Stephen Leather - Confessions of a Bangkok Private Eye - True Stories From the Case Files of Warren Olson

I emailed Peter and told him that I was on the case, but that if I was going to find Apple I’d have to go up to Udon. Absence had truly made the heart grow fonder and Peter promised to wire me another three-day retainer and enough money to pay for a plane ticket to Udon and a night in a reasonable hotel.

I caught a motorcycle taxi to the Pathumwan District office and found my friendly computer worker. I gave her the piece of paper and a 500-baht note and my winning smile. Fortunately, much of Ubon Ratchathani’s data was linked to the main network so she could call up all Apple’s info on her computer screen. Within seconds I had Apple’s place of birth and the sub district where the family home was. It was a big step forward, but to get the exact address I’d have to pay a visit to the district office.

I bought a ticket to Udon and hired a taxi driver from the airport to the district office. Another 500 baht and the taxi driver and I were on our way to Apple’s house. It was in a tiny, dusty village in the middle of nowhere, just a couple of handfuls of wooden shacks. Apple was at home, and amazed to have a strange farang turn up on her doorstep.

Her mum was there and so was a younger brother so to save her any embarrassment I said that I was a reporter for the Bangkok Post writing a story about people who had lost their jobs as a result of the trashing of the Soi 10 complex.

While her mum went off to fetch me some food, I gave the young lad 100 baht and asked him to go and buy a Coke. While we were alone I quickly explained the real reason for my visit; that Peter wanted to see her again. Apple sighed and said that yes she remembered Peter but that she had a big problem.

I said that Peter really liked her and hat I was sure that he’d be able to help her.

Apple started to get a bit tearful then. Her father had a gambling problem and had run up debts of almost 50,000 baht, a small fortune for a rural Thai. That was why she’d gone to Bangkok in the first place, to earn enough to pay off her father’s debts. The man who her father owed the money to had an obnoxious and overweight son who fancied Apple and if the debt wasn’t paid off quickly the man wanted Apple to marry the boy with the 50,000-baht written off as the sin sot, or dowry. Apple’s father was happy enough to accept the deal, but Apple herself was horrified at the idea. I could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she realised that Peter was a much better option.

I checked my cell phone and was pleasantly surprised to find that I was actually getting a weak signal. I wouldn’t normally call overseas on a cell phone but the expense would be down to Peter so I rang him and explained that I had found the elusive Miss Apple. I ran the situation by him and gave the phone to Apple.

To be honest, if it was down to me you wouldn’t have seen me for dust. Gambling is an addiction and even if Peter paid off the father’s debts, there’d be more down the line. Apple was a nice enough girl and I wouldn’t have kicked her out of bed, but she was a poorly educated farm girl and I couldn’t see that she’d have much in common with Peter. They’d spent only a few hours together and while I was sure the sex had been good, there’s a world of difference between a night of steamy sex and a lifetime of companionship.

Tears were welling up in Apple’s eyes and she started telling Peter how much she loved him and missed him. ‘I have you, only one,’ she said. ‘I want you help me and my family.’

They spoke for a while and then Apple handed the phone back to me. Peter said that he’d agreed to give her 50,000 baht to pay off the debt and that he’d send her another 20,000 baht a month until he came back to Thailand. He was hooked. I figured he was throwing his money away. Thailand is full of pretty girls, girls with university degrees and good jobs and respectable parents who don’t run up gambling debts with local shylocks. He thought he was helping Apple, riding to her rescue like a white knight. But I thought that he was buying her affection and that he’d only have her so long as he continued to hand over cash. But Peter was old enough to make his own decisions and who was I to rain on his parade?

I get a lot of business through the internet, so it isn’t unusual for work to come my way through emails. More often than not it’s a tourist who has gone home and is having second thoughts about the fidelity of his new girlfriend. But the email that arrived from ‘Charles’ was different from the average internet inquiry.

For a start, the client didn’t give his full name, or supply an address or telephone number where I could contact him. I ran a check on the ISP address and found that he was in Shanghai, so I figured that he was an expat up in China. Anyway, Charles wanted me to keep tags on two rotund Englishmen who would shortly be arriving in Bangkok. They would be staying at the Landmark and were conducting banking seminars during the day. They were both fans of Playskool Bar at Nana Plaza, which was just around the corner from the hotel. Playskool was always one of my favourites, what with the staff dressing up in sexy school uniforms and having some of the prettiest girls in the plaza. Charles wanted to know how much it would cost for me to keep an eye on the two guys and I told him. Two days later and the money had been transferred into my bank account so I stopped worrying too much about who my client was. Charles also emailed me head-and-shoulder photographs of the two men and promised me a big bonus if I could get a photograph of the bigger of the two guys leaving with a lady of the night.

On the day the two men arrived in Bangkok, I went around to the hotel. I did a quick walk through of the bars and restaurants but there was no sign of the two men. I waited until reception was busy then wandered over and asked to speak to Andrew, the one that Charles was particularly interested in. The harried girl behind the reception desk looked at her computer screen, tapped out a number and handed me the phone. Andrew had a typical upper class plum-in-his-mouth English accent and sounded like he’d been asleep. I switched into my very best Antipodean accent. ‘Howyagoing Cobber, ready to go sink a few tinnies then are ya?’

I got a very polite ‘I beg your pardon’ from Andrew before I apologised and put the phone down. Now that I knew he was in his room, all I had to do was sit in the lobby and watch the lifts. Turned out to be a wasted evening. By midnight he hadn’t appeared so I figured he’d decided to have a night in. He might well have phoned an escort agency for a takeaway but even if that was the case I wouldn’t be able to get a picture, and without a picture there wouldn’t be a bonus.

The next night, I checked the hotel again at 7pm and this time Andrew wasn’t in his room. I checked the bars and restaurants in the hotel and drew a blank, so it seemed fair to assume that the boys were out on the prowl.

I hit Playskool at 8pm, parked myself in a seat at the back and ordered a Jack Daniels. A pretty little thing from Sisaket was soon sitting by my side, massaging my thigh and telling me how handsome I was. After another couple of JDs I was starting to believe her. I’d bought her half a dozen lady drinks by the time a fat, balding man waddled in. It was Andrew. He was greeted like a long-lost friend by the elderly mamasan and ushered to a front-row seat where he could get an eyeful of the girls on offer. It wasn’t long before he had a girl either side and he was buying ladies drinks like there was no tomorrow. I kept buying drinks for myself and my new best friend from Sisaket until Andrew called for his bill. I did the same. I gave Miss Sisaket a big tip and got her phone number, then followed Andrew outside. I had my digital camera with me and was hoping to get a few shots to send to Charles.