Death in the Rainy Season

by Anna Jaquiery

  ‘We can compare notes afterwards,’ Morel said. He didn’t want to tell Sarit how to do his job but given the way Quercy’s death had been handled so far – no crime scene photographs, no blood or hair samples, no prints collected – he also wanted to make sure there would be a written record of everything that was said today.

  The interview with Julia de Krees was brief. She seemed to have no idea why Hugo might have been targeted.

  ‘Did he have any enemies? I understand the NGO has a hotline that people can call when they suspect someone of abusing a child. Could it be that someone wanted to get back at Hugo or silence him to protect themselves?’

  ‘We do have a hotline,’ Julia said. ‘But, if you don’t mind me saying, that seems like a rather far-fetched proposition.’

  ‘How about you?’ Morel asked. ‘Did you like him?’

  ‘It’s irrelevant whether I liked him or not. What matters is whether he was competent at his job. And he was.’

  ‘I would still like to hear what you thought of him personally,’ Morel said.

  After a while she said, ‘I’m sure you know the story of Narcissus. He fell in love with his own reflection. He died because he didn’t realize it was just a reflection and he was unable to part with it. Hugo fell in love with his own cleverness, his own perceived brilliance.’

  ‘And that’s why he died?’

  ‘I don’t know why he died,’ she said. ‘I do think he took risks with his work, though.’

  ‘He liked to charm people. Did he try to charm you as well?’ Morel asked, looking at the plain, middle-aged woman before him.

  ‘He behaved with me as he did with everyone else,’ she said. ‘But I think he quickly realized that I would not be quite as enthralled by him as others seemed to be. He didn’t try so much after that. Which was fine with me,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. She frowned. ‘How does any of this matter? We worked well together. Like I said, he was competent.’

  ‘Ambitious?’ Morel said.

  She gave a short, humourless laugh.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said.

  Morel sat down with Kate O’Sullivan next. Like Adam Spencer, she was tall, but the resemblance ended there. She was broad-shouldered with long black hair, a prominent nose and clear blue eyes; her body exuded strength and vitality.

  When Kate sat down, he noticed she wore no make-up, and her hair looked tangled and unwashed. But there was something about her, something indelicate and raw that would make men want her, Morel could see that now.

  Before he had time to speak, Kate leaned forward and touched his arm in a surprisingly intimate gesture.

  ‘I want to clarify something before you start. Hugo and I were not sleeping together. No matter what anyone says.’ She trained her blue eyes on his for a moment, then sat back in her chair.

  ‘What makes you think I would presume that?’ Morel said. He could still feel her fingers on his skin.

  She glanced at him and let out a throaty laugh, revealing a set of strong white teeth.

  ‘Someone’s already said something, haven’t they? Who was it?’

  ‘I don’t presume anything, Miss O’Sullivan,’ Morel said. ‘I’m interested in the facts.’

  She smiled. ‘Now that’s something I don’t hear very often. Living as a foreigner here is like living in a village. Nothing is private and everyone is prone to pettiness and lies. Most of them aren’t too interested in facts.’ Her eyes searched his. ‘I’m sure they’ve been talking. Because everyone does. A single woman in her late thirties working in a foreign country. There’s plenty to speculate about, isn’t there? And I know people talked about me and Hugo.’ She gave him what he thought was another strange smile, until he realized she was on the verge of tears. But then she seemed to pull herself together. ‘I can assure you that it’s just not true. We were good friends. We laughed a lot together, worked well together, talked a great deal. But we didn’t sleep together.’

  ‘Why do you think someone would presume that you were lovers?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Because there’s nothing anyone here enjoys more than salacious gossip. I try as much as possible to stay out of the expat scene. It can be suffocating at times.’

  ‘As I said, I’m not interested in gossip,’ Morel reiterated.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Now I’m ready to be interviewed.’

  Morel made a show of opening his notebook and tried to focus on what he was going to ask her. All the time he was thinking that he would have to go back to Paul Arda and ask him why he’d misled him about the relationship between Kate and Hugo.

  ‘Miss O’Sullivan,’ he began, ‘do you have any idea what Hugo Quercy was doing in that hotel room on the night he was killed? And can you think of anyone who might have held a grudge against him? Maybe someone on that list of paedophile suspects you passed on to us? I’m assuming that’s why you wanted us to have it.’

  He looked at her. She returned his gaze. The moment lasted a little longer than it should have. He wondered whether she was flirting with him, but then dismissed the thought as absurd.

  ‘I have no idea what he was doing in that hotel room,’ she said finally. ‘As for that list, passing it on seemed like the right thing to do. I thought you should know there are some sick people out there whom Hugo intended to go after.’

  ‘Go after? How?’

  ‘Not on his own. We work closely with the police here so that whenever we’re able to prove someone is abusing children, all we have to do is inform them and they make the arrest. It’s to their benefit – they get the glory without having to do any of the legwork. And we get the satisfaction of knowing there is one less person hurting children. As for whether anyone held a grudge against him,’ she continued, ‘well sure, there must be people out there who hate his guts. Apart from those who maybe knew they were on that list, I mean. Anyone who’s good at what they do is going to be envied, don’t you think? And Hugo was the best.’

  She bit her lip and lowered her head. Morel thought she might now start crying.

  ‘Do you know whether Hugo was looking into the land evictions here?’

  She looked up. ‘Why are you asking?’

  ‘It’s just something I heard. There may be nothing in it. Given how invested he was in his work here, it’s probably unlikely, in fact, that he would have been working on another issue as big as that.’

  ‘Yes. It does seem unlikely,’ Kate said, but she looked thoughtful.

  Kate had been cooped up with Morel for over forty minutes. Adam couldn’t see what was happening. What could she possibly be telling him? Was she talking about him? What would she say? He realized he had no real idea what she thought about him. For all he knew, she hated his guts. Then again, would you sleep with someone you hated? Possibly. After all, he didn’t like her much, he told himself. Yet he’d still happily shagged her.

  What did Kate know about him? She’d been at his place. She’d given him a strange look when he’d come out of the shower. Or maybe he had imagined it. Ever since his father’s last thrashing, when he’d decided he had to leave, guilt fed into everything he did, every waking thought. He mustn’t confuse his guilt about the past with what was happening now.

  He took a deep breath, and released it slowly, the way he was used to doing when the pain started in his stomach. Another breath. In, out. Breathing like this, though, made him light-headed. He had to drop his head between his knees.

  ‘Everything OK, Adam?’ It was Julia, leaning over him.

  ‘Fine, Julia.’ His voice came out edgy and he saw her back away a little. ‘Sorry. Just feeling a bit . . . overwhelmed, by everything that’s happened.’

  ‘Yes, it has been dreadful, hasn’t it?’

  He gave her a weak smile and she patted his shoulder before walking away.

  Adam took another look at the closed door. His heart hammered against his ribs and he felt like throwing up. He closed his eyes. He needed to take another deep breath and then find something to
do. There was plenty to get on with.

  Sarit tried not to look at his watch. The interviews were long and tedious and he knew he wasn’t going to learn anything from them. As time wore on, he spent less time with each of the staff members. They had nothing of any importance to say, so what was the point? It was clear to Sarit that they had not known Quercy well. All he learned was that they liked their jobs and that Hugo Quercy had been a good person to work with.

  He thought about this morning’s coffee with Pran and Morel. Damn that Pran. What was he playing at? The French policeman had picked up on something.

  When Sarit came out to call in one of the people he was speaking to, he saw the woman Morel had interviewed step out of the adjoining room. She was looking at the ground.

  He thought she looked shifty. So did the man – what was his name? Adam Spencer. He decided right then that the solution to Hugo Quercy’s murder lay with either or both of these people. It had nothing to do with the men and women whom he, Sarit, had been talking to.

  Sarit sighed loudly. He was annoyed, and hungry, and bored. He wanted Morel to take over the investigation and leave him out of it. Because whatever Hugo Quercy had done to end up battered and killed in a hotel room, he had likely brought it on himself.

  By the time he was called in by Morel, it was midday and Adam was starving. He realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since the previous night.

  ‘Please sit,’ Morel said. Adam looked at him. He thought the detective’s clothes looked expensive – the linen shirt, the well-cut trousers – and he wondered what sort of money this Morel character earned. The man’s careless elegance made him wish he’d made more of an effort. He should have shaved, at the very least.

  ‘I’ll try not to waste too much of your time, Mr Spencer,’ Morel said. His French accent was strong, though not as pronounced as Hugo’s. Adam was reminded briefly of the old Peter Sellers movies where he played Inspector Clouseau. He had a sudden, terrifying urge to laugh.

  ‘Before I start, is there anything you want to ask?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Adam said. His mouth was dry and he had a persistent cramp in his stomach. He worried that the pain was starting all over again and prayed it wouldn’t. Please, not now. He told himself that once this was over, he would sneak out for a bite to eat, and a quick drink. ‘I appreciate that you intend to keep this short, Commandant,’ he said. ‘It’s been a trying few days. One of our Cambodian colleagues was killed on Saturday and now Hugo—’

  ‘How?’ Morel asked.

  ‘How what?’

  ‘How did your Cambodian colleague die?’

  ‘Chhun? He was killed in a road accident. He and Hugo were close. Now they’re both dead. It’s horrible.’

  ‘Were there any witnesses to the accident?’

  ‘Probably. But if you’re thinking you can get in touch with them, forget it. I doubt the police bothered to file a report. Accidents like that happen all the time. More and more these days. No one’s doing anything about it. When the traffic police penalize drivers, it’s usually so they can collect bribes.’ Adam gave Morel a sharp look. ‘Wait. Are you thinking there’s a connection?’

  ‘I’m not thinking anything at this stage,’ Morel said. ‘But it is an odd coincidence.’ He made a mental note to talk to Sarit about Chhun. ‘What did Hugo do exactly at Kids at Risk?’ he continued. ‘Tell me a bit about that.’

  ‘He was the director,’ Adam said.

  ‘I know that,’ Morel said, noticing now that the other man’s forehead was glistening with sweat. ‘What I mean is, what did his work involve?’

  ‘He ran the office. Set our priorities, oversaw projects, liaised with the government . . .’

  ‘Did he have a good relationship with the authorities?’

  ‘Absolutely. That’s one of the things that set us apart from many of the other NGOs operating here. We’ve always had a good relationship with the government. Given how corrupt they are, some of the other NGOs have looked down on us for it. Hugo understood it was necessary if we wanted to have any influence on government policy and action.’

  Morel looked around the room. ‘So this is his office?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which you are using now.’

  ‘Only temporarily, just until we get—’

  ‘I understand. Carry on. About Hugo. When did he join Kids at Risk?’ Morel’s smile was pleasant, encouraging. Adam began to relax.

  ‘Initially he was brought in to help set up training programmes,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Funnily enough, he was only meant to be here for six months. Hugo had worked in several countries, but it was his first time in Cambodia. He didn’t expect he’d be here for long. But then he found he loved it here. Loved the work. He decided he wanted to stay. It took Florence a little longer. But she’s always gone along with what he wanted. And she got a good job here. He—’

  ‘He and Florence got on well?’ Morel asked.

  ‘Yes, at least I think so. They always seemed like a harmonious couple when I visited them,’ Adam said impatiently. ‘After two years, the director moved on and they asked Hugo if he wanted the job. He didn’t hesitate. He saw it as an opportunity to make things happen.’

  ‘Make what happen, exactly?’

  ‘He thought there was a lot more we could be doing. That we weren’t dynamic enough. We’ve got quite a broad mandate. Essentially Kids at Risk looks after vulnerable kids. They’re doing drugs or prostitution; they’re out on the street with no one to look out for them. Which isn’t to say they don’t have families. Most of these kids have families and a place to go home to at night. But during the day they’re left to fend for themselves, mostly. So they’re vulnerable.’

  ‘What does Kids at Risk do for them?’

  ‘We run education and training programmes,’ Adam said. He was becoming animated, talking about the thing he loved. ‘We also have direct action programmes, where we intervene to rescue kids from bad situations. We have shelters across the city. The training programmes provide the kids with a real chance of entering the workforce. We’ve had tangible success with this. We also run a hotline, so people can call in if they know of a kid who’s in trouble, or they suspect someone of wanting to harm a kid.’

  Morel nodded. ‘Your colleague told me. It all sounds impressive.’

  ‘It is,’ Adam said proudly. ‘The main thing is education and training. Most NGOs are charity-driven; they encourage a culture of dependency. What we’re trying to do is help people become self-sufficient. Anything else is pointless, nefarious even. We teach the kids real skills. They go on to become mechanics, electricians, hairdressers, you name it. The important thing is that they can earn a living.’ Adam looked at him. His eyes shone. ‘Hugo was brilliant, Commandant Morel. He really believed in what he did.’

  ‘He was something of an idealist, then?’

  Adam thought for a moment. ‘Maybe. A visionary, I think. That’s a better word. He was a daily source of inspiration to everyone in the office.’

  ‘And you two were friends?’

  ‘I’d like to think we were.’ Adam seemed defensive. ‘I spent quite a bit of time at their place. They were always good to me, both of them.’

  ‘Any idea who killed him?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘I can’t think. Honestly, everyone liked him.’

  ‘Someone that successful is bound to make some people envious, no?’

  Adam frowned. ‘Why do I feel like that question is aimed at me?’

  ‘Why indeed?’ Morel said, curious.

  ‘I looked up to him,’ Adam said. ‘And I am ambitious too. Kate thinks I’m pleased because now I can try for Hugo’s job. As if I’d want him dead! I wasn’t envious of Hugo. I knew I’d make my own way. I don’t intend to stay with Kids at Risk forever. Or in Phnom Penh, for that matter.’

  ‘What are your plans?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘Nothing concrete as yet. But I’m looking at a couple of options.’

  He placed hi
s hands on the table and half rose from his chair.

  ‘One more thing,’ Morel said. ‘Was Hugo looking into the issue of land evictions?’

  ‘I have no idea. Look, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up with. Are we done?’

  Kate was waiting outside the room when Adam came out of his meeting with Morel. He didn’t want to talk to her, not now. His stomach hurt and he felt queasy.

  He glared at her. She stared back, unafraid. What did she want from him? He didn’t even like her, for Christ’s sake.

  ‘Get out of my way,’ he said.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Sarit and Morel stopped at a cafe. Over lunch, the conversation was stilted. Morel tried to talk to the Cambodian about the morning’s exchange with Pran, but Sarit remained distant.

  ‘Did you get anything interesting from the foreigners?’ Sarit asked, steering Morel back to the interviews with the NGO team.

  ‘Yes, I think so. I’m getting a clearer picture of Hugo Quercy. I think Kate O’Sullivan is telling the truth about their relationship. They weren’t sleeping together. Which makes me wonder why Paul Arda thought they were.’

  Morel gave Sarit a quick account of his conversation the previous day with Arda, and his more recent exchange with Kate.

  ‘Adam Spencer is the interesting one, though. He seemed uncomfortable throughout the interview just now. I think we might have to talk to him again. Probe a bit more. There’s something there.’ Morel took the list of paedophile suspects from his pocket and handed it to Sarit. ‘I want to talk to this Thierry Gaveaux. The one whose name is highlighted on the list.’

  ‘We’ll go together,’ Sarit said. ‘Anything else?’

  Morel told Sarit about Chhun. ‘If there’s any way of checking on the road accident, I’d like to know if there was anything suspicious about it.’

  ‘I can try.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Morel stood up. ‘I have to get back to the hotel and call Paris. Then I’ll see if I can make contact with Gaveaux. If he was on that watch list, the NGO will have his details. I’ll let you know.’