Colin Cotterill - The Coroner's lunch

“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 toward 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 to be 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 toward the austerely 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!”

“Disgraceful.”

“Yell if you need me.” She waddled back up the bank.

They poured themselves drinks and were generous with the ice while it lasted.

“So. Mrs. Nitnoy?”

“It’s been difficult. I couldn’t just stroll up and interview people. You can imagine. But from rumor and hearsay, and goodness knows there’s no shortage of that, everything pointed to your comrade having a minor wife.”

“H’mm. That’s very traditional of him.”

“It turns out she’s a hairdresser, Mai, at a salon up at Dongmieng. She’s from Sam Neua, didn’t come down here till early this year.”

“You suppose she followed him down?”

“It looks that way. She’s only a young thing, about twenty-one. But according to the girls at the salon, she-”

“You went to the salon?”

“I needed a trim and a massage anyway. She was off the day I went. The girls think young Mai has very high ambitions. She doesn’t take this hairdressing training seriously at all. According to the others, she said she wouldn’t have to be a hairdresser for long.”

“Planning a step up.”

“Looks like it.”

“You think that’s enough reason for the comrade to bump off his wife?”

“Why not?”

“Why? He was getting the best of both worlds. He had his official wife for show and official engagements, and his hairdresser for-”

“-in-depth analysis of Das Kapital. ”

“Exactly. He had nothing to gain from it. But she did.”

“Ah, you’re a devious man, Dr. Siri. How would she get access to pills?”

Siri looked across the water, imagining himself with a pipe. “What if she wasn’t working on this by herself?”

“Meaning?”

“A boyfriend. I mean a real boyfriend. Or what if she’s a member of some anarchist movement? It would be to everyone’s advantage to get the minor wife into the comrade’s house. This is a small world. They just needed to get someone close enough to borrow her pills, slip in the cyanide.”

“Someone at the Women’s Union?”

“Or at a reception. She liked her beer.”

“It still doesn’t make sense. If Kham wasn’t involved, why….”

“You boys all right there?” the mama yelled from the bar. They signaled they were fine.

“Why would he go to so much trouble to cover up the murder? Why would he submit a false report?”

“He did?”

“I got into the files. Your report is the official autopsy document.”

“But it wasn’t finished. It wasn’t signed.”

“It is now.”

“Bastard. Well, can we get him for that? For forging an official document?”

“We don’t know it was him.”

“I do. He stole it from my office. Right under my nose.”

“Your word against his.”

Siri took a long swig of his rum and almost choked on an ice cube. Phosy slapped him on the back.

“Thanks. So what do we do now?”

“What we do is continue to keep quiet. I’ll see what I can get on the hairdresser, and make discreet inquiries about Kham. We still don’t have enough to make an official complaint, not even if we knew who to submit it to.”

“This stinks. I thought we’d taken over so we could clean up society. But all we’re doing is changing the variety of the corruption.”

“Don’t be so negative. This is just one isolated case. Things are better, you know that. The country the way it is now is a much healthier place to bring children into.”

“Is that re-education talking?”

“No. It’s me. I believe it. Laos is doing all right.”

They watched the sun land somewhere in Thailand and the pink sky turn to purple, then mauve. On a rock down by the water, a boy with regulation short hair and a girl with regulation long hair sat two feet apart. They weren’t allowed to hold hands.

The rum was gone and Phosy refused to let Siri walk him back to the hospital to get his bike. They shook hands in front of the hotel, comrades in crime prevention. Siri held on to the hand after it was shaken.

“Thanks for doing this. I know you’re taking a risk.”

“Me? No. I’m a born-again communist. Nobody’s watching me any more. But your friends need to be careful. Who else knows about this?”

“Only Teacher Oum at the Lycee. She did all the tests.”

“Well, you tell her to be careful. She should tell nobody else.”

“She knows.”

“Good. I’ll keep in touch.”

Siri walked back through the deserted streets. It was only 8 P.M., but Sethathirat Road was as quiet as the grave. Only an unlit bicycle passed him on his way home. Small pyres of burned rubbish were smoldering on street corners. A rat emerged from a drain and chased a skinny cat through the portal of Ong Teu temple.