Hungry Ghosts (6 page)

Anna
took a sip from her large
I Love Thailand
mug. The tea was lukewarm. She wondered how long she had been sitting there with intrusive thoughts of David Braddock burrowing their way through her concentration. She checked her watch. It was three-forty-five. It would be quarter to ten at night in Bangkok. Anna’s cell phone regarded her dumbly from atop of a paper heap.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to ring him
, she resolved. But this was inevitably followed by the question,
Why hasn’t he called me?

She left the phone where it was and went to make herself another mug of
camomile tea.

In the cramped kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, Anna considered her situation.

She was a
forty something
single parent with a dead husband and a dead sister. She was still attractive, she told herself, an independent woman, well-thought of in her profession. Thanks to her work and to the sizeable insurance money from her husband’s death she was financially secure. But Anna was not happy.

She was not happy because she was in love with David
Braddock. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

Their relationship had been carried on long-distance over the last few years. It had also been carried on in secret.
There was no way she could tell her mother about it, nor her father, had he still been alive. He would have been severely affected by Claire’s death, Anna was sure. Thank God he hadn’t survived to see his daughter die. Her mother had proved to be resilient, although the once vivacious eyes were dulled with inner pain. Natalie Holland had poured her affection into Jenny and into Katie, Claire’s daughter by David. She was always eager to babysit Jenny, as she had done during Anna’s supposed business trip to Cambodia.

Sometimes Anna wondered if her mother
knew
about her and David. Nothing had ever been said, but Anna had a
feeling
. When Anna had arrived home the day before, it had been as if her mother had expected her to bring some important news about the future; that an announcement was overdue.

But Anna had no announcement to make.

This time
, she had travelled to the Far East with resolve. It was high time her relationship with David was clarified. They couldn’t go on forever meeting clandestinely every few months. They should decide if they were ever going to have a life together, a proper life. She needed to know how David really felt. She knew he trusted her, that there was a real emotional and sexual bond between them; and that their interactions had the sparkle of romance. But something was missing:
commitment
.

However, within
minutes of their meeting, Anna’s resolve had crumbled. The rehearsed speeches she had carried in her head seemed absurd. How even to open the sort of conversation she had in mind?

David, I realize you have a new life in Thailand, and that you’ve never really got over my sister’s death, but how about we agree to live together and you help me raise my child? By the way, I love you and I really hope you love me too.

It was absurd, surreal.

But then h
er whole situation was absurd. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

W
hy didn’t she feel crushing guilt at loving Claire’s husband? She could understand why she never thought about her own dead husband, Max. He had turned out to be a bastard and even the manner of his death had brought humiliation to her.

But
Claire
? The sister she had grown up with, had idolized? Why were her emotions towards David so strong, while the feelings for her sibling were so opaque, so pushed back into the hinterland of memory? Sometimes she thought the wholesome personality which she presented to the world was merely a cynical façade. Perhaps at bottom she was not a decent person at all.

The kettle boiled and she made the tea and carried it back to her desk. During the short walk
her receding anger gave way to embarrassment and self-doubt.

She should be thinking more about her child. She should be considering Jenny more and what was best for
her
.

And there were other hurdles, other barriers to a life with David Braddock,
not just practical ones. There was one obstacle in particular, a big obstacle, which lay between them. It was an impediment of which David was not even aware. It was Anna Holland’s deepest secret. On this she had no rehearsed speech; no plan of how the subject could be broached.

Perhaps that was the real reason her courage had failed her in Cambodia.

Her cell phone burbled into life, and the display said
David
.

Anna answered immediately.

*       *       *       *       *

In
Westminster, Big Ben struck four o’clock.

In a Bangkok alley, a large tattooed Thai man
was laying into a scrawny junkie with his bare fists until the woman finally collapsed sobbing to the ground among the grimed litter and animal shit.

On Koh Samui, Charlie Rorabaugh stood in the street outside
Bophut Jazz, lit a cigarette and looked up at the night sky.

“There’s a storm coming,” he said to himself.

5

David Braddock’s Journal

“Ah, excellent, you’re here,” I say somewhat sarcastically.

I dump my bag on the floor and throw my straw hat at the hat-rack. It misses by a mile.

Da and Jingjai look up from their goo-gooing activities with baby
Pratcha. The little pudgy one also turns his head to regard me with curiosity and I note a prodigious quantity of drool. There is a large box of disposable nappies on the reception desk along with various other assorted pieces of newborn paraphernalia. The David Braddock Agency has taken on the look and smell of a crèche.

“
Khun David, you’re back,” Da observes, giving me a wide smile.

I’m not having any of it.

I remove baby Pratcha from Da’s lap and dump him on Jingjai.

“Look after this for a minute, would you, Jingjai? I need to have a conference with Mother Earth here. You come with me,” I say to Da.

I slump on a chair in the East Office. Da gauges my mood and decides to take the solicitous approach.

“You look tired,
Khun
David,” she purrs earnestly. “Have you come here straight from the airport?”

“Yes I have, but never mind about that,” I reply. “Sit down, will you
? I don’t like looking up at you.”

“Shall I make you a coffee?”

“No. I already have a receptionist, thank you. Speaking of which, why do I keep finding you here? You’re supposed to be on maternity leave. Jingjai is quite capable of managing for a few weeks.”

She perches gracefully on the arm of a chair and looks at me with those big eyes. She’s still higher than me. Da understands psychological advantage, even if she’s never read a book on the subject.

“I know. She’s wonderful. I love her. I just like to make sure everything is OK, especially when you’re not around.”

“It’s off-putting for clients
to come through the door and see you breast feeding.”

“I do not breast feed
Pratcha in the office,” she retorts, dropping the winsome look. “Huh! You wish, Khun David.” I note the
Khun
is heavily laced with something corrosive this time.

That’s more like the old Da. Combative, feisty, taking no prisoners. No respect for her boss whatsoever. God love her.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? My breasts?”

“No. I wanted to talk to you about our new business venture. You remember our new business venture, Da, right?
Braddock Entrapment Services
?”

“Y-e-s,” she says cautiously. “Is there a problem?”

“And you remember your brilliant idea to use Ting as our field agent?”

“
Field agent?
”

“I can’t think of a better job description that doesn’t employ the adjective
fucking
in front of it.”

Da is un
perturbed. She purses her lips in disapproval.

“You know sometimes you can be very vulgar, sir. Your language has been getting worse recently.”

I emit a loud sigh.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well now, let me see. A slight problem, yeah, now you come to mention it.”

She waits for me to go on.

I look at her narrowly.

“You know already, don’t you? You’ve spoken to Ting.”

Da shrugs.

“I’d like to hear your version,” she says. “Pretend I don’t know anything.”

I exhale and scratch my forehead which suddenly feels itchy.

She taps me on the knee. “Let me get you a coffee first,” she tells me. “You look like you need one.”

No point in arguing. I smoke a cigarette and tell myself,
It’s not so bad, really
.

Then I tell myself,
It bloody is though
.

Da returns with the coffee and sits opposite me like a patronising headmistress interviewing some
callow schoolboy.

“I’m listening.”

I stub out my cigarette and take a sip of the coffee.

The headmistress prompts politely, “Last time we spoke you said everything was going well.”

“Oh, it all started off well enough,” I admit, “although it didn’t take long to turn pear-shaped. Our friend Tesman thankfully took the first bait offered: the dropping-the-bag-in-the-corridor ploy. Ting chatted him up smoothly in the lift, as per your schooling. No need to go to Plan B or Plan C to get him hooked.”

I light another cigarette.

“You’ve just put one of those out,” she notes acidly. “You shouldn’t be smoking in front of me.”

“That’s
while
you’re pregnant, Da, not
after
.”

“You smoke too much.”

“Will you shut up for a minute? Unless you’d like to tell
me
the story instead.”

She mimes zipping her lips.

“Anyway, Ting and Tesman met at the hotel bar later, as arranged. I hung around long enough to make sure it was all going smoothly and that the recording device was working properly then I left.”

“Where did you go?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“Just asking.”

“Just nosing, more like.”

“Continue
, please. What happened next?”

“Ting overstepped her brief is what happened next. She went back with
Tesman to his room and bonked his brains out all night. As well you know, Missy.”

“Well, that was bound to happen,” Da says calmly.

I look at her open-mouthed.

“What do you mean,
that was bound to happen
? That was
not
the plan. She was supposed to go to his room with him then feign cold feet once we’d got enough recorded evidence of intention. That was what we rehearsed,” I huff. “That was what
you
rehearsed with Ting,” I add accusingly. “
Wasn’t it?
”

I hear baby wailing start up in the background.

“Let me get Pratcha. I’ll only be a moment.”

She exits and reappears with the screaming baby, along with a disposable nappy. I detect an unpleasant odour as she places him carefully on the coffee table. I stub out my cigarette before I get another lecture.

“I’ll just change him while we talk.”

“Great.”

“Is that all right?”

“Yes, that’s just dandy,” I shout over the screaming.

“So what happened next?”

“Well, I listened to the recording of what went on in
Tesman’s hotel room. Or as much of it as I could stand anyway.”

“And?”

The baby’s screaming has got louder, so I raise my voice a few thousand decibels.

“I don’t think any independent party that listens to it is going to be in any doubt of what was going on. Let’s put it that way.”

Pratcha’s stinky nappy is off. He celebrates by releasing a stream of urine which arcs impressively over the coffee table.

“That’s a good boy!” Da makes various affectionate sounds. Not dissimilar actually to some of Ting’s noises on the recording when they got into one
particular perverse bit of role-play. “It’s OK, I’m listening,” she tells me.

“Ting then refused to come back with me. She’s staying on to keep
Tesman’s bed warm for the next few nights.”

The infant wailing continues.

“This is not the sort of conversation that should be conducted at a high volume level, Da. Can you get that nappy on quicker and shut him up?”

“Would you like me to put him to the breast? I’m sure that would work.”

If I say yes I will be risking a slap.

“Never mind.”

She picks up Pratcha and puts him over her shoulder. She circles the room patting him while we talk and he gradually stops bawling.

“I don’t really see what you’re so worked up about. I think it all seems to have gone rather well.”

“Da, on your definition the bomb at Hiroshima went off
rather well
. I pointed out to Ting that as soon as Tesman knows she is part of a honey trap he’ll drop her faster than a used condom. So if she’s entertaining any thoughts of bewitching him and sucking him dry she’s ruddy delusional. Although,” I begin to add whimsically, “by all accounts she’s already sucked –“

Da cuts me off. “Yes, yes,
Khun David. Very amusing.” She covers Pratcha’s ears. “I don’t want my baby to hear that sort of talk.”

She continues to circle the room rocking the bundle, which is now quiet.

I push on.

“Anyway, at least I persuaded her to do a second night of recording. She has an interesting perspective on loyalty, our Ting, by the way. Maybe she’s just making sure
Tesman’s wife divorces him. It could be to her financial advantage.  Or so she thinks.”

“Have you listened to the second night’s recording?”

“No. I thought I’d let your husband listen to it for me. It might give him a few ideas which in turn might keep you away from the office for a while.”

Da ignores this.

“I think Ting might have some genuine feelings for Chester,” she announces thoughtfully. “We girls had a talk.”

I almost choke on my coffee at this point.

“Oh, she’s got some genuine feelings for him all right. I’ve heard the recording.”

“And she thinks he’s got a soft spot for her.”

“That’s because she hasn’t charged him for the sex yet.”

“You are so cynical,” she says, sounding matter-of-fact about it.

I let this one go.

“I don’t even want to get into a discussion about
Tesman and Ting’s burgeoning love for one another,” I fume. “You’ve been watching far too many Western soap operas. What on earth am I going to tell Miranda Tesman? ‘It all went very well, Mrs. Tesman, apart from the fact that your husband has fallen deeply in love with our employee. Oh and by the way, they’ve spent the last few days riding each other’s bones to the edge of destruction.’ How do you think that conversation will play out?”

Da looks serious for a moment.

“Do you want me to call Miranda?” she asks.

“No way.”

“Woman to woman?”

“
I’ll call her
,” I state bluntly. “Not
you
. It will be me that’s getting sued after all.”

She shrugs. “That’s up to you. You’re the boss.”

“Thank you for reminding me. Now can I ask that you remove the soiled nappy from my coffee table, please? And if Jingjai’s got any air freshener out there, tell her to bring it in. I’m going to open a window.”

Jingjai is my charity case.

Perhaps that’s putting it a bit strongly.

She doesn’t look like a charity case. She’s slim with a rather boyish figure and pert breasts that have had some work done on them. One might describe her as
Thai Goth
since she wears rather too much makeup, especially around the eyes which are further enhanced by large false eyelashes. She has a diamond in one of her teeth, but no tattoos anywhere as far as I know. I’ve never seen her naked, so I could be wrong about this.

Maybe
Thai Goth
is also a bit strong.

Wiwatanee Lamphongchat – which is her real name – is, however, a very well-educated young lady and a highly-talented singer and musician. She also happens to be the niece of a powerful Bangkok gangster, who ‘keeps an eye on her’ on behalf of his dead brother, Jingjai’s father.

I first encountered Jingjai about two months ago, when she was working in a bar in Chaweng. A German client in the music business had asked me to reassure him she wasn’t up to the sort of thing that many Chaweng bar girls are up to, since he was considering offering her a music contract. The music contract never actually materialised but my getting to know her proved to be important. It also resulted ultimately in my involvement in the killing of Police Constable Preechap Chaldrakun.

Unbeknown to Jingjai, Chaldrakun was being paid by her family in Bangkok to ‘mind’ her. The unpleasant gorilla – ‘PC’ to some of us island ex pats – developed an obsession with the girl, despite the fact that they’d never spoken, and started killing off any potential
farang boyfriends and setting alight their corpses.

When our ambitious Samui Police Chief ‘Papa Doc’ Charoenkul took it into his head to fit up a tramp for the ‘burning murders’, I enlisted the help of
the brother of one of the victims to kill PC. I figured if PC discovered I knew he was the murderer, I’d be the next pile of charcoal under a coconut tree. And that was
not
about to happen.

Looks like I’ve got away with it. It’s not keeping me awake anyway.