enough for Dtui to keep up. She smiled and raised her thumb. “He had a couple of kids with one of his wives,” he continued, “but they don’t keep in touch. The army was really the only family he had.”
They watched Mr. Geung removing the too-small underwear from the big major, respectfully flipping him this way and that as if he weighed nothing at all.
“Your man knows what he’s doing,” said Yamaguchi to Siri.
Dtui didn’t bother to translate.
“He’s number one on our team,” she said. “I’m number two.”
Yamaguchi laughed. He had an easy humor and a dazzling smile. If only they could turn his volume down.
“Nice of you to let Dr. Siri come along,” he said.
Siri was too nervous to notice they were talking about him. He’d never performed an autopsy in front of an expert before. He was the first to admit there were large gaps in his proficiency. He was a surgeon by choice and a coroner because nobody else wanted the job. He told Yamaguchi he could step in with comments whenever he wanted, and began with the external examination. He made observations about the general condition of the body, the ravages of alcoholism, odd bruising here and there, and, last but most certainly not least, attention turned to the penis-modest but at attention. Siri had noted the pathologist’s questioning look in that direction when they’d first encountered the body. As the American had experience in dealing with autoerotic accidents, Siri asked whether this was a normal phenomenon.
“I have seen post-mortem erections,” Yamaguchi said. He spoke slowly and Dtui enjoyed translating for him. “But only on two occasions were they the result of sexual stimulation,” he continued. “At one time we were called to a house where a rather large man had died while making love to his very slight wife. She hadn’t the strength to remove him and he was still erect so it was rather like uncoupling a train carriage.”
Auntie Bpoo, sitting on a recliner with her back to the autopsy, was able to help with the imagery whenever Dtui got lost.
“The other occasion was an autoerotic incident not unlike this,” Yamaguchi continued. “The only difference was that the cord had broken and the victim fell onto his face. So you would notice that in both cases the victims were face down. The erection was maintained because the blood followed the rules of gravity and then congealed. I was confused when I saw the major this morning because he’d died suspended in a sitting position. The blood should have drained away from his organ, not into it. I needed to check with my manual as to whether this was physically likely but the situation wasn’t covered. I’d need to consult with a urologist to be certain but I really don’t see how this was possible.”
Siri knew the Americans would very much like to learn that the death of their major was not the result of perversion. He respected Yamaguchi for his experience but he didn’t know the man personally. Siri lived in a world where doctors were constantly encouraged by the authorities to see things that did not exist or to overlook things that might be an embarrassment to the Party. He saw no reason why the imperialist West should be any different.
“So you’re saying you don’t think he died in the position we found him?” Dtui asked.
“I’m always learning new things,” Yamaguchi told her. “There will always be mysteries and anomalies.”
It was a diplomatic answer, given that this wasn’t his autopsy. But the response gave Siri more fodder for thought. He’d also been confused by one or two things. He lifted the major’s chins to get a better look at the ligature marks. The band of bruising formed an attractive macrame necklace high on his throat. The hands were clenched and there were no fingernail marks around the wound which might indicate the victim had fought to free himself. Mr. Geung and Yamaguchi helped him roll the body onto its stomach. There was surprisingly little hypostasis on the back of the thighs, perhaps because the major was suspended when he died. Or so it had appeared. So far, everything had been predictable. That was until Siri traced the ligature marks to the back of the neck. He leaned to one side to follow the bruising then stood back. Yamaguchi, seeing the look of surprise on Siri’s face, stepped up to the table. He tilted his head to one side, looked up at Siri and shook his head.
“What? What is it?” Dtui asked.
“Come and have a look,” Siri told her.
Dtui focused all her skills of observation on the bruising but nothing came to her.
“Think of where he was found,” Siri said.
“He was behind the door hanging by the neck from the doorknob,” said Dtui, “so he … he was hanging. That’s it. If he died from hanging the bruise would climb up like an inverse Y,” she said.
“Whereas?”
“Whereas this goes flat around his neck like a necklace. But that means….”
“It means Yamaguchi was right. Major Potter didn’t die in this position and he didn’t die from the hanging. I’d say he was strangled, probably while he was lying on his stomach under the quilt. That’s why there are no fingernail marks as he tried to loosen the garrotte.”
Yamaguchi was explaining exactly the same hypothesis to Secretary Gordon who looked every bit as surprised as Dtui.
“What about the erotic … bit?” Dtui asked.
“The erection? I don’t know. He’d had a lot to drink so it might have even been the result of a full bladder. If he was face down it’s more likely that it occurred on the bed in his sleep.”
“So someone must have set this whole thing up.”
“It’s the only logical explanation. Drugged him, I wouldn’t wonder.”
“Why?”
“The first thought that comes to me is that if the US embassy believed their representative had died in extremely embarrassing circumstances they’d want it covered up. The Americans would be on the defensive and our people would be in a very strong negotiating position. If it was straightforward murder, we’d get the blame and the old brown sandal would be on the other foot.”
“Doc? The explosive.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“If he’d been blown up by his own dynamite they’d blame his drinking habit. It wouldn’t be quite as embarrassing as this but bad enough. Drunk in charge of explosives.”
“Someone wanted him dead and embarrassed. The first attempt didn’t work so he or she resorted to this.”
They looked up to see Yamaguchi and Gordon staring at them across the body. Dtui and Siri stared back. There was a long silence.
“What do we do?” Dtui asked.
“We either keep our suspicions to ourselves and mobilize our morgue squad to come up with a concrete plan,” said Siri, “or we share our suspicions now with the Americans.”
“Perhaps they haven’t worked it out.”
“Look at them, Dtui. How many years of education do you suppose they have between them? They’ve got it, all right, and if I was one of them I’d be certain
“It does all point to us,” Dtui agreed.
Ignoring the corpse, Siri, Dtui, Mr. Geung, Auntie Bpoo, Yamaguchi and Gordon sat on fold-up chairs overlooking the plain and went through the case step by step. Of course the Americans had come to the same conclusions. Together, they made two rather quick decisions. Firstly, not to perform a full autopsy on the major. He’d been victimized enough. His name was tainted and somehow they’d have to find a way to clear it. They decided to wrap the body, find a cool spot for it and hope that the smog cleared soon so they could send him home.
Secondly, and this was risky, they agreed not to tell anyone other than Inspector Phosy about their findings. They didn’t want to alert the killer that they’d seen through the deception. Siri would secretly tell Civilai and Daeng but that subclause didn’t need to be included in the oral contract. Someone had gone to a good deal of trouble to kill the major. It was somebody who would not draw attention by being seen around the hotel. As they were surrounded by exploding countryside, the only access was through the front of the Friendship and past the dining room. So the perpetrator was either one of the staff or a member of the teams. They drew up a list of suspects. The hotel had a permanent staff of four, including the manager and his wife, plus three day workers who walked up
