Everyone Burns (34 page)

“But quite aside from those two reasons; why would you bother? You just have to snap your fingers and the two heavies outside would come in, beat any
required confession out of me and then crush me like a bug without the need for any damage to your art collection.

“So, no, Mr
. Rattanakorn, I don’t think you are going to shoot me. At least not yet. However, the gun
is
a nice touch, and your point is well made.”

He looks at me for a moment, then puts the safety catch on and drops the gun back into the drawer

He sighs. “Many businessmen have guns today, Mr. Braddock. These are dangerous and violent times. And while I can understand why people might think I have criminal connections, I can assure you they are mistaken.”

“As am I.”

“Every man is entitled to his delusions.” He leans back in his chair. “So why
are
you here exactly?” he asks.

“If the theatrics are over, may we talk hypothetically for a while? I have a story I’d like to tell you.”

Rattanakorn indicates a
go ahead
with his hands.

I take a deep breath and launch off.

“OK. For the purposes of illustration, let’s suppose that once upon a time there was a certain English private detective – let’s call him David – who had been making his living on an island in the Gulf of Thailand. Furthermore, let’s describe David as a man who … had a certain difficulty in reining in his sexual appetite. Put simply, he just couldn’t keep his hands off attractive women.

“Then one day David met a very,
very
attractive lady and the inevitable happened. And not just once either, but several times,” I add somewhat ill-advisedly.

“Now this may have been all well and good, but unfortunately the lady in question happened to be the wife of the top policeman on the island; and so David would spend much of his time looking back over his shoulder, waiting for the consequences of his bad behaviour to catch up with him. Are you with me so far?”

Rattanakorn nods, but his face remains expressionless.

“Anyway, one sunny afternoon in January, our detective
received a call summoning him to meet the Police Chief. As you can imagine, he thought the game was up, started checking his will was up-to-date, etcetera.

“
Picture his surprise therefore when the Police Chief told him that he wanted to employ him to follow his wife because he suspected she was having an affair.

“Not feeling able to refuse the Chief, the detective first
went to the wife and told her of his assignment. He then followed her to Bangkok and found that she was indeed having an affair – with a prominent, married businessman from the same island.

“Appalled by the woman’s reckless behaviour, David now has a dilemma. He obviously can’t tell the Police Chief what he has
discovered in case the story of his own affair comes out. On the other hand, if he tells the Chief his wife is innocent but she continues her rash affair with the businessman and the Chief finds out
some other way
, the detective is also in trouble. Do you see David’s quandary?”

“I’d say your detective was screwed,” says Rattanakorn leaning forward with a slight smile on his lips.

“Perhaps. But he does see one possible way out. He reasons that there is a good chance that the wife has
not
told the businessman that her husband has employed a private detective. Furthermore – he thinks – there is also the possibility that if the businessman
did
know the whole story, he might be unhappy at the wife’s risky behaviour which is putting his
own
marriage and standing in jeopardy. At that point he might end the relationship. Naughty wife keeps quiet: no reason not to, provided the businessman lets her down gently. Detective is off the hook. Everyone lives happily ever after. In the Chief’s case, in blissful ignorance.

“Of course,
” I continue slowly and meaningfully meeting his gaze, “there is a downside to this course of action. The detective would be taking a real risk in going to see the businessman, since the latter has something of a reputation for employing – shall we say – rather ruthless methods to fix his problems.”

“So what does your detective choose to do?”

Rattanakorn looks at me. I look back.

“He goes to see the businessman. And he keeps his fingers crossed the businessman understands his true intentions.”

I wonder what cogs are turning in his mind. Is he thinking about Kat’s behaviour, his marriage, his social position, Charoenkul’s reaction if it all goes public? Is he considering whether I should be allowed to leave the building alive?

The
jâo phâw strokes his chin reflectively then he leans forward across his desk and pushes a gold cigarette box towards me.

“Cigarette?” he suggests.

I take one and light it. He doesn’t. Instead he leans back in his chair.

“Changing the subject,” he says, “I gather my wife
Nittha has been to see you. In a professional capacity, I mean.”

“I never discuss my clients, real or imaginary.”

“You just discussed our Police Chief,” is his riposte.

“You are mistaken,” I say drily, “
that was a hypothetical situation.”

“Touché.”

He continues to look at me as I smoke. He waits for me to say something. I don’t say anything. When he has stretched the silence out as far as it will go, he asks nonchalantly, “Do you have many married ladies come to you for advice on their husbands? And do they come to see you as a counsellor or as a private detective?”

“I have married
and
single ladies come to me for advice on all sorts of things. Usually it is as a counsellor. Most married ladies here wouldn’t need to employ a private detective to find out if their husband is having an affair.
They would already know
.”

“I see.”

“I might also add that, in my experience, what such ladies really want is simply for their husband to stop fooling around. That’s all.”

I wonder how much this Godfather knows about me. I’m sure he’ll have done his research as thoroughly as possible since my initial call. So far as Nittha’s association with me is concerned he could
just be guessing – maybe his impression is that Nittha had hired me to follow
him
, rather than Papa Doc’s employing me to trail Kat. Impossible to tell from his face, the man is unreadable.

And of course if he’s
not
guessing about Nittha’s meetings with me, then it presumably follows that someone is engaged specifically to watch
his
wife.

He takes a cigarette from the box and lights it.

“You are an interesting man, Mr. Braddock; discreet
and
understanding. Although quite how you have gathered the impression that I am some kind of gangster, I don’t know.” The trace of a smile.

I shrug.
“Urban myths tend to cluster around powerful men,” I volunteer enigmatically.

Then
I ask him, “So how would
you
see my hypothetical story ending? Do you think the fictional businessman would believe the private detective and so end his affair with the Police Chief’s wife? Or do you think he would continue the liaison and maybe arrange for some unfortunate accident to happen to the detective?”

“I think,” he says cogitating on the matter, “
that if the detective is as smart as I suspect he is, he would have taken out some form of insurance against that happening. Say, leaving a document and some pertinent photographs in an envelope to be opened in the event of his death or disappearance, perhaps?”

“The detective
could
certainly have done that,” I reply, “but in my story he’s not that kind of man. He operates on a basis of persuasion, not on the basis of blackmail. So, no, he hasn’t left any such envelope.”

Rattanakorn gives a small nod of the head.

“I think I like this detective,” he says evenly, “even if he is a little naïve. He has a certain charm. I feel sure the fictional businessman would like him too. He may even consider himself somewhat indebted to the detective.”

I relax slightly in my chair.

“The detective is no saint, as I’ve explained. He’s really acting out of self-interest.”

Rattakorn gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Everyone acts out of self-interest,” he observes. “I wouldn’t trust anyone who doesn’t.”

“You appear to have a rather pessimistic view of humanity, Mr
. Rattanakorn.”

“A realistic view rather.” He pauses before continuing. “I may have some work for a man of your talents, Mr
. Braddock. Are you interested?”

“I’m always open to discussion.”

“Provided it doesn’t involve anything deeply criminal, of course,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Naturally
.”

“What cases are you working on at the moment?”

“Well, I am doing some confidential profiling work for the police on the farang murders.”

“Hmnn. Interesting,” he muses.

“I don’t suppose, with your extensive knowledge and network of people here on Samui, you would know anything that could be helpful to me on this?”

His body language signals regret. “It’s not my field, I’m afraid. I know nothing about it, other than what I have read in the newspapers. And newspapers are not inherently reliable sources of information, in my experience.”

“Nor mine. Other than that, it’s just my bread-and-butter business. I’m in the process of wrapping up a routine assignment on a bargirl in the Ocean Pearl then I’ll be watching another girl. And so it goes.”

Rattanakorn suddenly looks interested.

“The Ocean Pearl, you say?”

“Yes.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be Wiwattanee Lamphongchat, would it? Known as ‘Jingjai’?”

“Why yes,” I say surprised. “Do you know her?”

He laughs. “Yes, I know her. The question is: do
you
know her? Do you know who she
is
, I mean?”

I’m taken aback.

“Well, she’s a very talented young musician who is clearly over-educated for what she’s currently doing,” I improvise lamely.

“She’s far more than that,” Rattanakorn announces smugly.

“You have my attention, Mr. Rattanakorn. I’m all ears.”

“Wiwattanee Lamphongchat is the niece of a Bangkok business associate of mine. She was partly educated in Switzerland and holds a Batchelor’s Degree in Music. To my knowledge she is fluent in English, German and French. Her father died a
bout ten years ago while she was still at school. The Lamphongchat family is rather wealthy.”

“So what’s she doing working in a bar on Koh Samui?”

Rattanakorn chooses his words with care.

“Miss Wiwattanee somewhat disapproves of the family business, and consequently there was a falling-out a few years back.”

“You’re telling me her relatives are all gangsters?”

“Given your prejudices they are wealthy and therefore gangsters by definition.”

“Never mind about that.”

“Anyway, Wiwattanee want
ed to pursue a career in music, but she does
not
want her family supporting her – she thinks of it as ‘blood money’, and won’t accept their help. The girl wants to make her own way in the world: commendable in its own way, I suppose. She thought if she stayed in Bangkok the family would interfere, so she packed her bags and came to Samui. Hardly the place to start a musical career, I’d have thought; but I guess a musician has to start
somewhere
.”

“I’ve seen her performing. She’s good.
But how do
you
come to know all this?”

“The family likes to keep an eye on her – just to make sure she’s not getting herself into trouble, or associating with undesirables. So they employ a ‘minder’ here on the island to look out for her. As a favour to Lamphongchat I organise the payment of the minder’s retainer.”

“I see,” I say cynically. “So Jingjai’s uncle has some other paid gangster spying on her.”

“Hardly a
gangster
,” Rattanakorn retorts. “In fact the man is a local policeman, although a rather unpleasant one. You might know him: Chaldrakun is his name.”

“
Preechap
Chaldrakun?” I ask. “Otherwise known ironically to the ex pats here as ‘PC’?”

“Yes. Something of a gorilla, and not terribly sophisticated.” He wrinkles his nose. “I gather that’s why he’s never been promoted. So the minder money
must come in handy for him.”

“Does the girl know about him?”

“I shouldn’t think so, although it depends how discreet Chaldrakun has been about observing her. A policeman hanging around a bar shouldn’t really attract suspicion. That’s why he was chosen in the first place.
You
, of course, will
not
be enlightening her on the arrangement,” he adds. It’s not a question.