Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness (32 page)

“The fruit seller, is he all right?”

Somsak looked confused for a moment, then he smiled. “Of course. I didn’t want any witnesses, so I gave the police a tip that he was selling durians out of season. The police carted him off with his durians. After I’d bought one, of course. But I promised him I’d watch his cart for him until he’d paid his fine. It didn’t take more than an hour. When he came back, he found the baht you’d left him. And I left him five hundred baht for his trouble. I think it was a very profitable day for him.”

Somsak looked at his large watch. “But now we must hurry.” He beckoned Wiriya to follow him as he scurried toward the stairs by the front door.

Wiriya rose but then stopped. “I will go and… await developments.”

He turned back to Ladarat. “That doctor. The Chinese doctor you thought you’d be able to find, did you—”

“Yes, I think so. At least, there’s a Chinese doctor in the hotel district near the mall who said he’s given many prescriptions for a Mr. Zhang Wei, but all by way of the man’s wife. He hasn’t seen the man in years.”

“And the last prescription was…”

“Just last week.”

“Could he identify a photograph of her?”

“I sent it to him after I spoke with him this morning and…” She opened her phone quickly, checking her e-mail. Nothing. She shrugged. The doctor’s office manager was out sick, so he had warned her that he might not be able to reply to her until late afternoon.

“Maybe he will reply soon?” she said hopefully.

“Maybe.” Wiriya smiled at her. “No matter. But if he does, give me… a sign.” Then they were both gone.

A sign? What sort of sign would that be?

A very pretty Chinese girl, not the one she’d met on her first visit, appeared a moment later to gather up the tea things, and then motioned for Ladarat to follow her through the door behind the bar. At first she thought she was being ushered out of the way, and that she’d be stashed in a back room somewhere. But the girl led her through the door and then into the mamasan’s office just to the right. The office was plain and businesslike, with an oversize desk plunked down right in the middle, and piled with neat stacks of paper that looked like bills and invoices.

What caught Ladarat’s attention wasn’t the desk but the wall of video monitors against the far wall. There had to be… she counted them. Sixteen in total, in two horizontal rows. And Wipaporn was seated in front of them. She turned just long enough to offer a polite
wai
and to gesture to the chair next to her. Ladarat took a seat and looked at the monitors more closely.

There were two that seemed to cover the front entrance, and several more that showed the main room from various angles. So the whole time she’d been out there, someone had been watching her?

Well, probably not. Her eye caught a flicker of movement in one monitor far to her right. She leaned behind the mamasan to get a better look, and realized that anyone looking at these monitors most definitely would not have been watching her drink her tea. There were far more interesting options on offer.

“Oh my. Is that…” She tried to sound composed. As if videos of naked couples were something that she experienced every day. (But for the record, they most certainly were not.)

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” the mamasan said. “Besides, the man is well known in the tourism ministry. Very well known. It wouldn’t do to have people mention they saw him here.”

Ladarat wasn’t sure how to tell her host that from this angle, it was difficult indeed to see any part of this man that would lead her to recognize him later, if they were to meet on the street. He was safe from her, at least. But if privacy was such a concern, then…

“You seem to have many video screens, Khun.” As always, Ladarat was a master at stating the incredibly obvious.

Wipaporn smiled for the first time. “Tell me something, Khun Ladarat. In your work, you are responsible for the ethics of an entire hospital, are you not?”

Ladarat nodded, not sure where this was leading.

“So in order to ensure ethical behavior—that is, behavior by the rules—you need a series of safeguards, do you not?”

Again Ladarat nodded. It was true, they had their chart reviews and consent forms, and ethics consultations…

“So when men come here, we expect that they will play by the rules. That they will follow the rules agreed upon. And if they don’t, well, this is our system of safeguards.”

“So… you will know if a man… breaks the rules?”

“We will know, but it’s more than that. We will be able to explain to the man exactly what it was that he did wrong. In terms of safety and compliance with the rules, it is essential to be specific, don’t you agree?”

Ladarat did agree, and indeed she couldn’t have put it better herself. It was certainly essential to be specific about what the rules were, and what a transgression involved. Especially in a country like Thailand, where rules could be bent and changed and shaped to fit the moment. She had to respect someone who was so committed to the letter of the law.

But what law was that, exactly? And what “rules”? And how does a video camera help enforce those rules?

Wipaporn leaned over and put her finger on a blinking orange light beneath the video screen that displayed the couple. Ladarat tried not to look at the screen as she attempted to make sense of the blinking light.

It took her a moment, but finally she understood. “It’s a… recording?”

“Indeed it is. Many of them. For every client.” She smiled in a way that was a little eerie. “So you see, Khun, there is no danger of our clients breaking the rules. We are very clear about our expectations. And if there is any dispute… well, this is our safeguard.”

Ladarat was tempted to ask what sorts of disputes might arise, but she was reasonably certain that she really didn’t want to know. Nor, truly, did she want any more information—visual or otherwise—about the important man from the tourism ministry.

Instead she pulled her mobile phone out of her bag and checked her e-mail quickly. Still nothing. No, there it was. A very brief message from the very tired Dr. Arhit Tantasatityanon.

“That is her.”

Ladarat smiled to herself at a bit of detective work well done. Wait until she told Wiriya. He would be impressed. Speaking of whom, where was he?

She scanned the monitors again. There, one of the monitors right in the middle of the line. She hadn’t seen him at first. The monitor was only black and white, and his blue suit blended in with the dark background of the bed he was sitting on. He was sitting so still, in fact, he could have been a piece of furniture. Ladarat smiled as she thought about the detective as a piece of furniture in her own house. An armchair, perhaps.
Maewfawbaahn
would be pleased.

Then the mamasan pointed to the front door monitors as a woman approached. She seemed sure of herself and didn’t hesitate as she turned toward the front door and entered. Together, they watched her progress across the large downstairs room and up to the bar, where Somsak was waiting. He offered her an informal
wai
, which she returned perfunctorily. Then he emerged from behind the bar and followed her to the stairs.

As Peaflower reached the first step, though, Somsak seemed to have a last-minute thought. He said something that caused Peaflower to whirl around. From the second step, she towered over Somsak and he took a couple of steps backward.

What was this? Ladarat glanced at Wipaporn, who was drumming her bright red manicured nails on the desk. She had a steady but fast rhythm. Click-click-click-click-click. She didn’t take her eyes off the monitor and simply shrugged in response to Ladarat’s unspoken question.

He was warning Peaflower away. He had to be. What else could he be saying?

The camera’s position only revealed Peaflower from behind, but her gesticulating arms offered a clue to a careful observer that she was not pleased with the news that there was a policeman upstairs whose goal it was to arrest her. This news did not seem to be brightening her day. Somsak opened his mouth to speak twice, but each time was left with his jaw hanging, useless.

Finally, though, he seemed to regain the power of speech, and it was his turn to harangue their visitor. He pointed up the stairs, and then at the door, talking the whole time.

Peaflower heard a little of whatever he had to say, but apparently that was enough. She came down those two steps in a hurry, giving Somsak a quick choice to move or be pushed out of the way. He chose to move.

Peaflower headed for the door much faster than she’d come in and had almost reached the
Hing Phra
shrine at the edge of the camera’s field of view when she pulled up abruptly. Peaflower stood there, perhaps thinking. Or perhaps listening to Somsak—both their backs were turned so it was impossible to tell who was speaking.

Eeehhh. This was anxiety-provoking. What was he saying?

Ladarat thought for a moment, glancing at Wipaporn, whose drumming had increased speed. Still, she wouldn’t meet Ladarat’s eyes. And still she said nothing.

Was he giving up their plans? No, that couldn’t be it. If that were the case, Peaflower would be gone. She wouldn’t be standing in place, not twenty meters from where a detective wanted to arrest her for murder. And yet Somsak most certainly had said something… concerning.

And Wipaporn seemed almost as worried as Peaflower was. So whatever was going on downstairs, she wasn’t aware of it.

Whatever it was, though, seemed to have been resolved to Peaflower’s satisfaction. She turned, finally, and walked sedately—almost regally—across the main floor and up the stairs. Somsak stepped aside to let her pass and then followed meekly, like a royal retainer.

Just as Ladarat hoped she might get a good look at the woman, the two of them were lost from view. But then they reappeared at one end of a long hallway that was lined with doors on either side.

So all was well. Or was it? Wipaporn’s manicured nails had ceased their drumming, which was good. And she was even smiling slightly.

“What…”

But Wipaporn just shook her head. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

She leaned over and spoke softly into an old-fashioned microphone that was resting on the table between them. “Your friend is here. In the hallway.”

Wiriya didn’t seem surprised to hear a voice issuing from the ceiling. If Ladarat was surprised by his nonchalance in response to this disembodied voice, she was stunned when he turned toward the camera, targeting it exactly, and gave a cheerful wave.

In that moment, all of Ladarat’s pride in having tracked Peaflower to the Chinese doctor evaporated as she realized that her part in this whole endeavor was actually pitifully small. Wiriya had known about the rooms all along. And about the video cameras. Presumably he’d worked this out with the mamasan in advance? And the dance between Somsak and Peaflower, Ladarat was sure that was part of the plan, too. But what?

No matter. She
had
played a part, hadn’t she? Of course she had. She could say that proudly.

And this was no time to dwell on matters of credit, or pride. Wipaporn was focused intently on the video screen as Peaflower pushed the door open. The corner of the door was just visible in the lower-left part of the screen and it obscured the woman for a moment. Then the door closed with a soft click that was easily audible through the speakers on the desk.

Finally, Ladarat found herself with a close-up view of the woman who had caused all this trouble. Unmistakably the same woman in the photo, although that photo had been taken earlier. Much earlier, perhaps. It was five years old at least, and maybe more. Even from this perspective, the resolution of the video camera was quite good. The better to ensure adherence to the rules. In any case, there would be no doubt about who this woman was. The doctor would have no trouble identifying her. Nor probably would any one of several dozen hospital staff who met Peaflower, however briefly, during one of her late-night deposits of the latest dead ex-husband.

WHEN DEATH DOES NOT BRING PEACE

W
iriya stood to greet her, offering her a respectful
wai
, which—to her credit—she returned. The camera revealed the two of them in profile, the detective on the left and Peaflower on the right. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to speak first. Ladarat had assumed that Wiriya would take the lead. He’d tell the woman everything that he knew. He’d overwhelm her and force her to confess. But he didn’t seem to subscribe to that strategy.

In fact, it was looking as if he didn’t really subscribe to any strategy whatsoever. He was just… standing there. His hands were clasped at his waist in a pose of quiet confidence. And he was looking at Peaflower with an amused smile. It was if he was waiting for something. Not waiting for her to speak. Just waiting for… something.

If Peaflower was confused or disturbed by this behavior, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seated herself on the one chair in the room, facing the camera. She smiled, crossed her legs primly, and folded her hands in her lap. In that moment, she looked like the perfectly demure future wife. Gentle and submissive. She gestured to the bed, the only logical place for Wiriya to sit.