The driver retrieved the suitcase from the boot of the car and wai’d to the big German. He was handed the 500 baht fare, no tip; he wasn’t expecting one, but kept smiling anyway. The big German walked to the entrance to the airport and had to put his suitcase and his rucksack on the grey metal rollers that slid his luggage through the x-ray machine. Half a dozen police and immigration officers stood or sat at the other side of the machine, watching monitors and scanning the faces in the queue of people waiting their turn to get past the first of the security measures. The big German was sweating, but so were most of the farangs. He collected his suitcase and rucksack from the other side after a pretty female immigration officer stuck long green sticky tape over each item ‘HKT SECURITY CHECKED’.
He pulled the bags but didn’t look at the police or immigration officers. He walked over to one of the big electronic departure boards and scanned down until he found his flight number and destination and check-in desk number. He was early and there were only a few people at the check-in in front of him. The check-in girl started to weigh the suitcase and asked for his passport. She looked at the passport. Dieter Westeveld, a German national, and then she looked again. For a moment she was gripped by fear. The birthmark on the passport photo was a lot more pronounced than it was on the man standing in front of her, but there was no doubt it was the same man. She recognised him from the police photo fit. The likeness was incredible, but she wished that he had gone to another check-in desk. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the man again and she realised that she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She put the flight labels on the suitcase and picked up the telephone and pressed some numbers. She spoke quietly in Thai. She could feel the Germans eyes burning into her.
“Kha,……..Kha,………Kha” she kept repeating on the phone.
Dieter was starting to feel nervous, but then the conveyor belt started up and his case went on its way. The girl printed out the flight tickets and put them inside his passport and put it on the counter in front of him.
“Which way do I go now?” he asked, his voice was deep, almost menacing.
She couldn’t speak, her mouth was too dry. She needed water. She pointed to her left along the check-in desks towards ‘International Departures.’ Her hand was visibly shaking. She was scared, too scared to be embarrassed by her shaking. She wanted to burst into tears, but she didn’t. She held it together. He nodded, put the rucksack back on his back and walked away from her check-in.
He looked at his watch. It was too early to go through the International Departure, so he decided to have a coffee and a burger from the ‘Burger King’. He walked past a policeman armed with a sub machine gun. He was holding an ear piece in his ear with one hand. The other hand casually rested on his weapon, hung low across his waist. He was wearing black sunglasses, but Dieter had the feeling that he was staring at him. He tried not to let it un-nerve him and he sat in the restaurant to eat. He was followed in by two armed police officers, who also bought burgers and cokes and sat at a table somewhere behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at them. They looked too busy eating to pay him any attention. He didn’t like the police here very much. He thought they looked military and, in Germany, uniformed police officers would never sit in a public restaurant to eat like this. He could feel a nervous knot growing in the pit of his stomach; something was wrong but he didn’t know what. He just wanted to be out of this place. He left the half eaten burger on the tray, took another mouthful of coffee and walked back out of the restaurant and towards International Departures. Another immigration officer with an armed police officer at his side checked the flight ticket before letting him go into International Departures. He walked through the big open hallway towards a row of immigration desks. It didn’t occur to him that there were no other passengers in the immigration hall. The row of high desks was empty. The cameras on bendy stainless steel arms on each desk were like alien beings watching him. Only one desk was manned by a big strong looking immigration officer. A number of other immigration and police officers stood around behind him. They all seemed to have lots of pips and crowns on their shoulders to identify higher ranks. He hesitated, but the big immigration officer behind the desk smiled and waved him forward. He handed over his passport and departure card and stood with his feet on the two painted footprints on the floor and looked into the camera. The immigration officer adjusted it and his photo was taken. The officer didn’t stamp the passport or departure card, he handed them back to one of the higher ranking officers behind him. Some of the police had walked between the other immigration desks and, without realising it, Dieter Westeveld was now surrounded.
“Can you go with these gentlemen please?” said the immigration officer.
“Is there a problem?” said Dieter.
He was slammed into the desk from behind and he felt many hands pushing his arms up behind his back and cuffs were being put on him. He suddenly realised the police in front of him had drawn their guns and they were all pointing at him. He didn’t have a chance to struggle.
“You are under arrest for murder” shouted one of the senior officers with a lot of gold beading on his cap. He was dragged through immigration and out the back of the airport into a waiting police vehicle then driven back to Kathu police HQ in Patong. He felt as if his world was crashing down around him. He hated himself for ever coming to Thailand and he hated himself for the things he had done since he had been there.
One of Colonel Wattana’s deputies did the press conference.
“Colonel Wattana is pleased to announce that an arrest has been made in the serial killer case, while the suspect was trying to escape from Thailand…………….”
Chapter 20 This is a police matter.
Bee wanted to storm into Colonel Wattana’s office, but that wasn’t the Thai way and it wouldn’t get her anywhere. In Thailand, even angry conversations are held with smiles. She had requested the emergency meeting with the Chief with his PA. She waited patiently outside his office until the PA answered the ringing phone on her desk and then put it down, telling Bee that the Chief would see her now. She entered and wai’d respectfully to Colonel Wattana. He returned a hurried and half-hearted wai.
“What is the emergency?” His irritation was not disguised.
Bee was well aware that the Chief had not asked her to sit down, so she didn’t.
“Sir, my partner, Detective Pon, has already rung the Irishman Danny O’Brien and asked him to come along and sit in on the interviews with the suspect that was arrested at the airport…………”
“That was done on my instruction, Detective Bee.”
“But Sir, I must protest. This is a police matter and I do not want Danny O’Brien messing around with my case. I can deal with this.”
“Khun Danny is ‘The Great British Detective’. He is the best detective I have ever known. He has been decorated with medals by the Queen of England, by the Thai Government and even by myself. He has been hired to act as a consultant and an advisor on the ‘serial killer’ case. He will come on the interview with you and you will cooperate with him. I have personally contacted Khun Danny and given him my mobile and told him that if he has any problems with anyone within Kathu police, then he can ring me direct. I trust that he will not have any further problems with anyone within my police force.”
The Chief picked up his pen with one hand and waved Bee away with the other hand. Her emergency meeting was over. She walked out of the huge air conditioned office of the Chief with a burning anger in her heart and already she was plotting revenge against Danny O’Brien for her loss of face. When she walked into the detectives’ office Danny O’Brien was already there, sat at her desk with Pon, who was briefing Danny about the arrest and what they knew about Dieter Westeveld; which was nothing except the details on his passport, the date he arrived and the hotel he stayed in from his entry card. Pon also informed Danny that they had
already taken the suspects fingerprints and they matched the fingerprints taken from the bar bills at Cocktails & Dreams bar, left by the suspect who was with Daa the night she was murdered. There was no doubt that he was the same suspect that had been described by Daa’s best friend and flat mate, Tong. A search team and two detectives were already making enquiries at the hotel where he stayed.
“Good” said Danny. “There is no doubt that he is the suspect that was in the bar on the night. Now we just have to establish if he is the killer or a witness.”
“He is the killer” interrupted Bee before picking up the white plastic cup of water that was on her desk and sipping from it and making a point of putting it down again directly in front of Danny.
Danny was already aware that he was sitting at Bee’s desk. He didn’t need the plastic cup to be placed next to his hand to make him aware of the fact. He couldn’t understand Bee’s hatred towards him, but he wasn’t prepared to put up with her rudeness.
“Cheers” he said picking up the cup, finishing off the chilled water and tossing the crushed cup into the tin bin at the side of the desk.
Bee struggled to keep her cool.
“I will go and prepare the prisoner for interview. Downstairs in custody for interview in five minutes please,” she said. She turned on her heels and walked out of the office. Danny got a whiff of her perfume. It was expensive, like her clothes.
Pon showed Danny down to the Interview Room. Two uniformed officers stood guard outside. Danny carried a brown folder under his arm containing the police photos of the three victims. Inside the blue painted sound proofed room waited Bee, sitting at one side of the table. On the other side sat Dieter Westeveld, his Thai solicitor appointed by the German Embassy, and sitting behind them, away from the table, was a representative from the German Embassy. The room was square, no windows, no air conditioning, and florescent lights in the ceiling that were too bright. The tape recording machine was set in the wall. The table set for interview was directly underneath it. Danny O’Brien had hated police interview rooms throughout his police career and he still hated them now. To him they always felt like places that could suck out your very soul. He sat next to Bee.
“OK, turn the machine on” he said without looking at her.
Bee turned on the tape machine, went through the introductions and cautions and explained to Dieter Westeveld his legal rights. He sat in silence, without emotion and stared at the attractive detective without listening to her. When Bee finished talking there was silence. Dieter Westeveld didn’t acknowledge that he had heard or understood his rights. Just silence.
Danny slammed his big hand down, hard onto the desk. The desk moved, papers jumped and a pen rolled off. It made a loud bang and everyone in the room jumped, but Danny had Dieter Westeveld’s attention.
“You were in the ‘Cocktails & Dreams’ ladyboy bar with Daa on the night that she was murdered. You were seen there by a good witness. She will be able to identify you. We have your fingerprints at the scene. Daa was the first murder victim, a ladyboy.”
Danny opened the brown folder and slammed down the photos of Daa in front of Westeveld. Westeveld grimaced.
“Talk to me” said Danny.
“Ladyboy bar” repeated Westeveld, as if he was trying to conjure up some distant memory from a past life.
“The second murder victim is Toy, another ladyboy” Danny slammed down more police photos in front of Westeveld.
“You were with her as well on the night that she was murdered. You picked her up opposite the Jungceylon shopping centre. You were seen there by good witnesses, who again will be able to identify you. We have taken your blood already and your DNA will now be compared to samples taken from the victims. Talk to me!”
“DNA……..” said Westeveld in a whisper.
“The third victim is Tuk, a real girl” said Danny slamming down more police photos, this time of Tuk’s body in her red dress hanging over the boat on the beach.
“This was your third victim. I haven’t found any witnesses yet, but I will, because you are careless, people see you, people notice you, you leave an evidence trail. The third victim is a female. Why change from ladyboys? What happened?”
Westeveld sat in silence, battling with his own demons.
“Why did you murder these people?” Danny was now hissing his questions through gritted teeth, deliberately raising the tempo and the aggression of the interview. He wanted to provoke a reaction.
SILENCE.
“Do you get a thrill killing ladyboys?”
SILENCE.
“Why murder the girl? Did you think that she was a ladyboy?”
SILENCE.
“Did you come to Thailand just to murder people? To terrorize people?”
SILENCE.
“Is this revenge for something? Are you angry at something?”
Westeveld focused on Danny who was now shaking his head.
“Have you no shame?” whispered Danny, now appearing calm again.
“Yes I have shame.”
“My name is Danny O’Brien. You can call me Danny. What do you want me to call you?” Danny offered his hand across the table and Westeveld shook it.
“My name is Dieter. I like to be called this.”
“Dieter, tell me about your shame.”
“I have great shame. I bring shame on myself and my family. I bring shame on Germany. I am ashamed of myself.”
“What happened, Dieter?”
“I came to this country to see for myself. I hear that Thailand is like a magical land, but Thailand is very bad. It made me a very bad person.”
“Did you do bad things to these people Dieter?”
“Yes, I do bad things and they do bad things to me. I did things I have never done before. They made me feel dirty, ashamed. This is a bad place. There is nothing good here, but maybe I can never go home again now to face my family, my friends. I deserve to be in prison. I want to go to prison.”
“Did you murder these people Dieter?”
“What do you want me to say to you?” asked Westeveld.
“I just want you to tell me the truth. I want to know what happened and why.”
“If you already think that I am guilty, then I am guilty. We are all guilty on some level.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think about this. The important thing is what you know about this. Did you kill these people?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question Mr O’Brien.”
“You fuckwit! I am trying to help you here, but I need the truth and I need you to tell me everything.”
“I am guilty, that’s all you need to know.”
“Guilty of murdering these people?”
“I didn’t kill them, but I’m still guilty.”
“OK, that’s all I needed to know.”
“What! You believe this man?” said Bee.
“I didn’t say that I believe him.” Danny spoke again to Westeveld. “This is Detective Bee from the Thai Police. She is going to carry on the interview, but I’m going now.”
Danny looked at his watch and announced the time for the purpose of the tape and the fact that he was leaving the interview room.
Chapter 21 A chip on her shoulder.
Danny sat in Nok’s office with Nok and Meiwa. They ate food that Meiwa had just brought back from one of the street vendors on the soi below their office. Nok and Meiwa sat on the floor but Danny sat at Nok’s desk. He told them about the suspect and the interview.
“Tee rak, you think he do murder?” asked Nok cutting straight to the point.
“I don’t know yet, but he is a good suspect. He was definitely with the first victim in the Cocktails & Dreams ladyboy bar and he didn’t deny being with the other two. He feels guilty about s
omething, but he denies that he has committed murder.”
“So, what we do now, tee rak?”
“We TIE all the other suspects.”
“TIE! What mean?”
“Trace, identify and eliminate.”
“How we do, tee rak? There are no other suspects.”
“Nok, will yer kop yerself on. I taught you better than that. We find the other suspects; lovers, boyfriends, work colleagues, friends, ex-friends, family and associates.”
Nok beamed one of her wide grins. She loved learning detective skills from Danny and it inspired her. She got up off the floor in one effortless motion and moved Danny’s knee with hers so that she could open the drawer in her desk. She pulled out the file and opened it on the desk top, spread out the copy of the photo of Daa on the beach with the fat farang and the copy of what was written on the back.
‘I love you tee rak. Mr. P. XX.’
“First suspect we need to find is Mr. P” said a smiling Nok.
“Can you make another copy of that photo Nok? We need to split up. We have a lot of detective work to do, and, if Dieter Westeveld is not the serial killer, then we need to find out who is before he strikes again.”
Danny’s words sent a shiver down Meiwa’s spine and the fine hair on her arms stood up. She rubbed her arms quickly.
Cocktails & Dreams Page 8
