Read Online Love Songs From a Shallow Grave by Colin Cotterill - Free Book Online
Authors: Colin Cotterill
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anything about Dew’s marriage?” Dtui asked. “Was it a happy one?”
Again Phosy jumped in. “She’d left him with two kids for four years. A man might take objection to being treated like a babysitter while his wife went off to play in Europe. What do you – ”
He was interrupted by a loud crunch. Sergeant Sihot had bitten into a chocolate chip and a corner of one tooth had snapped off. The policeman retrieved it from the debris and held it up proudly. His smile revealed that this wasn’t the first time his teeth hadn’t been up to a challenge.
“No worries,” he said. “Happens all the time. Teeth like chalk, my wife says.”
“Sue the bastard, Sihot,” Siri laughed. “Comrade Civilai shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen. His wife would be only too glad to get her oven back, isn’t that right, old brother?”
Civilai blushed slightly but ignored the question and continued to gather the threads of the investigation.
“As I see it,” he said, “we already have two suspects. Not bad after only one cup of coffee and one injury. We have the playboy Vietnamese major who sweeps Dew off her feet and causes her to risk her career for an hour or two of lust. And we have the husband, torn with jealousy, who watches his wife sneak off for her tryst and then, when she’s alone, steals in to kill her.”
“I don’t think we should narrow the field so soon,” Dtui decided. “A smart young woman has lots of opportunities for an affair in this day and age.”
Only Siri caught Phosy’s expression at that moment but it was one of unmistakable fury.
“You’re right,” Civilai decided. “I think we need to focus on the fencing connection. This is Laos. We are a small country at the edge of the world. Your average Lao wouldn’t know an épée from an eggplant. I say we find anyone with a fencing background and we’ll have our murderer. He can’t be that hard to find.”
“I wouldn’t rule out foreigners either,” said Siri. “I noticed one or two fair heads strolling around K6 yesterday. We should find out which European advisors have permission to be out there.”
“Chief Phoumi has made interviewing at K6 very difficult,” Inspector Phosy conceded. “They don’t want us out there.”
“Hmm.” Civilai scratched his chin stubble. “Now that I think I might be able to help with. I’m having dinner with the president this evening, just the two of us. And I’ll be taking a couple of bottles of very good wine from my secret cache. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we could wrangle the security chief’s full cooperation.”
Siri frowned. “Brother, I’ve known the president for thirty years. He’s never once invited me for dinner. What’s your secret?”
“I’m an agreeable person, Siri,” Civilai boasted. “And I know when to keep my mouth shut.”
∗
I emerge from a shallow sleep surrounded by the same type of inky darkness in which Daeng and I had awoken a few weeks earlier. A few weeks that have stretched into an infinite number of years. That night still full of hope and love. That night long before I arrived in hell. But, unlike that night with my wife’s hand in mine, this dark surrounding me holds no promise. It’s murky and hangs in the air with menace, like a vampire’s cape. I’ve endured the endless hours of brightly burning strip lights and not known whether it was day or night. I’ve begun to babble to myself. To count seconds and minutes. To recite The Prisoner of Zenda aloud in French, hoping it will all stave off the inevitable disorientation. It worked briefly. But now they’re screwing with my confused mind by introducing a never-ending night. Cunning bastards. Or could it be a power failure? Have the captors’ evil plans been thwarted by an unpaid electricity bill?
“ Keep it to yourself, Siri .”
They’ve already punished me for my flippancy. ‘The Three Little Pigs’ seems to have pushed them to their limits. They haven’t beaten me or cut
Again Phosy jumped in. “She’d left him with two kids for four years. A man might take objection to being treated like a babysitter while his wife went off to play in Europe. What do you – ”
He was interrupted by a loud crunch. Sergeant Sihot had bitten into a chocolate chip and a corner of one tooth had snapped off. The policeman retrieved it from the debris and held it up proudly. His smile revealed that this wasn’t the first time his teeth hadn’t been up to a challenge.
“No worries,” he said. “Happens all the time. Teeth like chalk, my wife says.”
“Sue the bastard, Sihot,” Siri laughed. “Comrade Civilai shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen. His wife would be only too glad to get her oven back, isn’t that right, old brother?”
Civilai blushed slightly but ignored the question and continued to gather the threads of the investigation.
“As I see it,” he said, “we already have two suspects. Not bad after only one cup of coffee and one injury. We have the playboy Vietnamese major who sweeps Dew off her feet and causes her to risk her career for an hour or two of lust. And we have the husband, torn with jealousy, who watches his wife sneak off for her tryst and then, when she’s alone, steals in to kill her.”
“I don’t think we should narrow the field so soon,” Dtui decided. “A smart young woman has lots of opportunities for an affair in this day and age.”
Only Siri caught Phosy’s expression at that moment but it was one of unmistakable fury.
“You’re right,” Civilai decided. “I think we need to focus on the fencing connection. This is Laos. We are a small country at the edge of the world. Your average Lao wouldn’t know an épée from an eggplant. I say we find anyone with a fencing background and we’ll have our murderer. He can’t be that hard to find.”
“I wouldn’t rule out foreigners either,” said Siri. “I noticed one or two fair heads strolling around K6 yesterday. We should find out which European advisors have permission to be out there.”
“Chief Phoumi has made interviewing at K6 very difficult,” Inspector Phosy conceded. “They don’t want us out there.”
“Hmm.” Civilai scratched his chin stubble. “Now that I think I might be able to help with. I’m having dinner with the president this evening, just the two of us. And I’ll be taking a couple of bottles of very good wine from my secret cache. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we could wrangle the security chief’s full cooperation.”
Siri frowned. “Brother, I’ve known the president for thirty years. He’s never once invited me for dinner. What’s your secret?”
“I’m an agreeable person, Siri,” Civilai boasted. “And I know when to keep my mouth shut.”
∗
I emerge from a shallow sleep surrounded by the same type of inky darkness in which Daeng and I had awoken a few weeks earlier. A few weeks that have stretched into an infinite number of years. That night still full of hope and love. That night long before I arrived in hell. But, unlike that night with my wife’s hand in mine, this dark surrounding me holds no promise. It’s murky and hangs in the air with menace, like a vampire’s cape. I’ve endured the endless hours of brightly burning strip lights and not known whether it was day or night. I’ve begun to babble to myself. To count seconds and minutes. To recite The Prisoner of Zenda aloud in French, hoping it will all stave off the inevitable disorientation. It worked briefly. But now they’re screwing with my confused mind by introducing a never-ending night. Cunning bastards. Or could it be a power failure? Have the captors’ evil plans been thwarted by an unpaid electricity bill?
“ Keep it to yourself, Siri .”
They’ve already punished me for my flippancy. ‘The Three Little Pigs’ seems to have pushed them to their limits. They haven’t beaten me or cut
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