Chapter 2
Loi Kroh. Chiang Mai’s red light district, Declan Power’s beat. He thought wryly about the meaning of the famous soi’s name. Loi Kroh: 'wash your bad luck away.' For Declan this indeed had been the case. But for many the opposite effect was true. Loi Kroh was not the place for the naïve. For the soi girls, the vixens who gleefully shouted ‘welcome, welcome’ from beneath the neon signs, they were dinner. The naïve buttered Declan’s bread too. Legend has it that the regal founder of Chiang Mai, King Mengrai, listened to his priests who foretold of the spirits of the hills, spirits that bore evil intent, were held in check before the entrance to Loi Kroh from the river. It is widely believed they still wait. Patient devils, they sit biding their time for an equally menacing spirit to unlock the gate.
And, Declan reckoned, they would most likely feel right at home amongst the broken concrete, street dogs, squid on a stick and its pungent aroma, underage girls hawking flowers, fortune tellers, and the string of beer bars offering a sexy short term future.
Loi Kroh, to Declan, was not unlike a carnival. You take a risk. Some come out with a stuffed bear. Others, most probably, come out fleeced. Whatever the case, it was not an experience to be forgotten. Once inside, Loi Kroh exerted a strong pull. There were two options. Either take the risk or stay as far away as possible. Declan had taken the risk. He had walked away the stuffed bear.
Oum gave him a deep kiss as she entered Best Bar. It was another of their small daily rituals. An intimate moment, a quiet drink, and then she sent him on his way. Two nights a week he dedicated to finding out the latest gossip, newest girls, and best interview subjects the naughty street had to offer. Tonight he had a tight schedule however. A meeting with the ‘Mayor’ at Stairway To Heaven had been arranged. After that he had promised to meet Ben at Foxy Lady. He grimaced at the thought. Ben was losing the plot. Declan recognized all the symptoms.
Anyway, he was on a story. No time for social work and, in any case, there was no way to help a ‘farang’ falling over the edge. That was one of the first rules the ‘Mayor’ had taught him. “Lend a hand and prepare to be taken round the bend.” Good advice.
Declan wasn’t sure of the his friend’s fiduciary interest in the establishment, but the ‘Mayor’ had been occupying the same upstairs seat at Stairway To Heaven for as long as Declan had been in the city. If you needed an apartment, you talked to the ‘Mayor.’ If you needed to ditch a too clingy bar-girl, had money problems, needed a teaching gig, wanted a looker hooker to take down to the islands for a three day drunk and bang, you walked up the dilapidated stairs, took a seat, bought the man a drink, and your problems would be quickly addressed. The ‘Mayor’ didn’t have friends, he had clients. But maybe, Declan considered, he and the Mayor had become friends. Not socially. But they rubbed each other’s backs professionally.
Declan was greeted by his friend’s lady. Mama Joy, one of the original mamasans of Loi Kroh district and a true pro. She and the Mayor shared a unique yet loving and caring relationship. He wasn’t sure which one would pass first, they were both blessed with amazingly strong constitutions, but he did know they would share that moment in clenched hands.
“Deek, Deek,” she greeted him in her brightly rouged face. “I have lady for you Deek! She freshy, good for centerfold!”
“Great,” Declan answered with interest. He may be on a story to track down Martin Gay, but he still needed to butter his bread. He looked up at the stage. The girls were enthusiastically grinding to AC/DC’s Hells Bells. The bartender slid him his customary Beer Laos. He scanned the stage. Numbers one through ten were all familiar.
“Where Mama?” he asked somewhat confused.
“Upstairs, talk with Mayor.”
Declan smiled. Mama Joy laughed. “Why not!” she exclaimed.
“Why not indeed,” he replied. He started for the infamous spiral staircase which led to “Heaven.”
“Declan Power,” he heard yelled from the other end of the stage.
Declan peered down through the strobe lit smoke which hung mischievously over the bar. The bartender came over with a shot of Hennessey. He raised his glass to his unknown benefactor who let out a boisterous Aussie yell: “Thanks for the tip on May mate! She’s done right good by me she has.”
Declan smiled, nodded, and tossed back the shot. Another satisfied reader.
Ben Post took up his customary stool at Foxy Lady. He was feeling loose. His humiliation had been complete only hours before but now was time to turn the table. The girls, the famed dancers Foxy Lady put on display nightly, energetically took their chrome spheres and began to grind. One pole remained vacant. The center stage pole. Rose’s beat.
Ben spotted a new girl in the lineup. A girl, he could tell, straight from the hills. She was young, her eyes darting around the crowd nervously as she clung tenaciously to her shiny shaft. Virginal and finding her way, she was just his type. Short, squat, voluptuous, a body made for the sack. He took an instant attraction. He called her over. She grabbed her pole tighter. Hesitantly, prodded by Ben waving a five hundred baht note, she accepted the invitation. He whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened. “Sure, I can do that!” she replied in Thai.
The music pumped into Nancy Sinatra’s ‘These Boots Are Made For Walking.’ The main attraction had arrived. Rose was in the house. The club’s lights dimmed. The center stage erupted in a sea of light. Her entrance held the drooling audience in a horny state of silent anticipation. It was to this welcoming that the chrome pole Madonna strutted. Long black high-heeled boots reached up to her thighs. Her Victoria Secret lingerie provided an aura of sensuality. The tiny threads of silk were cast to the air. The crowd roared.
And then, the well choreographed entrance was interrupted. The nightclub’s mighty bell gave off a loud gong. The audience let out another roar. But this time their ardor was not for Rose. A free round of drinks was on the way.
The waitresses hopped to the call. They scurried around taking everybody’s order. Rose silently fumed, her thunder stolen. Kiki, Ben’s new mountain girl, hopped to his side. “I do good?”
“Perfect sweetheart, you just sit by me and relax.”
Ben beamed up at Rose who could only offer a weak smile in return. He still controlled her centerfold shoot after all. Ben had turned the tables. He had a hand to play. After all his unanswered calls, one finally picked up. His ship had come in. Ben Post was nobody’s fool. He was sitting on a gold mine with enough powder to blow Chiang Mai sky high. Demolition time.
Declan sat quietly at the small booth tucked in the corner of the V.I.P. lounge. The ‘Mayor’ had hardly seemed to notice his arrival with his eyes closed and head tilted back in tranquil meditation. Declan was loathe to interrupt. The ‘Mayor’ briefly glanced in his direction. “Just a moment,” he spoke softly. A few moments passed, silence cloaking the air, then a gasp, “Ah Yes!”
“Declan, I’d like you to meet someone. Meow, please introduce yourself.”
A lithe beauty crawled up from beneath the table. Tall, long legs, a swimmer’s physique, hair set in a Japanese bob with a touch of China in her eyes, Meow presented an alluring presence. “Good evening Declan,” she said shyly in halting English.
Exquisitely naked, she took a seat next to him. He looked her straight in the eyes. “It’s a pleasure Meow.” These instances always made Declan a little uncomfortable. The ‘Mayor’ was offering Meow’s services and, honestly, it was a hard offer to refuse. But, if he couldn’t keep his faith with Oum then his world would collapse. She was the only pure thing in his life. That couldn’t be sacrificed.
“I’m grooming her for our new gentleman’s club Joy and I will open. Her English lessons are going well.”
“She appears to be a good student Mayor,” Declan replied seriously. “Pronunciation and intonation are spot on. Perhaps we could arrange for her to grace my centerfold to coincide with the grand opening.”
The ‘Mayor’ smiled. “Declan Power, what’s on your mind?”
“Martin Gay.”
“You’ve not had enough of him?”
“I had a visit from a Bangkok Man today. It seems they’re interested in having a word with our friend.”
“And they can’t find him.”
Declan smiled. His highly connected friend was always one step ahead. “But they think maybe I can.”
The ‘Mayor’ whispered in Meow’s ear. She rose and gave a deep bow. Meow gave an inviting smile, spun effortlessly around, and strutted to the nearby stage. Declan could not help but admire the view. A group of men had arrived and were escorted to a booth. Music flowed from the speakers, the Rolling Stones, Paint it Black. The V.I.P. lounge was open for business. Declan poured them both a glass of whiskey.
“Martin Gay flew too close to the sun. Never owe too much or be owed too much in this fair city Declan. Money, it’s a dangerous business. That and broads. Men kill for both.”
“So, what, you think Marty took a dive in the moat?” This was not an uncommon end. At least five to ten foreigners, farang who had flown too high, were dragged out of the moat every year. No inquiries would be made. There was no need. Justice, in the Thai way of thinking, had already been served.
“I think he wanted to avoid the moat. He came by for a word the other night. He needed cash. Fast.”
“And?”
“Cash isn’t my trade. He also hinted at documents.”
“Passport?” Declan questioned.
The ‘Mayor’ nodded.
“You have friends.”
“I do. But, you see, there was nothing to be done with Martin. Not at this point. He was shown the door.”
Declan refilled their glasses. The ‘Mayor’ had put him on the trail. “When does the gentleman’s lounge open?”
“Next month, on the first. You must attend the grand opening.”
“I’ll come with my cameraman. We’ll do Meow’s centerfold here at the club.”
Declan let his eyes drift to the stage where Meow was doing her best to seduce the growing crowd. She had it all. But she didn’t have that ‘it’ factor. Meow didn’t have the ‘wow’ gene, the presence to command the stage, the dynamic quality that didn’t allow men’s eyes to leave her. She wasn’t Rose. But she would be a splendid centerfold model. He looked at his watch, time to pay a visit to Foxy Lady.
Ben Post was enjoying his triumph. Rose was being wooed by two well-to-do gentlemen. An auction was being conducted. She would sit with one then the other telling them both that she could not leave until after her second set. This was true. The center pole girl had to be on stage for at least the first two acts. Her price, on nights like these, could skyrocket. The older gentleman apparently had the deeper pockets. The younger man headed for the exit. He’d be back. That was Rose’s allure.
Ben was audience to the entire act. Rose whispered in one of the cocktail waitresses’ ear ushering her toward Ben. Rose sent the message blowing a kiss with a laugh. The waitress, May, came over to Ben with a sad expression. “Ben, Rose not go with you tonight. She go with man.” May then brightened, “Ben! I go with you. We go dancing at Spicy.”
He appreciated the offer. May was one of the good ones. But tonight Ben had more in mind. “Not tonight May. I’d like to speak with mamasan though.” He shot back his Jack and Coke. Ben Post was walking out that door with Meow on one arm and with Rose on the other. It was time to play his hand.
A commotion came from the girls as they rushed to the entrance. Even Rose hustled away from the gray goose. Ben could only shake his head. He didn’t need to look. He knew. Declan Power had arrived. Rose was the first to give him a big hug and whispered conspiratorially in his ear. How his friend remained faithful was beyond Ben. It was lucky for him though. If Declan wasn’t going to enjoy the perks, he would. Ben Post would be popping Rose tonight whether she liked it or not. A deal was a deal.
“Are you ok?” Declan questioned.
“Yeah mate. Been on the piss since noon, couldn’t be better.”
“You said you had something important to tell me. What’s up?”
Ben pointed at Rose who was about to enter the stage for her second act. “We might have a problem with this one.”
Declan looked at his friend curiously. “How so?”
“Mr. Deep Pockets over there will be taking her out after the next act. I can’t promise Rose will show for the photo shoot tomorrow.”
Declan frowned. He had set up the shoot on the paper’s dime. If a girl didn’t show it was out of his pocket. He also knew Ben’s pride was hurt. Rose was out of his pay-grade. But, for these few days anyway, he could fly first-class.
“I’ll have a word mate. That’s a new development though. What was so important you were ringing my phone off the hook earlier?”
“Your friend and his thugs paid me a visit earlier today.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. He downed another shot of whiskey.
“I don’t follow.”
“The Chief, your partner in crime, barged through my door.”
Declan thought back to the morning when he saw Pao stomp out of the station. “What did he want?” Declan already knew the answer. He was more concerned with the details.
“Other than an afternoon romp with Rose?” Ben spat with a quiet fury. He went to refill his shot glass but Declan placed the bottle out of his reach.
“Geez, slow the fuck down. Do you want me to help or not?”
Ben wiped his brow and neatened his shirt. “Well, his thugs wound me up about Marty. Where is he and all that. ‘How the fuck should I know?’ I told ‘em.”
Declan sat back without a word. It made sense. Pao was somehow involved with the matter of Martin Gay’s disappearance. It brought a smile to his face. Pao had set up a meeting for tomorrow night. His friend was still ally.
“What the hell is so funny mate? Your friends rough me up and it’s a source fucking amusement. Not to mention they swiped my ride. Shite!”
Declan looked at Ben seriously. “I told you a long time ago not to go get hooked up with Marty. You brought the big dog to your doorstep.” He then pointed at Rose. “The big dog will always eat Ben. That’s nature. Don’t worry about Rose. You’ll eat tonight too.”
Ben’s mood brightened. He pointed towards the stage which was now in full swing with Foxy Lady’s full stable on display. “I’m going to take number 13 with me as well. My lord, a threesome in a mansion is just what the doctor ordered for Big Ben.”
Declan shook his head. Ben Post truly was losing the plot. “What the hell are you talking about? A mansion? Anyway, 13 is an unlucky number.”
“Not in Thailand mate. I’ve got friends in this city too you know, powerful friends at that. And anyway, my luck’s about to turn.”
Declan dismissed the macho bullshit with a wave of the hand. He turned his attention to the stage. The Kinks All Day and All of the Night blared and the girls gyrated into a raunchy choreographed dance that left little doubt as to what they wanted to do all night. A thought jumped into his mind. “I need you to do something for me Ben.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to set up a meeting with your new boss over at World TEFL.”
Ben spit up his beer. “Shite mate. Why the fuck would he want to talk to you? You buried the World TEFL name. He’s still digging out. You can trust me on that; tight as a bugger that one.”
“Martin Gay buried the name,” Declan corrected sharply. “But let him know I can grab a shovel and lend a hand. That is if everything’s back on the up and up.”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. What’s in it for me?”
Power nodded his head towards the stage. “Rose,” he stated simply.
Ben followed Declan’s gaze. He picked up his phone and made the call.
Declan was hesitant to leave Ben in such a state. But he needed to make his rounds. It was rumored a Russian girl had begun to ply her trade over at Chiang Mai Land. That was interesting. He also wanted to refurnish his girlfriend page
. It was not as popular as his centerfold but in many ways more satisfying. These girls had to be genuine. Declan could spot a gold-digger in a minute. Yet, many a Thai lass simply wanted a comfortable home, to send a few coins back to the village, and a life out of the bar. Many farang pensioners wanted a tidy home life in a foreign land, a foreign tongue to navigate a foreign land, and a young hot companion. Their needs were mutual. His girlfriend page, in Declan’s opinion, provided a social good. Oum, a fan of the page, had recommended a girl whom had recently come into the employ of Best Bar.
Best Bar, the third beer bar on the left from the moat road, was his home turf. He had helped Oum purchase the bar, the bar where they had first met. It held a special meaning for them both. Ironically, it was Marty Gay who had introduced him to the establishment on Declan’s first night in the city. A lot had changed during the ten years that had passed since that time. Best Bar remained the same. Cold beer, a great pool table, and the hottest girls on the strip, much like McDonald’s, Best Bar had a simple product which worked.
Declan gave it free publicity and he enjoyed free drinks for life. The partnership worked. Usually, a game of pool would be won, then another, a beer or two downed, and then he’d be back on his beat. Tonight was different.
He noticed Nam, Marty’s wife, cowered in the corner, her eyes darting around nervously, a dire sense of sadness sunken into her face. He remembered the vibrant young girl of ten years past, vivacious, the embodiment of a devil-may-care spirit. Life with Martin had taken its toll.
Her gaze flickered ever so slightly back to life as she saw him approach. Declan hesitated. He had only thought of Martin Gay’s disappearance as a story, an edgy front page piece of urban copy. Nam’s haunting stare alerted him that so much more was at stake. Lives hung in the balance.
Rose stood steamed as she stood outside on the sidewalk. Her score for the night had just stormed off. He was a hefty ATM. Not bad looking, the type who closeted you away in a condo. He was money. She was stuck with Ben. Worse, if that was possible, she would also be sharing a bed with the chubby little girl from the mountains.
The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery Page 3
