The Coroner's Lunch

The Dead Coroner’s Lunch

A week had passed since Siri’s third coming. Civilai was starting to believe his friend really was immortal. So, as Siri didn’t want to be deprived of the pleasure, he announced that lunch this Friday would be a wake. He would supplement their usual fare with a bottle of sparkling wine. As a special treat, he also invited Inspector Phosy to join them. There were still one or two things that weren’t completely clear about last week’s incredible events.

Civilai and Phosy were on time. They’d canceled their appointments for the afternoon and were settling down around the log for a long and leisurely lunch. Civilai was struggling with a corkscrew.

“You don’t want to wait for the deceased?”

“Hell, no.”

“Then I’d better help you.” He took the bottle and started to open it.

“So, Phosy, Siri had no idea what you were actually doing here?”

“He knew I was with the police. He didn’t have a clue I was investigating Kham and his gang. I knew he’d just done the autopsy on Mrs. Nitnoy, so I hoped I could get some information from him over a few drinks. That’s why the judge introduced me as the police liaison with the coroner’s office. It didn’t occur to me I’d get so lucky.”

“Why did you wait so long before using the evidence?”

“Well, firstly, none of it was conclusive. Secondly, I really wanted to get my hands on Khen Nahlee. I’d been chasing him around for years. But he changed identity and looks so often, I was always too slow. I was sure if his boss killed his wife, he’d get his henchman in to help clean up. I just needed time to find out who he was. He had me fooled for a long time.” He poured wine into the four glasses. “Who’s the fourth?”

“You’ll see. When did you start to suspect it was Ketkaew?”

“Well, things didn’t come together until Siri told me they’d sent Teacher Oum from the Lycee to Viengsai.”

“Damn. I was supposed to follow up on that.”

“Never mind. I did. The transfer paper was signed by Comrade Kham’s office, but then again, most of them are. The initial report was sent in by Ketkaew. That was the first connection I found linking the two of them. It wasn’t particularly significant. He sent in reports about everyone for the silliest reasons. He was still acting the fool, so I didn’t suspect him for a second.

“But then I found a second connection in a roundabout way. I had file photos of Mrs. Nitnoy. These were some old Press pictures, and it occurred to me she wasn’t the best-groomed woman in the country.”

“That’s very polite of you. I’ve heard her compared to the arse end of a long-haired goat.” They toasted with the sparkling wine. It was a rare treat.

“Well, whatever end of the goat she was, I didn’t see her being the type of woman who frequented a beauty salon.”

“God, no.”

“But that’s what the report on the murder said. I chased down the officer who wrote it. He said a witness had told him she went to Mai’s salon once a week.”

“She should get a posthumous refund.”

“I checked at the salon, and it wasn’t true. They’d never seen her there. Now, you realize that chasing down a rumor in this town is like grabbing a wet lizard by the tail. The officer got it from one of Mai’s neighbors, and she got it from one of Mai’s boyfriends. It struck me as peculiar that he should choose to share that information with a complete stranger, and I became very interested in that particular boyfriend.

“Fortunately, in a dormitory full of single women, there are a lot of accidental-on-purpose sightings of other girls’ late-night visitors. I got the girls in a huddle and tried to put together a profile of the fellow I was looking for. One of the others came up with a gem of information. She happened to be going to Mahosot regularly for treatment of a certain condition she didn’t want to elaborate on.

“She said that if this was the man the others were referring to, she’d seen him around the hospital a couple of times. He didn’t look like a doctor; he certainly didn’t come across as a patient either. ‘Something official,’ she called him. I told her where I was staying and how to get in touch with me if she ran into him again. In fact, I gave them all my address.”

“I bet you did.”

“Well, it was the night Siri got blown up. I went back to my place and found a note from the neighbor. She’d been to the hospital that day and seen our fellow again. She asked one of the nurses about him and was told he worked behind the morgue and was some sort of government spy.

“This really sparked my interest. Siri had told me about his chicken counter, but I’d never met him. I didn’t know what he looked like. I thought I might just break into his office, see if he had some old ID or photos lying around, and take them to show the neighbors.

“But when I got to the hospital, there was one hell of a commotion going on. Half the night staff was out with old buckets and bedpans, trying to put out a fire in the kitchen. I helped them for an hour until it was under control. That’s when I learned that the kitchen was directly under the library. I knew that wasn’t a coincidence.

“So I went around to the khon khouay office behind the morgue. It wasn’t the most secure building I’ve ever seen: bamboo and banana leaf. It was too easy to get into. I wasn’t surprised not to find anything incriminating there. But I just had a feeling something was out of place. I sat at the desk and looked around at the layout of the room.

“Then it occurred to me. There were windows front and back, but the desk wasn’t in front of either of them. There wasn’t a fan, so why didn’t he sit where he could get some natural breeze? The desk was squashed up against one wall. I tried to move it, but one leg was stuck. That’s when I saw the wire taped to the back leg. It came straight out of the ground. There was only a four-inch section visible, and at the top was a connector, the type you’d put an extension cord into.”

“He was bugging the morgue.”

“He obviously took the main equipment home with him, but I dug up what was there. The wire went underground all the way to the drain outlet behind the morgue.”

“So he knew everything that went on in there.”

“All the autopsy dictations, the conversations of the morgue assistants. I knew I had him, but I didn’t know where he lived. The only place I could get him was right there. So I woke up a couple of my men and we set up a surveillance. I got the judge out of bed for a warrant and had the place sprung like a rat trap for when he turned up. But the creep didn’t come. All day we waited, not daring to go take a piss or get something to eat, in case we missed him. But there was no sign of him.”

Civilai noticed they’d finished their wine. He picked up the two other glasses and handed one to the policeman.

“It’s going flat.” He raised his glass. “Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

“So, how did you find him?”

“In the end he found us. We’d been watching the office, day and night. I was afraid if he showed up we’d all be asleep. We split into two shifts, and I joined the first rest team to get a little shut-eye. I contacted Judge Haeng to let him know what was happening, and that’s when I first found out about the Security Section scandal and the arrest of Major Ngakum, and, to my utter shock, of Siri’s house being blown up.

“When I’d last seen the little fellow, he was on his way into the house. God only knows how he escaped the blast. My first reaction was to go and see him. But then I got to thinking about things. Like Siri, I’d assumed the attempt on his life was in connection with the Vietnamese case. I’d never known Khen Nahlee to miss a target.

“But by Tuesday, Siri had shared all his Vietnamese information with so many people that it didn’t make sense for them to single him out any more. There was only one case where Siri was sitting on evidence. Khen Nahlee had no idea who I was or that I was connected to that case. I’d been very discreet. As far as he was concerned, Siri was the only one who could put together a case against Kham. So I had to assume the impossible had happened. The professional assassin had failed, not once but twice.

“I’d been tracking him so long, seen the aftermath of his capabilities so many times, I had started to think like him. I knew how those two failures must have hurt his pride. I was surer than anything else in my life that he’d try again.”

“And the night of the That Luang Festival was the perfect time.”

“The Security Section guard had been recalled and there weren’t a lot of people around. I smuggled my men in-one by one, in case he was watching-and the rest you know.”

“The fly dropped neatly into the web. Where is he now?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. But with Kham no longer at his back, and Khen Nahlee out of action, it won’t be hard to dismantle the death squad. I guess that’s a bad sign.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been so efficient, I’ve done myself out of a job. I’m unemployed.”

“Nonsense. Consider yourself rehired. I’ve got a hundred jobs for a fellow of your cunning. Let’s finish this up and hide the bottle before our body gets here. We’ll pretend it was stolen.”

They’d just removed the last of the evidence when Siri and another man they didn’t recognize crossed the road. The doctor was carrying a plastic bag that clinked as he walked.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Surely it’s evening already.”

“Sorry I’m late. There was more muck to wash off him than I expected.” The apparent stranger stood beside him in a long-sleeved pink shirt, permanent-press slacks, and almost-new running shoes. His hair was washed, cut, and parted. His dark chocolate face was the only familiar thing about him.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador Rajid. How do you like your new self?” Crazy Rajid looked confused but moderately excited. Siri shook hands with his two friends.

“He passed his medical with flying colors. I was expecting all kinds of diseases. But apart from lice and a few friction wounds, he’s a glowing advertisement for eating out of trash cans and sleeping in sewers.”

“Perhaps we should try it ourselves.” Rajid started to walk away when the others sat cross-legged around the log as if it were a high table.

“Where are you going, Ambassador? Come and join us.” The Indian looked back, thought about it, then came to sit with them. He gave them a Rajid silent laugh to show he was happy. Civilai inspected the fine silk shirt.

“How did you find clothes to fit him?”

“I work in a morgue, Ai. Do you need to ask? Waste not….”

“How are your lungs?” Phosy asked.

“I just passed a medical that I had to administer myself.”

“Good for you. You were lucky.”

“Lucky is my middle name. And that reminds me. I went to visit an old witch I know-”

“A live one?”

“Most certainly. And she was so pleased to see me, she gave me a special discount on these.” From the plastic bag he produced three bottles of cherry-red liquid in oddly shaped bottles sealed with wax. “Which was just as well, as I see you’ve finished the good stuff without me. It’s plum rice wine.”

Civilai upturned one bottle and watched the alien sediment float to the top. “Phosy, under normal circumstances I’d tell you not to accept blood-red liquid in unmarked bottles from a coroner, but in this case I think we have no choice but to trust him. What do you say?”

“I say he takes the first glass and we give him ten minutes.”

Siri opened a bottle. Phosy laid out four jumbo-sized baguettes on the log, and Crazy Rajid sniffed and tasted his running shoes. While he was slicing through the bread, Civilai recalled an item of news that had landed briefly on his desk that day.

“I heard the funniest thing today. It appears the Taiwanese have canceled a logging contract they had with the Lao Military Council.”

“No!” Siri blushed.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Me? ’Course not. I don’t hear about anything before you do. But-”

“Here we go.”

“No, it’s just that I hear the Chinese are a very superstitious people. I imagine if they knew about the massive displacement of spirits in Khamuan, they’d be concerned that the timber might be…well, cursed in some way.”

“Especially if they had a little spiritual demonstration. And how do you think those Taiwanese could have heard of the spirit displacement in faraway Khamuan?”

Siri shook his head. “Beats me.”

“H’mm. Not much does, I’ll bet.” Phosy laughed.

At last, all the guests were in attendance and ready for the wake toast. It was mercifully short. They stood and raised their glasses. Civilai coughed and spoke in his most somber Party voice.

“Gentlemen of the Dead Coroner’s Lunch. We’re gathered here today in honor of a loyal and sadly departed loved one.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Shut up, Siri. Although he lived much of his life as a fool, he died, without question, a hero.”

“Three times,” Phosy added.

“Three times. Dr. Siri Paiboun, coroner, scholar, witch doctor. We salute you. Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

“Good luck.”

“…good luck.”

They all turned in amazement to look at Rajid.

“You talk?”

“Sometimes.”

Lunch stretched until five. Rajid’s new clothes were piled neatly on the riverbank, but he wasn’t anywhere near them. The others finally stood and said their farewells. Civilai had to be home for a family get-together. The other two didn’t have families to get together with, so Phosy asked Siri if he’d like to have a drink somewhere else.

“Um. Afraid I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“I have an…appointment this evening.”

Civilai yelped and danced up and down. Rock lizards fled for cover. “Would this ‘appointment’ be with a stunning bakery gal, by any chance?”

“It’s only dinner.”

“And the Tet Offensive was only a skirmish. I hope you remember where everything goes.”

“Don’t be so vulgar. It’s dinner. In fact, I’m a bit nervous.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll lead.”

Phosy went to the briefcase that had been sitting at his side all through lunch, and pulled out a thick file that virtually filled it.

“In that case, I’d better give you this now.”

“What is it?”

“It’s you.”

“Me?”

“We found all the confidential files Comrade K and his gang had been keeping on the senior members. We weren’t too sure what to do with them. Your judge suggested we should give them back. Let you decide. He said ‘Socialism is a great cosmos, but trust is the atmosphere that holds the stars together.’”

“Even with the motto, it appears Judge Haeng is developing some common sense,” Siri said.

“I don’t think I get it,” Phosy said.

“Nobody ever does. Can I borrow your briefcase? I don’t want a hernia on top of everything else.”