"It could refer to us," Siri conceded. "But I think I shall take Madame Daeng for a cultural soiree at the temple this evening."
"Well, I'm husbandless tonight, so I'm coming too," said Dtui.
"I'm husbless t…too, so so am I," said Geung.
"That's settled then." Siri laughed. "It looks like Si Saket Temple will be doubling its annual quota of visitors in one evening."
Siri had been speaking only partly in jest. The residents of Vientiane had become very self-conscious about being seen in temples. People had begun to worship discreetly. Their faith had not been dented by the constant notices and the loudspeaker broadcasts decrying the curse of religion, but they found it prudent not to advertise their beliefs. The government interpreted the empty temple grounds as evidence that socialism was a more powerful dogma than Buddhism.
This perhaps explains why, on that warm evening in March, the visitors arriving at Si Saket had to find the keeper of the keys in the nearby compound and convince him it was vitally important to the security of the nation that they gain access to the inner sanctum of the temple immediately. As there were no lights, they were forced to buy sanctified orange candles from the abbot and place them at intervals around the rectangular cloister. This created a splendid, albeit rather creepy, atmosphere. The walls on all four sides contained small alcoves from floor to beam, and each nook had its own Buddha image in bronze or silver or stone: three-dimensional dharmic wallpaper.
"How many eyes would you say?" Siri asked Daeng.
"At least four thousand. Do you suppose he counted them?"
"Nothing about Rajid would surprise me. It does make me think we're in the right place. All we need now is to decide which is the brainless one."
"We could ask them all twenty general-knowledge questions."
"By my calculations that would take longer than I have left on this earth," he said. He smiled uneasily and Daeng glared at him. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"
"Has something happened to you this week that I should know about?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean has the spectre of death landed in your morgue and handed you an invitation?"
Daeng's comment was intended as a joke but, like a hammer thrown from the far side of the room, it had somehow managed to hit the nail on the head. Siri felt a now familiar clenching at his heart. Every day the harbingers had visited him. Worms travelled the extremities of his desk, and the scent of damp earth filled his lungs. Saloop was everywhere — beside the road, beneath the table in the cutting room, outside the shop in the undergrowth opposite. Tonight, as they walked to the temple, the dog's yellow eyes had glared from every alleyway and nook. Death was closing in on Dr Siri, but it was news he'd decided to keep to himself. There was no point in depressing anyone else.
"I don't know what you mean," he lied.
"Oh, Siri, you've managed to swing every other conversation we've had this week around to death."
"I have not."
"You have. You've mentioned graves at least twenty times."
"Let me hear the tapes."
"Take my word for it."
"Daeng, I'm a coroner. It comes with the territory. If you wanted sweet talk you should have married someone at the boiled candy works. Death is my stock-in-trade."
"Then why do I get this niggling feeling it's getting personal?"
"Because you're not as young as you used to be. Elderly people start to have delusions."
"Is that so?"
She might have wrestled him to the ground at that point and twisted his arm behind his back had it not been for a shout from Dtui at the far end of the cloister.
"Doc, Auntie Daeng, I think we've found brainless."
They joined Dtui and Geung in front of a small gallery of much larger Buddhas, some up to one metre tall. They stood or sat as if in a line-up of suspects: similar but different. And the fellow who stood out from the crowd had a head that ended above the ears. He was made of hollow cast iron and had obviously experienced a traumatic event that had removed the top of his head and half his back. His vintage and historical significance allowed him a place in otherwise complete company.
"Looks like a candidate," said Daeng. "Anyone feel like sticking their hand in there?"
Geung raised his arm.
"Yes, Mr Geung?"
"I will."
"Go ahead."
Geung put his hands together and muttered a quick prayer of apology before very excitedly reaching down into the bowels of the Buddha. He rummaged around for a few seconds before re-emerging with a small roll of paper. He handed it to Siri, who unrolled it to reveal a page of unfathomable Hindi letters.
"Mr Tickoo," Siri shouted, "Bhiku."
"Wake up, Mr Tickoo!" Daeng yelled even louder, her voice echoing around the silent neighbourhood. They stood in front of the shutters of the Happy Dine Indian restaurant, looking up at the gaping open window on the second floor. Geung's dormitory at Mahosot and Dtui's police hostel room weren't far from the temple, so they'd agreed to walk each other home, leaving Siri and Daeng to pursue what was hopefully the last instalment of the riddle. They all hoped this final clue would lead them to Prince Crazy Rajid's palace. Mr Tickoo's face arrived at the window with a smile that lit up the sidewalk around them.
"It is even more fiendish," said Rajid's father. Mr Tickoo was sitting inside the restaurant with Siri and Daeng. The fluorescent tube above them was buzzing and cutting out every now and then like at an amateur discotheque. It was annoying but the note kept them spellbound. They watched the Indian consider and contemplate and finally compose. They sipped their tea impatiently, waiting for the last word of the last line. When it arrived and Bhiku looked up with a satisfied smile, they pirouetted the notepad around to see its Lao translation. One million pachyderms And one spirited bear Look sadly at the all-night sun.
Siri looked up from the paper as if he'd won the national lottery.
"Why so smug?" Daeng asked.
"I've got it," he replied.
"Already?"
"More by luck than intelligence, my love."
"Well, that's no fun at all. Don't tell me the answer. Let me get it for myself. Pachyderms…the old word for…"
"Elephants," Siri put in.
"I said don't tell me. I knew that. So obviously a million old elephants equals Ian Xang. Name of the ancient kingdom of Laos."
"And?"
"Several businesses."
"The largest being?"
"The Ian Xang Hotel?"
"Spot on."
Mr Tickoo clapped his hands. "My word," he said. "It's like watching the gods laying out their plan for the universe. Such brilliance."
Daeng and Siri looked at each other.
"Don't let yourself be diverted by conceit," Siri said.
Daeng continued, "I know I'm close here. A bear. The logo on a bottle or a can? No? A bearskin rug? A certain configuration of stars? Spirit…a drunken bear? A dead bear? A dead bear at the Ian Xang Hotel…the empty cages."
"You are remarkable." Siri smiled and squeezed her hand. The riddle had only been simple for him because it paralleled a case he'd handled the previous year. The Ian Xang Hotel had previously imprisoned live animals for the edification of the general public. One black bear had been the star attraction until it was freed. Siri could imagine Rajid wandering into the Ian Xang grounds and watching the poor old girl behind her bars. Somewhere there lay the secret to the location of Rajid's palace.
"What time is it?" Siri asked.
"Who cares?" answered Daeng.
The grounds of the Ian Xang were spacious for a Lao hotel. There was some thick tropical vegetation, native flowers that had been dug up and replanted in unnatural rows, and a swimming pool that was starting to look more like a lotus pond. It had so many leaves floating on it a skinny teenager could have walked across its surface without getting wet.