"Are they paying rent?"
"Not a brass kip."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you."
The door opened. Judge Haeng returned to his desk with a pronounced limp, and collected his forgotten walking stick. He ignored the two disrespectful old men and shuffled out. The laughter resumed.
The morgue seemed to have frozen in time since Siri had left on his mission to the Ministry of Justice. Nothing had moved, not even Geung, who still stood with a toilet plunger hoisted above his head trying to coax a ceiling lizard to drop into it.
"Are you training it?" Siri asked.
"I…I want to take it ou…outside. It shits on th…the…the gurney. I don't want to kill it. It's Buddha's crea…creature."
"Keep your voice down, Geung. The Ministry of Not Mentioning Religion might hear you." Geung was bemused. "Look, I'll give you a little hint. Spray it with water. I don't know how I know, but when you do that they can't hold on for some reason. Try it. But when you get it outside give it a stern talking-to so it doesn't come running back in. All right?"
Geung's laugh clanged around the room. "Ha, who…who's mad enough to talk to a…a lizard?"
Siri laughed and patted his friend on the back. "Sorry, my little comrade. Sometimes I forget who it is I'm addressing."
"Oh…oh!" Geung hopped on one leg. "I remember."
"What?"
"The last message. Teacher Ou…Teacher Ou…Oum."
"Wants me to get in touch?"
"Something…drug."
"All right. Thank you. Good job. If I'm not back by six, you can lock up."
Geung saluted and turned again to the job at hand.
"It's definitely Meprobamate," said Oum, her voice sounding like ice rattling in an empty glass over the telephone line. "It reacted with furfural."
"I thought it might be something like that," Siri replied. "How heavy was the dose?"
"The reaction was really strong. I'd say it was quite concentrated."
"Enough to cause loss of consciousness?"
"Not impossible."
"Let's hope so. I'd hate for her to have been aware of what was going on. In a way I'm glad it was Meprobamate. The symptoms of an overdose are more like a coma — drowsiness, loss of muscle control, unresponsiveness.There are other drugs that paralyze the nervous system. You can see what's going on but can't lift a finger to stop it. I'd prefer that she was unconscious or at least numb."
"Oh, and the contents of the stomach," Oum remembered. "Did you go through them before you brought them over here?"
"I did take a look. Didn't recognize anything."
"The little green fellows?"
"Berries of some kind? Seeds?"
"I wouldn't bet my life on it, but they looked a lot like capers to me."
"And they are?"
"They're used for seasoning. I had them once or twice in Australia. You get them in Italian food. Not the kind of thing you can find locally."
"So they would be imported and expensive."
"If I'm right."
"Not the type of thing a farm girl would include in her diet."
"Not at all."
"I'll pass that little clue on to Phosy. Any luck with the ultraviolet light?"
"I just got back from the gym. It isn't the type of place I hang out normally, but I did your test. I don't think we should read too much into this. The machine only has two settings, and neither might be the right one to reveal phosphates, but nothing made an appearance on the sample you gave me."
"So either the perpetrator didn't ejaculate…"
"Or the school has a crap piece of black light equipment. Can you come over and pick up all your evidence? My fridge is full."
Siri did as he was told. On his way back along That Luang Road with both his shoulder bag and his mind full he switched off the engine, cruised, and contemplated on the long downward incline. If the lycee legend was true, if there really had been a similar murder, then how could they be sure there weren't others? This wasn't Europe. There was no network to cross-reference commonalities between crimes. In Laos, local police forces described their cases in two ledgers and when these were full, one would be placed on the shelf in the police station, and eventually the other would be sent to Vientiane and filed at police headquarters under the province from which it had come. If two similar crimes occurred in two different provinces, there would be no way of telling.
His thoughts were disturbed by the aftermath of a small accident at the Victory Monument roundabout just in front of the bland court building. A black government limousine pulling out of the driveway had been hit by a motorcycle sidecar piled high with cartons of eggs on their way to an embassy reception. The front bonnet of the car was a giant omelette. Two young police officers were holding back onlookers brandishing spoons and plates. The chances of two motorized vehicles colliding in Vientiane were less than that of a bird of paradise defecating on your best hat. Poosu, the Hmong god of small accidents, must have been bored that evening.
The limousine was empty and there was no motorcyclist apparent at the scene, so the police had obviously taken the suspects in for questioning. The Lao language had no shortage of bawdy egg jokes, so Siri was certain this story would be twice around the city before he got back home. His momentum had brought him this far, and he was about to switch on his engine when, among the legs of the crowd, he spied Saloop, his ex-dog. It was dark, and the onlookers were lit only by a single lamp at the front of the courthouse, but there was no mistaking the shape and piercing eyes of Saloop. He sat with his back to the accident staring directly at Siri. His head followed the doctor as he glided slowly past, and that same, hopeless, sands-of-time feeling came over Siri. It couldn't be ignored. Somebody was going to die, and Saloop was there to make the announcement.
Although it was after six the morgue door was open. Siri assumed Geung was still attempting to coax his lizard outside. But when he walked in he found Inspector Phosy sitting at his desk.
"Dr Siri, you look like you've seen a ghost," he said.
Siri was getting sick of hearing this description.
"It's road dust," he said. "It'll wash off. How did you get back so soon? I just talked to you on the phone."
"The cadre representing Vang Vieng had a helicopter pick him up so he could make the cabinet meeting tomorrow. They're starting work on the three-year development programme. I hitched a ride."
Siri sat at Dtui's desk and wiped his face with a cotton skullcap.
"Any news?" he asked.
"Nothing in Vang Vieng. I thought I could do more good here. I left Sergeant Sihot up there showing the photo around."
"And the truck driver?"
"That's why I'm here. He's based at the new Cooperative Development Works. He's due in from Pak Lai tomorrow. I'll catch him when he arrives."
"And the nurse in Luang Nam Tha?"
"I'm taking the regular flight up there tomorrow afternoon, the Lord willing. I'll talk to her and see if that leads anywhere."
"You can't phone her?"
"Doctor Siri, you surprise me. What happened to the man who just eighteen months ago didn't know which end of a telephone to talk into?"
"The Senior Citizens' Union encourages us to embrace new technology."
"Then they should encourage Luang Nam Tha to get a few telephone lines put in. It's like contacting Great-Uncle Lou at a seance, and that's an insult to seances. Not even the governor's got a phone yet. He has to drive down to the Chinese road project and use theirs."
"You realize Dtui will blame me for your going away again."
"Why should she?"
"She blames me for everything. Everybody does."
"Doctor, you seem a little down."
"Oh, it's nothing. Just an old man contemplating the impermanence of life."
"Has something happened?"