Read Online Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness by David Casarett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Casarett
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Adult, Police Procedural, cozy, amateur sleuth, cozy mystery, Urban, International Mystery & Crime, Traditional, Thailand
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at her cousin’s tea shop. It was a bright, iridescent blue color that didn’t seem natural at all, but which supposedly had health properties of anti-aging. It also turned your lips blue in a way that Ladarat had to assume had nothing whatsoever to do with long life. And this particular Peaflower did not seem to be offering her husbands any sort of health benefits whatsoever.
Ladarat thanked the patient medical records clerk and made her way back to her office. Down the long, dim hallway, she found herself thinking about this woman. What was motivating her? Why would someone do what she’d done? Or what she might have done?
There was one person she knew who could help her answer these essential questions. One person who, Ladarat had always thought, knew more about the way that people think than anyone she’d ever met. Her cousin was a successful businesswoman not simply because she had a good head for business but because she had finely tuned sense of people. Particularly for the sorts of motivations that many people kept hidden.
She would go to see her cousin that morning and ask for her advice. That was the logical thing to do, was it not? If you had a difficult case involving ethics, you would call on a nurse ethicist. And if you had a difficult case involving people’s more… nefarious impulses, who better to ask than someone who runs a highly successful business that exploits those impulses?
But what of the policies that needed to be reviewed? There were still many—most—that she hadn’t yet examined. How could she take a morning off work when there was so much to do?
Perhaps she could take them home? She would bring a stack with her, and she could sit in her garden to do them. After a dinner of tom yum gung —spicy prawn soup without the coconut milk. A little like hot and sour soup. Such a meal would prepare her for a late session of policy reviews. It would help her to concentrate, would it not?
Ladarat was pondering the intellectual focusing powers of tom yum gung as she reached her plain wooden door. That door identified her as “Ladarat Patalung, Nurse Ethicist.” She was very proud of that door. It was better than a diploma, in a way. Because it reminded her every day of what she’d accomplished.
And she needed those reminders, she knew. Somboon always said she lacked confidence, and she supposed that was true. So it was good to have a reminder that she had accomplished something. That she was… someone. Ladarat knew that when she stood in front of her door. But unfortunately she did not spend all of her time in front of that door. Although sometimes she wished she could.
Today was not one of those days. Her nameplate was there, as it always was. But today there was a white envelope peeking out from under the door. Ladarat picked it up gingerly with her thumb and forefinger, with much the same sense of queasiness that one might pick a slug off one’s Siam tulips.
Opening the single folded piece of paper, Ladarat realized that it was a note from Khun Tippawan. As she knew it would be, the note was written in a careful hand on stationery “From the desk of Tippawan Taksin.” Oh dear.
This was the way that Khun Tippawan operated. She had a unique… gift for being invisible. When was the last time Ladarat had seen her? She couldn’t remember. She would just leave notes and send texts. Like some… poltergeist? Was that the word?
Ladarat smiled. Her boss was a phi tai hong . A vengeful ghost. But her smile faded as she read the brief note.
“I came to check on your progress in reviewing policies but was disappointed to find that you were not yet here. Perhaps you have finished all your reviews? Or perhaps you are not taking your work as an ethicist seriously?”
Oh dear. Ladarat knew that she had read through at most 10 percent of the policies she needed to review. The rest would take the better part of the coming week.
And what did Khun Tippawan mean about her not taking her ethicist
Ladarat thanked the patient medical records clerk and made her way back to her office. Down the long, dim hallway, she found herself thinking about this woman. What was motivating her? Why would someone do what she’d done? Or what she might have done?
There was one person she knew who could help her answer these essential questions. One person who, Ladarat had always thought, knew more about the way that people think than anyone she’d ever met. Her cousin was a successful businesswoman not simply because she had a good head for business but because she had finely tuned sense of people. Particularly for the sorts of motivations that many people kept hidden.
She would go to see her cousin that morning and ask for her advice. That was the logical thing to do, was it not? If you had a difficult case involving ethics, you would call on a nurse ethicist. And if you had a difficult case involving people’s more… nefarious impulses, who better to ask than someone who runs a highly successful business that exploits those impulses?
But what of the policies that needed to be reviewed? There were still many—most—that she hadn’t yet examined. How could she take a morning off work when there was so much to do?
Perhaps she could take them home? She would bring a stack with her, and she could sit in her garden to do them. After a dinner of tom yum gung —spicy prawn soup without the coconut milk. A little like hot and sour soup. Such a meal would prepare her for a late session of policy reviews. It would help her to concentrate, would it not?
Ladarat was pondering the intellectual focusing powers of tom yum gung as she reached her plain wooden door. That door identified her as “Ladarat Patalung, Nurse Ethicist.” She was very proud of that door. It was better than a diploma, in a way. Because it reminded her every day of what she’d accomplished.
And she needed those reminders, she knew. Somboon always said she lacked confidence, and she supposed that was true. So it was good to have a reminder that she had accomplished something. That she was… someone. Ladarat knew that when she stood in front of her door. But unfortunately she did not spend all of her time in front of that door. Although sometimes she wished she could.
Today was not one of those days. Her nameplate was there, as it always was. But today there was a white envelope peeking out from under the door. Ladarat picked it up gingerly with her thumb and forefinger, with much the same sense of queasiness that one might pick a slug off one’s Siam tulips.
Opening the single folded piece of paper, Ladarat realized that it was a note from Khun Tippawan. As she knew it would be, the note was written in a careful hand on stationery “From the desk of Tippawan Taksin.” Oh dear.
This was the way that Khun Tippawan operated. She had a unique… gift for being invisible. When was the last time Ladarat had seen her? She couldn’t remember. She would just leave notes and send texts. Like some… poltergeist? Was that the word?
Ladarat smiled. Her boss was a phi tai hong . A vengeful ghost. But her smile faded as she read the brief note.
“I came to check on your progress in reviewing policies but was disappointed to find that you were not yet here. Perhaps you have finished all your reviews? Or perhaps you are not taking your work as an ethicist seriously?”
Oh dear. Ladarat knew that she had read through at most 10 percent of the policies she needed to review. The rest would take the better part of the coming week.
And what did Khun Tippawan mean about her not taking her ethicist
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