"Much better," said Siri with little conviction. He walked them both into the next room but his mind lagged a few steps behind. Once again, increasingly happy to unload the weight of the world onto his own shoulders, Sri decided to see what he could do about finding Mr Geung a girlfriend…whether he wanted one or not. It couldn't be that difficult, he decided. As simple as pulling together the banks of the Mekhong to reunite the Lao and the North-eastern Thais.
Once again the autopsy was straightforward. Siri estimated the time of death to have been around nine a.m. the previous evening. The young woman was probably in her mid thirties, very attractive, in good physical shape but soft, not the same taut muscles of the previous victim. She had been killed by one single thrust of an epee that passed directly through the centre of her heart. As with the other girl, there were three lines etched onto the inside of her left thigh. This time the signature was more clearly a Z. The killer would have had to pull down the nylon tracksuit bottom to make his mark. He'd taken his time on this one and, as there was very little bleeding, it had obviously been cut there after the girl's death. Sergeant Sihot assured him the victim had been properly attired when she was discovered. The mark brought to Siri's mind the brand of Zorro, the masked swordsman, a part played so convincingly by Douglas Fairbanks.
Siri dusted the epee for prints but it yielded none. He had Geung put it on the shelf beside the first weapon and the body joined its predecessor in the morgue freezer The bamboo tray Siri had built himself had been replaced by a Chinese stainless steel retractable shelf unit that could, at a pinch, accommodate three bodies in the single cooler.
Siri, Dtui, Civilai (who had been alerted to the new murder by Daeng when he stopped by the shop), and the two policemen sat in the morgue office drinking lethal Mahosot hospital coffee and eating Civilai's homemade brownies. The chocolate chips tasted a little like shotgun pellets but hospital coffee had a reputation for dissolving anything.
"So far," Sergeant Sihot began, "we haven't been able to identify this second victim. We're working on it. Nobody's reported a missing person as far as we know. But we have amassed a good deal of information about victim number one."
He flipped open his notepad and all the pages fluttered onto the floor. The others helped him retrieve them but it took him a few minutes to put them in order.
"Sorry. Thank you," he said at last. "Have to get that fixed. All right. Victim number one is…was Hatavan Rattanasamay. Known by the nickname of Dew. She's twenty-nine years of age…I mean, she was."
"Sihot, will you forget tenses and just give us the facts?" Phosy snapped.
"Yes, Inspector. Born in Bokeo. Married with two children. Her husband Chanti was…I mean, is chief engineer with Electricite du Lao. Dew returned from the Soviet Union in January this year. She'd just completed a four-year course in internal security in Moscow. Before she left she'd been a lieutenant in the People's Revolutionary Army. When she got back she'd done so well they promoted her to the rank of major and assigned her to the Prime Minister's security detail."
"Any connections with fencing?" Civilai asked.
"We're waiting for the military to release her records," Phosy answered. "We do know that she took a number of physical fitness and self-defence courses. We just aren't sure which ones she enrolled in."
"How did you get the personal information if the army hasn't released her file?" Siri asked.
"From the husband," Sihot told him.
"Any emotions?" Dtui asked. "Was he distraught? Bawling his eyes out?"
Sihot thought back to his interview.
"No," he said. "He seemed quite calm. Cheerful even."
"His wife's just been killed and he was cheerful?" Dtui asked.
"The man just discovered his wife was with a strange man, naked in a…a steam room at two in the morning," Phosy cut in. "I can see a case for saving face during an interview, can't you?" Siri noticed a glare shared between the couple.
"Any views on who the lover might have been?" Civilai asked.
"I have to say the Vietnamese security people aren't the most forthcoming group," Sihot confessed. "In fact, they wouldn't speak to me. I got the odd brief grunt from the Lao security chief, Phoumi, but he wasn't very helpful. I got a feeling they're all holding something back. I did have more luck with the Lao counterparts on the bodyguard team. The Vietnamese didn't give them much of a direct role, it seems. There was a comment that our people are treated more like civilian security guards than trained soldiers. And language was a problem, too. Dew had Russian, as did a few of the Vietnamese, so she acted as a translator from time to time. Mostly the 'Tell them to do this or that' kind of thing."
"How many women are there on the Lao team?" Dtui asked.
"Two others beside Dew. One on the Vietnamese detail."
"Any inappropriate advances from the men?" Siri asked.
"Not from the enlisted men," Sihot recalled. "I got the feeling they felt intimidated by Dew. Plus she was married."
"Not the enlisted men?" Siri pushed. "But something from the officers? Major Dung?"
During their brief encounter the previous day, Siri had gleaned the impression the Vietnamese was something of a playboy. He had that cinema idol sleaze to him. He was used to getting his way with women.
"He did try it on with one of the Lao girls," Sihot said. "She wasn't interested. Or so she told me."
"And they didn't share a common language," Civilai reminded them. "He wouldn't have been able to pile on the charm. But with Dew he could communicate directly."
"Do we know 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 epee 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."