Look up to find the cure for a Bangkok hangover.
“Look up to find the cure for a Bangkok hangover,” Kang and I both repeated the phrase at once. I thought the hangover part of the riddle certainly made sense for a city known for indulging in libations, but the rest of the riddle made no immediate sense to me.
“What do you think?” I asked, looking at Kang.
He shrugged. “Definitely something having to do with partying.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing. If we take the riddle literally, then it’s about recovery. Maybe a food that helps with a hangover.”
“A fruit from a tree?” Kang pushed his bottom lip up and shrugged.
“That’s a thought. But if it’s not literal, then the answer would only loosely tie into that theme.”
We continued to stare at the laptop screen, thinking that would somehow reveal the answer.
“This can’t be hard. We’re the ones making it a chore,” I said, stabbing my fork at a piece of dragon fruit. “Deranged psychopaths are figuring this stuff out. Why can’t we?”
“Hey, give it a chance. We just got the riddle. Who knows how long it takes the others to figure this stuff out?”
“Not long, I’ll tell you that. If it did, they wouldn’t bother. They don’t need the game to kill.”
“Yeah, but you yourself said the gameplay can heighten the high they get from their kills, so…”
Sheesh, Kyle. Do you have to remember every single thing I say? I chewed and swallowed the sweet fruit before forking another piece. “Okay. Let’s think this through like we always do. The riddles always tie into the city somehow through something iconic. What could tie Bangkok and hangover together that would make sense for a lot of people… Wait. The Hangover movie. The second one that takes place in Bangkok.”
Kang snapped his fingers. “That’s right. The riddle says to look up… The bar! The one with the gold dome on top of that tall building. It’s where that Asian gangster, Chow, is arrested. That has to be the place.”
Kang positioned the laptop in front of him and Googled the bar from the movie. A second later, results populated the browser page. “It’s called the Sky Bar.” He clicked on a picture of the rooftop bar, and it expanded in the browser.
“Looks like we’re having drinks tonight,” I said.
Chapter 26
The Creeper stood at the west entrance to Soi Cowboy as men of all ages and races shuffled by him, eager to experience the famous landmark and all its offerings. Above every bar were exuberant displays of neon signage that closely mimicked the Las Vegas strip: names like Sahara’s, Rio, and Baccara were clearly homage to Sin City.
The Creeper had both hands resting comfortably inside the pockets of his black slacks. The top two buttons on his blue button-down shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. It was business casual for the night. He was freshly shaved and wore cologne that would have most women turning their head to follow the scent.
After a few minutes of taking in the circus before him, the Creeper walked confidently down the soi. Creep. Creep. Creep.
Young women, scantily clad in their uniforms resembling either sexy cheerleader outfits or the wardrobe from a Victoria’s Secret runway show, stood outside their respective bars, enticing men to come inside. It didn’t take long for them to notice the handsome farang with the sexy bed hair.
“Hey, good-looking, come with me,” squealed a tiny woman wearing a sequined halter top with matching short shorts. She latched both hands onto his right arm and pulled him, with surprising force, toward her bar.
The Creeper smiled. If you only knew. If you only knew.
He shook his arm loose only to have two other women from the bar opposite clamp onto him and try their luck. The Creeper indulged them and playfully resisted all the way to the bar’s outdoor seating. He again shook his arm free, smiled and walked away.
The Creeper wasn’t eager to settle for the first piece of arm candy that came his way. He knew there were over twenty bars to peruse and hundreds of girls to choose from. Plus, he had an advantage.
Not only was the Creeper a white farang, considered the most handsome of foreigners by Thai women, but he was also a seriously good-looking one. His looks were good enough that a working girl might even throw him a freebie, something almost all visiting men were largely unsuccessful at obtaining.
He continued his slow walk, ignoring the calls of the women and, instead, allowed the thumping dance music from each bar to fill his ears. His head swayed from side to side as he marched down the aisle, shopping.
The Creeper was in search of something special—innocence—a girl fresh from the rural countryside of Thailand, one that had not become jaded or turned into a calculating businesswoman. He wanted a girl who would genuinely like him, one who over time would even be convinced that he was there to whisk her away from this life—her prince in shining armor. It would make the kill so much more pleasurable.
At the end of the soi, the Creeper stopped and faced one of the most popular bars on the strip: Baccara. He knew he would end up there, but still he shopped the other venues on the way, giving them an opportunity to win his business.
Satisfied he had seen nothing of worth yet, he stepped up onto the wooden platform that led the way to a curtained door manned by a bouncer. Inside the bar, urban hip-hop thumped against his chest, and his eyes settled on the stage in front of him. Standing on a lighted floor were no fewer than twenty bikini-clad women in stilettos, gyrating for the audience of men who occupied stadium seating around the bar.
The Creeper did a once-over and saw that there were no available seats; there wasn’t even standing room in the aisle. He looked up above the stage to the ceiling, which was actually the bottom of the see-through stage on the second floor. From below, everyone had a clear view of the dancers in their mini-skirts. None of them wore any underwear. The girls upstairs are better anyway, he thought as he maneuvered his way through the crowded aisle.
At the top of the stairs, he faced an equally packed sitting area, but a nearby mama-san noticed his predicament and approached him. “How many?”
He held up one finger and smiled.
She returned the smile before grabbing his arm and leading him to a corner table for two near the stage that had just been vacated.
“What you want?” she asked as she mimicked taking a sip from a bottle in her hand.
“Singha,” he replied.
After she left his table, the Creeper turned his attention toward the ladies swaying their hips in front of him. It didn’t take long for the dancers to notice him and begin posturing for his attention. They smiled. They winked. They shimmied their breasts. A few went so far as to bend over and wiggle their behinds, ensuring he had a good look at the goods on offer.
They all wanted to spend time with him. What was there not to like? Sex with a handsome man was better than sex with a fat, unattractive one, no matter how rich he appeared to be. And the Creeper knew this.
One song later, a shift change occurred allowing the girls to exit the stage. One by one, they made their way to the Creeper; some even ignored the calls of other men to sit with them. The smiling prize at the corner table was too much of a draw. They knew one of them would go back to his hotel; why not be the lucky one?
Chapter 27
The smell made him gag.
Artie brought his arm up over his nose to help mask the rotten stench, but it did little to help. Another officer walked over to him and offered him a small bottle of aroma oil. Artie thanked him and put a dab under his nose. It barely worked, but it would have to do.
The naked body of a young woman still lay tied to the bed, marinating in its own bodily fluids, though most of it had soaked into the thin mattress. The femur bone was visible in both thighs, as if an animal had gnawed on each leg right down to the bone. But Artie knew that wasn’t the case. Off to the side of the bed lay the culprit—a metal grater. Bits of dried flesh still lay trapped in
its teeth.
The walls of the studio apartment had been covered in gray egg crate foam, and the window had been nailed shut. The poor girl could have screamed her heart out, and the neighbors wouldn’t have heard a peep.
Her purse sat on a table with her belongings still inside: a wallet, a cell phone, makeup, a toothbrush, deodorant, facial cleanser, and a few other toiletries—a mini-travel bag typical for a bar girl. It contained everything they needed to clean up after seeing a customer, especially if they spent the night.
Artie noticed a few crumpled bar receipts from the Shark bar. He tried the phone, but it was locked, though a selfie of the girl served as the wallpaper. Artie had seen enough. He let his men know he had both the girl’s phone and identification before leaving the apartment.
He hopped onto his motorbike and zoomed between cars and buses until he arrived at Soi Cowboy. Thong Lo police officers were always stationed at the eastern entrance to the soi. He knew most of them. It was their job to keep order in the area, and they did so with an iron fist.
Artie nodded at the men before heading straight for the Shark bar. It was the second one on the right and one of the most popular on the tiny strip. Pretty girls in white skin-tight dresses stood outside. Their job was “reception”. They did their best to corral men inside and also to provide company to those who sat outside to drink and people-watch. He knew one of them, a young brunette named Pla. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
She smiled pleasantly at Artie as he approached. “Hi, Artie. Come to see me tonight?”
“Sorry. I’m on duty.”
She lowered her face and let her bottom lip quiver. “You never come to see me,” she said softly. She then hooked her arm around his and quickly produced a fresh smile. “I’ll take you to see mama-san.”
Pla knew that Artie was a detective and that there was only one reason he would ever come inside the bar. She led him past a crowd of Japanese men who stood frozen just inside the entrance. Their mouths gaped as they stared at the line-up of young girls dressed in barely-there clothing.
Pla maneuvered Artie around the gawkers and up four flights of narrow stairs to where the head mama-san had her office. Pla gave Artie a friendly squeeze to the arm and a peck on the cheek before leaving.
A woman in her mid-fifties looked up from her seat behind a desk. Her long black hair hung past her shoulders. Streaks of gray were starting to make their appearance, but the chestnut-brown skin on her face remained smooth and relatively free of wrinkles. Her eyebrows narrowed, and her quiet demeanor disappeared as she realized who stood before her.
“Artie,” she called out. She slapped an open palm against the desk. “Why are you harassing me? What did I do?”
Artie shook his head, not sure why he deserved this attitude. He had known the mama-san, Jay, for over fifteen years.
She waved a dismissive hand at him and further crinkled her brow. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Your men came into my bar tonight and shut me down for one hour. What bullshit is this? Huh? What did I do?”
It all made sense to him now. Every so often, the officers stationed at the eastern entrance to Soi Cowboy would enter a club to make sure all business licenses were up to date, all girls working were of legal age, and to inspect whatever else they felt like checking.
During this time, business in the bar literally came to a halt. The lights were turned on. The music was shut off. The girls stopped dancing, and no alcohol was served. The customers inside usually sat there perplexed as the girls tried to keep them calm and prevent them from fleeing. These impromptu visits cost the bar and the girls a lot of money.
“Sorry, Jay. You know I don’t control what they do.”
“Bullshit!”
The conversation was fast becoming a losing battle and a waste of Artie’s time. He pulled out the cell phone he had taken from the crime scene earlier and showed the picture of the girl to the mama-san.
Jay stood and leaned across the desk for a closer look. “Where is she?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s been over one week since she’s been to work. She never told me she wanted to holiday.” Jay’s aggravation levels continued to rise. She was now pacing the small office, waving her arms around to emphasize her words. “You know I don’t have time for this girl. You tell her I cut, cut, cut. One thousand baht every day.”
“Jay.” Artie tried to get a word in. “Jay…”
“If she doesn’t come back, I cut salary. I cut everything.”
Jay continued with her rant, prompting Artie to finally grab the woman by both arms and give her a little shake. “Jay, calm down. This girl, she works here?”
“Yes, Kim works here. Six months, now. Where is she?”
“We found her body tonight. She’s dead.”
Jay sucked in a quick breath before her legs gave way. Artie moved quickly to catch the stunned woman before she crumpled to the floor. He gently sat her down and watched the tears build in her eyes before spilling over. She had gone from raving lunatic to distraught mother in a mere heartbeat.
“No, no, no,” she said softly. “Not Kim. She was a good girl. I love all my girls, but Kim—she was special.”
Artie didn’t doubt that Jay loved her. The fines that she imposed on her girls for not coming to work or being late were strictly business and didn’t affect how she felt about them. She had been a second mother to most.
“I think a customer was responsible.”
Jay wiped at her tears with the back of her hand before looking at Artie. “Customer? Why?”
Artie described what the man might have looked like. “Think, Jay; do you remember or maybe your staff can—”
“I don’t remember seeing this man.” Energy returned to her movements as she stood.
“What about the other mama-sans? Think they might know more?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I told you: Kim hasn’t shown up for work in over one week.”
Artie decided to breach the subject of Kim trying out a new venue for work. It could be a touchy subject, but he had a case to solve. “Jay, do you think it’s possible Kim was working at another bar?”
“Work someplace else?” Jay’s eyes shot up toward Artie. “I don’t know; maybe that’s why she hasn’t come to work. She makes good money here. I don’t know why she would want to go work at another bar.”
Artie had found one other lone receipt in Kim’s bag. It was for a bar at Nana Plaza. His next stop.
Chapter 28
The Carlsons, a.k.a. Kyle and I, had cleaned up and were ready to party. We set off at around nine that night for our excursion to the Lebua Hotel, which housed the famous rooftop Sky Bar. We had opted to dress casually, as most tourists do, rather than to wear appropriate cocktail attire with our disguises. I knew we were heading out for one reason, but I had already decided to play up the tourist role by snapping a bunch of pictures for Ryan and Lucy and, of course, grabbing a cocktail for myself from one of the world’s highest open-air bars.
It was a straight shot up to the sixty-fourth floor rooftop. The doors opened and we were immediately greeted by restaurant staff and guided to the bar. A few steps later, we exited the gold-topped dome and faced the most amazing cityscape view I had ever seen. It shut me up for a good minute.
I stood and stared until Kang nudged me forward, down a flight of stairs to where the actual bar was situated. I continued walking right up to the edge of the granite-tiled terrace, where three to four feet of neatly manicured bushes kept people safely away from the short stucco wall that wrapped around the rooftop. There I drew a long breath and settled into a content smile.
From up here, the city shook off its red-light glow and sparkled like the kings’ jewels. The Chao Phraya could be seen snaking its way around magnificent skyscrapers that punched upwards into the night like electronic candlesticks. Surely no photograph could fully capture and translate what on-site gazing could deliver.
We spent a solid hal
f hour fixated on the view, which allowed me to take thirty-plus pictures with my phone. Only ten were selfies. I posted a few of the pictures to my Instagram account and texted Ryan and Lucy about the upload. It didn’t take long for the kids to respond with a barrage of text messages.
Eventually, Kang and I pulled ourselves away and went to work, posing as Team Carlson. This time, we knew to look for the young girl from the temple, the one who had given us the answer to our last riddle. We headed straight to the bar and got drinks, and then strolled along the rooftop, keeping our eyes peeled for our target. She could be dressed as an employee of the restaurant or even a guest, like ourselves. I didn’t mind the slow walk while I sipped my Jameson.
Kang spotted her first. “There she is. One o’clock, selling roses.”
We positioned ourselves in her path and a few minutes later, she approached Kang and asked if he would like to buy me a rose. “Only 700b,” she told him. Kang started to balk at the price. I playfully hugged him. “Aww, come on sweetie; that’s like twenty-three bucks.” I also threw my elbow into his side to remind him of why we were here.
Kang pulled out his wallet and handed the girl a 1,000b note while mentioning the name of the game. In return, she handed me a rose with gold wrapping along the stem—the only one in her basket to have it. Kang held his hand out and waited for his change. The girl smiled at him before turning away. I threw another elbow into his side before he could protest.
We walked to an area where the foot traffic was minimal before I said anything. “I wonder if ‘rose’ is our answer.”
Kang shrugged. “Could be. If not, we’ll just run down the list: red rose, gold wrapping, 700b…”
I went ahead and removed the gold wrapping around the stem. Written on the inside was the phrase The Big Mango.
“Mango?” Kang had pulled his chin back, giving himself a pair of them.
“Yeah, it’s a nickname for Bangkok. I take it you’ve never heard of it.”
Lumpini Park (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 2) Page 8