ELEVEN
Shanahan left his sleeping beauty just after daybreak. Outside the heat hit him, surrounded him, and seemed on the verge of suffocating him. And to think, he thought, this was the coolest part of the day. He would be in it just as long as it took him to get a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. He looked around to see if the tail was still on him. He didn’t spot anyone. Could be the earlier tail belonged to the man in the white room and that the man thought that his dealings with Shanahan were over.
They weren’t. He would call Channarong at a more civilized hour and find out more about this man who claimed to have mistaken Shanahan’s identity. For the moment, this was his best if not quite only lead. Channarong had given him the address of one of the young men following him as well. As the coffee nudged his sleepy mind and the air conditioning cooled him down, he also remembered Maureen telling him she followed the man who sat on the bench to a police station, where he remained for at least a couple of hours.
Channarong again sat with them at breakfast.
‘I’d like for you to find out about the man upstairs,’ Shanahan began after the three of them exchanged greetings.
‘God, you mean?’ Maureen asked, grinning cat-like.
‘Upstairs in the bar.’
‘I know some things already,’ Channarong said. ‘I ran into an old friend who was chatting up one of the girls.’ Channarong told Shanahan the man’s name, but it had endless syllables, and they agreed that from now on they’d call him Mr White. ‘He treats the girls better than most. They say he is good natured and generous.’
‘He also speaks English very well,’ Shanahan said.
‘He does. That’s not unusual for people in his line of work in Bangkok. He is a little frightened of germs. I was told that when he bought the bar, he completely remodeled the upstairs. Half of it is devoted to rooms for the girls and guys to spend time together.’
Maureen smiled.
‘The other half,’ Channarong continued, ‘is his apartment. The air conditioning operates in conjunction with an air filter. He rarely goes out.’
‘Any connection with rubies?’ Maureen asked.
‘None was mentioned.’
‘Maureen followed the man who provided me with Mr White’s invitation to a police station.’
Channarong shrugged. ‘The police are very much involved in Mr White’s kind of business.’
‘If that is his only business.’
‘Well, he has other bars, other girls,’ Channarong said. ‘My friend says he has a private room in each one.’
‘Does he have a police record?’ Shanahan asked.
‘I’ll see,’ Channarong said, taking a moment to form an answer. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘I’m doubling what we pay you,’ Shanahan said.
‘No need.’
‘You are doing far more than what we agreed. Are you willing to continue to help in that way? I could use your help.’
Maureen looked surprised.
‘A smile last night and now you are asking for help?’ She turned toward Channarong. ‘Maybe they kidnapped Shanahan last night and this is Fritz after all.’
Channarong smiled and agreed to help.
It might have been the heat or the thought of traipsing about the backstreets of Bangkok that caused her to bow out of a trip to find the young man who followed Shanahan yesterday. Channarong suggested she go to the Oriental Hotel. The hotel had an amazing number of restaurants to choose from. The concierge, Channarong told her, would provide her with many shopping options as well.
‘You got her at restaurants,’ Shanahan said.
Maureen made a face, but she knew it was true.
‘The object,’ Channarong said, ‘is never to be more than a few minutes away from an air-conditioned mall, hotel or restaurant.’
Shanahan, like other farangs, couldn’t seem to stop perspiring even if he stood still. Breathing too seemed a struggle. Escaping from the frying pan of an Indiana August he had jumped into a Bangkok fire. He would have to endure it. They would be going to neighborhoods not noted for multi-storied malls and elegant hotels.
The traffic was gruesome. Channarong had a van for the day and he seemed to have the same aggressive driving behavior as the rest of the vehicles on the wide expressway. They dodged motorbikes, buses, vans, tuk-tuks, trucks – all of whom seemed to be engaged in a race. Overhead, the BTS Skytrain whisked folks around without the practiced confusion below.
Before long they were on narrower busy streets, but with the same dodging and weaving, with pedestrians added to the mix. Shanahan had no idea where he was or even in what direction they were heading. When the streets narrowed again, the traffic thinned out until there was none. The buildings that lined the streets became more and more ramshackle as they continued until they became little more than temporary structures, obviously cobbled together with remnants of other structures. Walls, in many cases, seemed to merely lean on one another to stay vertical.
Channarong pulled over.
‘Be sure you lock everything,’ he said as he got out of the van. Shanahan followed. They walked into a building that had been abandoned before it was completely built. It wasn’t that old. Finances ran out. There were piles of clothing on the concrete floor, but little other evidence of human habitation. Soon they were in an empty space between buildings. The ground was muddy. Hoses and barrels were scattered around. To the left were three elephants. They noticed but seemed unconcerned by Channarong and Shanahan’s presence.
In a second building, very similar to the first, they saw a number of dark-skinned young men. They looked up. Puzzled, they muttered to themselves in Thai.
Channarong said something. Shanahan didn’t understand the question or the answers but saw the shaking of heads. More conversation. At one point all eyes traveled to Shanahan, then back to Channarong, who began handing over money to those who had talked. Others began to talk. Channarong, out of baht, put his hand out for more of the colorful currency. Shanahan obliged. Channarong pulled out the larger bills and handed them back.
Each of the seven or eight boys was on his feet, babbling louder and louder, vying for Channarong’s attention and reward.
‘Most of the boys are mahouts,’ Channarong said as the two stopped to look at the elephants on their way back to the van.
‘Mahouts?’
‘They tend to the elephants. They are friends, the elephants and the boys.’
‘What do they do with them?’ Shanahan asked.
‘Take them out into the city at night to beg or maybe entertain visitors. Nothing else the elephants can do anymore. They are not needed for labor. There’s no place in the wild for them to go. With the tips both the boys and the elephants can eat.’ He tugged briefly at Shanahan’s arm. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I didn’t get a close look at the boy who followed me,’ Shanahan said.
‘No,’ Channarong said. ‘He spends a lot of time here. Many of the mahouts who hang out together here take jobs for the police, including following people during the day. Mostly drugs, but they have worked with murder investigations.’
‘Murder?’
Channarong nodded.
‘What about smuggling?’
Channarong gave a ‘who knows’ shrug. ‘You never know, there’s always someone somewhere who expects a cut of anything going on. Could be rubies.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘Police?’ Channarong asked.
Shanahan nodded. ‘You have names.’
‘You’ll have to do this alone,’ Channarong said. ‘I’ll drop you off.’
‘A place you cannot go?’ Shanahan asked.
Channarong nodded. ‘Forbidden,’ he smiled, ‘but only if I want to enjoy my life.’ He turned back on to a wide expressway. ‘The officer I’m suggesting you talk to speaks English. At least well enough.’
When he was dropped off a block away from the station, Channarong said not to mention his name. And that whatever Shanahan did h
e was not to allow himself to be redirected to the tourist police. This wasn’t a tourist matter, he said.
Once inside and after successfully maneuvering beyond the suggestion that he not talk to the tourist police, he was taken to the officer whose name Channarong had written down for him. Shanahan was unable to pronounce the name and when addressing the Police Lieutenant Colonel, Shanahan addressed him as Colonel, which was met with approval.
‘I have a couple of things to ask about,’ Shanahan said.
The officer nodded toward a chair in his small, relatively plain office. He was somewhere between thirty and fifty years old and slender, as were most Thais. In fact most Thais were about half as big around as their counterparts in the Midwest.
Shanahan sat. ‘One is that I have been followed and I believe it is possible the police are the ones who believe I should be monitored.’
‘We are not following you,’ the officer said. ‘If we were, you would not know it.’
Shanahan nodded. He would have liked to have challenged the statement, but thought it unwise at the moment.
‘My brother is a man named Fritz Shanahan. You know him?’
The Lieutenant Colonel maintained his poker face, said nothing.
‘I’m trying to find him.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Family reunion,’ Shanahan said. ‘We’re getting old, Fritz and I. And I’d like to make amends.’
‘Why did you come here?’
‘To talk to you.’
‘How is it you came to ask for me?’
‘I’m not really sure,’ Shanahan said. ‘I’ve talked to many people. I talked with the fellow who lives above the Kitty Club on Soi Cowboy. You know him?’
The officer stood, came around from behind his desk.
‘Have you had a chance to dine on one of the Riverboats? I can recommend one. The food is good and the views at night are spectacular. You will have a different view of some of the temples you have visited. And for your lovely traveling companion a rich and romantic cultural experience.’
He spoke English very well and was intentionally letting Shanahan know that the two of them were being watched.
‘Once I find Fritz, I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the scenery and then go home, no bother to anybody.’
‘Mr Shanahan, people come here for many reasons. Most come for the exotic nature of Thailand, the spicy food and the beautiful women. If you are a sports person, you’ll see the finest kickboxing in the world. Many come to live out a fantasy. Some come here to lose themselves for a while or forever. Thailand can be a friendly, welcoming place. However, it can be treacherous for those who try to turn over every rock and for those who spend too much time in the darker places of Thailand’s soul. My hope for you is that when you leave Thailand you will have many happy, light-filled memories.’
‘Me too.’
He gave a slight bow and Shanahan knew the meeting had come to an end. The problem was that he knew little more than when he started out. By this point he hoped he would know the connection between the young man who tailed him, the man who sat beside him at Lumpini Park, Mr White, and now the Lieutenant Colonel of the police.
Maureen, climbing out of the rooftop pool, gave Shanahan, who was just stepping in, a brief rundown of her enjoyable afternoon, but only provided the high points because she wanted to know what Shanahan found out. He told her – in very general terms He swam a few laps, and sat in the hazy, carbon-laced sunshine with her for a while, before the two of them cooled off with beer, showered, napped, and prepared for an evening out.
‘Someone advised me to take you off on a dinner boat at night,’ Shanahan said.
‘Are you going to listen to his advice?’
‘That one piece of it, yes.’
‘What else did he say? It was a he, right?’ Maureen asked.
‘Yes, a he, and he wanted to talk about rocks and dark places.’
‘We are at a disadvantage here,’ she said. When he didn’t respond, she continued. ‘You know, your brother, even if he can be found, might not want to be found.’
Shanahan nodded. ‘I know. If I find him and he wants me to mind my own business, I will.’
‘Sure,’ she said.
The night was as the Lieutenant Colonel promised. Though there was no way to find any stars in the night sky, the many boats on the river were lit, as were many temples posing, it seems, as fairylands. The dinner boats were often two-story, golden inside, sounds of happiness drifting from them. Inside their floating dining rooms were elaborately costumed dancers, Thai music, exotic and colorful drinks, as well as the scents of curry, coriander and ginger.
When the food was served, they were pleasantly surprised by how many unfamiliar flavors could be so wonderfully combined. They had been warned about the spices. Maureen told the waiter that while they were somewhat adventurous, they were, after all, used to bland food.
‘It is good to be cautious and not foolish,’ the waiter said and smiled.
‘That’s always good advice,’ Shanahan said.
They ordered a bottle of wine because of the description on the menu:
Light pail color. Flourish and fruity nose. Dry, nervous, but not too acid.
‘I’ve never had a nervous wine,’ Shanahan said.
‘How about a foolish wine,’ Maureen said.
‘We may have just ordered it.’
When they later walked by a girly bar, she asked, ‘If you hadn’t met me, do you think you’d consider retiring here in Thailand?’
‘What I’d be doing is sitting in a bar all night with whiskey and beer, maybe watching a baseball game. I doubt if I would have had the energy to pack up and move here, though the beer is cheaper and one can wait for death just about anywhere.’
‘And the beautiful women?’ she asked.
‘There could be no other woman in my life,’ he said.
For a moment he expected a funny, flippant response, but he knew he had said it in far too serious a tone. She said nothing.
TWELVE
Cross had driven home late Sunday night, after his parents and Maya were in bed. He enjoyed the drive. It was so quiet on the highways and he could keep the window open, letting in the cool night air. Casey seemed to appreciate it as well, occasionally poking his head out of the window on the passenger side.
In the scheme of things the idea of a Monday morning usually meant nothing. However, devoting weekends to the family in Eaton meant there was some order in his life. And with two days of investigation not exploited and a murder charge a prosecutor’s whim away, he felt the need to get busy on the deaths that weighed heavily on his mind and threatened his freedom – maybe his life.
Cross invested in a ‘people search’ on the Internet and by paying a small fee got a little more information on Taupin’s son-in-law. It included the current address, not quite current, considering the situation, and all his previous addresses. If the address in Woodruff Place was still occupied by Mrs Taupin-Talbot, perhaps he might be able to talk to her. He might also be able to get some opinions from neighbors at his previous address. On second thought, he wouldn’t bother the widow, for now. It would likely only irritate her and therefore irritate the police and he would like to avoid them for as long as he could.
But that wasn’t meant to be. He was pulled from the shower by the phone ringing. Cross found the smooth, confident voice of Lieutenant Collins on the other end.
‘Cross,’ Collins said, ‘need you to be at the City-County building at three this afternoon.’
‘Should I bring a toothbrush?’
‘You never know. You’ll be meeting with the deputy DA. If you don’t behave, there is always the threat of incarceration.’ He said ‘incarceration,’ drawing its syllables out for emphasis.
Cross got the room number and the name of the ADA. The name was Lauren Saddler.
‘Oh, Lieutenant,’ Cross said, catching the officer before he hung up. ‘Do we have an identity on the female victim?’
>
‘No. A puzzle. We’re pretty sure she has Latin ancestry, if that means anything. Nothing from missing persons. That’s all I have. Good luck, Cross.’
A dial tone.
‘You’ve never seen a naked man before?’ he asked Einstein who had quietly appeared, sitting, and staring up at him. Cross went back to the bathroom to towel off and develop a plan for the day that included this added calendar item.
An elderly gentleman, who lived across the street from the victim’s home in Woodruff Place, was the only neighbor available shortly before noon on a workday morning. He had not seen anything out of the ordinary at the Talbot’s house. He had no recollection of seeing a woman who could be Hispanic at any time. But, he said, he didn’t make it a practice to spy on the people in the neighborhood.
‘A changing neighborhood,’ Cross said.
‘Back and forth, back and forth,’ the man said, using his hands to illustrate movement. ‘The place was a rat hole for a while, then came all the artists. Now, you got folks moving in and trying to make it look like it did when they wrote about it in the book.’
‘The book?’
‘The Magnificent Ambersons,’ he said. ‘There was a book and a movie. Took place right here in Woodruff Place. It was a grand place then.’
‘Still is,’ Cross said. ‘What do you know of the Talbots?’
‘Weren’t here long before he died.’
‘They seem happy?’
‘Yes. At first anyway.’
‘What do you mean “at first”?’
‘They didn’t seem to be doing things together. I used to see ’em out in the yard, gardening together, fixing things up, two of ’em driving away together. Then it was just like two separate people comin’ and goin’.’
‘They argue?’
‘Didn’t see any of that.’
‘Any other visitors?’
‘Sometimes an older man would come by, usually after the boy went to work.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Just a man. Average height. Wore a suit, hair all slicked back. Had black rimmed spectacles. Looked like a banker or an accountant.’
‘Conservative.’
Bullet Beach Page 9