Colin Cotterill - Anarchy and the Old Dogs

“Quite. It appears a deputy governor has managed to get himself electrocuted in the bathtub.”

“Clumsy.”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. But there are complications. I was on the phone with the governor for an hour this morning. He seems to think there are political implications.”

Siri laughed. “About a man electrocuting himself in the bath?”

“Siri. Please restrain the levity. The deputy governor was up here recently paying a courtesy visit to the Soviet embassy. I’m sure you recall how their ambassador likes to give away those horrible Soviet-built appliances as souvenirs: irons, fans, soldering equipment, all that type of stuff. Most of it’s built to withstand missile attacks-no removable parts. When any of it breaks down, you have no choice but to sell it for scrap and buy a new one. Well, the deputy governor got a water heater as a souvenir. You know the sort: thick wooden handle with a hook and a long metal element curled into a loop.”

“I’ve got one. You hook it onto the side of the bathtub, plug it in, and it heats up your water.”

“That’s the one. It would seem the deputy governor was in the bath while the heater was still live. Stewed himself. I tried to convince the governor that it sounded like his deputy’s own stupid fault, but you know what they’re like down there. He’s accusing the Russians of assassinating his deputy. He believes the heater was rigged, and he’s threatening to write his accusations in a letter to the Soviet authorities if the case isn’t investigated. We certainly can’t have that. I just need someone to go down there and put his mind at ease.”

“Why me? And I don’t need the warrior speech again.”

Judge Haeng had tried the line “Don’t question my instructions” before, and knew it didn’t work on a man like Siri. “Because you’re the national coroner, Siri. You’re the only one who can convince him it was an accident. He’ll have to believe you.”

Siri had become selective about the long-distance cases he accepted these days. They invariably got him into trouble. Traveling to the other end of the country for some ridiculous water-heater accident seemed pointless. There was only one thing that might entice him.

“What province?” he asked.

“Champasak.”

“I’ll go.”

“You will?” As usual when Siri agreed to obey one of Haeng’s directives, a look of astonishment appeared briefly on the judge’s face. Siri enjoyed watching it arrive and his fight to erase it.

“Jolly good. Here, take this for the journey.” Haeng held out the book.

“What is it?”

“It’s Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book. We’ve had it translated into Lao.”

“What on earth for?”

Haeng stifled his frustration and forced the book into Siri’s pocket.

“A good socialist is not a dustbin, with a closed lid. He is a letter box, always open to receive news.”

“Well, that explains everything. I’ll do my best to keep my slot open.”

“Good man. Right. I’ll book you on a flight early tomorrow morning.”

“No. Can’t get away till the evening. Say six?”

“Siri, you know there are no scheduled flights at that time.”

“Judge, that’s when I’ll be free to go.”

“There’s no way to…”

“Have you told the Soviet ambassador what they’re accusing him of in the south?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I suggest you do. With the Soviets and the Chinese and the Vietnamese all jockeying for some kind of role in our humble land, it would surprise me if the ambassador didn’t make his old Yak available for a special little trip south. You might mention that the Champasak governor’s threatening to write to Moscow.”

“I don’t…”

“Trust me, son. It’s high time the puppet started pulling back on the strings.”

Siri wondered what the hell he was doing there. He was aware of people walking along the far side of Samsenthai, looking in his direction. He was conscious of the clerk in the Aeroflot office staring out from behind the counter. Hers was one of only three glass-fronted shops on the block, and Siri could see his own embarrassed reflection in the office window. A cloud that had been threatening rain was purplish now, like an eggplant, and so close you could jump up and give it a squeeze. It complemented Auntie Bpoo’s dress, which was crimson crepe and stopped just above her rugby-player knees. Once again, Siri sat in front of her like a schoolboy before the headmistress, waiting for her to deign to speak with him. At last, she stopped meshing her playing cards together and looked him in the eye. A poem.

Time will blow

Woe betide-when every man

And woman can

Have access to a world

Of evil and of knowledge all unfurled

Within a case

Face to face in every home.

The transvestite’s stare burned into Siri’s face until he was forced to respond.

“Right,” he said. “Thanks for that. I was just hoping to ask about your last-”

“Ten thousand kip.”

“Eh?”

“Ten thousand. Cash. I don’t take bank drafts.”

“I thought you did all this for free.”

“I tell you your future for free. For interviews I charge.”

“I’m not interviewing you.”

“Then stop asking questions and give me a kiss.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. I wanted to see the look on your face. Now, Dr. Siri. Dr. Siri Paiboun. The lesser beasts around you seem to have settled down. Am I right?”

Siri didn’t need clarification. For over a month, birds and insects and small animals near him had acted weirdly. But as of last week, things seemed to be back to normal. The most recent incident he could recall was when he awoke one morning to find a large gecko on the pillow beside him. It was on its back and appeared to be snoring. That had been the last. For some reason he wasn’t surprised that Auntie Bpoo would know this.

“Yes.”

“Good. Just a little surge of energy. But don’t ignore the animal kingdom completely. Pay special attention to water-borne creatures.”

“Fish, in particular?”

“Ten thousand kip.”

“Sorry.”

“You will suffer a loss of sensation.”

“It’s started already.”

“This too will pass. Your body’s going through certain changes.”

“Damn, I thought all that was behind me decades ago.”

The corner of Auntie Bpoo’s mouth creased. It might have been a smile.

She continued. “You have to expect ascents and descents. These are marvelous times.”

Quite unexpectedly, she raised the hem of her crepe dress and gave Siri a flash of her naked genitalia. Attached with pink plastic string to the usual goods were four or five additional baubles: one delicate silver globe, two ping-pong balls, and a seashell. At least that was all Siri was able to memorize in the time allotted him. He didn’t recall seeing a penis but it might have been there somewhere among the flotsam. Auntie Bpoo lowered the dress and continued as if nothing had happened.

“One more thing, old fool. Do not forget this. At the back of every wicked man, there is a shadow. Is that shadow any less guilty than he?”

Siri sat on the familiar leather seat of his old motorcycle and marveled: seventy-three years of age and still clueless, still a victim of impulse and irrational instincts. Dependent suddenly on a man in a dress who spoke in riddles and left him feeling as small as a head louse. But this grotesque man-woman creature knew it all. She knew what Siri was tuned in to and what was going on inside him. The doctor had no choice but to listen to her words and attempt to make sense of them. The life Siri had been cornered into was a lonely one that even his closest allies couldn’t begin to understand. No matter how queer his new acquaintance might have been, he was determined to make a friend of her.