Behind the Night Bazaar (21 page)

He eased himself up and adjusted his jeans. Since his obstinate cock remained hard, he untucked his shirt and let it hang out over his belt. Unlocking the door, he walked to the wash basin and splashed cold water on his face. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him: shock, guilt, anger and lust.

He hesitated before helping himself to a paper towel, rubbing his face slowly at first, then harder and faster until the towel disintegrated in his hands. Scrunching the scraps into a ball, he flung it against the wall and shoved the door open, almost knocking out two men on the verge of entering. Another foreign poofter with his Thai fuck, Mark thought, angrily pushing past them. These guys had no fuckin’ shame!

He paused at the exit and looked across the room to where Simone was sitting, hoping to catch her eye and signal for them to go.

‘Fuck!’ he said aloud.

She wasn’t alone.

Jayne glanced at the glass of whisky in front of Mark’s empty place at the table. He was missing the big finale when Whitney Houston, Tina Turner, Marilyn Monroe and Chiang Mai’s petite Grace Jones joined together in a heartfelt rendition of ‘When Will I See You Again?’, a favourite in Thailand’s gay bars. Then again, Mark didn’t seem that comfortable with her choice of venue.

The Lotus Inn was one of the few places Didier would go to for fun. The clientele were well-heeled westerners and wealthy Asians, and the place got rave reviews in the
Spartacus
guide. The boys who worked as waiters and dancers could be bought for the night, of course, but the general ambience was more playful than sleazy.

The quality of the show was what had appealed to Didier. The sound, light and sets were dazzling; and the performers put enormous effort into their costumes and lip-synched so convincingly, you could almost believe they were really singing.

Jayne joined the applause as the performers took a bow then stepped down from the stage to mingle with the audience. With no sign of Mark, she helped herself to his scotch and searched for a cigarette.

‘You want a boyfriend, Ma’am?’

She looked up at a short, muscular young man with the number 5 around his neck, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m here with my—’ she hesitated. What was Mark to her? She decided to keep it simple. ‘I’m here with my friend,’ she said.

‘
Pai len duay kan sarm kon dai
,’ he said without missing a beat.

Jayne smiled, suspecting Federal Agent Mark d’Angelo wouldn’t enjoy the threesome the boy had on offer.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely to save face, ‘but we’re very tired.’

As the young man departed with a wai, his place was taken by the Lotus’s Marilyn Monroe.

‘
Sawadee ka
,’ she said. ‘May I sit down for a moment?’

An approach by the boys was one thing, but in Jayne’s experience the kratoeys weren’t into women. Curious, she nodded for her to take a seat.

‘I’ve seen you before,’ Marilyn said in her falsetto voice. ‘You’re a friend of Khun Di, aren’t you?’

Jayne glanced around the room, suddenly nervous.

‘Y-yes,’ she said, leaning close enough to smell Marilyn’s floral perfume. ‘Why do you ask?’

Marilyn picked up the drinks menu from the table and used it to fan her face. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘I was at the bar when they found Khun Sanga’s body.’

‘Really?’ Jayne whispered.

‘Yes, it was just terrible!’ She fanned faster. ‘Oh, what they’d done to that beautiful boy! And the policeman, he made me…oh!’ She raised the back of her hand to her forehead in a gesture worthy of her famous namesake.

‘What policeman?’ Jayne said, trying to remain calm. ‘What did he make you do?’

‘He made me look at the body!’

Tears sprung to Marilyn’s eyes as the menu dropped to the table.

‘That must have been awful,’ Jayne said, rummaging through her purse for a clean tissue and handing it to Marilyn.

‘What’s worse,’ she sniffed, ‘the policemen, they made me sign a piece of paper saying I knew about Khun Sanga and Khun Di.’

‘Knew what about Sanga and Didier?’

‘That they were
faen kan
,’ she said, the pitch of her voice rising. ‘And now Khun Di is dead. And it’s all my fault!’ She hid her face in her hands and sobbed.

‘Khun…Marilyn,’ Jayne said, ‘I’m sorry but I don’t understand. You told the police that they were lovers. But you didn’t tell them that Khun Di killed Khun Sanga, did you?’

‘Oh, no!’ She raised her head. ‘But I didn’t tell them they were lovers, either. The police already knew about Khun Di, but they wanted me to sign the paper, as if it was me who told them. And not only me. Other people, too. I wanted you to know that Khun Di was a good man and none of us would ever do anything to…to…’ Her voice trailed off again.

‘It’s OK,’ Jayne said, patting her arm.

Marilyn dabbed her eyes with the tissue. ‘Since you were his friend, you should know the truth.’

Jayne cast her mind back over what she’d read in the police report. ‘If you don’t mind, Khun Marilyn, can I ask about your…ah…the name that appeared on your police statement?’

‘Pairoj,’ she sniffed. ‘Pairoj Nilmongkol.’

Jayne took a pen from her purse and scribbled the name on the back of a coaster. ‘And the man who forced you to sign it?’

‘Police Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn.’

Jayne put the coaster in her purse and slipped some money for the drinks under the table marker, standing up as Mark reappeared.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked. ‘You missed the best part of the show and—’

He smothered the rest of her words in a kiss so hard it almost bruised her lips. Thrown off-balance, she leaned into his body to steady herself and felt his erection beneath his jeans.

‘I want to fuck you so badly,’ he whispered.

For Jayne, such an overt display of heterosexual lust in a gay bar was almost indecent.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to my place.’

J
ayne grabbed the phone before it could ring a second time. Ornsri at reception said a Thai man wanted to meet her. She peered at the clock. Half past seven. Mark was snoring lightly beside her. She asked the man’s name. There was the sound of muffled voices, before Ornsri whispered back.

‘He says he’s a friend of Khun Bom and Khun Deh.’

‘Just a minute.’ Jayne gently replaced the receiver and eased herself out of bed. She gathered her clothes from the floor and crept into the bathroom to get dressed.

Fighting the desire for a hot shower, she splashed her face, ran damp fingers through her hair, and put up the collar of her blouse to hide a bite mark on the side of her neck. She tiptoed back past the bed and picked up her day-pack and sandals. Mark stirred as she turned the door handle and she froze until she was sure he was still sleeping.

The man in the reception area looked familiar. His large eyes turned down slightly at the corners, giving him a sad expression despite the smile on his face. Ornsri nodded as Jayne entered and he leapt up to greet her with a wai. His clothes, though neat, were old, his grey slacks faded at the knees.

‘
Kor thort krup
, Khun Simone,’ he said, speaking Thai with a northeastern accent. ‘My name is Komet. Sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if we might talk together in private for a moment.’

She returned his wai. ‘
Sawadee ka
, Khun…Komet, was it?’

He nodded.

‘Have we met before?’

‘Ah…’ He smiled and gestured outside. A few guests were eating breakfast—a sleepy-looking woman picking at the remains of a banana pancake, a man studying the Lonely Planet guide in German—and Jayne followed Komet to a table in a quiet corner.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asked as they sat down, conscious of her own need for coffee.

‘Just water, thank you.’

She summoned the waitress—one of Ornsri’s daughters—who shuffled over at glacial pace to take the order.

‘Khun Ornsri said you’re a friend of Bom’s,’ Jayne said. ‘And I think I recognise you…But I don’t remember where we met.’

Komet coloured slightly and shift in his seat. ‘Ah, Khun Simone, we haven’t exactly met before. But I have some information for someone, and I think maybe you can pass it on.’

‘What kind of information? To pass on to who?’

‘To Khun Jen Kee Ni.’

There was no mistaking the transliteration of her name. In that moment she realised neither Bom nor Deh knew she’d changed hotels. Jayne felt her stomach sink. ‘What makes you think I know this person?’

‘Ah, maybe you don’t know her,’ Komet said nervously. ‘Maybe I made a mistake. But it would be a pity because I have some important information about her friend Khun Di who was killed last weekend.’

‘What do you know about his death?’

She regretted the words as soon as she’d said them. Before Komet could answer, Ornsri’s daughter reappeared, spilling coffee into the saucer as she set it down on the table.

‘I read about the farang’s death in the papers,’ Jayne said when the waitress was out of earshot. ‘What more does anyone need to know, Khun Komet?’

‘They need to know that Khun Di wasn’t killed because he was trying to resist arrest,’ he said in a low voice. ‘And they need to know he didn’t kill Khun Sanga like the papers said.’

The sinking feeling in Jayne’s stomach turned to butterflies. She wanted to drink her coffee, but didn’t trust her hands to remain steady enough to pick up the cup. ‘And how do you know all this?’ she said.

‘Because I work for the Chiang Mai police.’

Jayne remembered where she’d seen him before: he was the third man at the Kitten Club with Ratratarn and Pornsak, and before that, the guard at Didier’s place the night she broke in. How could she have been so blind? She had a photo of the man in her backpack! It was the uniform—she hadn’t recognised him without it.

She forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry Officer Komet, but you must be mistaken. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She picked up her coffee. Over the rim of the cup, she saw him throw her a wounded look.

‘Oh, th-that’s a shame,’ he stammered. ‘I thought, that is, I was hoping to find Jayne Keeney to tell her what I know. You see, my superior, Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn, he’s trying to find her, too. He’s worried she knows about how he and the farang, Khun Kelly, worked together to kill her friend and Khun Sanga. I wanted to find her first, to warn her and, and to tell her the truth.’

He was good, Jayne thought. He was very good.

‘And why would you want to do that? Didn’t you say you’re a police officer yourself?’

‘Yes, b-but…but what they did is wrong!’

Was this a trap set by Kelly and the cops? Jayne didn’t underestimate their intelligence, and for them to send a sweet-faced young rookie from Isaan to plead their case was a masterstroke. Yet something in Komet’s demeanour made her think again. Neither spoke for a moment, the passion in his outburst lingering in the air between them.

‘They’re selling children,’ he whispered, staring at the ground as he spoke. ‘Not girls, children. Children who could have come from my own village…’ He shook his head. ‘Khun Di knew about it, so they killed him. That is, Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn killed him. It says in the official report there were two bullets fired on the night, the first as a warning shot. But that’s not true. There were two bullet casings at the scene, but only one shot. I know.’ He looked up, imploring her with his eyes. ‘I was there.’

Jayne averted her gaze, swallowing hard to fight back tears.

‘And the so-called murder weapon,’ Komet said, ‘it wasn’t behind the water trough. I searched there before the forensic team arrived. The lieutenant colonel planted it when I wasn’t looking. He must’ve picked it up from Kelly, or the man Kelly hired to kill Khun Sanga.’

Jayne said nothing.

‘Oh, yes, Kelly killed Khun Sanga,’ Komet said. ‘Not directly, but he was responsible. Sergeant Pornsak said Kelly drugged Khun Sanga before handing him over to be killed. Pornsak said the assassin came from Mae Sai. He called the man a
kha
, a barbarian. That’s what they think, Pornsak and the lieutenant colonel. They think people from the hill tribes are savages. As for people from rural areas like me, we’re all as stupid as cows.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ she said.

‘Because someone has to stop it. And I thought…I thought Jayne Keeney would help me. They say she was a close friend of Khun Di. And I thought even if no one else believed me, she would.’

‘Don’t you think she might worry that this is a plan to trap her? I mean, you say the police are looking for her. Why should she trust you?’

Komet shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe she thinks Thai police are the same. Bad men. Corrupt. Hungry for money. Maybe many Thai people feel the same way…’ His voice trailed off for a moment. ‘But Thai police are not all the same. Some of us just want a job in the city, not to be a farmer any more. Farmers are poor, always struggling. We are young and headstrong when we turn our backs on our families. We look at our fathers’ dark skin and dirty hands and say, “No! I don’t want this! I want a job with a nice uniform and a regular paycheque!”’

He smiled his sad smile. ‘We never dream the day will come when what we wish more than anything is that we never left the farm.’

He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. ‘If you see Jayne Keeney, please give this to her. It’s the same story I told you, only I wrote it down and signed my name.’

Jayne inhaled sharply and scanned the document, picking up enough of the Thai to see it checked out. She let out her breath in a sigh, no longer frightened.

‘What about you, Khun Komet?’ she said. ‘What would happen if your superiors knew what you were doing?’

‘No need to worry for me,’ he said. ‘
Kam sanong
kam
.’

‘You’re a very brave man,’ she said.

‘I’m a simple man, but it’s not difficult to tell the difference between right and wrong, Khun Simone.’

‘It’s Jayne,’ she said softly. ‘My name’s Jayne Keeney.’

Sergeant Pornsak dismounted from his motorbike, straightened his cap and marched inside to sign off from his shift. He assumed the air of a man charged with a secret mission. With the exception of Ratratarn from whom he received his orders, none of his colleagues could tell he’d spent the night counting fireflies in a dead farang’s garden.