Read Online The Merry Misogynist by Colin Cotterill - Free Book Online
Authors: Colin Cotterill
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whole” – cough – “the whole place will go up.” Cough. “What can I do for you?”
Siri went to the small refrigerator.
“I’ve brought you stomach contents,” he said, removing the bag.
“How sweet. Gary used to bring me chocolates.”
Gary was the Australian who had deflowered young Oum during her study period in Sydney. Apart from chocolates, he’d left another gift. She’d named the child Nali. He was seven now, and his red hair made him hard to disguise.
“How’s Nali?” Siri asked.
“His Aussie genes are starting to show through. He punched a four-year-old girl last week.”
“Perhaps it’s rebellion against the smoking.”
“He’ll have to get used to it. I’m planning to have a lot more vices before he grows up.”
“Good for you.”
Oum was spooning stomach contents into six Petri dishes. “What are we looking for?”
“I’m guessing traces of a sedative, a very strong one.” He went back to the fridge and took out another small vial. “I brought this too. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to do anything with it. I didn’t see anything in the book.”
“What are you hoping to find?” she asked.
“Traces of semen.”
“Ah, so this was a rape?”
“I just need to know whether he…”
“I get it. It’s too bad we’re so limited in what we can do here. You need a real lab, Dr Siri.”
“I’ll tell the president.”
“Let him know you’ve got a ready-made assistant to work in it too. I tell you what. This is a long shot, Siri, but there may be a way. I read about it when I was in Sydney. You need an ultraviolet light. It shows up the phosphates.”
“And you just happen to have an ultraviolet lamp lying around?”
“I hope that wasn’t sarcasm, Doctor, because yes, we do. It’s over in the gym. They used it at the school discotheque in the good old days. I have no idea whether it’ll work but it’s worth a try.”
“Indeed it is.”
“I’ll get on to it after school this evening. Let’s look at these fellows first.”
While they worked their way down the list from the handbook, Siri decided to describe the case. Given Dtui’s reaction, he was reluctant to spoil Oum’s day, but he knew in the small world they shared, she’d hear about the strangling sooner or later. He left the part about the pestle to the very end. Oum dropped the pipette into a glass bowl with a crash and pushed herself back on the chair.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “There was no delicate way – ”
“No, Siri. This story. I’ve heard the selfsame thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The beautiful girl strangled, tied to a tree…the pestle.”
“How could you have heard it so soon? It only happened on Friday.”
“No, Siri. It happened a long time ago.”
“Where did you get it from?”
“Here, at the school. It’s one of those legends the kids pass around to scare the daylights out of each other. I put a girl in detention when I heard her telling it. I thought it was sick for children to be coming up with stories like that.”
“Well, believe me, Oum, this wasn’t a story. When did you hear it?”
“A year ago? Maybe two.”
The anger rose in Siri’s throat. “He’s done this before, the bastard. Do you remember the student?”
“Kumdee Vilavong. She’s also big on dirty jokes and scandal. I put her in detention all the time. I’m quite fond of her.”
Siri stood. “Can we go and talk to her?”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
4
HINDIPENDENCE
T he lunchtime rush at the Happy Dine Indian restaurant was over and the proprietor was sitting with his waitress in the open frontage looking at the street. At eleven, they’d sprinkled the pavement out front with a watering can. For about thirty minutes it kept the dust from flying into the tin lunch trays. They’d repeated the dousing at twelve and one. It was 1:15 and no evidence of their efforts remained. The hot pavement had devoured the water as soon as it made contact. That
Siri went to the small refrigerator.
“I’ve brought you stomach contents,” he said, removing the bag.
“How sweet. Gary used to bring me chocolates.”
Gary was the Australian who had deflowered young Oum during her study period in Sydney. Apart from chocolates, he’d left another gift. She’d named the child Nali. He was seven now, and his red hair made him hard to disguise.
“How’s Nali?” Siri asked.
“His Aussie genes are starting to show through. He punched a four-year-old girl last week.”
“Perhaps it’s rebellion against the smoking.”
“He’ll have to get used to it. I’m planning to have a lot more vices before he grows up.”
“Good for you.”
Oum was spooning stomach contents into six Petri dishes. “What are we looking for?”
“I’m guessing traces of a sedative, a very strong one.” He went back to the fridge and took out another small vial. “I brought this too. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to do anything with it. I didn’t see anything in the book.”
“What are you hoping to find?” she asked.
“Traces of semen.”
“Ah, so this was a rape?”
“I just need to know whether he…”
“I get it. It’s too bad we’re so limited in what we can do here. You need a real lab, Dr Siri.”
“I’ll tell the president.”
“Let him know you’ve got a ready-made assistant to work in it too. I tell you what. This is a long shot, Siri, but there may be a way. I read about it when I was in Sydney. You need an ultraviolet light. It shows up the phosphates.”
“And you just happen to have an ultraviolet lamp lying around?”
“I hope that wasn’t sarcasm, Doctor, because yes, we do. It’s over in the gym. They used it at the school discotheque in the good old days. I have no idea whether it’ll work but it’s worth a try.”
“Indeed it is.”
“I’ll get on to it after school this evening. Let’s look at these fellows first.”
While they worked their way down the list from the handbook, Siri decided to describe the case. Given Dtui’s reaction, he was reluctant to spoil Oum’s day, but he knew in the small world they shared, she’d hear about the strangling sooner or later. He left the part about the pestle to the very end. Oum dropped the pipette into a glass bowl with a crash and pushed herself back on the chair.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “There was no delicate way – ”
“No, Siri. This story. I’ve heard the selfsame thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“The beautiful girl strangled, tied to a tree…the pestle.”
“How could you have heard it so soon? It only happened on Friday.”
“No, Siri. It happened a long time ago.”
“Where did you get it from?”
“Here, at the school. It’s one of those legends the kids pass around to scare the daylights out of each other. I put a girl in detention when I heard her telling it. I thought it was sick for children to be coming up with stories like that.”
“Well, believe me, Oum, this wasn’t a story. When did you hear it?”
“A year ago? Maybe two.”
The anger rose in Siri’s throat. “He’s done this before, the bastard. Do you remember the student?”
“Kumdee Vilavong. She’s also big on dirty jokes and scandal. I put her in detention all the time. I’m quite fond of her.”
Siri stood. “Can we go and talk to her?”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
4
HINDIPENDENCE
T he lunchtime rush at the Happy Dine Indian restaurant was over and the proprietor was sitting with his waitress in the open frontage looking at the street. At eleven, they’d sprinkled the pavement out front with a watering can. For about thirty minutes it kept the dust from flying into the tin lunch trays. They’d repeated the dousing at twelve and one. It was 1:15 and no evidence of their efforts remained. The hot pavement had devoured the water as soon as it made contact. That
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