He wondered how the monk here at his local temple could know who he was. He wondered whether the
It could have been minutes later, possibly hours, when he opened his eyes to see the oil lamp still burning beside him. He was annoyed that he hadn’t put it out. Lamp oil was still available on coupons at the hospital co-op, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Soon he’d have to use cooking oil and stink the place up.
He pulled back the mosquito net and lifted the glass bowl. But before he blew out the light, he had an odd feeling that his room was different. He looked slowly from wall to wall. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He puffed at the little flame and the room fell into moonless blackness.
He looked around at the darkness one more time, then retreated under the mesh tent. He lay his head on the small pillow. Still the feeling lingered. Then suddenly it came to him. It wasn’t a difference you could see; it was a smell. The scent of cheap perfume pervaded his room, and was becoming more potent.
The moon fought free of its cloud for a second and sent a glow through the window. At the very same moment, a tiny sigh like the breath of some small animal puffed past his left ear. He turned his head in surprise and, to his amazement, there was the sleeping face of Mai beside his own.
He retreated as far as the mesh allowed and held his breath. She lay breathing almost silently as she slept, a smile on her young face. Her perfect naked body stretched downward on the mattress beside him. Before the moonlight left them again, he noticed the deep slits at her wrists, the blood congealed and glinting red.
Then it was black again. He focused on her breathing. Not seeing her, but knowing she lay there, was even more erotic. He knew how inappropriate his feelings were, and wondered if this were penance for his immoral thoughts earlier in the day.
He had no idea what to do. Should he wake her? What was she doing sleeping here? If she’d come to him, presumably she had something to say. So why didn’t she say it? Perhaps the journey had tired her out. So he lay, shuddering with agitation, while she slept in peace.
Perhaps this was the message. Was she telling him she could be at peace now? Did she want to thank him for…?
There was a knock at the door, a tap as if someone were trying not to wake the neighbours. Siri jumped, like an unfaithful husband caught in the embrace of his naked lover, his naked, dead lover. He cursed whoever it was. All the ridiculous thoughts of half-sleep ran through his head as he prepared to answer the door: How could he hide her? What excuses could he give?
Then a man’s voice, a whispered shout, called out: “Mai, Mai, it’s me.”
Damn. This was part of it. It was all part of the show.
Psychics, he decided, would never have need of other entertainment. She stirred beside him. Her perfume floated over him when she moved. Then he heard her drowsy voice.
“I’m sleeping. What time is it?”
“Three. I just got back.”
She sighed again, this time with pleasure. “Go away.”
Siri lay back spellbound, like an audience listening to a radio melodrama.
“Nah, don’t be like that. I’ve got something for you.”
Siri heard her pull back the net and pad barefoot across the floor towards the door. “Does it have four wheels?” she giggled.
“Better than that. Don’t be cruel. Let me in. I’m dying for you.”
“What could be better than a car?”
“Didn’t you ask me to bring you something from Viengsai?”
She squealed. “Rubies? You didn’t! Did you bring me rubies?”
There was the sound of a latch hurriedly shifting. As the door opened, a dim light bathed her. She stood naked in the doorway, magnificently unashamed. The suitor remained hidden in the hall. She giggled again and reached out to him. But the strong left hand of a man grasped her wrist and yanked her outside. The door closed behind her, and darkness returned.
Siri, still breathing heavily, still shaking, scrambled from his bed and hurried to the door. He could hear the muffled sound of a woman choking beyond it. He found the handle and pulled it, but the door wouldn’t open. It was held fast by a large steel padlock.
¦
At six, Siri woke confused. He lay still for some time before a crustiness at his groin brought all the memories of the night back to him. Slightly ashamed, he went down to the bathroom and sluiced himself with cool water. It was fifty-six years since such a thing had last happened to him, and he didn’t feel any less guilty this time.
? The Coroner’s Lunch ?
16
Death by Intercourse
“Good morning, Siri.” Professor Mon was the director of the Lycee Vientiane. He was also Teacher Oum’s father. He was standing uneasily in the vestibule. He didn’t want to go into the morgue examination room, so Siri came out to meet him.
“Mon, how are you doing?” They shook hands.
“Fairly well, I suppose. I have a letter here addressed to you and Oum.” He handed a grey envelope to Siri. The stamp was from the USSR. “I think it’s about the chemicals you asked for.”
“It’s unopened.”
“There’s no one to open it.”
“Oum?”
“You obviously haven’t heard. They picked her up just after you left. They took her for re-education up in Viengsai.”
“Teacher Oum? What the hell for?”
“They said she’d picked up some radical ideas in Australia. They said her attitude was detrimental to the struggle against individualist thinking.”
“That’s ridiculous. What about the baby?”
“Her mother and I.”
“Look, Mon. This is absurd. I’ll talk to some people. I mean, she’s virtually my assistant. She’s the only chemist I’ve got access to. I’m sure for that reason alone…”
“If you could. We are quite anxious.”
“Don’t worry, friend. We’ll get her back.”
When Mon had left, Siri stood in the vestibule fitting one more piece into his scenario jigsaw. Not a coincidence, this. Not at all. It was so frustrating not being able to contact Nguyen Hong.
¦
An unfortunate old gentleman chose that morning to pass away in the hospital operating room, and was sent to the morgue for an immediate autopsy. Siri was asked to confirm that there’d been no malpractice. It was ten, and he had to meet Civilai at twelve. He didn’t like to leave a job in the middle, but this job was going to take a long time. So they made preliminary notes and put the body in the freezer until after lunch. Suk, the director, was furious, but Siri didn’t care much.
He was seated on the log by the river some ten minutes before Civilai arrived.
“Where’s our other member?” Civilai asked.
“I think he must have drowned the other day.”
“Or the fascists got him. I bet they can’t make him talk. Can you believe those Thai tin soldiers? They take over the country by force, then issue a statement that we’re an unlawful governing power. What balls they have!”
“What have you got for me?”
“Oh, ‘sit down, Civilai. Relax. How are you, Civilai?’” his brother prompted.
“Civilai.”
