The Axe Factor: A Jimm Juree Mystery (Jimm Juree Mysteries) (23 page)

“It doesn’t look like you drank that much,” I said.

“After everything we’ve been through, we both needed it,” she said. “Once you hear what’s happened, you’ll probably need one too. In fact…”

She went to the wall cabinet and took out a clean glass.

“Oh, I don’t think…” I began, but on a night like this a glass of red was exactly what I needed.

“Don’t make me drink alone,” she said, poured a few fingers of wine into the glass, then the same amount into her own. She didn’t wait to salute me, just threw hers back and poured another.

“Don’t you go thinking I’m a drunkard,” she said. “These are extreme times. I have to confess I am terribly nervous.”

She looked at her watch and the door at the same time, which seemed impossible. She was making me nervous too.

“What is keeping her?” she said.

If the wine was to calm her nerves, it wasn’t working. I wondered why Dr. Somluk would turn out the light in the office and go to the bathroom in the dark. Or perhaps it was lighter when she … I took a couple of mouthfuls of my wine. It was a little bitter for a Shiraz, but I felt the bite of the alcohol at the back of my throat. Another half-dozen of these, I thought, and I’d be ready for anything.

Or …

Perhaps I wouldn’t.

Dr. June put down her glass and smiled at me. It was a smile I would never forget.

15.

Have a Good Fright

(nok air)

“Where in heck is she?” asked Grandad Jah, not for the first time.

The surveillance was all primed. Captain Kow had phoned Lieutenant Chompu from the rocks below Coralbank’s garden. He was being battered by the rain and buffeted by the wind, but he was a man of the sea, so what did he care? He said the main lights in the house were on, but as yet he’d seen no movement inside. Chompu’s SUV was parked at a spot near Mair’s shop that had a view of the 21-kilometer marker on the main road, interrupted only by sheets of rain. Chompu’s car was unlit and invisible in the dark. His nose pointed toward the road, ready to fall in pursuit when the
farang
picked up his prey. But the bait had vanished. They’d looked for Jimm in her room, the shop, and the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t like this,” said brother Arny, who had been recruited out of desperation. “What time is it?”

All cell phones were on conference. Grandad Jah was above the house not far from the gate, waiting for the arrival of Coralbank’s car.

“Seven fifteen,” said Chompu. “And no sign of anyone.”

“The bicycle’s gone,” said Arny. “In this weather she couldn’t have ridden far.”

“But why didn’t she tell anyone where she was going?” asked Chompu.

“What if…?” said Grandad Jah. “What if he came early? What if she was down at the shop and he drove past, said he just happened to be passing and she might as well come before the allotted time? Left her bike at the store.”

“You’ve been there half an hour,” said Chompu. “And you didn’t see anyone come.”

“Who said he’d have to bring her to the house?” snapped Grandad. “He could have taken her anywhere.”

Chompu clicked on his service radio and called the Pak Nam station. He told the desk sergeant to put out an APB and gave the registration number of Coralbank’s car. It sounded very impressive, but there was just the one police truck out after dark and it spent most of its time parked in front of the 7-Eleven. The duty officer was very fond of microwave tuna pie. There would only be a make on Coralbank’s car if the writer decided to stop by there and pick up the daily newspaper.

“Arny?” said Chompu.

“Yes, sir?”

“See if you can find the bicycle.”

“Yes, sir,” said Arny, and everyone visualized him saluting down the phone line.

Arny took his duty seriously. Once he was sure the bike wasn’t leaning against a wall anywhere at the resort, he jumped in the Mighty X and began a slow search of the few places his sister might have ridden to in the pouring rain in the dark. Once you were away from the seven street-lights, darkness was all-consuming in Maprao and the bike didn’t have a lamp.

Grandad Jah and Ed were contemplating their next move—although there wasn’t one—when Chompu, in a whisper, reported a sighting.

“Men,” he said. “A scruffy, country-singer type on a motorcycle has just stopped in front of the road sign. I think I recognize him. He’s one of the Pak Nam motorcycle taxi drivers.”

“What’s he doing?” asked Grandad.

“He’s just sitting there.”

“In the rain?”

“Wait. He’s started up the motorcycle,” said the policeman, “and he’s coming this way. I mean, precisely this way.”

The motorcyclist made a beeline for the lieutenant’s parked car and tapped on the window.

“Hello, General,” said the taxi man, and saluted.

Chompu wound down his window and was immediately splattered by the swirling rain.

“What are you doing here, Anot?”

“Here to pick up a Miss Jimm,” he said. “I was waiting at the 21-kilometer marker as instructed, but she’s not there. So my next instruction was to come to the resort and look for her here. Naturally, I’m not expecting any extra fee for this diversion, which is eating up even more gasoline than the original agreement covered.”

“It’s two hundred meters.”

“It all adds up. So, where is she?”

“Who hired you?”

“I’m sworn by motorcycle taxi driver confidentiality not to pass on that information.”

“Fair enough. Let’s see your license.”

Anot spat out an imaginary wad of tobacco.

“A Burmese. Female. Speaks Thai. I didn’t ask her name. Told me to pick up this Miss Jimm at seven-thirty.”

“And take her where?”

“The big house on the headland.”

“All right. Sorry. Your job’s canceled.”

“Oh, no, General. It was COD. I can’t lose this gig. I have a family of eight to feed. Little Noo is on his last legs with diphtheria as it is.”

“You live alone, Anot. Nobody in their right mind would let you father children with them.”

“Be that as it may, I was promised. Look at this night.”

Chompu reached into his pocket.

“How much did she agree?”

“A thousand dollars, U.S. Large bills.”

The policeman gave him a hundred
baht
. Anot held it up to the light above Mair’s shop to see if it was real.

“Better than nothing,” he said, and rode off.

Everyone had heard the exchange.

“What do you fellows see up there?” Chompu asked.

“Still no movement,” said Captain Kow. “All the lights on downstairs. No lights upstairs.”

“I bet she rode up here on her bike,” said Kow.

“She’d do that just to be difficult,” said Grandad. “I say we storm the place. I’ve got my pistol.”

“Wait,” said Chompu. “There’s no way Jimm could make it up there on a bicycle. He’s expecting her to arrive on a motorcycle. So this is what we’ll do. I’ll drive over to the temple and meet you at the main road. We’ll take your Honda Dream to the gate. They might open up when they hear the motor. If they let us in, that’s an invitation. No need for a warrant.”

“What about Jimm?” said Kow.

“She’s best out of it. She probably got a flat tire somewhere. Or she’s waiting out the storm. Either way, Arny will find her.”

*   *   *

Arny had been to the two shops that didn’t belong to Mair and therefore had goods for sale. The girls in the shops fell into little pieces at the sight of him, and he had to wade through a lot of flirtatious banter before they’d tell him they hadn’t seen his sister. The bicycle was nowhere to be found. He was on his way to ask at Headman Beung’s place when his cell phone rang out the theme from
Rocky
.

“Arny?”

“Sissi?”

“Has Jimm lost her phone again?”

“I hear the dog buried it.”

“Is she around?”

“No, Sissi. I’m worried to death. We can’t find her.”

“Is there anyone else there I can talk to?”

“No. I’m by myself.”

“Then listen. This is serious. I got into—”

“Wait. Let me get under cover so I can hear you. It’s raining really hard down here.”

A couple of minutes passed as he pulled into a public gazebo beside the road.

“OK,” he said.

“All right. Has she told you about the missing doctor?”

“Yeah.”

“I got into the e-mails between Dr. June at the hospital and the Medley people. Like I suspected, they were all sent via some proxy address in India. But it’s all traceable back to Europe. The people … Are you listening?”

“You hacked into someone’s account?”

“I … you … look, we’ll get into the morality of all this later. Right now, Jimm’s in trouble. Dr. June is the rep for Medley for the whole of the south of Thailand. She’s the one who’s responsible for spreading the word that formula is stardust. Everything that’s happened down there she’s reported to her minder in Switzerland. I traced him to a freelance business agency. The staff roster there looks like roll call at the penitentiary. All seedy guys and gals with records and fake CVs. I’ve got a printout of the correspondence between W, that’s the code name of the minder, and Dr. Seuss, that’s your Dr. June. Are you getting all this?”

“You have to stop treating me like I’m stupid.”

“All right. I’m sorry. The highlights of the e-mails are these: ‘W. Dr. S is getting troublesome. I’m not sure I know how to shut her up.’ ‘Thanks, Seuss. We’re all sympathetic to your problem. We’re sure you’ll find a way to reduce the doctor’s influence. In fact, your bonus depends on it.’

“And later: “‘Seuss. Congratulations. We were confident you’d find a way to nullify Doctor S. Your new problem seems to be equally annoying. But journalists in Thailand have proven to be easily influenced away from a story. One or two threats should be enough. We support whatever method you adopt. Good luck.’

“And then later, ‘W. The journalist is still pushing. Threats ignored. Any suggestions?’

“‘Seuss. Whatever approach you used to shut up Dr. S would appear to have worked just fine. We suggest you repeat that with the journalist.’

“So, Arny. I know it doesn’t actually say how they plan to shut Jimm up, but I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” said Arny.

He floored the accelerator, which made a lot of noise but didn’t actually start the truck moving. Then he remembered the gears. The truck lurched out of the shelter and into the rain.

“Are you still there, little brother?”

“Yes, Sissi.”

“Good. I did research on Dr. June. Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes.”

“She was born in Malaysia to Chinese parents. The parents split up, and June moved to Thailand with her father. He stuck her in international schools and went through most of the family wealth on a parade of girlfriends and drink and drugs. June already spoke English and Malay and Hokkien, so picking up Thai wasn’t such a problem. She was fluent by the time she was seventeen. She applied for Thai citizenship four times before it was approved. She had the money and the determination, so by the time she was nineteen she had a Thai passport and a Thai surname. She took the name Chantavath. June was her original given name, but although she kept it as a nickname when she arrived here, she stated her given name as Chani. With her language ability and excellent grades in the entrance examination, she registered to study medicine at Mahidol.

“She passed all the exams without remarkable distinction, as one would expect from a foreigner studying in Thai, and after an internship at the Bangkok Christian Hospital, she worked in general practice. From there she took a modest interest in child health, for which she became relatively well known. She authored a lot of journal papers. Depressing subjects. Child mortality and incurable diseases. She moved into administration and spent more time writing about health than practicing it. But it wasn’t until five years ago that she rose from this unspectacular career and became a minor celebrity in the south. Her name was suddenly a buzzword for advancements in rural development in children’s issues. No husband. No children of her own. In later interviews she claimed to be married to her work. Although she ‘would have relished the opportunity to have children,’ she never found a man who could accept her devotion to her causes and her energy. You still listening?”

“I’m listening. Sissi? All that was in her immigration file?”

“That and her police record.”

“Police record?”

“She apparently has harassment issues. Twice she’s been taken to court by people who claimed she’d threatened them. One younger intern made a complaint that she was being harassed sexually. Dr. June got off both times.”

“All right. I get it. But my priority right now is to find Jimm and get her home.”

“But you will tell her everything I’ve said here?”

“Of course.”

*   *   *

The boys on surveillance had turned off their cell phones before they approached the open gates of the Coralbank mansion. They stopped at the top of the hill. Grandad climbed from the motorcycle, and Chompu drove back down to give the impression of a taxi man dropping off a passenger. In the house, they’d assume that Jimm had paid the fare. Chompu jogged back up to join Grandad, bemoaning the fact that he’d given up Pilates and had suffered accordingly. He was running on adrenaline and soaked to the bone. He and Grandad kept to the shadows of the flailing bushes and edged down the driveway to the house. Tall palms leaned away from the sea and clapped their fronds as a warning of things to come.

Before it was snatched by a gust of wind, they saw a note pinned to a tree with the word
Jimm
and an arrow pointing to the house. Chompu and Grandad reached the back wall just as the power went off. They were immediately lost in a velvet maze. They were close enough to hear one another’s breaths.

“You bring a flashlight?” Chompu asked.

“You’re the policeman.”

“You’re the organizer.”

As they were men, albeit elderly or gay, neither would admit to being petrified at that moment. There was a mechanical cough from somewhere off to their right and the sound of a generator coming to life. The houselights were ignited almost immediately, the only illumination for twenty kilometers around. Maprao was blacked out. The two men squeezed themselves into the last of the shadows. Even though they were close enough to speak without being heard, Grandad Jah insisted on employing the nifty hand signals the SWAT teams used. He’d picked them up from DVDs. Chompu disliked violent movies, so he’d never learned them. He had no idea what the old man was trying to tell him, so he walked down the driveway without crouching or zigzagging to avoid gunfire. When the old man scurried to a damp spot beneath a sprawling hibiscus, Chompu walked up to the nearest glass door and slid it open. He was only too pleased to step inside, out of the relentless rain. Grandad followed him in.