Hungry Ghosts (16 page)

“Now look at this wound on the
right side of the neck. As you observe, the cut is straight across the neck, severing the carotid artery and there is a very impressive arterial spurt pattern. This cut was undoubtedly made with a sharp instrument, because it is very ‘clean’. It was probably also unexpected by the victim.”

“How so?”

“The assailant was on his right side and Officer Tathip was looking forwards at the time. If his head had been turned to the right the skin of his neck would have been crinkled and that would show in the wound. But this cut is important for another reason:
the blockage pattern
.”

Ho bent down and pointed at the floor.

“Look at the impact spatter group here. There is a void where the floor is ‘clean’.”

“You mean –”

“I mean the assailant didn’t step back quickly enough and the blood sprayed onto him. I’d say the front of his shirt would have been showered with blood and perhaps his trousers too.”

The Iceman moved around to the front of Tathip’s chair and squatted down.

“The kitchen knife protruding from the victim’s chest was most likely the weapon used to inflict the neck wound. As the sharp edge is underneath, and looking at the angle of penetration, it appears the knife was held with both hands and driven downwards into the heart. The perpetrator was probably crouching in front of the victim as I am now.”

“He wanted to look Tathip in the eyes while he did it,”
Buajan whispered.

“Possibly,” responded Ho evenly. “The stab in the heart was completely unnecessary
as the severing of the carotid artery was a fatal wound anyway.”

Charoenkul swallowed hard. His voice rasped as he said, “And what about those carvings on his forehead?”

The Iceman sniffed. “I’d say that was done after death, probably with a smaller knife which must be around somewhere.”

“Why after death?” interjected
Buajan.

“Because
for one thing it would be very difficult to hold someone’s head completely still while they’re having the word
TRAITOR
carved into it.”

“Time of death?” asked Papa Doc.

Ho cocked his head to one side. “I’d
guess
early evening yesterday. However, when I’ve –”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Charoenkul brusquely, “
when you’ve completed your work you will be able to give me a proper answer. I know.”

The Chief turned to
Buajan.

“What about Tathip’s family?”

“We understand his wife is staying with her sister in Surat Thani. We haven’t been able to contact her yet.”

“This is a mess. I want resources on it. Nobody kills a policeman on Samui and gets away with it.”

“I already have men interviewing the neighbours.”

“The animal – or animals – that did this are going to pay for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Charoenkul wheeled back on Ho.

“What are your thoughts?”

The Iceman
was wandering around the room, nodding slowly.

“The cigarette butts are our best bet for DNA evidence. There is about a seventy-five
percent chance of recovery of the DNA profile of them – assuming the cigarettes were smoked by the perpetrator and not by Constable Tathip. There may be sweat on the sealing tape, or maybe even saliva if it was ripped with teeth. We can swab the rim of the whisky glasses too.

“As for fingerprints, there are the glasses of course, and the water jug, and the knife and the secateurs. Also there is the door handle – although that’s been touched by several people. We’ll check the taps at the sink
– as the perpetrator would have needed to wash the blood from his hands – also table and bench surfaces, etcetera.

“There are also
footwear impressions, particularly where the blood was trodden in and – aha!” Ho had opened the pedal bin by the kitchen cabinets. “There is a tea towel in here which looks like it has blood on it. Possibly it’s been used to wipe the excess blood from the killer’s shirt. We may get some fibres off that.”

The Iceman looked back at Charoenkul happily.

“I think we’ll have something for you, sir.”

“And
I
don’t think the killer wore gloves,” remarked Buajan to the Chief.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because everything about this scene makes me think this was a crime of hatred. This was very, very personal. The killer wasn’t thinking of the consequences for himself. He was more intent on inflicting as much pain on Tathip as possible. What information he was after, I cannot imagine. But I doubt this will be the only body on the island unless we find this man – or these men, as the case may be.”

Ho coughed.

“I’m afraid that’s highly speculative, sir,” he said condescendingly. “Order, method and science will be what will catch this person.”

“So why isn’t your science thinking about
this
?” asked Charoenkul nastily, indicating a large heap of vomit to the side of the front door. “Can’t
this
tell you anything?”

The Iceman knelt down and
examined the acidic pile of regurgitated food. “The only thing this tells me is that the policeman who discovered Officer Tathip’s body has a weak stomach. I can tell you however, that as a matter of
fact
he had noodles for breakfast. But the meat pieces here could be either chicken or pork.” Ho looked up at Charoenkul. “I could guess chicken, but
that
, sir, would be
speculation
.”

17

Catharsis

The evening sky was cloudy and the waning moon obscured. In consequence it was very dark under the coconut trees and Bumibol Chaldrakun was worried about snakes. The songs of the nocturnal insects and the barking of distant curs periodically broke the silence, but this could not entirely eradicate the feeling of eeriness enveloping the big Thai. He leaned against a thick tree trunk and cupped his cigarette in his palm so the red glow was not visible from across the road.

From his shadowy vantage point he had a clear view of the driveway of David Braddock’s house. The only movement he had seen in the last two hours had been the arrival of an Indonesian-looking woman on a motorbike. He presumed from the fact that she carried shopping bags and from her dress that the female was Braddock’s maid. Lights were on in the downstairs rooms but the upstairs was in darkness.

Braddock’s nearest neighbour’s house was some thirty metres away, an overgrown vacant plot separating the gardens. There was no street lighting on the road, so Chaldrakun only had to stand a little way back from the concrete surface to be invisible.

Finding the Englishman’s home had not been too difficult.
Bumibol had phoned local gardeners, swimming pool maintenance companies and water delivery firms on the pretense of checking whether a bill had been paid until he stumbled on Samui Aqua who had Braddock as a customer. A query to double-check the billing address had produced the sought-after location.

The enforcer had had time for reflection and the more he considered his situation the less he liked it. His rash actions of the previous day had committed him to the life of a fugitive. Perhaps the
Jade Dragons would still have use for him, perhaps not. Having the killer of a policeman around may not be something the gang would be willing to countenance. He may be too ‘hot’ to employ, even in a criminal capacity.

Time was against him.

For all he knew, Tathip’s body may already have been discovered, and he had little doubt that once the police team got to work they would be able to identify the culprit from the evidence left behind. They may even be hunting him already, although Bumibol thought this unlikely.

He wiped his eyes.

In the silence his brother’s ghost whispered to him.

It told him to put aside his worries about the future and concentrate on the current task. It told him to kill the Englishman
and get off the island. Leave the Lamphongchat girl. Just do what was required for now.

Kill the Englishman
.

When he saw the car headlights he reached down into his bag and unwrapped the knife.

The large black SUV moved slowly over the uneven road.

Bumibol
held his breath as he waited to see if it would turn into the Braddock driveway.

It did.

As the engine died and the driver’s door opened the big Thai broke cover and sprinted as fast as he could across the road and towards the car. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as the distance closed.

The Englishman had climbed down from the driver’s seat and was
shutting the door when he saw the Thai hurtling towards him and only a few metres away.

He reacted fast.

As his assailant lunged at him he threw himself away from the vehicle and the knife slashed through the empty air. But the big Thai turned quickly, and the
farang
, seeing the large knife properly for the first time, dodged behind a tree and began calling for help.

Bumibol
cursed and circled the tree, but as he did so the Englishman leapt forward unexpectedly grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the knife and throwing the Thai off balance. With the momentum behind him the smaller man brought his elbow into the side of Bumibol’s jaw, and both men fell to the ground, the knife clattering onto the driveway.

The Englishman flailed and struggled, but at close quarters the Thai’s superior strength gave him the advantage. Two stomach punches winded his opponent, presenting an opening to crack the
farang’s head hard against the ground. As the Westerner rolled dizzily away, Bumibol scrambled to his feet and searched frantically for the fallen knife.

At that moment the front door of the house opened and the maid rushed out screaming at him
. The big man just had time to raise an arm before she was on him scratching and kicking.

The Thai heard the Englishman shout, “Wayan, no!” before he threw her off against the side of the car, her head bouncing like that of a doll off the toughened glass.
Bumibol struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand and she crumpled to the ground.

The Englishman was
meantime rising groggily to his feet when the Thai spotted the knife. With one movement he picked it up and thrust it into the other’s stomach.

There was a moment of stillness as the two men looked into each other’s eyes.

“For my brother,” said Bumibol.

He withdrew the knife from the Englishman’s stomach and slashed it viciously across his throat. His opponent stood for a moment as blood gushed out of the two wounds then he toppled forward face down onto the grass.

The big Thai looked quickly around. It appeared as if no-one had heard the shouts.

Light
was spilling through the open front door.

He went over
to the woman lying on the drive, dragged her into the house then shut the front door behind them. She was breathing but unconscious and there was bleeding from the back of her head and from her mouth where he had hit her.

Bumibol
examined his hands and clothing. They were covered in blood. He wiped them on the woman’s cream-coloured dress. While he did so he looked at her.

Slowly he moved his hands up her body until he cupped her breasts
. She was pretty. And she was helpless. Desire stirred in him, fuelled by the exhilaration of the kill.

Bumibol
Chaldrakun undid his belt.

18

Chewing Things Over

Greene’s was full of loud City types and bemused Asian tourists taking in the Old English surroundings of dark wooden paneling, framed scenes of fox hunts and clouded wall-mirrors. Black-clad waiters and waitresses sashayed smoothly between the tables dispensing old-fashioned food at newfangled prices.

Anna and
Katie were seated at a corner table well away from the loudest group of suits who were ordering expense-account champagne to celebrate some deal or other.

“So tell me,”
inquired Anna, “this boyfriend, Alexander. Is it serious?”

Katie
Braddock clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.

Anna tapped her on the arm and said, “Well, is it?”

“It’s getting that way.”

“How exciting. A Russian in the family.”

“Whoa, Auntie A, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

Anna chuckled.

“When are you going to stop calling me Auntie and call me Anna? It makes me feel so old.”

Katie
grasped her companion’s wrist and squeezed it affectionately.

“You’ll never be old. You
’re always gorgeous.”

A shadow flitted across the young woman’s face.

“You know sometimes you look just like mum.”

“Stop trying to change the subject and tell me about Alexander,” Anna replied to keep the conversation light.

The two women met periodically in the City, close to the offices of Katie’s law firm. Katie found it difficult to escape from Croft Daniels for a long lunch, so Anna made the trip across town, her own lunch hour being more flexible. They usually dined at Greene’s where along with the trencher fare salads were to be had. Katie always ate like a bird, and it never ceased to fascinate Anna where she got her energy from.

As
Katie recounted the story of her developing relationship with the young Russian businessman, Anna studied her niece’s face.

Although she carried the Holland genes, most visibly in her high cheekbones, flame-red hair and skin colour,
Katie had something of her father in her bright eyes and her ironic smile. The corners of her mouth turned up
just
the way David’s did. She also had Mr. Braddock’s stubbornness at times, Anna reflected ruefully.

A waiter deposited two plates of salad in front of the women as
Katie continued to natter.

“Anyway,” said
Katie decisively, forking a small tomato, “you haven’t told me how Dad is, and about your little trip to Cambodia.”

“Siem Reap was very beautiful, and the temples were spectacular. Plus it was nice to be able to see your father again. He’s always good company.”

Anna thought how ironic it was that she could discuss having a holiday with David with his daughter, yet with no-one else. Katie was very accepting of the relationship, although Anna suspected she would be less accepting if she knew its true nature.

“How is he looking?”

“As handsome as ever.”

Katie
shook her head.

“You know what I mean. How is he
coping
?”

Anna knew this question had been coming, and it made her nervous. For a moment she had a sense of role reversal of adult and child – although
Katie was hardly a child anymore.

‘He seemed OK to me,” she answered carefully.

Katie toyed with her salad, suddenly serious.

“He’s damaged, you know, Auntie A. He’s really quite damaged.”

Anna reached over and held Katie’s free hand.

“I know, sweetheart.”

Katie closed her fingers around her aunt’s hand.

“I think you are the kindest person I know. I’m glad
Dad has you for a friend.”

The younger woman let the silence
waver in the air for a while then she said, “Dad needs someone.”

Anna swallowed hard.

“He has Wayan.”

Katie
dismissed this with a shake of the head.

“Oh no
, I’ve seen Dad with Wayan several times. He’s fond of her, but that’s all. I can tell. Maybe he remembers her with mum – you know? Shared memories? Maybe having her around helps to keep mum alive for him.”

“Do you think they –” Anna stopped, embarrassed.

“Do I think they fuck?” Katie laughed and Anna reddened.

“No, I don’t. He needs someone around who can look after him, that’s all.
”

Anna felt sudden shame at her fishing. She could not, however, restrain her curiosity about the Balinese housekeeper. She had only met Wayan once and she had
really
wanted to dislike her as just another Asian girl after a white man’s money. But Wayan Lastri was not some girl on the make: she was a womanly woman. And much as it pained her, Anna did
not
dislike her. Since that meeting it had seemed to Anna that David had kept the two of them apart. She may be attributing all sorts of wrong motives to it, but it bothered her. Everything about David Braddock bothered her one way or another.

“My
Dad’s head is pretty screwed up, Auntie A,” Katie continued earnestly. “You must know that. I don’t think he’s recovered from mum’s death.”

“He just needs time to heal,
Katie.”

“It’s been four years.
I need to heal too. I hardly ever see him. He calls me regularly, but it’s not the same.”

“I know.”

“I miss my Dad. Do you miss him?”

“Yes, of course,” Anna replied.

“You know,” mused Katie looking into her aunt’s eyes, “it’s a pity that you and Dad can’t get it together.”

“
What?
” asked Anna trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“Well, you’re both footloose and fancy free, after all. And you’ve been friends for years.”

“I’m not sure that would be entirely proper,” stammered Anna, “your father and I
are
old friends, but he is my brother-in-law after all.”

Katie
shrugged.

“Well,
I
wouldn’t mind if it happened. At least he’d come home then. And he could help you bring up Jenny. It’s a pity she’s not Dad’s, really.”

“
Katie!” exclaimed Anna.

The younger woman laughed.

“It’s OK, Auntie A, I’m just pulling your leg. I realize the timing of that would have been a little – well, shall we say – inappropriate? Ignore me. My, but you’ve gone all red.”

“You are a mischievous so-and-so, Miss
Katie Braddock.”

“I do so love you. You are a darling
, even if you are a bit of a prude sometimes. We must do this more often. It’s been far too long.”

*       *       *       *       *

While Anna Holland’s taxi struggled its way through the London traffic, and the woman herself wrestled with the idea of cancelling her dinner date, on Koh Samui the Old Monk sat chewing gum.

He was perched on a bench in a clearing above the tenebrific tree-line, gazing out over the ocean.
This was the place near the Wat where he sometimes came with the Englishman but tonight he was alone, swathed in the darkness of the island.

He removed the gum from his mouth and stuck it under the bench, before reaching into an inside pocket to take out his last cigarette. He lit
up and sucked in the strong smoke.

Something was troubling him, but he could not pinpoint the cause of his discomfort
. He simply felt that
something
was not right.

The Old Monk
examined the glowing tip of the cigarette carefully.

Every
thing burns
, he thought.