmth. “Please to be seated,” he invited in English before punching a button on the intercom and directing: “Lime and soda, three, kob khun krahp.”
“Most kind of you to come,” he resumed in English. “Your flight was comfortable, krahp?”
“As always,” Kun Royce nodded. “Always nice to get out of Bangkok. Much cooler here in the north.”
“Yes, very cool this season,” Inspector Taskin agreed, smiling. “Soon maybe rain. But not ask to talk of weather. Ask you come because have gift. Believe you interested in farahng visitor…”
Baan Orchid, 3:50 PM
“Joan suggests that you should have your camera ready for dinner this evening,” Rosalyn advised her husband.
“I was planning to,” Bob Maxwell admitted. “I was about to go down to the kitchen. I’d like some footage of dinner being prepared as well.”
“As long as you have plenty of tape. Or should I catch a ride down to the market and get some?”
“More than enough,” Bob smiled at the offer. “And there are batteries in the charger. No problem. However,” he considered, “we do have a couple of hours until dinner. Maybe you should ask if anyone else needs anything.”
“Later, then,” Rosalyn agreed, gathering her purse. That nice taxi driver – no, tuk-tuk driver – that Joan had mentioned should be outside, she decided. Or, if not, he’d show up in a moment.
Tourist Authority of Thailand office, 4:08 PM
“Three good prints from shelf in room match prisoner,” the police technician reported. “Also one partial match from bed frame. Identify Lieutenant Panyarachun assigned Ayuthaya Province – north of Bangkok,” he added unnecessarily. “All other print from bedroom belong to guest or staff. But find several print in bathroom not match any from guest or staff. Not match prisoner either, kahp.”
“Dee mak, krahp,” the Inspector nodded approval. Kun Joan very correct – difficult to use bathroom as excuse for diversion without leave fingerprint. “Officers bring new prisoner shortly – farahng prisoner. Compare print from new prisoner and advise most promptly, krahp?”
“Kahp,” the technician waii’d, backing out of the Inspector’s office and wondering if he would need to change uniform to old clothes again. Inspector Taskin properly in uniform again – look like ragged street laborer this morning – but then everything strange very last two-three day.
Baan Orchid, 4:15 PM
“That one shows him lifting the mattress,” Sarah observed. “And the package in his other hand. And,” as Tahm advanced to the next image, “there’s a full face shot.” The next image was of the man apparently leaving the room and was followed by pictures of Tahm and Officer Kanoontong removing the mattress and then leaving with the package barely visible at the lower edge of a frame.
The final images were shots of two ragged-dressed Thai’s methodically searching the room and developing and recording fingerprints.
“I suspect,” Sarah decided, her voice tight with a note of anger … or, perhaps, fear, “that the Inspector will want these … and the camera as well. But I wonder who the other man was? He didn’t come in the room. What about the outside cameras? Anything on them?”
“Not work,” Tahm was regretful. “Turn off this morning, Tahm think not need images during day.”
“Sarah think maybe Tahm turn camera off right now,” she slipped an arm around his waist. “We have a while before dinner and the Inspector isn’t back yet. So, maybe we work on appetite – then make more picture later?”
Had Tahm’s command of English been better, he might have remarked a note of urgency in her voice and words. Or perhaps he noticed even without the advantage of fluency.
DragonTree.com Contents
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Baan Orchid, Saturday, February 10th, 7:17 PM
While dinner was a technical success, there was also an undercurrent of quiet apprehension affecting several of those present. Not, of course, Inspector Taskin who was outwardly relaxed and gave every evidence of also being well pleased.
In sharp contrast, for one, Sarah was trying a little too hard to be relaxed and to enjoy the meal.
And there were five other visitors – waiting in Terry’s office in the main house, rather than joining the table – who were nonetheless in attendance as an unseen presence. Three of the visitors were – by appearance, at least – Americans although only two of those seemed to be present voluntarily. The third American – judging by the cuffs he wore, as reported by Greg who had seen their arrival – was not a willing participant. The remaining two – both Thai officers – were present as escorts for the prisoner.
All of which left the role of the two Americans rather unexplained and made the presence of all five something of a topic for pre-dinner speculation.
Inspector Taskin – who could have explained – was reticent on the topic, confining himself to offering a few interesting stories about visitors’ mishaps in Chiang Mai, suggestions for locations and activities of interest and, not least, complimenting the two chefs on their culinary ende
avors.
Even the pahk boong fai daeng – which Bren had served literally flaming, admitting having added a splash of brandy for the purpose – was well appreciated but failed to lift the modest cloud over the gathering.
At Joan’s suggestion, Plah had assumed the duty of delivering ample servings of each of the courses to those inside but had also reported, reluctantly, that one of the group seemed to have little appetite although the others were most appreciative and extended their compliments to the chefs.
Once the meal was completed – and after a period of compliments and discussion – Joan took charge of the gathering. “I suppose,” Joan stood so that she could reach a leather folder left leaning against the railing, “that you’re wondering what’s going on. Or what has been going on, anyway. And I admit that an explanation is somewhat overdue. And, of course, I know that everyone has been hearing rumors about something happening earlier today, so – with the Inspector’s permission,” she smiled and nodded toward the Thai officer, “maybe I should begin there.” She resumed her seat, laying the folder on the table.
“This morning,” Joan recounted, “after most of you left for class, we had two visitors, one of whom was strangely familiar. I won’t bother you with all of the details, except to explain…” She quickly recounted how the two had appeared as a Consular official accompanying a Thai police officer wishing to inspect the scene of the previous several crimes.
“However,” Joan mentioned, “I did think it rather odd that a Consular official would forget to remove his shoes on entering. Or that he would try to shake hands for that matter.”
Several of those at the table nodded recognition. “Bummer,” Greg added. “Sounds really bogus.”
“Quite so,” Joan agreed. “And that is why I asked Tahm – and Officer Kanoontong – to investigate.” She nodded at Kun Kowit who now wore a pressed uniform replacing his more casual gardener’s attire. “What they discovered,” she continued, “was a package of drugs – heroin, I believe?” – Inspector Taskin nodded confirmation – “which had been concealed under the mattress in Sarah’s room.
“Of course, if I hadn’t asked, I suspect that Officer Kanoontong would have searched anyway, just as Officer Singhaseni – I believe you all know our friendly tuk-tuk driver – followed the two men as they left. In any case,” she summarized, “the Inspector not only has fingerprints but” – she smiled at Tahm and nodded – “also has a series of photos showing the package being planted.” She stopped to take a sip of wine.
“Somebody,” Terry turned to address Sarah, “wanted you out of the way for a few years. The Thai courts don’t take drug smuggling lightly.”
“Krahp!” Inspector Taskin agreed. “Penalties are very severe. For both farahng and Thai. But,” he smiled at Sarah, “prefer to punish right person, not wrong.”
“Jeffery? Bren?” Joan looked at the two men. “I know you’ve agreed to keep certain matters confidential but I believe that circumstances have changed somewhat. Would you mind telling everyone who the purchaser of the Chez Watz chain is?”
The two men exchanged glances. Then, after Bren nodded, Jeffery answered, “Well, I guess it will be public soon enough anyway. The Chez Watz chain was purchased by the André Group, a consortium of investors interested in creating a gourmet franchise expansion. Not,” Jeffery chuckled, “that we think they have a chance in hell but the money was right and we were pretty tired of the rat race of trying to keep that many restaurants going and up to par.”
“Absolutely,” Bern confirmed. “Take it from me, one restaurant is headache enough. Becoming a chain is hell. So, we decided to bail – otherwise we’d have killed ourselves trying to keep going.”
“Somebody else’s headache now,” Jeffery reminded him. “And maybe they’ll even make it work, who knows?”
“If you mean financially,” Joan extracted a sheet of paper from the folder, “they probably would have – for a while, anyway. The André Group, however, is being investigated by our Justice Department. It seems that they already own a number of restaurants – or interest in a number of restaurants – which are being used to launder illegal cash. If you ever have a change of mind, the chances are that you might be able to buy the restaurants back at distress prices before long. You do understand, of course,” she looked around the table, “that this is all confidential? Bob?” she looked directly at Bob Maxwell.
“The camera’s off,” he confirmed. “As we agreed. Besides,” he chuckled, “who would I sell it to? Not sensational enough for the Inquirer and the Times doesn’t pay that well.”
“I don’t understand,” Sarah was honestly puzzled while her face –several shades paler than normal – suggested a note of fear. “What does this have to do with someone trying to frame me for drugs?”
“That,” Joan extracted another sheet of paper from her folder, “is part of the story. Here,” she passed the sheet across the table, “I think you should look this over.”
Sarah accepted the paper, skimming it quickly and then a second time more slowly. “But this means that Uncle Phil…” she faltered, unwilling to say the words.
“That Phillip Thornton was your father, yes,” Joan agreed. “He and your mother were lovers once.” Joan’s voice took on a slightly dreamy quality. “Those were the days when we thought we could change everything. Well, that was a long time ago,” she resumed speaking in a normal voice.
“But I thought Uncle Phil… I mean, he and Alex… I know they used to be…”
“Gay? Yes, I believe he was. Lovers? That also,” Joan nodded. “But, remember, things were different then – when we were young – and it was difficult for someone to admit they were gay – even to themselves. And he and Margaret were close friends. We all were,” she smiled again, “and, even after Phil ‘found’ himself, we stayed friends.”
“In any case,” Joan gestured at the piece of paper, “this was hidden in a second compartment in your puzzle box. I presume from when Phil first gave it to you. Of course, he also used a drop of glue to prevent the compartment from opening – in deference to Margaret’s wishes, I suppose.”
“Mother was…” Sarah choked slightly, then resumed, “Mother always was stubborn.” She folded the paper carefully before adding, “But I’m glad to know … finally.”
“Sarah,” Joan asked softly. “Did Phillip leave a will?”
“I…I don’t know…” Sarah blinked, then, “Oh … you mean…”
“That you inherit his shares in The Greens, yes.”
“Oh…”
Across the table, Inspector Taskin looked up from his notebook with an unvoiced question.
“Yes,” Joan agreed, “that’s part of it. But there are a few other pieces. Jeffery, Bren, does the name Albert Morris ring a bell?”
“Of course,” Jeffery responded immediately. “From the André Group, their representative. We met several times.”
“But I presume you’ve never been to The Greens?”
“The only times that either of us have visited San Francisco,” Bren offered regretfully, “it’s always seemed as if there’s been a crisis of some sort. But, no, I haven’t.”
“Too many crises, too few opportunities,” Jeffery confirmed, nodding.
“Are you suggesting…?” Sarah hesitated. “Not Uncle Philip, no.”
“No,” Joan agreed, “not Philip. Inspector? Maybe this would be the right time to introduce your prisoner?”
“Very shortly, krahp,” the Inspector nodded. “But first I have question for Kun Sarah.” He turned to face her directly. “Burglar in hospital talk very much,” Inspector Taskin began as explanation. “He admit steal luggage at airport, think yours, not Kun Joan’s. Also admit first robbery – say told look special for computer disk. That farahng come with them search your room special. Also,” the Inspector smiled slightly, “say farahng responsible for not leave offering. I wish ask if you know about computer disk?”
“A computer disk,” Sarah blinked. “All this is abo
ut a computer disk? Joan…” her voice caught, not quite a sob but a strangled gasp.
“It’s alright,” Joan patted the girl’s hand. “Everything’s going to be fine. But, do you know about any computer disks?”
“Of course,” Sarah rasped. “Of course I do. But I don’t have them. Not here. Joan? Is … its Alex, isn’t it? It has to be … but … Uncle Phillip – he didn’t – I mean, it was an accident? Wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m sure it was an accident, dear. No, it wasn’t anything arranged.” The driver of the truck who struck Phillip had suffered a massive coronary – that much had been established beyond doubt.
And Phillip, Sarah remembered, had died in the hospital a few hours later. With Alexander Stafford by his bedside. Had Phil said something? Tried to warn his partner and one-time lover? Or had he even known who he was talking to. Had he thought in his last moment he was talking to Sarah?
“The disk?” Joan prompted softly.
“Disks,” Sarah tried to keep her voice level. “Every Sunday evening. Uncle Phil would leave a disk in an envelope for me. Then, on Monday, I’d put them in a safe deposit box. We were closed then. But Uncle Phil just said they were records – that they needed to be kept safe. He… he didn’t say they were important. I…I thought it was just bookkeeping.”
“Phillip Thornton,” Joan explained to the Inspector, “was cooperating with the Justice Department. Presumably, the disks would have been copies of the books or records from The Greens.”
“Mai pen rhy, krahp,” Inspector Taskin shook his head. “Not matter here. Only drug charges matter here.”
“No, I don’t suppose they do,” Joan nodded.
“It’s Alex, isn’t it?” Sarah stood suddenly. “I don’t want to see him!” She backed away from the table, knocking her chair against the railing. “Tahm, could you take me someplace else? The night market maybe? I don’t ever want to see him!” she turned back to Joan. “Ever! You can tell him that for me!” her voice broke into a muffled sob before she stalked away from the lanai, keeping her head turned away from the office, then waiting by the front gate until Tahm caught up.