Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness (33 page)

Then Peaflower said something in Chinese that Ladarat couldn’t follow. Ahh… this is bad. This is exactly what they’d been afraid of. She will know that Wiriya is no Chinese businessman from Kunming. She will be certain in the next few seconds. And she will run.

Ladarat turned to Wipaporn, who said nothing. Indeed, there was nothing to say. They had tried but failed.

Watching Peaflower’s face closely, Ladarat saw a hint of… what, exactly? Not fear. Or even concern. It was a subtle twitch of the mouth that suggested annoyance.

A woman is in a closed room with a strange man who is behaving strangely. Other women might be concerned or afraid. But this woman is simply annoyed. She must have considerable confidence. She must be a strong woman. And perhaps also a dangerous one.

Still Wiriya said nothing. He just stood there, leaning lightly against the wall at his back, with his hands folded loosely at his waist. His expression didn’t change. No—there. He smiled. Just a little.

Ladarat recognized that smile immediately. It was the winner’s smile.
Yim cheua cheuan.
It was the magnanimous smile that the winner bestows on the loser.

And Peaflower recognized it, too. Although it took her a moment to determine what that smile meant for her. Her expressions flowed from one of polite interest to concern to aggression. But never fear. At no time in that five-second shift in the weather did she ever look afraid. And even now, as she must have been realizing that she’d been caught, her fixed smile denoted hostility.

“I know you’re not a Chinese businessman from Kunming,” she said in Thai.

So there it was. Their plan was over. So simple and elegant, but they had failed.

But then Peaflower said something that surprised Ladarat. And judging from the proud smile on Wipaporn’s face, it pleasantly surprised her as well.

“I know that you’re here as part of an immigration investigation, are you not?”

Wiriya said nothing, but a faint smile and flick of his chin suggested that this information was not the surprise to him that it was to Ladarat. Wipaporn was smiling broadly.

“Somsak came up with that on his own,” she said. “Such a clever boy.”

Ah, so that was it. That’s what Somsak had been saying in the front entryway.

“He told her that there was an inspector who was doing routine passport checks at the request of the Thai immigration service,” Wipaporn suggested. “That would keep her from running away as soon as she realized your friend doesn’t speak Mandarin.”

They turned their attention back to the screen in time to see Peaflower reach into a handbag that she’d placed on the floor next to her. With a flourish, she produced her passport and handed it to the detective.

Wiriya accepted it with a nod but still without speaking. He glanced at the page with Peaflower’s picture, looking from the picture to her, as if he were checking her identity.

Apparently satisfied that this murderer was a Thai citizen, he handed the passport back to her, and it disappeared into her bag. It was only as she was thanking him for his time in a sweetly deceptive voice that Wiriya finally spoke.

“I’m not here about your passport.”

Even if Peaflower had managed to maintain her equanimity up until this point, this was more than she could tolerate. Her facial expression cycled through confusion, fear, anger, and back to confusion in the space of a second.

“But… Somsak… the man downstairs…”

Wiriya shrugged. And smiled.

Peaflower seemed to have realized that she’d walked into a trap. What kind of trap, she wasn’t sure. But she must know that the man in front of her dressed as a Chinese businessman who was supposed to be an immigration inspector wasn’t either of those things.

Yet there also seemed to be a cool calculation unfolding in her head. Sure, she seemed to be thinking. This wasn’t what she had expected. But she had gotten out of tough situations before. Much tougher than this. She would see where this led.

And indeed these thoughts seemed to have played out to their logical conclusion, and Peaflower shrugged and smiled. And focused her attention on the detective, who continued to lean against the wall.

Then she looked up contemptuously toward the camera, noting that it was there, as she expected it to be. Interesting. She waved in much the same way that Wiriya had only a few minutes earlier. But then she seemed to dismiss the camera altogether.

Despite Peaflower’s display of bravado, Wiriya was still smiling the winner’s smile in a way that was starting to be a little eerie. No doubt precisely what he intended.

Wiriya didn’t say anything, but now he seemed more relaxed. Almost friendly. But why?

Finally it was Peaflower who broke the silence.

“Okay, so I know you’re not… a client. Or an immigration inspector. But you must be very clever, to have gotten past my sister.”

At this, Wiriya arched an eyebrow. It was barely perceptible, but Peaflower saw it.

“Ah, you didn’t know the mamasan is my sister? We grew up together as children. We are family. And you are… nothing. She is on my side in this.”

Ladarat snuck a look at the mamasan. She didn’t turn away from the monitor, but only gave an almost imperceptible shrug.

Was nothing as it seemed? And now whose side was the mamasan on? Surely not on theirs. Ladarat glanced around, but they were still alone in the office.

She felt acutely out of her depth, but what was she to do? Besides, Wiriya didn’t seem to be worried. So she, Ladarat, would not be worried either. She would… await developments.

“Then who are you? Let’s start with that. Who are you to be so clever and sneak past my good sister? Then you can explain why you brought me here.”

Wiriya seemed to be thinking carefully about whether now was the time to speak. He waited five seconds. Then ten, as if he were considering the merits of an enormous decision. Finally, he spoke. But when he did, it was in a voice that Ladarat had never heard from the detective. Warm and soothing, he spoke as a radio announcer would, very late at night. He spoke as if he were trying to reassure the woman in front of him.

“Ah, Khun Anchan. Forgive me for my silence. I was simply waiting for the right moment. But let me explain.” That tone induced another flicker of annoyance to flash across Peaflower’s face. But it disappeared almost as quickly, leaving a demure expression that was as calm as it was unreadable.

Peaflower seemed to relax a little. Now, at least, they were in territory that she could understand. This man in front of her—she didn’t know why he was here, but presumably he wanted something. And if he wanted something, then they could negotiate. Peaflower glanced down, and let her shoulders slump. In an instant, she became a poor, simple country girl. Simple and trusting.

“As you wish,” she said, looking up briefly.

But in that quick glance up at Wiriya, Ladarat saw that she was scheming. Calculating. Reviewing her options. Oh, she was clever.

Wipaporn saw it, too. “She is playing the simple Isaan country girl. She will use all of her wiles on your friend.”

Just as you have, Ladarat thought. You and your nephew. At the same time, she found herself wondering what that list of wiles included.

“First,” Wiriya said softly, “I didn’t bring you here. You brought yourself, did you not? Everything you’ve done over the past—how long has it been? A year? Two years? Five years?” The detective waved a hand dismissively.

“No matter, we’ll get to that. However long it’s been, everything in your past has led you here. You see”—he smiled—“you and I have to be here now. It is fate.”

Now Peaflower looked confused. As if she was starting to sense that things were not going well. As if perhaps this was a situation she wasn’t going to be able to evade so easily.

“I don’t believe in fate,” was all she said. Then she sat there quietly, waiting for the detective to make the next move. Which he did.

“We know all about you,” he said. “We know everything.” Then he was silent as Peaflower thought very carefully about what “everything” might consist of.

Apparently she didn’t think it would include much of importance. “Then you have the advantage on me, Khun.” She smiled in a way that might be construed as charming, but Ladarat wasn’t worried. She was reasonably certain that the detective would be immune to these particular charms. Particularly since he knew perfectly well where those charms had gotten other men before him. That knowledge, she thought, would be a pretty effective anti-aphrodisiac.

“But I am impolite. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Detective Wiriya Mookjai, of the Chiang Mai Police.” And he reached into his left breast pocket and produced his identification, flipping it open with a practiced flick of his wrist.

Peaflower froze in place, her face becoming an ugly and bitter mask. In an instant, she’d aged ten years or more, her features becoming sharp and her mouth pinched like a witch’s. She looked mean, and evil. But not defeated. Not yet.

Almost as soon as her face had changed, it melted back again, and her features softened into those of a young girl. A young, innocent girl. And her profile shifted, too. Where her gaze a second ago had been direct, chin up and glaring, now she was demure and almost scared.

It was an act. Ladarat knew that perfectly well. As did the detective. But it was a brilliant performance, she had to admit. Even Wipaporn was impressed.

“She’s always been able to do that,” she said a little sadly, as if this ability were an illness. “She can be a little girl, or a comforting wife or—if need be—a ruthless adversary. All in the space of a second.” She shook her head.

“It’s remarkable, but it’s what led to all of her troubles.” She paused. “It’s what led her to this moment, I suppose.”

And Wiriya seemed impressed, too. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. But he didn’t soften. In fact, it was almost as if these quick changes galvanized him into being more direct than he would otherwise have been.

“We know, for instance, that you’ve used this establishment’s services to find ‘husbands,’ haven’t you? And, no”—anticipating her retort—“that isn’t a crime. Fortunately for many lonely men, it’s perfectly legal. What is not legal, though, is killing them.”

“Of course not, Khun Wiriya. Of course murder is not legal,” she said in a plaintive little girl voice. “Who could possibly think it was?”

“Some people”—he paused—“might become confused about just what is legal and what isn’t.”

“Well, let me assure you that I am not one of those people.”

“That would be good, if it were true. But you see, we know perfectly well that it isn’t.” He didn’t wait for her to interrupt, but instead plowed ahead.

“We know, for instance, that you looked for ‘husbands’ with a very specific name. Such consistency is perhaps laudable, but when your previous husbands have died, one has to wonder at the importance to you of that particular name. So I am curious. Does that name have sentimental value? Is it perhaps a lucky name?”

Peaflower was quiet but watchful. It was as if the tables were turning against her slowly. She recognized that change in the game but wasn’t ready yet to turn and run. So the detective continued.

“We also know, as I’ve said, that these ‘husbands’ of yours seem to have a very high mortality rate.” He allowed himself a small smile. “One would be tempted to conclude that life with you must be a risk factor much like smoking is. One might almost be tempted to say that you were dangerous. At least”—he paused—“to men with an unfortunate name.”

“Yes, it’s true that I have suffered much loss in my life. I am truly a poor woman who has been unlucky in love. But is that a crime, Khun Wiriya? Can I be arrested for being unlucky?”

“No,” the detective admitted. “Being unlucky is not yet illegal. But sometimes luck needs a little bit of help to turn one way or the other. Haven’t you found this to be true, Khun Anchan?”

Peaflower didn’t answer. She was still trying to figure out what this detective was certain of, and what he was guessing about. And that was worrisome, because Ladarat knew that he was mostly guessing. They had what was probably called circumstantial evidence. A series of connections and coincidences. But would that be enough to convict her? Probably not. If it were, Wiriya would simply have arrested her.

And it seemed that Peaflower was having the same thoughts, and reaching much the same conclusion. So she was ready to try to be tough. She would deny everything. And she might get away with it.

Perhaps that was why Wiriya decided to change his tactics. He seemed to pull himself up a little straighter, and he folded his arms across his chest. The net effect was that he appeared ten centimeters taller. His voice changed, too, dropping an octave and becoming rougher. He began talking in a faster rhythm, making points quickly, as if to head off any interruption.

“We know you have a marriage certificate from a man named Zhang Wei, dated about five years ago. Whether you killed that man is, unfortunately, not known to me. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he met an untimely end. Since then, though, we know that you’ve been using this marriage certificate to collect the life insurance of unsuspecting Chinese men with the same name. You lure them here from nearby regions of southern China—Kunming, especially. You draw them here and you establish that they do indeed have a life insurance policy and that they have no dependents. Then you kill them, confident that Chinese law will award you at least some of the life insurance money as the recognized spouse. Even if the family contests the claim, you are sure to get something. And we suspect that you’ve done this not just once, but many times, dropping these men at emergency rooms around our city in order to obtain an immediate death certificate.”

Peaflower looked stunned for a second, but only a second. Recovering almost instantly, she managed a laugh that, although not entirely convincing, was still quite impressive from someone in her difficult predicament.

“Of all the things you believe that I’ve done, Khun Wiriya, there is one aspect of these… accusations… that is most surprising. Exactly how do you believe that I’ve killed all of these men? I’m just a single woman, small in stature. And weak, too. How do you propose that I’ve managed to murder these men?”