Colin Cotterill - The Coroner's lunch

“I can get the embalmer to make her look nice.”

“She didn’t, you know?”

“Kill herself?”

“Yeah. She didn’t kill herself.”

“How sure are you?”

“I know her.”

“Do you know where Mahosot Hospital is?”

“Yeah.”

“If you come and see me there this evening about six, I should have some answers for you. I’d like to talk to you, too.”

She nodded again. “Thanks.”

The morning had passed him by. He didn’t even have time to put the bicycle back in the carpark. He pulled up alongside Auntie Lah’s stand to get some lunch.

“You? Dr. Siri?” She lit up like a brand-new traffic light. She was so pleased to see him, she used the illegal royal “you,” and bowed her head in a very polite nop .

“Now, Mrs. Lah, didn’t they teach you anything at your political seminars? You don’t want to let our chicken counter see you do that.”

“Ah, Doctor. That little twerp doesn’t scare me. Where’ve you been?”

“Khamuan.”

“I made your sandwich every day last week.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to cancel. I’ll pay you for them.”

“Not to worry. I ate them myself. I was just worried you wouldn’t be coming back. It’s lovely to see you.”

She fixed him a very special baguette and gave him the opportunity to look at her. She was a fine-looking woman. He couldn’t imagine why old men would chase new-hatched chicks when there were pretty hens in the yard. Something in him stirred, and he wondered what it would be like to be with her. He hadn’t been with a woman since he lost Boua.

“How’s your husband?”

She didn’t look up, but he noticed her blush. “Oh, he’s fine. At least he doesn’t give me so much trouble any more.”

“I see.”

“Just have to dust the urn now and then.”

Siri smiled, climbed back on the bike, and ferried his lunch down to the river. She stood, watching him go.

Civilai was sitting alone on the log. Crazy Rajid was lying naked on the bank a few meters from him.

“Am I disturbing anything?”

“No, you’re right on time. I was just starting to get envious.”

“He certainly has something to be envious of. Nothing compared to me, of course.” He sat down beside his friend.

“Really? I assumed it must have dropped off from lack of use by now.”

“No, still there. I felt a little bit of activity just now, to tell the truth.”

“Not one of the bodies? Don’t tell me you’ve stooped so low.”

“You know Mrs. Lah? The one who makes my sandwiches?”

“Her on the corner? She’s old enough to be your…daughter. Nice pair of hooters, though. I’d give her a run around the paddock.”

“Dream on, you old fogy.”

“How was Khamuan?”

“Interesting. Cut up two bodies that died of unknown causes, got malaria, and became fluent in Hmong.”

“Of course you did. Let’s hear it then.”

“You don’t speak Hmong.”

“Probably more than you. If you want to talk about chasing girls round paddocks, I’ve done a few laps with those lasses. Come on.”

Siri opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to his mind. He thought of a simple Lao sentence but he couldn’t even translate that. The language he’d been speaking naturally a day before had vanished.

“That’s odd. I’ve forgotten it.”

“Ah, yes. Languages are like that. Here one minute, gone the next. I was fluent in Japanese last Thursday.”

“No. I really could speak it.” Civilai grinned and chewed on his roll, and Siri knew it would be useless to argue the point.

“Do you know what the army is doing up there?”

“Crop replacement, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Replacing trees with fresh air. The province will be a parade ground if nobody stops them. Is there anything you can do about it?”

“Who do you suggest we send in to stop them? Prince Boun Oum on his elephant? No. The generals fought for the revolution for decades. This is the little pat on the back they’re giving themselves.”

“I must have missed that page in the manifesto. I thought corruption was the reason for the fight, not the reward. How much is the military giving you lot for forestry rights?”

“Is this what you called me here urgently to badger me about?”

“No. Well, partly. But I was wondering how diplomatic relations are going with Vietnam.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Except there aren’t any.”

“What happened?”

“Hanoi recalled the ambassador and most of the diplomats. All their aid projects are on hold. We brought back our fellow from Hanoi to show them we could be every bit as tough as they could. Now, nobody’s talking.”

“Damn. Not all over this torture accusation?”

“They aren’t satisfied. You didn’t come up with anything to suggest we didn’t work their men over?”

While Crazy Rajid waded into the water and started swimming across to Thailand, Siri went over the details of the case. He told of the visit to Nam Ngum even though he was sure his older brother had seen the district chief’s report already. But then he added something he was sure Civilai wouldn’t have read.

“Somebody tried to kill me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The day we got back from the reservoir. Nguyen Hong and I decided there were still too many questions unanswered.” He produced the two deformed shells from his pocket. “I got home late. I bent down at the front door, and these came flying into the wood over my shoulder.”

Civilai took them from him. “Siri. You…you don’t think this has to do with the Vietnamese ?”

“It was a bit of a coincidence otherwise.”

“But why? Did you find something that could incriminate anyone?”

“No. But I bet you the rest of your roll, somebody thought we did.”

“Whew.”

“My problem is, I don’t know which side it was.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t think our people would try to do away with you.”

Siri laughed. “You’re quite naive for a genius, aren’t you, brother? Of course they would. If I had evidence we had ‘interrogated’ those boys, we’d have a lot more than just diplomatic detente; there’d be a damned war.”

“All right. For the first time in fifty years, you have my undivided attention. What do you want me to do?”

“Do you know what that Vietnamese delegation came here for?”

“No.”

“Civilai?”

“No, really, I don’t.”

“Can you find out?”

“I can try.”

“Good. I’ll go through Nguyen Hong’s report and see if I can contact him in Hanoi somehow. We still have a lot of unfinished business.”

“Have you told your judge all this?”

“No. You know, I’m starting to think what a coincidence it was that the Justice Department would send me away in the middle of this investigation.”

“You have to start trusting people. You need allies.”

“You’re them, Comrade.”

“Oh, the pressure.”

“Do the words ‘Black Boar’ mean anything to you?”

“Not apart from the obvious.”

“Can you ask around? Something to do with the delegation. Perhaps the war. Vietnam.”

“Where did you get that?”

“From…I’m afraid I can’t disclose my sources.”

“Anything else?”

“There was something, but I can’t rem-oh, right. You speak French pretty well, don’t you?”

“Like Napoleon.”

“Dead?”

“Elegantly. Don’t tell me your French went the way of your Hmong.”

“Shut up. What does precipitation mean?”

“Well, it could be when you separate a solid from a solution in chemistry.”

“Or?”

“Falling from a height.”