Colin Cotterill - Killed at the Whim of a Hat

“I’m — ” I began, but he waved us through without saying anything.

There were police everywhere that I didn’t recognize and I was starting to think the place had changed hands in a coup, but then I saw Constable Ma Dum hurry out of the meeting room. I called to him.

“In there,” he said, looking twice at my bodyguard.

We walked into a room that was crowded but not active. It was like half-time at a sporting event when the team was being thrashed to within an inch of its life. A few mumbled conversations ceased and all heads turned to look in our direction. I recognized the two detectives we’d seen at Wat Feuang Fa. Major Mana was there and Chompu and a dozen men in uniform, most of whom I didn’t know.

“Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” said the taller of the two detectives. His hair was stiff and spiked like the bristles of a bottlebrush and his face looked as moistureless as the skin of a longan fruit. His partner was in poor shape but thought he could also get away with wearing tight jeans and a black T-shirt tucked into his belt. He couldn’t. Both men homed in on Arny who cowered beside the door.

“Manage to pray your way through your loss, did you?” said the paunchy cop.

Of course, they remembered him from the day we’d first visited the temple, but neither of them had seen me that afternoon.

“What brings you here, big man?” asked longan skin.

“He’s with me,” I said, stepping up to the two detectives and offering them my most subservient wai . Neither man bothered to return it.

“This is the reporter,” Mana told them. Chompu stood behind him with his eyes fixed on my brother.

“Interesting,” said the detective. “And what a coincidence. Titan here turns up at Wat Feuang Fa the day after a killing to cry over some imaginary bereavement, and his girlfriend just happens to be interfering in a case that no other reporter in the country knows anything about.”

“Fishy,” said the paunch. “I’d like to hear how you both wound up at the temple in the first place.”

“Very well.” I nodded my head. “Then let’s all get comfortable, shall we?”

I walked through the throng of visitors to the bosom of the local team. It was one of those ‘think on your feet’ moments. I needed time to come up with a story that didn’t damage the already fragile reputation of Pak Nam police but one that didn’t push me and Arny into the front chorus of suspects. I sat on the low window ledge and folded my arms.

“The reason we were at Feuang Fa temple,” I said, “was because I’d received a telephone call telling me there’d been a killing out there.”

“Who from?” asked longan skin.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge my sources.”

“So, you’re saying that someone just happened to have your number, knew you lived around here and randomly chose you to pass the information on to?”

“No, nothing random about it. I moved down here nine months ago at which time I traveled hither and thither passing around my name card and telling everyone I’d pay for information on serious criminal activity in the district. This was the first seedling to poke up its head following that early sowing. With regard to my…our visit to the temple, my boyfriend, who is actually my brother, agreed to drive me there that afternoon, despite the fact that he was still grieving over his beloved dog, John, who had been poisoned that morning. Arny is a very sensitive man and the journey proved to be too much for him. His need for solace was quite genuine. I, on the other hand, was devious. I opted to sneak out of the truck in search of witnesses. As there was no crime scene marked off I was perfectly within my rights to do so.”

I was grateful that the expense and the lost weekends of my M.A. course hadn’t been totally in vain. If nothing else, my analysis of George W.’s oratory style had taught me that a sincere countenance and a confident stance were sufficient to distract your audience from the fact that you were talking rubbish.

“Which brings me to the camera,” I said. “This may be harder to believe, but there was a small dog called Sticky Rice who was in the habit — ”

“All right,” said longan skin, “we know the dog story. What we need to know is whether you made a copy of the photographs.”

“How dare you?” I said, with heapings of indignation in my voice. I was ashamed at how quickly the deceit had sped from my mouth. In the background I could see Arny’s eyeballs roll.

“I confess, when I found the camera I did attempt to turn it on,” I said. “I mean, it could have belonged to someone at the temple. But it had experienced serious damage at the paws of the dog and I couldn’t operate the ‘play’ mode.”

“You didn’t think to take out the memory card?” asked the paunch.

“Cameras have memory cards?” I gasped. “I thought that was just computers. Whatever will they think of next? Why are you asking? Haven’t you been able to open it?”

I hadn’t seen so many heads exchange guilty glances since our secondary school chemistry teacher asked us who was responsible for exploding a stink bomb in the staff room. There was a geometric web of eye contact around me. At last the tall detective nodded to Mana.

“First of all,” said the major, “nothing you’ve heard over the past week, nor things you’ll hear tonight, are for publication. You print anything before we’re ready to release it and I’ll have you arrested.” He paused but I didn’t react at all. “The reason we called you in, is that…the camera’s lost.”

“Lost?”

“Stolen.”

The police were always good for a laugh.

“From a police station?”

“No,” he said, grimly. “This afternoon I had Sergeant Phoom run it over to the Lang Suan station on his motorcycle. There was an accident.”

“That was no accident,” said Chompu.

“Lieutenant! Quiet! We don’t know for certain. It could have been an accident.”

“Is the sergeant all right?” I asked.

“He’s in Pak Nam hospital,” said Chompu. “He was run off the road by a car. He lost a lot of skin and was knocked out. A passerby phoned an ambulance and the hospital called us. When we got there, the passerby was gone and so was the camera.”

“Technically, it could have been highway robbery,” said longan skin. “But it’s unlikely. There are much safer targets than a police officer in uniform. That’s why we need to know who you’ve told about the camera.”

“Who I…?”

I had to think about it. If they asked Arny he’d tell them without even a suggestion of thumbscrews.

“Just me and my brother knew,” I told them.

“You didn’t tell anyone at the temple?”

“I didn’t see anyone, apart from Abbot Kem.”

“You told him?”

“Er, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I said goodbye to him, went to get my shoes, then followed the dogs to the back of the hut.”

“What about the nun?”

“She wasn’t there.”

“But she could have seen you. She could have been somewhere else.”

I looked around the room. Some of the men turned away in embarrassment.

“Is the nun…?” I began.

“That’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Mana. I could see he was perturbed at being outgunned in his own station. He’d been relegated to crowd control. I didn’t want to think about the nun being a suspect. I swung the subject back to the accident.

“Is anyone with Sergeant Phoom?” I asked.

“We’ve got a man there,” Chompu said.

“Were there any other witnesses apart from the person who phoned it in?” I asked.

“It happened at a point on the way to Lang Suan where the road curves around the river,” Chompu told me. “There are no houses there and the road’s very quiet after midday.”