Colin Cotterill - The Merry Misogynist

When two clearly drunk but ominously heavy men wandered into the morgue at nine, yelling and screaming with the scent of stale rice liquor on their breath, Siri was inclined to send them packing.

"This is a hospital," he said. "At least have the decency to sober up before you come staggering around here."

He didn't have anything against drunks per se — goodness knows he'd been one often enough — but there was a time and a place. Nine in the morning in a morgue was neither.

"You a doctor?" asked the less sotted of the two. "We're looking for a doctor."

"I'm a coroner," Siri told him. "Come back when you're dead."

"What's his name?" one man asked his colleague.

"Who?"

"The doctor they told us. Come and see Dr — shit, what was his name?"

By now, Geung and Dtui were at the office door squaring up to the intruders, ready to throw them out.

"Dr Sorry," slurred the other drunk.

"Siri," said the first, "Siri Pai…something."

"I think you two should go away and come back when you regain possession of your minds," Siri told them. He stepped over a sleeping dog that nobody else saw and came around to their side of the desk.

"But the police sent us," said the first man.

"They sent you here? Why?"

"We was looking for the inspector."

He held out a slip of paper with Phosy's name and number written on it but dropped it and watched it float under the desk. His colleague fell to his knees to give chase.

"Don't bother," Siri said. "I saw it." But the second man was already on the trail of the elusive slip of paper. He tried to rise when he heard Siri's voice but, forgetting he was under a desk, banged his head on its underside and crashed back to the floor. This caused both men to laugh hysterically.

"Dtui, get my gun," said Siri. Siri didn't have a gun but Dtui ran off to get it anyway.

"No," shouted the first drunk. He threw his hands in the air. "Don't shoot. The cop said if I could remember who told me about the invibisible rice worker he'd give me a half…I mean a full bottle of Thai rum."

It suddenly dawned on Siri what this was all about.

"I take it you mean 'invisible'?"

"That's what I said."

"The woman who works the fields covered from head to foot?"

"Yeah!"

"Who told you?"

"He did."

He pointed to the legs of the second drunk, who had apparently passed out under the table.

"Mr Geung, could you please extract this gentleman from under my desk?"

Geung was stronger than he looked and had the large man out and in a sitting position in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," said Siri. He leaned over the groggy driver and glared at him. "Hey, you!"

"Me?"

"Yes. You saw the woman?"

"I did?"

"The one they convinced you was invisible." The man's eyes stared ahead as if recalling a nightmare. "Oh, she was. She was."

"Where was she?"

"Just a shape…nothing…inside the…"

"Where — was — she?"

"In the field."

"All right. My fault. Bad question. Where was the field?"

"Where?"

"The district."

"Ban Xon."

Ban Xon was only seventy kilometres from Vientiane and most of the road there was straight. Siri would have preferred to travel with somebody else, if possible in a car or truck. Civilai had a car, but he drove so slowly the twins would be reaching puberty by the time they got back. Neighbour, Miss Vong, had a truck, but she still wasn't speaking to Mr Inthanet so there was no hope of getting help there. Judge Haeng could probably sign him out a Justice Ministry car, but Siri would sooner slide naked down a splintery plank than beg the boy for anything else.

So Siri was on his Triumph, the hot air blow-drying the features off his face. Dtui had wanted to ride pillion, but there was too much of her now, and Siri feared the potholes and bumps might prematurely bring on labour. So he was alone: Easy Rider. He and Civilai had watched the film in Hanoi, dubbed in French. Siri wanted to look up and smile at the sky like Peter Fonda, but he knew he'd be on his back counting stars if he didn't study the road all the way. Motorcyclists in Laos didn't get to appreciate a lot of scenery. He didn't take any stretches fast enough to feel his hair flapping against the side of his head but he was able to smell the scent of the share-a-fistful blossoms that edged the highway. At that speed there wasn't a worm on earth that could keep up with him. For a man standing at the exit of existence, it was exactly what he needed.

He arrived in Ban Xon mid-afternoon looking like he'd been dipped in powdered cinnamon. He removed his goggles and stared at himself in the mirror. He was a perfect photographic negative of the Lone Ranger. He needed a wash very badly. He went into the nearest coffee stall, ordered water and coffee, and selected a packet of Vietnamese munchies that hung from a string at the front of the shop. He dusted himself down and washed from the communal clay water pot. When he was presentable he sat down to drink his coffee. Inevitably, it tasted of road dust.

The shop owner was a heavily built and — after a little coaxing — jolly woman in her fifties. She was the same well built, jolly woman who ran the coffee shops and noodle stalls the length and breadth of the country. He'd seen her everywhere: the same smile, hair in an untidy bun, the same bawdy humour. The same washed-out pastel blouse and threadbare purple phasin.

Siri was the only customer and the woman must have been starved for company because she sat with him as soon as she'd served the glass of coffee. Once all the preliminaries — work, travelling from, age (you look much younger), marital status, children, etc. — were out of the way, she got around to "What brings you to Ban Xon?"

"I'm here to see the invisible woman," he said and smiled.

"You know, Granddad?" She leaned on the table and it creaked. "It beats me how that silly rumour got so much mileage. I have people stop here all the time asking if it's true."

"And it's not?"

"You're a doctor, Granddad. How likely is it?"

"I see things all the time I can't explain."

"Well this is just…just silly. There was a perfectly good reason why the girl was wrapped up like that."

Siri's heart did a little dance. "So there was a girl?"

"Oh, yes. And you could see her. Very pretty. She came to dances and village events. All after dark, of course."

"Why, of course?"

"She had a condition. Some medical thing to do with the sun. Everyone knew about it. People round here like to tease strangers who pass through. I suppose that's how the invisible woman story started."

"Why do you talk about her in past tense?"

"Oh, she's gone, Granddad. Stroke of luck, if you ask me. Married a very eligible young man and left."

"When was this?"

"Over a week ago now. I was at the wedding party. It was a good do."

"So you saw the groom?"

"Interesting-looking chap. Nice personality. Very happy man, I'd say. I wouldn't have minded a fling with him myself. He's something important with the roads department if I remember rightly."

The rice farm was four kilometres out of town along a dirt track that was all deep ruts. By the time he reached his destination, Siri had attained the dexterity of a gramophone needle. It didn't take a great detective to see how poor the family was. The house was loosely woven elephant-grass panels on a bamboo-and-wood frame. The roof was thatched. There was a bamboo conduit that snaked down from the hills, bringing water from a spring to a large oil drum. Three chickens scratched around in the dirt, and an anorexic dog, one that Siri didn't recognize, slept under a bush of thistles. Siri called out. There was nobody home.

In March there was no water in the paddies; so the farmer's work was to repair damaged levees and clear land for new fields. Siri passed the little altar that held offerings to the spirits of the land. With the kind cooperation of Lady Kosob, the rice goddess, there would be early rains, and they would not fall in torrents that destroyed the earth embankments that separated the rice troughs. It was clear the offerings had been too paltry to raise this family from poverty. There were only two small paddies attached to the farm but they appeared to be deserted. After a long, circuitous walk, Siri finally found a sunburned man and two teenaged boys sheltering in a flimsy grass-roofed lean-to. There wasn't an ounce of fat between the three of them. The youths seemed drugged with ennui.