Colin Cotterill - Anarchy and the Old Dogs

“Who would have thought it?” he said.

“Not me, certainly,” Siri replied. “How could you?”

“Come on, Doctor. I’m not all bad. She could do a lot worse.”

“I’m not so sure. You’re two decades older than she is.”

“Just numbers.”

“Do you love her?”

“No.”

Siri raised his brows. “I was expecting you to think about that for a bit longer. Does she know?”

“We’ve talked about it. Siri, she and I are friends. I respect her. I like her personality, most of it anyway. And she did save my life in Ubon. There’s fate connecting us.”

“Gratitude’s hardly a fitting motive for committing your life to someone. Besides, your life was never really in danger, Phosy. You had someone looking out for you. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to either of you.” Siri knew that Civilai had ensured no harm would come to Dtui or Phosy while they were at the camp.

“Yeah? Who was that then?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“You know I’ll get it out of you over a drink.”

“I don’t drink anymore.”

“Right. And I hear they’ve drained the Pacific so they can tile the ocean bed.”

“Believe what you want. And stop changing the subject. Dtui’s a daughter to me.”

“Look! I loved a woman in my way and she ran off. So, as far as I’m concerned, love’s overrated. It doesn’t suit me.”

“She loves you.”

“Dr. Siri. I made an offer. She accepted it. She knows I’ll be good to her. I’ll look after our child. We’ll grow old together and fight a lot and laugh a lot. I’m not going to invent an emotion I don’t have, but I’m a stayer.”

“If you ever go back on your word I’ll haunt you for life, and you know that isn’t an idle threat.”

“I promise.”

Siri stared into Phosy’s eyes and beyond them into his mind. “All right,” he said at last. “I believe you.” They shook hands. “Congratulations, Pa.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Sorry. Now, is all the father-son-in-law stuff over with yet? I have some news.”

“Go ahead.”

“The dentist’s wife.”

“What about her?”

“She’s a sow.” Siri once again exercised his eyebrows. “Or, at least, her blood wasn’t human.”

“You don’t say. The test came back from Bangkok?”

“Pure one hundred percent pig.”

“So her murder was staged.”

“The whole marriage was staged. I went back to Dong Bang and asked around. The dentist was a bachelor. They said the woman only turned up a few months before his death.”

“When the letters started.”

“Right. And it appears she only came to the village on certain days. The neighbors assumed she was a nurse or housekeeper. On the day we went there, she just happened to still be around. She was probably trying to figure out a way of getting her hands on the latest note. Waiting for the authorities to send his things home.”

“And we brought it right to her.”

“Remember, she took a while to read it? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was memorizing it.”

“So she was just a courier, there to pick up the week’s code.”

“She just put the old fellow on the bus on letter days and waited for him to bring it back.”

“But why on earth go to all that trouble? Surely she could have just taken his key and picked up the letter herself.”

“She probably would have preferred to do that, but something was stopping her.”

“What?”

“Let’s ask your Inspector Migraine. What do they have at post offices?”

“Stamps?”

“Think of something that might stop her wanting to be seen inside one.”

“Being seen…? I know. Wanted posters. Her picture’s on the wall of the Bureau de Poste.”

“Very good.”

“What did she do?”

“Espionage. She didn’t look it but that lady’s caused a lot of trouble for the new administration. I noticed the poster when I went to ask about Dr. Buagaew’s post box. The Security Division has a file on her a foot thick. The dentist had a little file of his own but only as a suspected Royalist sympathizer. I imagine they didn’t see him as much of a threat, what with his disability and all. He’d had the PO box under a false name for over ten years. I can’t imagine what he was using it for during the old regime.”

“Sleazy dental material from Europe, I wouldn’t wonder. But the woman? Is she still at large?”

“She always seems to be one step ahead of the authorities.”

“How intriguing, an aging adversary. She did a marvelous job of faking her own death to put us off the trail. She deserves a code name. Something to do with the devil, perhaps.”

“Sorry, the Security Division’s already christened her.”

“Probably some very dull name. They don’t have much imagination up there. ‘Woman 17B’?”

“They’re calling her ‘the Lizard.’’’

“Ooh, she must have really upset people in high places. Good for her.”

“Siri, she’s the enemy.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

Won’t be long

Wrong sex and wrong gender

Return to sender

Killed by tender loving lust

Dirty damned needle jab, dust to dust

What lethal sin

In just

A pleasure tax.

“Very nice, thanks. But, to tell you the truth, what I wanted to talk to you about was-”

“Five thousand kip.”

“What? I’m not asking you a question.”

“No. You want a conversation. That’s five thousand kip.”

Siri sat beneath the Aeroflot sign with a peaked cap pulled down over his face. Auntie Bpoo was wearing a hideous skintight cowhide-pattern dress that rode up her thighs. Fortunately, she had on khaki Y-fronts to preserve what little dignity she had. A light drizzle was falling and the fortune-teller held up a red-and-white polka-dot umbrella. Siri just got wet. Everyone passing along Samsenthai that evening felt sorry for the two crazy people.

“All right, so if I did give you five thousand kip, would you indulge me?”

“That was a question. To answer that I’d need another ten thousand.”

“Oh, come on.”

“All right. I’ll give you a discount. You can have a question and a ten-minute conversation for six thousand.”

“God, man. It’s cheaper to bribe a treasury official.”

“Take it or leave it. And it’s ‘Miss.’’’

“All right. I’ll take it. What I want to talk about-”

“In advance.”

“Look, if you can see the future, you know I’m not about to run off without paying.” Auntie Bpoo looked away and twirled her umbrella. “All right. All right.”

He handed over two bricks of fifty -kip notes. Since the devaluations, people in Laos had dispensed with their purses and wallets and taken to carrying cement bags for their small change. Auntie Bpoo counted each wad and decided he’d given her enough.

Siri considered this to be one of the most foolish investments he’d ever made. He could see her at the morning market buying a new leather miniskirt with his hard-earned salary. But the big female impersonator was good, he had to give her that. He’d even go so far as to say “gifted.” Siri had so little contact with freaks like himself, he often hungered for company. There were still a million questions he needed answers to with regard to his unwanted and poorly utilized abilities. He hoped Auntie Bpoo might be able to help. Mysticism produced strange bedfellows and there were few stranger than the couple seated on plastic bathroom stools on Samsenthai that evening. Auntie Bpoo took great pains to secrete the money in an enormous handbag.