The Flower Girl

by Lilburne, Guy

  “Do you like?”

  “Yes. It is very nice. Is it yours?”

  She leaned forward to whisper something in my ear, so I leaned forward towards her.

  “Not my bar. I just fuck the Boss” she whispered and kissed me slowly on the neck. I looked around to make sure the Boss wasn’t watching from somewhere and the sexy lady behind the bar laughed again.

  “Don’t worry. He not here. I can still boom-boom with you. No problem.”

  “OK. Thanks” I smiled.

  “You want?”

  “I want what?”

  “You want boom-boom with me. I like you too much. You have good heart.”

  “I don’t know. Can I think about it? I just wanted a drink really. Can we talk?”

  “Yes. No problem. Welcome. What’s your name, darling?”

  “Ste…………John East.” I was about to give her my real name, but remembered that I was on the run. So I sort of changed it halfway through.

  “Steejon?”

  “Yes. Steejohn” I smiled and nodded, as if I was an expert on my name.

  “I not hear this name before. Steejon!”

  “It’s Welsh. I’m Welsh, from Wales” I lied.

  “My name Fon. Nice to meet you Steejon East.” Fon offered her hand and I shook it and then she took a chilled bottle of Chang from the fridge behind her and flicked the top off on the edge of the bar. She pushed the bottle into an insulated jacket and put it on the bar in front of me. She poured herself a whisky and soda on ice and then clunked it against the side of my bottle.

  “Choc dee ka” she smiled.

  “Cheers.”

  Fon opened the fridge again and took out a white plastic wrapper. She rolled it between her hands and then squeezed one end and then smacked it down on the bar top. It made a loud pop. She took out the cold wet wipe from inside and walked around the bar to me. She stood with her long legs astride of mine and used the wet wipe to wipe my face, neck and then my chest. She squeezed my penis with her other hand and it made me jump.

  “You want me to wipe here, Steejon?”

  “I’m OK, thanks.”

  Fon laughed out loud and then squeezed both my cheeks (the ones on my face) and kissed me again.

  “You so cute, Steejon. Maybe I do you free.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t really know what else to say. Fon walked back behind the bar with the sexiest walk that I had ever seen. I knew that I was getting all hot and bothered and I think that Fon knew it too. She wrote out a bill for the drinks and dropped it into a little bamboo cup and pushed it next to my beer. I took a big swig from the bottle. It tasted delicious and it was cold and refreshing.

  “I have seen Wanted Posters around, for the murder of The Flower Girl” I said trying to sound interested, but not guilty, and desperately trying to stop my head and hands from shaking.

  “Yes. Very bad man. He murder Pin, The Flower Girl. He was her boyfriend.”

  “Oh dear! When did that happen?”

  Fon thought for a moment and shrugged her shoulders.

  “About a year ago. Nobody know who boyfriend was. Only know he farang (foreign) and now police think he come back. He tell somebody that he Pin’s boyfriend. He kill Pin because she pregnant.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Not know sure, just think this” said Fon, shrugging her shoulders again.

  “Did you know The Flower Girl?”

  “Yes. She very good person. Never say bad about any person and always talk good to everyone. Every person like The Flower Girl. When she die everyone in whole town go to her funeral. She not have family, but she have many friends. She very good heart.”

  “Where was she buried?”

  “Not buried. Burn in temple and now live in house in temple.”

  “In a house?”

  Fon made the shape of a little square with both her hands.

  “Not big house. Little house same as box and keep in wall of old temple.”

  “This old temple at the top of the road?”

  “Yes.”

  I felt a chill run down my spine and I was sort of happy that I now knew where she was and I determined straight away that I would go and find her ‘House’ and pay my respects. Once again I had an overwhelming feeling of love for Pin and I felt very close to her. I think I could feel her presence next to me, but I might just have been imagining it.

  “I love you” I whispered.

  “I love you too, darling,” said Fon and we both laughed.

  “Did anyone ever see her boyfriend?”

  “Not sure. Many farang here, all look the same…..not you Steejon. You look handsome man.”

  I’ll tell you what happened next, and you just couldn’t make this up.

  I just happened to glance out towards the road and I saw two policemen on a motorbike. The passenger had a load of rolled up posters under his arm. They were just riding past slowly and, as they went past, the passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder and pointed to the bar that I was sitting in. I froze. The driver did a U-turn in the road and pulled up at the front of the bar, parking the police bike amongst the long line of parked motorbikes. They both got off and walked into the bar in their very smart but very tight uniforms. They were both wearing helmets, black mirrored aviator sunglasses and black shiny boots. They both had hand guns holstered and strapped to their hips and one of the officers had a row of coloured medal bands over one pocket of his tunic.

  I know that the expression ‘Shitting yourself’ is grossly overused and usually exaggerated, but on this occasion it was neither. I could smell it for a few moments before I realised it was me. I didn’t want to look at the policemen, but I couldn’t look away and I had had an accident in my pants. I just simply couldn’t move. I really was frozen with fear. The two policemen walked to the bar and spoke in Thai to Fon, who was very flirty with them, smiled a lot and was touching and stroking both of them at every opportunity. She poured the two officers a glass of whisky each and the officers nodded their thanks. They pointed to the wall behind the bar and unrolled one of the Wanted Posters on the bar. I could see my own face looking out at everyone from the poster. I wanted to run, but I had absolutely no control or feelings of the muscles in my body. I just stared at the policemen talking to Fon.

  Then I saw the three of them start to sniff the air. The smell of my accident was starting to waft around the bar. If the rotating ceiling fans weren’t pushing the warm air around then it might not have been so bad, but it was bad and I could see by their expressions that they could smell it. They all turned and looked at me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was hiding behind my own dark sunglasses and, just like a child; I was hoping that they couldn’t see me when I knew that they clearly could. They stared at me for what seemed like an eternity and then one of the officers walked up to me. Very slowly and deliberately he unclipped the gun on his hip with one hand as he approached me and I guessed that he wasn’t going to shoot me just because I had shit myself. There was no doubt in my mind that he recognised me from the poster. He stood in front of me with one hand held ready on his gun. With the other hand he removed my hat. The girls in the bar gasped, but I think that they were just being dramatic, either that, or I had made a bigger mess of cutting my hair than I first thought. He dropped the hat on the bar and then removed my sunglasses.

  “Hello” I said, not really meaning it.

  The second policeman looked down at the poster on the bar and then shouted something in Thai. He sounded a bit over excited for my liking and then both policemen drew their weapons and pointed them at me. They screamed at me in Thai, but I didn’t understand what they were saying and I was too scared to move. I could have guessed that they were screaming ‘Hands up’ or ‘Get down’ or ‘You dirty bastard, you’ve shit yourself�
��, but my brain wasn’t working and I was still frozen with fear. The policeman in front of me swung his arm up and the butt of his handgun smashed into the side of my temple. I felt the blow before I saw it coming. It sent me flying off the bar stool and, in a second, I was lying face down on the floor with my hands cuffed behind my back, with one of the officers either sitting or kneeling on me. It’s funny what you notice at moments like that, but at that exact moment on the far side of the bar, I saw a rat run across the bottom of the wall and outside onto the street, unseen by everyone but me. One of the officers was speaking into his radio and the girls from the bar started taking photos of me on their mobile phones, ringing and texting people to share the news with them. I was really ashamed of the mess that my trousers were in and I knew that everyone must be able to see the stain, but nobody was laughing. It was all very dramatic. Other people started to gather around the bar, standing out on the pavement and even spilling into the road. I heard a lot of excited Thai voices as I was just held on the floor. I didn’t realise, but they were waiting for a police car to come and get me. I just lay there frightened and listening. My head was starting to hurt now from the blow by the arresting officer. The crowd outside started to grow and Fon started selling them beers on the pavement. I didn’t know what the Thai voices were shouting, but I heard some drunken Englishmen’s voices. They were shouting ‘Shoot the fucker, the dirty murdering bastard’ and other similar statements. These people didn’t even know me and they wanted to kill me. I was innocent, but I just couldn’t say or do anything. It was getting very difficult to breath with the policeman sitting on me. After what seemed like an age I heard the sirens of police cars getting louder as they got nearer. Then they pulled up outside and a brief conversation in Thai took place between the officers. I was dragged up to my feet and walked to one of the cars. Some other policemen cleared a way through the crowd of angry faces. I heard an English voice laughing and shout;

  “Look! The bastard has shit himself.”

  A policeman opened the boot of the car, took out a big brown paper exhibits bag and placed it on the back seat of the car. I was sat on the bag. The other officers got into the cars and, to the jeers of the crowd, I was driven off back down towards the beach. The car went left along the beach road and it took the coast road towards Rawai Beach. They were taking me to Chalong Police Station. I recognised the coastal road. It was the same road that Pin had taken me on the motorbike the day she told me about Dean hitting her with the rock and throwing her in the sea. I suddenly thought that I needed to tell the officers about Dean and I could even show them where it happened, because we were going to drive past the very spot where it happened.

  “Does anyone speak English?” I asked, but nobody answered.

  “Please, it is very important. Does anyone here speak English? I have something important to tell you!”

  “I speak nit noy” (little bit) said the policeman in the front passenger seat.

  “I can show you were The Flower Girl was murdered. I can show you the rock used to smash her head in before she was thrown in the sea. I can show you.”

  “You show us now?”

  “Yes. In a few minutes I think we drive past it. Drive slowly.”

  The policeman spoke in Thai to the other and the car slowed down. He spoke on the radio to somebody as well, before he took his gun out and pointed it at my head.

  “If escape I shoot you!”

  “I not escape. I tell you everything.”

  “OK.”

  It took a lot longer to get to the spot that Pin had taken me to, it was further away than I had thought, but then I saw it.

  “Stop. Stop, it’s here.”

  The policeman in the front seat nodded and spoke again in Thai and the car and the car behind pulled over. I led the officers to where Pin had taken me. I sat at the spot where we had sat to get my exact bearings and I remembered exactly which rock that Pin had told me Dean had used to bash her brains out with.

  “Can you take handcuffs off me, please?”

  “I shoot you.”

  “I’m not going to escape. I need to show you something. Do you understand?”

  The policemen spoke in Thai for a few minutes before one of them uncuffed my hands from the rear and pulled my hands to the front and put the handcuffs back on. I got up and walked to the rock.

  “This rock. This is the rock.” I mimed picking up the rock and using it to bash someone with.

  “Do again” instructed one of the officers and he took out his mobile phone and filmed me standing over the rock. I did as instructed and repeated the mime of picking up the rock and bashing someone on the head with it. I continued the mime to show Dean then picking up the body and throwing it over the cliff. The officers were all standing around and nodding and I thought that they were starting to like me, but then two of them kicked and punched me in a tirade of verbal abuse, albeit in Thai. Maybe something was getting lost in translation. The officer filming on his phone stopped filming as soon as the beating started. I was dragged back to the car and I saw two of the officers placing the big rock in an exhibits bag. I was taken to Chalong Police Station and thrown in a cell with the handcuffs still on. I knew that I had been arrested, but nobody had told me what for. Well, at least not in English. Actually, I guessed that I had been arrested for the murder of The Flower Girl. Well, either that or shitting myself without due care and attention. I didn’t even know if that was actually an offence. I lay down on the concrete floor. I stunk of shit and sweat and my body was hurting. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. I don’t want you to think that I’m a big Jessie or anything, and I know that it wasn’t the first time that I had started crying on my holiday in Thailand, but I couldn’t help it. I started sobbing and then I couldn’t stop. I cried until I fell asleep.

  Chapter 10

  Detective Sawat Deewat.

  I don’t know what time I was awakened in the morning, but it was very early. It was still dark outside. My cell was baking hot, like an oven and I smelt really bad. I didn’t expect air conditioning in the cell, but some fresh air would have been good.

  Two policemen came in and took the handcuffs off me. I was taken to a shower room and I had to strip off in front of them. I put my watch and wallet with cash and cards into a plastic bag which they sealed with a tag and I signed it. My clothes were put into a black bin liner type bag and were put straight into a rubbish bin. After the shower I was given a pair of shorts and a vest. They weren’t very clean and the shorts had more skid marks then the starting grid of a formula one track, but they were a lot cleaner then my own were and they didn’t smell quite as bad either. I wasn’t given any breakfast, but it was OK because I wasn’t feeling very hungry. I just felt sick deep inside. I was taken back to my cell, which was still very hot and still smelt disgusting. I was left in there to wait, but for what I didn’t know yet. I watched it get lighter through the tiny sealed window in my cell. I waited for about two or three hours before I heard serious sounding footsteps coming towards my cell door. I was taken along two concrete and brick corridors, which had been painted the same horrible grey colour as the inside of my cell, and I was placed in an interview room.

  The interview room was tiny. There was a desk in the middle of it that seemed to take up all the room and four very basic wood and metal chairs had been squeezed in as well. There was a wooden box fastened on the wall which held a tape recording machine with slots for three tapes. There was a ceiling fan, which pushed the hot air around the room to give it more of a feel of a fan assisted oven. A central light bulb lit the gloomy room. I had a horrible feeling that this was just the start of my journey into hell. I sat at the table and waited. One of the police officers stood guard in the room. We didn’t speak and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, although I could feel his eyes burning into me.

  Detective Sawat Deewat was the sort of
person who was clearly used to making an impact when he walked into a room. In fact, I would say that he has probably never walked into a room in his whole life and not made a big impact and left a lasting impression. He was impossibly handsome and incredibly well groomed. He was tall and in his mid-thirties. He had white skin, the same as mine, except he didn’t have a mark, spot or blemish on him. He had big brown almond shaped eyes and dark brown hair that gave him a slightly oriental look. In fact he looked like some of the male models I had seen on the cover of many Thai magazines. There was something about him and, when he walked into the interview room, he just seemed to light the place up. He had an easy, happy smile that flashed the most perfect and white set of teeth I had ever seen. He was immediately friendly and instantly likeable. He walked into the room in a blue Armani suit. His tie was pulled down and loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a day or two and he looked cool. The suit and the gold Rolex watch told me that he had money. Maybe that is where his confidence came from. I was sitting there in somebody else’s shorts and vest but, even if I wasn’t, then I could still never measure up to this man in any way, shape or form. Even though we were no way equals in any way, shape or form, he made me feel very comfortable in his presence and I was just happy to see a friendly face. He put the laptop that he had carried in on the table and stuck out a hand.

  “Hi Steve. I’m Detective Sawat Deewat, but you can call me Sawat or, as my friends back in England always used to call me, Si.” He spoke in a posh but strong Liverpool accent as we shook hands. It was all a bit too much for me to take in.

  “What?”

  “My name is Sawat.”

  “Are you from the Embassy?”

  “No. I’m a Detective.”

  “You’re English?”

  “Well, you are half right. I am half English. My dad is English, from Liverpool. My mum is Thai, from Surin. I was raised in England.”