Everyone Burns (37 page)

He looks like he’s going to throw up.

“I never hit them, I never burned them. What could I do or say?
You’ve seen him
.
You know him
. He’s a violent man, with a violent temper. I have a family. What could
I
do?”

“You could have grown some balls, Tathip,” I say contemptuously. “Three men are dead. How long were you prepared to go along with this killing spree? Four men? Five? Ten?”

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “What are you going to do?” he asks again. “I’ll do anything.”

I lean forward. “You will say
nothing
to Chaldrakun about our talk. You will say nothing to
anyone
, do you understand? I will be in touch again soon. Until then you will act normally.”

I look at the quaking wreck before me and wonder how easy that’s going to be for him. Not very.

“Whatever you want,” he says.

After I’ve finished with Tathip I consult Charoenkul’s paper and take a drive to see where PC lives. Unusually, he lives among what is primarily a Chinese community off Mae Nam 4.

His apartment is on the top floor of a
small grubby white block; his front door and landing being accessed via two flights of concrete external steps. The whole shabby structure looks like it hasn’t been maintained in years, and none of the lights on either the stairs or the landings appear to be working. Some of the windows are boarded up: I guess only a few of the flats are occupied.

From the street below I can see that the lights in PC’s apartment are on, so I presume he is in although I don’t see anyone moving around. I don’t intend paying him a social call.

It strikes me as unreal that while Chaldrakun’s neighbours go about their preparations for the Chinese New Year, unbeknown they have among them a brutal man with a terrible passion.

I look at the red lanterns, the golden cut-outs of roosters, the jolly streamers hanging over the road. I think of the celebrat
ion to come, and it feels weird, like some sick cosmic joke.

I light a cigarette and contemplate the discussion I’ll be having shortly with Peter Ashley.

I wonder what to do next.

13

“When a man views this world as a bubble of froth,

And as the illusion of appearance,

Then the King of Death has no power over him.”

Lord Buddha, The Dhammapada

By the time I left Peter Ashley’s hotel last night I was completely drained of coherent thought.

I told him everything I knew about the murders except the addresses of PC and DTs, and where to find Jingjai.

I had worried that he would want to grab the first blunt object to hand and beat his brother’s killer – and his dumb accomplice – to a pulp. Recounting my findings to him was a calculated risk, but one I had to take. His brother
had
been murdered, after all.

To my relief, however, with the facts before him his reaction was more considered and less angry than anticipated. I think his main feeling was relief; that closure might at last be near. Ashley even started calling me ‘David’ towards the end. Much more of this and people will say we’re in love.

The former army man also appreciated immediately the dilemma we had:
as the killer is a policeman, how will the police themselves react to this news?

Before we parted we agreed to sleep on it, although I didn’t sleep much. I was anxious that Tathip might panic and squeal to his partner despite my implied and specific threats. Consequently I imagined every night noise outside my house to be Chaldrakun trying to break in and kill me.

I started to fret about how I may have exposed Wayan to danger too. But what could I do? Knock on the door to her room and say, “I’m worried we might have an intruder. Can I sleep with you in your bed tonight?” Sounds like the most feeble attempt at seduction ever.

However, it was not a killer tha
t arrived eventually but the dawn. And I was happy to see it.

Sunday, 6
th February. National Elections Day.

Yippee
.

I take breakfast in the sala. Wayan brings out a tray with scrambled eggs, toast, papaya juice and black coffee.

While I eat and smoke I doodle in my notebook.

Connections and interconnections
. The Old Monk was right after all.

The muddled Braddock psyche had
just over-elaborated on its original jewelled net.

But today my mind is clear as a choirboy’s conscience, even
if the rest of me feels like the Swamp Thing. I have no need to meditate to focus my attention. The way is open but my long march to Buddhahood will have to be put aside for now. I have a tricky non-spiritual decision to make.

I consider my options in the hot light of day.

I could contact Rattanakorn to ask for his advice. A jâo phâw should be adept at making life and death decisions. But what can
he
tell me to do? He’s not going to want to get involved in something like this. Why would he? He’s the guy who pays Chaldrakun’s wages.

Second option: do nothing.
Yeah, right
. And wait around for Tathip’s nerve to snap and for me to end up a smouldering corpse in some coconut grove.

There’s only one real option.

*       *       *       *       *

“There’s only one real option,” I tell Ashley.

We’re sitting at a driftwood table on the beach at Chaweng, having a mid-morning soft drink. I’ve had one of the restaurant staff put up an umbrella for us because the sun is especially scorching today. A family is creaming-up with sun-block not far from us and a dark-skinned hawker is trying valiantly to get them interested in some seashell jewellery. The sea looks calm and inviting. Kids splash in the water. An old Smokey Robinson number plays quietly on a nearby sound system. The incongruity between the holiday tableau before us and the subject of our discussion could hardly be greater.

“I’m going to have to talk to the Koh Samui Police Chief, Charoenkul. He’s the guy who got me into all this in the first place.”

“How do you think he’ll take it?” asks Ashley.

If I knew that, I’d be a very wise man indeed
. As it is, I’m still not sure whether he knows about my affair with his wife; whether he’s playing me along. And Chaldrakun
is
one of his trusted ‘boys’, even if he’s never promoted the ape. On the other hand, resolving the burning murders would fix his career problem, and it would be a poke in the eye for Katchai. Or would the natural lure of the police to close ranks prove too tempting?

“Well, if he’s minded to do the right thing, I don’t think there’d be too much of an issue with getting a conviction if the police act fast. There’s Tathip’s testimony which I’m sure could be obtained with a promise of clemency. Even if the inside of the police patrol car has been cleaned thoroughly I’m
confident a decent forensics team could still find trace evidence of the victims’ presence there. The tyre wrench must be around Chaldrakun’s place
somewhere
, and I’ll bet he has a stock of the incapacitating drug in his apartment.”

“But that’s only if the Police Boss is minded to do the right thing. The way you say it, it sounds like a big
IF
.”

I shrug.

“Anyway, I’ll go talk to him today. No point in delaying.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“For fuck’s sake, David,” he says in frustration. “I’ve been sitting around on my arse for two days. I think I’ve been
very
patient. Do you seriously expect me to go on hanging around like a spare prick at a wedding? It’s my brother who was killed, remember?”

“Peter, listen to me. You’re a man who acts first and thinks later. That is
not
what is needed here.”

He tries to interrupt me, but I go on, “Charoenkul knows you. Or at least he knows
of
you. He thinks you’re a nuisance and a trouble-maker, and he said as much to me. You’re loud and bad for the tourist trade. It’s better that I go alone. I can talk to him, reason with him if necessary.”

He looks at me
and his eyes are angry.

“You can’t
stop
me going to the police,” he announces stubbornly.

“That’s perfectly true,” I reply, “
but consider what the point of all this is:
to bring your brother’s killer to justice
. Not to satisfy your personal rage. You want revenge, fine. But let’s go about this in a way that will maximise the chances of the right outcome.”

I hand him the parcel I’ve had lying on the chair next to me.

“Besides,” I say, “you’re my ace in the hole.”

“What’s this?”

“All the files and transcripts Charoenkul has given me relating to the murders, including the one on your brother. If, for whatever reason, I don’t come back to see you later today, I suggest you get out of Thailand, take that with you and do whatever is necessary.”

Ashley looks shocked. “That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it? What do you imagine might happen to you?”

“Actually, I don’t know.”

“You’ve thought
all this through, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and looks at the parcel, then back to me.

“Are you going to see Charoenkul now?”

“No, he’s playing golf this morning. I’ll see him this afternoon if I can. Anyway,” I add consulting my watch, “I have a lady to see first.”

Kat.
Charoenkul’s wife
.

*       *       *       *       *

The police are much in evidence during my short drive to the office: election day duties. The voters, queuing for their opportunity to influence destiny appear hot but in a good temper. Some new food stalls have appeared from nowhere for the occasion, and they’re all doing brisk business. Trust the Thais to make a festival out of it. I wonder what Khun Thaksin is doing right now. Some last minute photo opportunities kissing babies, I guess.

Just after the hour I hear Kat’s heels on the stair
s to my office.

She looks bewitching, as always, but perhaps a trifle more reserved than usual. Almost coy. She wears a
cream and pink dress, but little jewellery, and her makeup gives her a demure quality.

She stands in the doorway and asks, “Can I come in?”
That’s a first
.

“Please. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

She sits down.

“What time was the Chief teeing off this morning?”

“Deng isn’t at the golf course.”

“Oh?”

“No, he had a call before he was due to leave, and he’s had to go into the office. He seemed very excited about it.”

“Excited stressed or excited happy?”

“The latter. Actually,” she reflects, “
he looked happier after the call than I’ve seen him in weeks. I guess it must be good news.”

“Bully for him.”

She looks at me meaningfully and indulges in a small pout.

“I had the feeling the last time we spoke that things were not right,” she says. “You were cross with me, David.
I wanted to know why.”

I decide on the direct approach.

“Maybe I just don’t like being lied to, Kat.”

“About what?”

“Well, let’s start with your condition, shall we?”

She says nothing.

“Look, Kat,” I say in a conciliatory tone. “I figured it out. I may not be the best private detective in the world, but I’m not an idiot.

“That trip to the hospital with your friend Sumalee. You weren’t accompanying
her
, were you? She was accompanying
you
. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? With you, I mean,” I add gently. “Just how serious is it?”

She looks at her hands
, then at me.

“Can I trust you, David?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“
Then it’s pretty serious,” she says. “My specialist tells me that, technically-speaking, I’m suffering from a malignant neoplasm originating in the cervix.”

“Jesus, Kat. You have
cancer
? And that’s the reason for your ‘shopping trips’ to Bangkok in recent months.”

“That’s the reason. I didn’t want to talk to any doctors here. Samui is too small an island.”

“Have you told your husband?”

“No. The only one who knows is Sumalee. And now you.”

“But you
have
to tell him.”

“I will. But not for a while yet.”

“But surely you don’t think you can keep any surgery and chemotherapy treatment secret from him. That would be absurd. It will be … obvious.”

“You mean when my hair starts falling out.”

“Hey, I think bald chicks are sexy,” I proffer in a weak attempt at humour.

She shakes her head and smiles sadly.

“It’s too late for all that,” she says. “They found it too late. I’m Stage IV, and the cancer has metastasized. Treatment at this point would be a painful waste of time.”

Not knowing what to say the investigator in me blurts out, “Is that why you’ve been so reckless lately? Because you think you’re dying?”

“I
am
dying, David,” Kat states simply. “And yes, why
not
have some fun while I can, while men still find me attractive?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I presume you do know about the
other
man?”

She takes my silence as a ‘yes’.

“Of course you do. That’s why you were in a huff with me. Well,” she goes on, “that’s over now.”

“Good,” I say. “
I’m glad about
that
. So when can you and I get back to having sex on a regular basis?”