The Mysterious Case of the Missing Tuk-Tuk

by Zach J Brodsky

  “I forgot how amazing Tan’s Khaw Man Gai is, still the best.” Boom talked as he ate.

  “It is so, but I don’t need to see it in your mouth too,” Daeng spoke sardonically, with a hint of a frown.

  “I could probably eat a second helping.” Boom looked at his dad and laughed. “I’m joking!”

  The two chatted for some time. Daeng enjoyed hearing the latest from the hotel. He was so proud of what his son was achieving with his life. There was always some drama with the reception staff or the hotel maids and he wondered how stressful it must be having to manage all those staff. In his work he only had to worry about his tuk-tuk breaking down. Though he had also helped Ploy as she cooked noodles on a small stall outside the front of their house. Ploy had continued to make noodles until she become too weak from the sickness to continue. Her Ba Mee Moo Daeng (egg noodles with barbecue pork) was as legendary as Tan’s chicken rice.

  “What’s the latest in the tuk-tuk game?” Boom asked.

  “Tuk-tuk was stolen,” Daeng said, matter-of-factly.

  “It’s right outside, Dad.”

  They then had the same conversation Daeng had had with many over the last two days. Though whereas others believed Daeng and became curious about what was going on, he noticed that his son immediately thought his dad had dementia setting in.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?”

  “No… but I’m the same as I’ve ever been! Don’t you start telling your sister otherwise.”

  “Maybe think about taking some time off? Take a rest,” Boom slightly condescendingly suggested.

  Daeng explained for the umpteenth time that he enjoyed working and he was far too fit and healthy to consider resting or going part time.

  “You kids today, you don’t know what hard work is! My job is a piece of cake compared to my parents!”

  Boom put fifteen thousand baht on the table, the usual monthly amount he gave to his dad and Daeng gave him a warm hug.

  “You really don’t have to worry about me you know, but it’s good that you do,” Daeng said sentimentally.

  It was a sign of Boom’s success that he was able to give his dad such an amount each month. He remembered the days when his salary was too low and he struggled to give five thousand. He looked at the tuk-tuk as he walked out, and wondered if it really was possible that his dad had imagined it? What was the other explanation? No one would bother to steal a tuk-tuk to race around Silom for an hour!

  Daeng put the dishes in the sink and decided he would wash up in the morning. A luxury he could afford himself now that he was a widow. Ploy wasn’t a nag as such, she just knew that Daeng hated having to wash up in the mornings, so she’d always suggest he did things before going to bed.

  He put on the TV and watched the news and some absurd soap opera that he found absolutely unfathomable, but it reminded him of Ploy so he liked to have it on, even if it was just background noise. The plot was predictable but nonetheless he could never completely follow it. After a while he settled himself in bed upstairs, read for a bit and then quickly fell asleep.

  For the second time in a matter of a few days he was awoken early to the sound of his tuk-tuk scuttling down the soi. This time he pinched and lightly slapped himself to be sure that he was awake and not imagining things. He was actually quite amused this time, yet very puzzled. He fumbled for his phone and tried to remember the name of the British guy who was working as a private investigator. His brain wasn’t forthcoming, but he searched through his old wallet and stuffed inside was the scruffy business card that Bob had given him. He sent Bob a simple text, I Daeng tuk-tuk thief again.

  TEN

  Bob was very excited to receive the text from Daeng, for the first time in his fledgling new career he had two cases going, concurrently! He’d soon be over-worked! He arranged to meet Daeng at his house later that day. That in itself was no mean feat involving texts in phonetic Thai and struggled phone calls. Bob eventually was confident that they had arranged to meet at five pm. He called his friend Pat and asked if she would be kind enough to help him with translations, promising he would take her for some food after the meeting. Bob was quite proud of his friendship with Pat, one of the few genuine local friends he had after a decade or so in Thailand. Pat had worked in the admin office of the first language school Bob worked at in Bangkok. They’d instantly got on well, Pat finding Bob’s many odd and quirky ways very amusing. For many years Bob dreamt of being in a relationship with her but he had never had the confidence to actually ask her out. They had slipped into being work friends and Bob had accepted that, but still occasionally he had regrets and ‘what if?’ thoughts. He sat down on a bench in Benjasiri Park and pondered his next move. Just at that moment his life became that bit more complicated as his phoned buzzed – another new LINE message.

  Hi, Bob. It’s Brian here. You gave me your number the other night. Can we meet? I may need your services.

  Bob was initially panicked. This was surely a recipe for disaster, if not unethical. Though he had no idea if there even was an ethical code among private investigators. He pondered this for a moment before deciding that his whole business was somewhat unethical. He started to consider that there may be a positive side to all this. His case with Pim would be solved simply – he would insist to Brian that he needed to know all the background details of his life with complete honesty. Somehow he needed to ensure he found out about Brian and his relationship with Pim, even if Brian’s case proved to be completely unrelated to his girlfriend.

  Within the space of just a few hours Bob suddenly had three clients. He gazed around the small park, a regular place to sit and think. At eight o’clock in the morning there were still a few people jogging and exercising but it had very much thinned out. A small lake in the centre was the focal point of the park and there was always a pleasant calm here despite being nestled between the Emporium shopping mall, a major hotel and the busy Sukhumvit Road. Bob always had a Zen-like calm when in this park, well almost always. He had got into a frightful business one Loy Krathong day. The festival of Loy Krathong saw Thai people float (loy in Thai) a small boat made of leaves (Krathong) to wash away their troubles. It was traditional for people to fill the boat with hair, fingernail clippings, and among other items a few coins. At the far end of the lake the local neighbourhood kids would collect the krathongs and empty them of their coins. He wanted in on the act so stormed around to the kids and shouted ‘bai leaw’ to try and get them to go away. They laughed. Bob nudged his way to the edge of the lake and tried to grab a krathong. Inevitably he slipped and, being unable to swim, he flapped about screaming in panic before a nine-year-old boy dived in to rescue him. He trudged home, soaking wet, to many giggles and odd stares from the locals.

  The Emporium Mall was another of Bob’s favourites and specifically the fifth floor where he would go on one of ‘Bob’s Gourmet Food Walks’. On a visit there he’d take advantage of as many free samples as he could. Typically he would taste some cheese, salami, sometimes a bit of cake or bread. He’d never buy anything, muttering comments like, “Oh dear, a tad too salty for me, what a shame.” One of the chapters of the never finished book ‘Bob Lowe’s Thrifty Bangkok Living’ was entitled ‘There IS such a thing as a free lunch; how Bob’s gourmet food walks will have you eating for nothing.’

  After a few hours milling about the park and Emporium he hopped on the Skytrain and soon found himself sitting opposite Brian in the very café he’d sat stalking him a week earlier.

  “So, Brian, how can I be of service?” Bob tried to sound professional.

  “Well, I’m sure you can guess, mate. It’s my girlfriend, not sure if I can trust her.”

  “I see. I see. Now is she also British?” Bob was desperately trying to imagine what he’d ask if he didn’t already know who his girlfriend was.

  “Nah, mate. Pim’s Thai.”

  “Okay. Got it. Why not indeed. That’s P-I-M, I assume?”

  Bob was laying this on a bit thick. Br
ian just nodded.

  “So, M for Mother? I’ve known a few Pin’s in my time, I can tell you!”

  Brian explained that he’d been living with Pim for six months, and that recently she’d been acting rather strangely. He was certain that she was texting a guy.

  “Why do you think that? If I know girls like Pim, she’ll be constantly chatting with her girlfriends.”

  “What do you mean, ‘girls like Pim’?” Brian said slightly defensively.

  “Thai girls, mate! They love their phones.” Phew, close one, Bob thought to himself. “So can I ask where you and Pim met?” An innocent question he thought. Well it was certainly an innocent question in normal society, but in Bob’s time in Thailand he had soon realised it was an unspoken rule that you didn’t ask such a thing. He had met many a guy who had gone to great lengths to tell you effectively that their girlfriend wasn’t a prostitute. A bizarre state of affairs. He remembered once being introduced to a friend of a friend. The friend introduced his girlfriend as, “This is my better half, we met at the make-up counter in Central Chit Lom, of all places. Would you believe that, eh?” A very odd way to begin a conversation.

  Brian also realised the charged nature of this discussion.

  “Oh no, mate, nothing like that. She worked in the office near my school, I met her there. She’s not one of those girls, mate.”

  “No, of course not, I see.” Bob maintained a serious face but chuckled inside. Another of those guys who didn’t want to admit that he’d met his girlfriend down in one of Nana’s bars.

  “So, this is a slightly delicate matter, you understand I must ask…”

  “Go on…” the cockney waited in anticipation of this tricky question.

  “Well, Brian, I hope you understand it’s important I know everything, so I have to ask… are you faithful to Pim?”

  This was it. Bob’s chance to solve his first case with just one question.

  Brian angrily retorted. “I’m not one of those guys, mate, of course I’m faithful to Pim.”

  “That’s good to know. In my wide experience of these sorts of cases, if one person cheats then the other often is too.” Bob was getting into a confident stride.

  Brian again insisted he was faithful and explained he just felt Pim was lying to him and being secretive about who she was texting. Bob explained his fee structure (the expat one) and Brian paid an initial five thousand baht retainer. Before Brian left for work Bob added, “Remember, mate, you can tell me anything, it’s all confidential. The Lowe Oath. Clients first. Always.”

  For his own amusement Bob gave Brian the code of P014a, as if this was a sub-case of the case Pim had hired him for. In effect it was. He laughed out loud. He was really doing this. Even Bob had believed that Bob Lowe PI was an unrealistic and ludicrous pipe dream, but now he may have to rethink that. He had five thousand baht in his pocket to help him ponder.

  He texted Susie. I’ll nip to the supermarket after my 5pm appointment. Anything we need? I’ve just been paid.

  Susie’s reply was simple, a sticker of a shocked dog caricature, sweating. She was as shocked as Bob at this development.

  Bob smiled again. He’d not felt this happy for years. “Good day to you,” he said to the waitress, doffing his cap as he left.

  Bob was pleased to have an excuse to meet up with Pat. He didn’t find it easy to manage a friendship with a woman, least of all one with whom he had once harboured romantic ambitions. With men it was easy, he’d just suggest meeting up for a beer or to watch the football. He just didn’t feel as comfortable with female friends. What if she thinks it’s a date? would go through his mind. But then maybe that was a good thing. He’d then go through a whole series of ifs and buts. Of course he knew that in the twenty-first century it was perfectly normal for men and women to be friends, but sometimes he was more like a seventy-year-old man than someone in his forties, in terms of his outlook on life. He’d all but given up hopes of marriage or children and although he’d never admitted it to another soul, it had been fifteen years or so since he’d had a sexual encounter that wasn’t paid for. He’d often wondered how different his life might have been if he’d had the guts to ask Pat out when he first started working with her. At that time he hadn’t really considered if he’d like a girlfriend and then he had quickly got himself fully immersed in the bar girl scene of Nana and Soi Cowboy. He had seen nothing like it before. Bob had long accepted that beautiful women were way way out of his league. That had all changed when he arrived in Bangkok, suddenly he was surrounded by these drop-dead gorgeous women and they all seemed to want him! Whatever it was, Bob seemed to have it. As the years moved on, Bob quickly began to drop the delusions and became something of a hardened cynic. He’d gone through stages where he had convinced himself that it wasn’t just about money for some of the stunning women he had picked up. “It’s a lot more complicated,” he’d begin to lecture newbies in Bangkok. Then he’d explain that since many of the women came from the poorer regions of Thailand that he was in effect doing his bit for poverty. For a time he believed this. He went through phases of guilt when he realised just how difficult life was for some of the girls he picked up. But he had become addicted and it wasn’t easy to let go as he attempted this path of redemption and rehabilitation. The PI work would help, if it continued to keep him busy.

  He met Pat by Sala Daeng BTS station and the entrance to the Central shopping mall. He wasn’t sure if he should greet her with a hug and kiss ‘European style’ and in the end he awkwardly shook her hand. “Wonderful to see you, Nong Pat.”

  “Hello, Pee Bob… detective Bob!” Pat joked.

  “Good Lord! Well, I’m not sure about that just yet, Pat!”

  Bob took on a serious and almost professional tone as he briefed her about his new client.

  “Khun Daeng, wonderful chap! Real old school. English a bit dicey, my dear, and well, you know my Thai; phuut passa Thai mai geng!” A stock phrase that many foreigners used to express that they didn’t speak Thai very well. They were secretly hoping of course that merely uttering these words would have the effect of impressing people in their grasp of the language.

  Pat chuckled. She did enjoy Bob’s quirky awkward ways, uncomfortable in his own skin at times.

  They battled their way down Silom Road and into Soi Convent. It was rush hour; people were heading for the Skytrain to go home or heading for some post work drinks and food. There was an art to navigating Bangkok streets in rush hour and many farang hadn’t learnt it even after years in the city. Bob was, of course, one of those. He thought he had mastered the art at times, but he was still forever bumping into people. The key was the golden rule, ‘Do not try and walk too fast!’ If you did you would be forever bumping into what Bob called SMTs ‘Slow Moving Thais’. Bob was also frequently wound up by youngsters walking around while texting or ‘surfing the instawhatsits’ or his absolute bête noir, those who stopped at the top of escalators or by a shop door to chat. “Has the whole world gone mad?! Can no one follow the simple rules of life?” he had been known to exclaim out loud on a busy Bangkok street. Bob had learnt some of the skills over the years and he sort of loped about town with his own version of a ‘mai pen rai’ never mind, attitude. As they walked by an Irish pub, Bob pointed to a noodle stall.

  “That, my dear Pat, is one of the top five Ba Me stalls in this fair city. Lowe endorsed.”

  “It’s okay, but better ones near my home,” Pat matter-of-factly replied.

  “Friendship over!” One of Bob’s favourite jokes. He insisted they would eat there after the client meeting.

  “It’s the pork, Pat, lovely rich flavour.”

  “Just normal,” answered Pat.

  This time Bob was genuinely irritated by Pat’s dismissive indifferent attitude to the pork noodles. The foot traffic thinned as they walked into Soi Pipat and eventually they found the small sub soi that Daeng lived on.

  As soon as they sat down at Daeng’s table, Pat completely took over, chatting
at great speed with Khun Daeng. She had completely ignored Bob’s ‘let me take the lead’ advice and was just off in her own style trying to obtain all the necessary details. Bob made a mental note to castigate Pat for her lack of professionalism.

  Bob was utterly lost but did his best to maintain the pretence that he was following by just nodding and barking out any word he understood.

  “Thief, yes… today… tuk-tuk… car? What? Aha, morning… yes, yes… thief! What’s good? Who?”

  After thirty minutes they left to get some of the noodles. Bob confidentially declared that he had, “…pretty much got all of that, but perhaps just to be clear you could debrief me?”

  Pat had noticed Bob was earlier genuinely irritated at her apathy and apparent dismissal of his comments about the Ba Me noodles at this stall so after a few bites she declared, “You know what Bob, you are right, this is very good!”

  Bob beamed. “Aha! Trust The Lowe! Aroi maak!”

  Pat fully updated Bob. Actually it was straightforward, if rather bizarre. It seemed that virtually every morning Daeng’s tuk-tuk was taken at around five am and returned before six thirty. In an added twist the thief had started occasionally leaving a hundred baht note, wedged in the steering wheel. Pat found it very puzzling.

  “Ah yes. Nothing new for The Lowe. Joyriders no doubt. This should be easy. Or should I say, elementary, my dear Pat.” The joke was lost on Pat. Bob continued, “A case likes this requires careful observation and watching. What we in the business call a stakeout. I’ll be there at five am tomorrow and I will have this sorted in no time.”

  Pat was impressed. It did seem Bob knew what he was doing and had indeed shaped himself an exciting new career. At that moment his phone buzzed. Bob checked the message.

  “Hi, I saw your card in Nana. I have a unique case for you. Can we meet? Avi Shielmann.”

  Bob was incredibly excited and Pat could tell he was trying to look calm when he said, “Another new client. It’s just non-stop for Lowe PI. Tom Selleck step aside.”