Phosy downed his drink but didn't reach to refill the glass.
"I hear they're looking for labourers at the salt farm," he said.
"I heard it plays havoc with the complexion. Do you have a point to make?"
"Not really. Just that I should be looking for a new line of work. I complete what I believe is my finest investigation, I free an innocent man and I get a rare handshake from the minister of justice, but you still manage to trump me with a hidden ending."
"Hardly worth giving up a career for. It's all academic anyway. No murderer to build a case against. No witnesses. And without corroboration this is all conjecture. In fact, I'm surprised you were able to present enough hard evidence to convince Judge Haeng to drop charges against Neung. Haeng isn't known as a man in possession of an instinct."
"Ah, but you see? We did have hard evidence. Evidence that put Jim at the scene of the first crime."
"There was no — "
"I admit I had to break into your morgue to requisition some property you'd stolen."
"The epees?"
"Correct."
"And what possible…? Oh, Phosy. The fingerprints."
"Can't argue with modern science."
Siri laughed.
"The prints I couldn't identify on the first epee belonged to Jim, didn't they?" Siri said. "Of course. I didn't check those prints against those of the other victims. Eureka!"
Siri raised his glass and howled like the ghost of his dead dog. Two Thumbs and most of the drinkers turned their attention to the old man with a cancellation scar across his forehead.
"Good luck," Siri shouted.
"Good luck," everyone repeated.
"So finally it worked," Siri laughed. "Only a hundred years since the invention of fingerprinting and Laos uses it to solve a case. Who knows? In under ten years we'll be comparing blood samples. The heated rush of technology."
"What are you two so excited about?" came Daeng's voice from the plank walkway leading from the market. She and Dtui, with Malee at her hip, ducked beneath the few erect umbrellas, took off their sandals and sat with Phosy and Siri on the grass mat.
"Science has triumphed over superstition once more, madam," Siri told her.
He took one of the plastic bags from his wife and removed the boiled duck eggs to the plate in front of him. Daeng upturned a second bag of lethally spicy papaya salad into another. Two Thumbs had no food so patrons were encouraged to step into the market and buy their own. He was, however, extremely generous with plates and cutlery.
"Eating, then?" Two Thumbs called. Such was the colour and depth of his repartee. Phosy took three eggs and presented them as an offering to the proprietor. Daeng and Dtui clinked together their empty glasses, a signal for Siri to do something about it. He set to his task.
"When we planned this we actually had something a little bit more extravagant in mind," Dtui said as Siri poured the tea-coloured Thai brew into their glasses.
"You mean like brunch at the Bangkok Oriental?" Daeng asked.
"More like a nice restaurant with tables," Dtui lamented.
Siri handed the ladies their filled glasses.
"You said we could choose," he reminded her.
"Yes, I know. But you chose the cheapest place you could think of."
"And where's the fault in that?" Siri asked. "You go to some fancy, overpriced place and with every spoonful, every glass, you feel wretched with guilt at all the necessary things you could be spending the money on. You worry so much you end up burning all the calories you've eaten and by the time you get home you weigh less than you did before you left home."
"And we love it here," Daeng added. "It's like a second home to us."
Phosy rejoined the group. He had a new bottle of Mekhong.
"Was that in exchange for the eggs?" Siri asked.
"Charity isn't in Two Thumb's vast vocabulary," Phosy told them, and sat beside Dtui. She put baby Malee into his lap and the youngster grabbed at his shirt button.
"Any more news of Mr Geung and his lady love?" Siri asked.
"More chance of the national football team going ninety minutes without conceding a goal from what I hear," Phosy told him. "Isn't that right, Dtui?"
Dtui was still sulking.
"We wanted to take you somewhere special," she said.
Daeng put her hand on Dtui's knee.
"Special is where friends are," she said.
Siri laughed. "You got that from one of my old greeting cards."
"I know. So what? The point is it's the being invited that's important. The place doesn't matter."
"OK," Dtui conceded. "In that case we have something to say. Phosy?"
"Why me?"
"It'll mean more coming from you because you're a policeman."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means nobody expects you to feel anything. It's shock value. You say something from your heart and it traumatises people. They never forget it."
Phosy frowned.
"In that case…" He put both hands on Malee as if she were a conduit. "What we want to say," he began, "is…well. I suppose it's…"
"You're doing great so far," Dtui told him.
"Give me a minute. I want to say this right. Dr Siri, Madame Daeng, Dtui and me…we didn't…we were so sure we didn't deserve to be loved that when it came along we didn't believe it was really there. It took you two to make us see sense. Thanks."
"Thanks?" Dtui laughed. "That's it?"
"I think I've covered the main points," he told her.
"And I say he did a splendid job," Daeng agreed.
They toasted the moment.
"I want to add one thing," Dtui said. "We were all, I mean, all of us, for five weeks we were living a life that we believed didn't have a Dr Siri in it any more. And it wasn't the same life. It was lonely and empty. It was missing something important. So…" She raised her glass. "Thanks for not dying, Doc."
They toasted Siri not dying and his belated birthday and refilled the glasses because the best was yet to come. Daeng reached into her shoulder bag and produced an envelope.
"This came for you yesterday," she said. "I sneakily held it back. I thought this would be an appropriate occasion for you to open it."
Siri looked at the envelope. It was stamped 'Ministry of Information. DHC. He looked up and smiled at his friends. It was an amazingly fifth-birthday-party smile for such an old man. Dtui squealed with excitement. They all raised their thumbs at the proprietor who gave them his trademark salute. Everyone around them cheered at the sight. Siri tried to be nonchalant as he opened the envelope but it was apparently made of some linoleum-like material so he ended up ripping it apart with his teeth. He withdrew the single sheet of paper and looked around before reading aloud.
"For the attention of Dr Siri Paiboun. Reference to consideration of your nomination for the status of National Hero, Level Two. The committee of the Department of Hero Creation has reviewed your credentials and we are most impressed with your many years of medical dedication to the well-being of our comrades."
He smiled again.
"Yey for dedication," Dtui shouted.
"We admire your forty-seven-year continuous membership of the Communist Party," he continued, "and your willingness to take on the role of national coroner at short notice. However, the committee was less than impressed…was less than impressed with your poor attitude towards authority and your constant blatant disregard for rules and regulations. We feel that younger generations would be inclined to ape such behaviour if we condoned it by approving your elevation to national Hero status. The DHC therefore regrets to inform you that your nomination has been rejected on the grounds that you, Dr Siri Paiboun, are not an appropriate role model.
We thank you for cooperating with us on this matter and wish you the very best of health and a long and productive future. For your information, we are enclosing two documents. One is a review of the amazing advancements in collectivism in the People's Democratic Rep
ublic of Laos. The other is a leaflet which outlines the characteristics of New Socialist Man and his role in furthering the development of the republic. We hope they will prove useful to you and help you to contribute more to the advancement of your country. With respect, Minister of Information."
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Love Songs from a Shallow Grave dp-7 Page 27
