Bob did a little jig in a moment of immense pride with his head theatrically raised.
He walked over to Khun Daeng, shook his hand and patted him on the back enthusiastically.
"Just another day for Bob Lowe, my dear old thing."
THIRTY THREE
Bob finally got the chance to arrange his catch-up with Khun Pun, and they agreed to meet up at Mints Bar. Bob was genuinely finding it hard to schedule everything as he had so much going on. He was initially slightly concerned when he got the message from the police sergeant but Mint had put his mind at ease.
"He think maybe you help each other, no problem," Mint had informed Bob earlier that week.
"Of course. Makes sense, two law enforcement officers working together. Classic Pun, he'll have been hearing about my investigative skills, no doubt." Bob was talking to himself now as Mint had moved off to take orders from another table. He put up the posters to detail the return of Avi Shielmann and the special beer promotion for the night. Mint had told Bob she would get a little stage set up and after Avi's act they could have a karaoke night. She had even agreed to pay a cut of any profits, over a certain amount, on the beer promotion. Another avenue opening up for his fledgling business.
Since solving the Gladys case he had been musing over how to deal with the Pim and Brian business. He had broken the news to Pim of Brian's philandering ways, and he’d laid it on pretty thick. Much to his surprise, Pim didn't seem too disappointed. Things had been going well with Werner and she had already planned she would break up with Brian in the next few weeks.
Bob was happy for Pim, but he wasn't happy that this should be the end of it.
"It's utterly sickening, Nong Pat, these animals behaving in this way." Bob was furious as he talked it over with Pat over lunch that day.
"I wonder if there is anything Khun Pun can do for me?" Bob mused as Pat focused on her noodle soup. She knew Bob liked to talk and talk to get into his flow and she knew she just needed to prod him in the right direction for him to reach a decision. The correct decision – Pat’s decision.
She was pleasantly surprised and certainly noted the irony of Bob's comments. She had of course become aware that Bob had very much 'played the Nana scene' back in the day, and now here he was appalled at what was really run of the mill antics for these types of men.
Bob talked and talked, with Pat adding things like 'maybe' and 'good idea' as Bob rambled on.
Eventually Pat reminded Bob, "You do know that prostitution is illegal in Thailand..."
"Nong Pat, you little beauty! You've done it again! Of course. I can simply arrange for him to be met by some of Bangkok's friendliest boys in brown."
Bob began to daydream; his own version of vigilante justice. Maybe he could have Brian beaten up, money stolen, or simply fined by the police. Arrested? All three? The possibilities were rushing around in his head.
"That filthy scumbag." Noodles slurped out of his mouth as he spoke.
"Why don't I come with you to meet Khun Pun?" Pat felt this was a reasonable request as she was now a key part of Bob's operation.
"Now, now, Pat, with all due respect, soi Nana is not really the place for a young lady such as yourself."
Bob genuinely felt it wasn't an appropriate environment for Pat, but he also had a great fear of his two different worlds colliding. The Bob who was friendly with Pat and had been a dedicated teacher and the Bob who was a slobbering drunk picking up prostitutes in Nana. He didn't want Pat to think worse of him. Perhaps in time, but he still didn’t feel comfortable about it.
Pat didn't press the issue, and Bob explained that of course in the fullness of time one of his junior executive investigators would be required to attend such meetings. He realised she would be very useful for him to navigate both linguistic and cultural confusions that may arise.
As soon as Pun walked in, Bob stood and placed his hands together wai-ing the policeman with great respect. It had the desired effect and Pun was happy to see Bob. Bob instantly ordered two beers and asked Mint for the menu.
"You're looking marvellously well, Khun Pun, oh to be a youngster like you again!" Bob was developing his skills as an old charmer.
With a big grin on his face, Pun excitedly told Bob he was in fact forty-eight years old, older than Bob himself.
"Utterly absurd!"
Whilst it may have been true that Pun looked young for his age, it was unmistakably true that Bob looked much older than his early forties. Most would place Bob at around fifty, but one could be forgiven for edging a prediction up towards sixty. Bob had grown accustomed to the mocking and had decided his best strategy was to embrace his looks.
“Doctors want to study me, I must hold all the answers to ageing, since I’m doing it so well!”
Pun chuckled. “No, no. You also young man, like me.” Bob took Pun at face value, even if he realised he probably wasn’t sincere.
“You are too kind, Pun!”
They enjoyed a quick and casual catch-up, with Bob almost right on most of his facts, or wrong on most facts if one wanted to take a slightly harsher approach. Bob was becoming a ‘glass half full man’ so he preferred to think of his almost right being accurate enough.
“You have two daughters, yes?” Bob enquired.
“No, just one.”
“Yes, of course, she goes to that top Thai school in Asok, I think I am right in saying.” Bob was almost certain of this one.
“No, she goes to international school, she doing very well.”
This pattern continued for some time with Bob blustering his way through with many a “Yes, of course, I remember now.” Bob made a mental note that he needed to keep notes about these sorts of things. He then momentarily pondered about how he would note that he had made a mental note. Oh the complexities of the world of New Lowe.
“So, Bob, what’s all this I hear about your unlicensed private detective business…?” Pun very subtly focused on the word unlicensed.
Bob momentarily froze. He hadn’t even thought about this angle at all. He was now of course technically working illegally in Thailand and about to discuss just that matter with a policeman, and a senior one no less.
“Er. Business? What?” Bob’s dreadful bluffing was the best attempt he could make at stalling for some time.
“Lor len, Bob, just joking.” Pun took another swig of his beer and laughed out loud.
“Pun! You old so and so! You had The Lowe scared there for a split second, just a split second mind. Almost imperceptible.”
Bob went on to explain the low-key nature of his business, but also explained how Pun might be able to help, and how it could be mutually beneficial. “Symbiosis, Khun Pun. Symbiosis.”
“I can fix bad farang. You give me name, picture, and place. My boys will arrange.” Pun spoke reasonable English, with a slight American twang to it. Bob had always been fascinated by Pun and wondering what his story was. They had only ever been bar acquaintances so Bob had never felt able to pry for details.
They discussed an informal business arrangement. While officially of course, Pun wanted to clear the streets of drugs and the major dealers, he was also acutely aware that if this ever succeeded it would be financially disadvantageous for him and his colleagues. He preferred to focus on the idea of knowledge giving him increased power. Bob could play a crucial role. Some of the core income generation for the boys in brown were the classic drunk foreigners caught in possession of weed, cocaine, or crystal methamphetamine (ya ice). They’d quickly and happily hand over ten to twenty thousand baht to avoid an arrest and the possibility of a lengthy prison sentence.
Bob informed Pun that there was no question he could pass on some intel to that effect. Bob also pitched the idea of some small easy cash jobs. He would inform Pun of some cheating scoundrels, and the police could stop them when using a prostitute or sex service, and fine them a few thousand to avoid arrest.
Pun carefully explained to Bob that one didn’t want to upset the careful dynamic that
existed in the city with the sex trade, but he agreed he could help Bob out on occasions, as a favour. They agreed Pun would pay an informal ten per cent ‘finder’s fee’ to Bob for any successful fines the police managed to accrue.
“Another beer for Khun Pun, Nong Mint!” Bob barked his orders and got a steely glare from Mint.
“Sorry, I mean when you’ve got a moment, sorry. Sorry!”
He backtracked in classic Lowe fumbling style.
“This really is a magnificent city, Khun Pun. This afternoon I was in one of the finest shopping malls in the world. Now I’m sat on this unique street drinking with an esteemed law enforcement officer like your good self. What a world we live in, Khun Pun. What a world.”
Bob was beginning to get misty eyed – Bangkok could do that to him at times. Over the years he’d gone through many emotions with Bangkok; love, hate, frustration, obsession even. There were times when he really felt Bangkok wasn’t a healthy place for him to live with his prior addictions to the sex, booze and drugs that were so easily accessible. However, he just couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
“I live here all my life, Bob. As children I lived near to Lad Phrao. It was a very, very quiet place then. My father, he remember the rice paddies. In Lad Phrao!”
“Marvellous. Lad Phrao. Utterly marvellous.”
They sat in silence for some moments before Bob explained all the details of the Brian situation and how he just wanted to see things work out for Pim.
“Leave that with me, Bob.”
They shook hands and Bob sat back, catching Mint’s eye, more politely this time, and signifying that one more beer would suit him very well.
THIRTY FOUR
Pim had made the decision about Brian even before Bob confirmed her suspicions, but she was pleased to have the truth established by the work of an expert. She thanked Bob profusely and paid him an additional tip for his work. It amused both of them, here was Pim, an ex-bar girl who Bob had once bar-fined, now paying Bob, and technically from Brian’s bank account too. Pim had realised she must have been right about Brian by the simple fact that she had started developing strong feelings for Werner. Such was Pim’s logic, but it made perfect sense to her. The idea of having Bob spy on Werner was ludicrous and preposterous to her, not to mention totally unnecessary. However, she was touched that Bob had offered. He seemed to genuinely care about her welfare; another clear sign to her that things were starting to look up in life, finally. She had first met Werner about a year earlier. He was in Bangkok on holiday with some friends, all in their late fifties and all seemingly either recently divorced or never married. She could tell instantly that Werner was attracted to her. So she began to focus her attention and energy on him thinking he was a potential customer, and at the very least an easy way to accrue some commissions from lady-drinks. Like many, Pim was starting to grow weary of the bar scene. She didn’t hate it quite in the way some of her friends did but the constant need to give platitudes to so many pathetic men quickly grew tiresome. She had dated men before from the bars, but it had never worked out. She knew deep down that it was never going to either, but still so many tried. Yes, there were a handful of girls she’d known who successfully navigated their path from bar girl to happily married woman, but those few were the exceptions. Most of the time they’d be back working the bars – in some cases it was only a matter of weeks, in others years, but invariably the result was the same. It never worked out as they had dreamed and frankly life as a hooker was easier and better. The ones who managed to emigrate out of Thailand with their guys stood a better chance, but ultimately the sort of men who bought a woman in a bar just weren’t the sort to settle down to a quiet married life. Some of them simply wanted an ‘easy’ girlfriend for the year or so they worked in Thailand.
Pim’s friends were amused that Werner hadn’t wanted to have sex with her and they joked about what was wrong with him. They had arranged a date that she just assumed was the standard sort of date men usually wanted from her. She had initially found it slightly awkward when they went for dinner in a nice Thai restaurant. She wasn’t expecting that. Her friends had reminded her that even if Werner paid for dinner it was still costing her money. She wasn’t working, so she was losing money and he wasn’t paying any bar fine. ‘Don’t be fooled into becoming a ‘friend’ to one of these losers,’ was a line her friends often delivered to her, from bitter experience. Pim was convinced that Werner was genuinely a different sort of guy, a softer soul. His friends had all hooked up with girls and had headed for a few days in Pattaya. Werner opted to stay in Bangkok because he wanted to spend more time getting to know Pim, and trying to pick up some more Thai phrases. After his holiday was over he had indeed kept in touch via WhatsApp, but she was still surprised when he told her he wanted to retire in Thailand. She had decided to take a risk, take the bull by the horns and tell Werner she wanted to be with him, as his girlfriend. She knew a shy guy like him needed her to take the lead, and he was delighted at the suggestion. She felt no guilt at leaving Brian. She had never really been into him but had been encouraged to give it a go by her friends. Playing the game and testing the waters until you find the right one was never really her thing, but she figured she had tried and failed at playing this game and now it was time to get out.
She had planned things with Bob on a day that Brian had told her he’d be late home from work. Lowe had gone over at lunchtime and helped her with her few suitcases, and some of the ornaments from the house that she had picked out on their shopping trips. Werner had seemed quite keen to live a quiet life away from the bright lights and big city so she was busy making plans to move back to Korat and live with Werner there.
An hour later Bob waved goodbye to Pim having helped her into Werner’s condo. As he left he texted Pun with some of the details for later. Bob had already supplied some names and information to Pun that led to some easy street payments so he had happily agreed to do Bob a favour and deal with this Brian.
Later that evening two of Bangkok’s finest officers greeted Brian when he walked out of a massage parlour, the one near Ratchada that Bob had informed them about.
“You pay sex? Illegal. We arrest you.”
“You fucking what, mate?” Without thinking things through Brian immediately took on his typically aggressive tone. A big mistake.
“We hear many bad things. Your girl Pim she already go away with better man.”
Hearing the name of his girlfriend shocked Brian. This was not a normal situation he quickly realised.
“Bangkok not need you. Go home to America.”
Bob had advised the police to use this line and it worked perfectly. Brian lurched back into his anger mode. “You calling me a fucking yank, you dozy Thai cunt.”
Brian was only digging his hole deeper. Eventually he was fortunate enough to be allowed to ‘agree’ to a fee of fifteen thousand baht to avoid charges of soliciting sex, verbal assault of an officer, and resisting arrest.
The officers informed him that he should never try to contact Pim again, and if they ever had complaints about his disrespectful behaviour again they’d make a quick call to immigration and have him deported, forever.
The next evening Bob ‘bumped’ into Brian in a bar on Soi Nana. Brian seemed perfectly normal, drinking and laughing with his mates.
“Ah, Brian, I’ve been looking for you, got an update for you on…”
Brian interrupted, “Save your breath, mate. I dumped that useless bitch a few days ago. Just not up to my standards.” He laughed with his mates as he said it.
This time Bob wasn’t furious. He was more amused. He knew just how humiliated Brian had been and here he was having to create this story for his friends. Bob knew what he must have been feeling inside though and that was victory enough.
“Oh, I see. Well I guess my services are no longer required. Best of British and all that, old bean.”
Brian gave Bob a disinterested look and Bob continued on his merry way. He stopped off at
a 7-Eleven on the way home to pick up a bottle of Sang Som for a quiet drink back at the house with Khun Daeng and sent him a text, Get the ice on ice. I’ve bought us a bottle of Sang Som old boy!
THIRTY FIVE
Bob was very lucky that Avi seemed to be the only person he knew without a Facebook profile. Lucky because Facebook had quickly become Bob’s only strategy in his attempts to find Mo Razzaq, of disco fame. If Avi just used Facebook he’d probably be able to do as good a job as Bob was doing. All avenues had proved fruitless. Bob was amazed to discover the Embassy of Pakistan was on Soi Sukhumvit 3, a mere stone’s throw from the Nana bars he regularly frequented. He had decided to pop in there one afternoon before going for a few drinks. He confidently approached the desk and informed them that he was trying to locate a Pakistani citizen. Initially he had been encouraged by the response he got. “Most Pakistani nationals are registered with us, so there may be a way we can pass on a message.”
“Ah. No. Well you see, this chap, Mo Razzaq, perhaps you know him? Disco dancer, they say the finest ever to come out of Pakistan. Well you see he’s not in Bangkok.” As Bob spoke he began to become aware that this probably wasn’t going to work. He could see the official immediately begin to lose interest, or start to consider that Bob was just another of Bangkok’s fruitcakes.
“So where is he do you think?” he added out of politeness more than anything else.
“Last seen in Tokyo, 1983. I should add we are talking about a disco dancer of some repute, the quality of his moves, well, superb.” It was as if Bob thought this would lead to the penny suddenly dropping, ‘Oh, that Mo Razzaq.’ Alas not. “I don’t think we can help you, sir.” As he spoke he glanced at the next customer in line, as a hint to Bob.
“Well would His Excellency the Pakistani ambassador be available, he may have some contacts.” Eventually they managed to move Bob on, but not until after he had tried to name drop his tenuous connection to the late Humphrey Dubshott. Bob insisted on leaving his card so they could call him if they had any ideas on how to help.
The Mysterious Case of the Missing Tuk-Tuk Page 15
