Dr Siri Paiboun 01; The Coroner’s Lunch

“Driver, do you?”

“Ha. Where do you think I would have earned the privilege of a French education? I’m a pauper. I’m a man of the earth. The soul of the new regime.”

“Good.” Siri switched to French. “Any theories yet, doctor?”

“Hundreds, but not a one that makes any sense. You?”

“Let’s try this. Tran and Hok were here on a mission that was so urgent Hok didn’t even wait for his bullet wound to heal. Let’s assume it was something damaging to us, and we picked up the delegation before it could reach its destination. They were brought out here to the islands with all the other criminals, tortured until they talked, then dumped in the lake and weighted down with old Chinese ordnance.

“But our people wanted your people to know we’d caught them, so they used dissolving string. They knew we’d then go looking for the third man and discover the Chinese shell casing which, given the chilly relationship between you folks and Beijing, would only serve to rile you even more. How’s that?”

“Sounds like a perfect incentive for an international incident. Probably enough to make us break off relations,” Dr Nguyen opined.

“It’s exactly the kind of thing our respective hot-headed Politburos would latch on to.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.”

“I just feel, I don’t know…I feel that if something’s so clear-cut that I can work it out, there obviously wasn’t that much effort spent on trying to cover it up. Maybe they didn’t expect us to figure out this much. If it had been left to the police, they’d have put in a report that would have gone straight to the committee. If it hadn’t been for the news getting to your embassy, the Vietnamese wouldn’t have heard anything about the incident. It would have been covered up and denied.

“It was either an amazing coincidence that someone identified the tattoos, or it was set up step by step. There just happened to be a military person on hand who just happened to recognise the tattoos? I can’t believe our side would go to so much trouble to break off ties with Vietnam.”

“What do you think we should do?” Dr Nguyen asked.

“Look, I have to go south for a couple of days. Do you think you could stretch out your official autopsy till I get back?”

“I don’t write very fast.”

“Good. I’d feel better if we didn’t start another war until we knew exactly what was happening,” Siri said.

“I agree.”

? The Coroner’s Lunch ?

9

Assassination

They took Hok directly to the morgue, where Siri introduced him and Nguyen Hong to the team. He explained that while he was away in the south, Dr Hong would be doing tests on Hok and using the office. As Nguyen Hong didn’t speak Lao, and apparently Dtui and Geung didn’t speak anything else, it wasn’t likely to be a chatty few days. But Siri had a feeling they’d all get along fine.

With the unknowing assistance of Mr Ketkaew, they put together a bamboo platform on short legs from what was left over from the kbon khouay office construction materials. By placing it carefully around Tran, they were able to slide Hok into the freezer above him as if he were lying on a very shallow bunk bed.

Siri went to clear a space at his desk for Nguyen Hong and found a large sealed envelope with his name on it propped up against the plastic-skull pencil holder. He assumed it was from Haeng, so he decided not to open it. Now that he was enjoying his work, he didn’t really want to be sacked. What he’d said to the judge was all bluff.

But after the Vietnamese doctor left, and Dtui and Geung were out tending their hospital papaya and mango trees, he could put it off no longer. He sat and slit open the plain brown envelope. Inside was a typed note, and it was indeed from the Justice Department. He wondered whether the committee would let him retire peacefully or if he’d be punished again.

He looked down at the signature and was pleased to see the name of Manivone the clerk. She explained that Siri had a seat on the early flight to Khamuan from Wattay Airport at six the following morning. The words ‘if convenient’ were added, probably at Haeng’s insistence, as a postscript. He would be met in Khamuan by a Captain Kumsing. Fishing in the envelope, Siri found his travel papers and three thousand kip in large notes.

A satisfied smile spread across his face like lard on a hot wok. He stood at his desk and did a little jig around the chair.

“What’s her name, then?”

Siri looked up to see Inspector Phosy leaning against the doorframe grinning.

“Claudette. Claudette Colbert.”

“Sounds foreign.”

“You see? That’s the investigative mind at work. Normal people wouldn’t have picked up on something like that.” Phosy came over to the desk and they shook hands warmly. “How’s life for a policeman in a city without crime?”

“Lots of interesting meetings and political seminars. In fact, there’s only one case that’s causing me any trouble, and that’s your friend Mrs Nitnoy.”

Siri put his finger to his lips and nodded towards the open window. “I’m just off for a walk. Want to come?”

“Pleasure.”

Siri packed everything he’d need the next day, locked up the morgue, and walked with Phosy down to the river.

In front of the Lan Xang Hotel was a makeshift outdoor bar that had seen better days. People didn’t have the money for wining and dining. This little bamboo affair only really did business at sunset. Then the out-of-towners, the government advisers, the ‘experts’ and Party people came down to enjoy the sunset. Locals gave themselves a treat once a month and sat nursing one soft drink for an hour.

As there were no walls or rules, customers could move the rickety tables wherever they liked to get a view of the sun taking its leave. Phosy and Siri carried their chairs almost down to the water’s edge, and the grunting bar mama lugged the table after them. She was delighted when they ordered half a bottle of Saeng Thip Thai rum and some quail eggs. Siri did have three thousand kip in his pocket, after all.

“You probably weren’t going to talk about Mrs Nitnoy at all,” Siri said at last. “But the hospital’s got its own chicken counter camped right behind our morgue. I get the feeling everything we say in there is on record somewhere. Were you? Going to talk about Mrs Nitnoy?”

“I was. You sure we can trust the frogs down here?”

Siri laughed. “I didn’t ever think it would get like this. I know there’s no great system of eavesdropping agents and spies. I know it’s all in our minds, but a mind is a powerful thing.”

The mama came jogging down to the water with a tray. On it were the rum, drinking water, little speckled eggs, and, miracle of miracles, ice. They looked at it as if it had just landed from a different planet.

“Where did you get this, mother?”

She lowered her voice in case there were any police around.

“I’ve got friends in the kitchen, over there.” She nodded towards the tacky frontage of the country’s premium hotel. It was a hostelry unlikely to gather ratings stars on the international circuit, but the Lan Xang was the pride of the capital. It seriously overcharged and the staff could only have been trained by Mack Sennett, but at least it was somewhere to put up foreigners.

“I don’t suppose they could rustle up some steaks for us, could they?” Phosy asked.

“If you don’t mind ‘em raw. You’d be shocked if you knew what they’ve got over there in that friggin’ kitchen. Makes you wonder who’s got the money to afford any of it. Wine and all, they tell me. Wine!”