Colin Cotterill - The Coroner's lunch

“I’m so pleased. Mr. Geung will be delighted when I tell him he can have a living wage.”

“Pay attention. I’m telling you to get rid of him and hire a normal person.”

“I can’t get rid of him. He’s the only one there who knows what to do.”

“He’s mentally deranged.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“I’m beginning to wonder in your case, Doctor.”

Siri sighed. “Judge Haeng, Mr. Geung has a mild strain of Down Syndrome. His condition makes him ideally suited for repetitive work. My predecessor spent a good deal of time teaching him his job. He isn’t going to forget it. He isn’t dangerous or clumsy, and his condition isn’t likely to offend any of the clients we get passing through our place.

“He’s been at the morgue for three years, so when I say he knows the work better than I do, I’m not being facetious. He’s constantly reminding me of procedures I’ve forgotten, and where things are stored. He has an amazing memory, and my nurse Dtui and I love him very much.”

Haeng was becoming agitated. He tapped his pencil on the table so hard the lead broke. “I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I can barely keep my eyes dry. But now let us return to rational thought for a second. Can you imagine how this would look if a visiting dignitary came to tour the hospital?”

“And I wasn’t wearing my plastic shoes, and Dtui forgot to put on her underwear-”

“Doctor!”

“Visiting dignitaries don’t go anywhere near morgues; and if by some miracle they did, they’d be struck by the compassion our great and farsighted republic shows by hiring three minority groups to work together in the same office. You have women, retarded, and horribly old people, all there on show.”

Phosy, who had been silent and unflinching throughout this embarrassing confrontation, suddenly cleared his throat loudly and offered: “I have a Mongoloid cousin. He doesn’t do any harm. He even fries us bananas every Friday. Most of the time we even forget he’s nuts.”

Siri and Haeng turned to look at the policeman, who wasn’t making eye contact with either of them.

That simple comment poured oil on the troubled waters in Judge Haeng’s office. It also let the judge know he was outnumbered. He agreed that Geung could stay on, pending an external assessment, but that he certainly wasn’t qualified for the raise Haeng had mentioned.

With that, the meeting ended. Siri and Phosy shook the judge’s hand and walked to the door together. But before following Siri into the hall, Phosy turned back.

“Comrade Judge, I feel compelled to tell you that today’s meeting has been a great inspiration to me. I hope it won’t embarrass you too much if I say that my confidence and my faith in the socialist system become re-ignited whenever I meet people such as yourself. I’m so happy that my country has figureheads like you to look up to.”

Hearing this from his spot in the hall, Siri felt like throwing up. When the policeman eventually joined him, they walked in silence along the concrete passageway to the carpark. This was the man they’d given Siri to work with, so, like it or not, he had to be polite. He watched him put his notebook into the pannier at the front of his old French motorbike.

“So, does your cousin live with your family?”

The policeman looked down at his boots. “What cousin’s that?”

“Your banana-frying Mongoloid cousin.” There wasn’t a reaction. “You haven’t got one, have you?”

Inspector Phosy straddled his bike. The slightest of smiles creased his lips. “I’ve got a sister with hemorrhoids.” He kick-started the bike four or five times before it engaged. There was a fearsome noise from the engine. Black smoke belched from the exhaust and neither rose nor dissipated.

Siri, in its midst, threw his head back and laughed, and at that second he made a decision. It was the fastest and potentially most dangerous decision he’d made for a long time. “I need to talk to you about a case.”

“It can wait till Monday.”

“No. No, it can’t.”

The inspector looked deep into Siri’s green eyes and nodded. “I’ll come to your rooms this evening.”

“You know where I live?”

“I’m the police.”

Without bothering to explain, Phosy sped off through a shoal of bicycles, leaving the riders choking in black smoke.

Phosy somehow managed to negotiate the stairs to the landing outside Siri’s door without making a sound despite the loose boards. So when he knocked, Siri jumped. “Come in.”

The policeman let himself in. He’d already left his shoes outside. He was casually dressed and was holding a bottle. You couldn’t help but respect a man who turned up at your door with a bottle. Siri looked at it. “I hope that isn’t a urine sample you want analyzed.”

Phosy came inside, quickly located the glasses and started pouring. “It’s only Thai brandy. I should have asked if you drank.” He handed a glass to Siri, who nodded to his generous guest.

“Is this a service of the new police force?”

“I was taught to show respect to my seniors.”

“You don’t have to suck up to me, you know.”

“I know.”

“Good luck.”

“Good luck.” They both drank.

“It seems you learned a lot at that camp.”

“It was a valuable experience. I can recognize seventy-three varieties of vegetables. I could tell you how old a rice shoot is, or how many months pregnant a buffalo.”

Siri laughed. “Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

They finished the first drink, and Siri took the bottle and poured a second round.

“So, they didn’t convert you to communism?”

“They made me aware of the values of the socialist system and the worthy eff-”

“Okay, okay, I won’t ask you any more questions about the camp. Tell me about Phosy the man.”

Over the next hour, Siri learned that Phosy had been married and had two children. While he was in the north, they fled across the river; he hadn’t heard from them since. He came back to a house empty of family and furniture, and was currently living in one room.

Phosy learned that Siri had been married and faithful to only one woman in his life. She had been unwilling to interrupt her contribution to The Cause, so they had never had children. This made loneliness all the more difficult when, eleven years earlier, she’d been killed under mysterious circumstances, leaving Siri with little enthusiasm for life, work, or the furtherance of the Communist Movement.

It was amazing what two strangers could learn in a short time with the aid of Thai brandy. Interesting, too, that each had weighed up the other so quickly and decided he was tobe trusted.

“So, did you really have a case to discuss, or were you just hoping I’d turn up with some booze?”

Siri knew he’d gone too far to back out now. He lowered his voice. “I can tell you, but I don’t know if you’d be interested in doing anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“It could get you in trouble.”

“What about you? Aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble?”

“I’m permanently in trouble.”

“Who told you you could trust me?”

“Your Mongoloid cousin and your hemorrhoidal sister.”

They laughed and drained the last dregs from their glasses.

“You don’t want to believe them. They’ve got big mouths. You got any coffee?”

While Siri prepared the aluminum filters and spooned in the rich coffee, he reviewed the official version of Mrs. Nitnoy’s passing for Phosy. But when he’d put the steaming cups on the table, he went over and closed the window shutters.

Mr. Ketkaew’s arrival at the hospital had reminded him there were ears everywhere: in the temple, in the house, in the next room. The Junior Youth League was being trained to listen to the idle talk of their parents and report it. Area security monitors like Ketkaew were lurking by open windows, listening for treason and Thai radio broadcasts. The Lao had been the most easy-going people in the region, but this mistrust was slowly turning them paranoid.