Stephen Leather: Bangkok Bob and the missing Mormon

‘He’s a young guy, twenty-one. Wouldn’t say boo to a Peking Duck. Came to Bangkok to teach English three months ago and he’s disappeared.’

‘Says who?’ asked Alan.

‘His mum and dad. They’ve come here looking for him.’

‘What is it with Americans teaching English?’ said Alan. ‘Shouldn’t they be teaching American? I mean, come on.’

Big Ron belched. ‘He’ll be lying on a beach somewhere with a dark-skinned beauty, smoking dope during the day and screwing like a bunny at night. Trust me.’

‘Much as I do trust you, he’s not like that,’ I said.

Big Ron guffawed again, spitting out bits of bread and bacon in my direction. Bee flashed me an apologetic smile and wiped the bar top with a damp cloth.

‘They’re all like that,’ said Big Ron. ‘Americans are the worst. Twenty-four after hitting Bangkok, he’ll have been in the sack with a hooker.’

‘Twelve,’ said Alan.

‘Two,’ said Bruce, ‘including travel time from the airport.’

‘He’s a virgin,’ I said patiently. ‘Born again.’

‘A born-again virgin?’ grinned Bruce. ‘Nana Plaza’s full of them. Little Puy in Rainbow Two has sold her virginity three times as far as I know.’

‘According to his parents, he’s saving himself for the right woman.’

‘If you save wicked women, save one for me,’ said Alan. He reached over and rang a large bronze bell that was hanging just to the right of Big Ron’s head. The Fatso’s girls started pouring drinks for the guys sitting at the bar. One ring of the bell bought a round of drinks. Two rings bought a round for the customers and a drink each for the staff behind the bar. Three rings and everyone in the bar and in the restaurant upstairs got drinks, along with the kitchen staff.

‘I went to his apartment,’ I said. ‘He’d cleared out.’

‘Where was he staying?’ asked Bruce.

‘Soi 9.’

‘He’ll have hitched up with a freelancer from the German bar,’ said Bruce. ‘Soi 7. Or Gullivers in Soi 5.’

‘Lying on a beach,’ said Big Ron. ‘Guaranteed.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Do you want to put your money where your mouth is?’

The thing about Big Ron is that more often than not, he’s right. ‘Maybe,’ I said hesitantly.

‘If I’m right and he’s on a beach with a bird, you ring the bell three times.’

‘Okay.’

‘On a Saturday night. Between nine and ten.’

That was the busiest time in Fatso’s. Maybe two dozen people upstairs eating. Twenty around the bar downstairs. Eight Fatso’s girls. Three or four kitchen staff. Not a cheap round.

‘And if you’re wrong?’

Fingers crossed.

‘Free drinks for a week.’

‘Deal,’ I said. No way was Jon Junior hooked up with a girl. He wasn’t the type.

Big Ron grinned, belched, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

‘Ding, dong,’ he said. ‘Ding bloody dong.’

The cockatoos that live in the garden next to my condominium block woke me up bright and early. The house is owned by a Thai plastic surgeon by the name of Khun Banyat and he lives there with his wife, five children and his collection of exotic birds. I like Khun Banyat and I play tennis with him at the Racquet Club in Soi 49 twice a month but sometimes I would happily strangle his parrots.

I lay looking up at the ceiling wondering what cockatoo would taste like in a hot, spicy soup.

Jai yen.

I rolled over and looked at my wife. Noy.

Noy means small.

She is thirty-two but looks a good ten years younger, with her long black hair spread over the pillow like a raven’s wing and long, long eyelashes. She’s way out of my league, and not because she’s younger and better looking. She’s smarter than me, she’s a better person than I am and she’s kinder to animals. She’s fluent in Thai, English, Mandarin and Japanese, she plays the violin and piano like a dream, she has a real estate business that makes twice as much as my antiques shop.

I’m not good enough for my wife. I’m really not. There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t wonder why she chose me, why she wanted to marry me, and why she stays with me.

She’s well connected too, and could have had the pick of any eligible bachelor going. I don’t think there’s a top Thai politician, Army general or movie star who doesn’t know her and usually when we get invited anywhere it’s because they want to see her, not me. Her dad is an Air Force General and her mother is on the boards of half a dozen charities and is a regular visitor to the palace. They’re lovely people, too, I couldn’t ask for better in-laws. To this day I’m still not sure why I’ve been so lucky.

‘I know you’re looking at me,’ she said quietly.

‘How?’ I said. ‘You’ve got your back to me.’

‘I can feel your eyes,’ she said. ‘And I can hear you thinking.’

‘What am I thinking, then?’

She moved her legs a little. She has great legs. Long, shapely, fit. ‘You were wondering if you could get away with killing Khun Banyat’s parrots,’ she murmured.

‘That’s impressive,’ I said.

‘Then you were thinking about pressing yourself against me and kissing the back of my neck and making love to me before I woke up.’

‘But you’re awake already.’

She sighed dreamily. ‘No, I’m still asleep. So was I right?’

‘Honey, you’re always right,’ I said, snuggling up to her and kissing the back of her neck.

Afterwards, she lay in my arms, her hand on my chest. She has perfect hands, the nails beautifully manicured, the fingertips soft, the skin unblemished. ‘Do you want to know what I was really thinking?’ I asked.

‘Oh my Buddha, there’s more? Haven’t you ravaged me enough?’

I smiled. ‘I was wondering why I’m so lucky. Why do you stay with me?’

‘Because I’m your wife, Bob. That’s what wives do. Through thick and thin.’

‘Let me rephrase the question,’ I said. ‘Why did you marry me?’

‘You’re asking me that now?’

‘It’s as good a time as any. The warm afterglow and all.’

She prodded me in the ribs. ‘Because I love you.’

‘It’s as simple as that?’

‘And as complicated,’ she said.

‘Wow,’ I said.

‘And I love the way you make coffee for me first thing in the morning.’

‘You do?’

‘And the way you warm the milk first. And serve it with one of those Italian biscuits we got from the Emporium.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ she said. She sighed like a cat making itself comfortable. ‘So what are you waiting for?’

I made her coffee, warming the milk and serving it with a biscuit, and then spent another hour in bed with her during which time I forgot all about next door’s cockatoos.

After I’d showered and dressed I tried Jon Junior’s cellphone again but it was still unavailable. Then I checked my email. There were a dozen or so work-related emails and one from a tourist wanting to know if I could recommend a good hotel near Patpong, but no reply from Jon Junior.

I emailed the two scanned photographs of Jon Junior to half a dozen guys who run Thai-related websites. I asked them to put Jon Junior’s pictures and details online and to get back to me if anyone knew where he was. It was a long shot but some of the sites had upwards of twenty thousand visitors a week. I also put the photographs on my site. I sold antiques online at Bangkokbob. biz and had most of my stock on the website. Over the years I’d expanded the website to include advice on living and working in Thailand, and I’d started a question and answer service, more as a hobby than anything else. Now I was getting a couple of hundred hits a day and a reputation as the man who knew all there was to know about the Land of Smiles. I was selling a lot of antiques, too.