He texted Avi. I’ve got some of my contacts at the Pakistani Embassy on the case. Luckily I know the former British Ambassador’s wife. She owes me a favour. Regards, Bob Lowe (PI).
Later that same day Bob began to join lots of Pakistani and dancing groups on Facebook. Posting a picture of the great Mo from his dancing heyday. Bob had paused the YouTube video clip and then taken a photo with his phone. The quality was poor to fair, and Mo couldn’t really be seen that clearly. He was amazed at how quickly things began to happen and he cursed himself for not trying this on day one. He got plenty of messages, most utter nonsense or trying to sell him something. Eventually he got a very simple message. I’m Mo Razzaq, the disco dancer. Who are you?
Bob was thunderstruck and very excited that he had actually cracked the case. Another! This one all by himself and genuinely really cracked. He had found Mo Razzaq! He had found a man in Pakistan with the only clue he had being a reference to 1980s disco. Bob noticed Mo didn’t describe himself as an ex-disco dancer. He considered it must be rather like being an alcoholic perhaps, once disco was in your blood it never left. He chatted with Mo over a number of days, filling him in on exactly what was going on.
In consultation with Pat, Bob had decided to wait until Avi had finished his disco comeback night at Mints before hitting him with the incredible news. He didn’t feel it was fair to Avi to unsettle him before the big night.
Pat had become a regular visitor to Daeng’s house just off Soi Pipat. Daeng was enjoying the noise and life being back in the house. He especially liked it when Pat arrived with bags of food. It reminded him of Ploy.
“Khaw man gai, Daeng!”
At that Daeng had shimmied down the stairs with a fleet of foot that belied his years, though still relatively slow. Pat and Bob would lay out all the food and plates and they’d excitedly tuck into their food and discuss any updates on Bob’s cases. Thai food was like that, even an old man like Daeng would get as excited as a child when his favourite dishes were presented.
“Oh, we have one more surprise…” As Pat spoke she revealed small plastic bags containing a favourite dessert of Daeng’s; taro balls in hot coconut milk.
Daeng expressed his delight and looked at Bob. “You should marry this one!”
Bob blushed profusely before joining his friends in laughter.
The following evening Bob sat with Avi enjoying a pre-show drink.
“I’m really feeling nervous. It’s been a long time.”
“Balderdash. I saw you dance just last week,” Bob reminded Avi in an attempt to allay his fears.
“That was just random. There are posters for this.” There was a look of panic across Avi’s face. Was he really doing this?
Bob remained confident. “That’s why we are starting in Mints. Low-key re-launch of the great Avi Shielmann. This will be the best event in here for years.”
The two men sat quietly as the bar began to fill up. Another busy night down Nana with all its usual drama and energy. Bob looked around and made his snap judgement on the night’s clientele. A few of them he knew of course, fellow regulars. The rest he felt were easy to size up. This was one skill Bob genuinely did have. Over the years in Bangkok he had seen it all. He had seen all the behaviours, characters, and personalities. He could instantly assess a person in this part of town. He could see it in their eyes and body language. The ones who were experienced and therefore knew how to behave with a bit of respect, were easily spotted.
In one corner he saw a group of younger, cocky types. Just the sort Bob didn’t like. His years of chatting with bar girls had taught him that the girls didn’t much like these loud, brash characters either. They thought they were it. They were nothing. The joke was on them.
“Not long now, Avi. This is the moment. The moment!”
“Don’t make me any more nervous!”
There was technically a small dance floor in Mints, but people rarely actually danced on it. Mints wasn’t really that sort of place. A couple of big posters had been put up in the corner to announce the imminent return of the eminent Avi Shielmann. Most drinkers in the bar hadn’t even noticed. It was pretty unlikely the appearance of Avi was drawing the crowds.
Avi went into the little private room behind the bar to get changed. When he gave Bob the signal that he was ready, Bob stood up and took a microphone from Mint.
“Good evening, Mints!” Bob expected a huge roar, but what he got was at best muted. A couple of claps and the odd whistle.
“Some of you may know me as plain old Bob Lowe.”
“Who the fuck are you, mate?” a random drunk heckled him, much to the amusement of a few others.
“Ah, yes, very good. Well tonight I am Bob Lowe – disco promoter. Yes, D.I.S.C.O. I give you something very special. The greatest disco dancer ever to perform here in Mints. Former world championship star. Ladies and gents. I give you Avi Shielmann!”
Mic drop. Literally, not for effect, Bob fumbled and dropped the mic. He was grappling on the floor as Avi entered and the Ottawan classic D.I.S.C.O started to play.
Avi strutted out with all the attitude of his younger days. He wore an outrageous gold jumpsuit with silver sparkles. His chest hair was visible as was his chain. His hips gyrated from side to side. His hands pointed at random people in the audience.
The crowd at Mints roared, partly in humour, partly out of their sheer drunkenness. Within a few moments they were voicing their approval – they were genuinely impressed. Avi certainly had the moves for a man of his age and he knew how to get the crowd involved. For more than ten minutes Avi performed with all the gusto and energy of the disco superstar Bob had said he once was. He was in the moment. Adrenaline rushed through his body. Later he would tell Bob he had no memory of the performance at all. It just happened. It was bizarre, it was unique, and the Mints’ crowd loved it.
When it was all over, an exhausted and emotional Avi slumped back down in his chair opposite Bob. During the course of the evening Avi got a lot of compliments from people walking by his table. “Awesome, mate,” was a typical reaction.
He was overcome with emotion, tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t thank you enough. I haven’t had this feeling in years. I’m back. Avi Shielmann is back.”
Bob let that hang in the air for a few moments. “If anyone can, Bob Lowe can. That’s not all either. I’ve found Mo Razzaq.” Avi just looked at Bob, and very slowly Bob could detect the tears in his eyes increasing in volume. It had been quite a night.
Over the course of the next few weeks the Bangkok heat began to rise, the cooler comfort of January but a distant memory. Bob looked back fondly as he often did. “January was but an English summer’s morn. Oh the joys. No sweating at all.” Werner and Pim both smiled at him. They had invited the clumsy Brit out for lunch to thank him and Werner had chosen his favourite German restaurant in town. “This food it really remind me a lot of my childhood. Good home cooked meals,” he informed Bob who was busy grappling with an enormous piece of pork knuckle.
“Well it is delicious, but a confounded nuisance. One needs a sharper knife.” Bob had noticed a difference in Pim. He considered that this must be what happiness looked like. He had never contemplated before that Pim didn’t look happy, but with hindsight he could see the difference. There was a relaxed air about her. The way she sat. The way she smiled. It was all natural. This really was remarkable. As a fully-fledged cynic Bob liked to mock the idea of couples being happy. This time he couldn’t argue. He could see it. “I must say you do make an utterly splendid couple. Genuinely so. I couldn’t be happier.” The couple held hands and smiled back at Bob.
His business was really bearing fruit and he noticed that he was uplifted. Seeing other people so happy and so grateful because of his work, Bob Lowe’s efforts gave him a warm feeling! It was remarkable. He had stumbled upon something. Work he enjoyed, but work that was also rewarding. After lunch with Werner and Pim, he met Avi at Mints for ‘one quick beer’. The Swedish-Israeli insisted on
paying. It was the least he could do. Thanks to the efforts of Bob Lowe PI he was back in touch with his oldest and dearest friend. They had traded a few emails, Avi had apologised for his indiscretions of the past, and they’d moved on. They updated each other on their lives and Mo had sent Avi pictures of his children, now both adults. Avi had missed so much of his friend’s life. They began to Skype call – quite an emotional moment, seeing and hearing his old friend. They quickly seemed to slot back into their old friendship, like it was still the early 1980s. The same in jokes. Laughing over the same memories. Avi shared his disco comeback with his friend who was delighted for him and they discussed a reunion, perhaps in Bangkok. Maybe they would dance again to roars from the crowd. Life was good and one unconventional, often drunk Brit was to thank for it.
THIRTY SIX
One quiet Saturday morning, Bob sat out the front of the small house just off Soi Pipat drinking a morning coffee with Daeng and Nat. Bob had now joined the routine that the two older men had had for years. Conversation didn’t flow smoothly, at least the conversation Bob tried to take part in didn’t flow smoothly, but even in the short time he had been living with Daeng they had both managed to improve their language skills.
“Superb coffee as ever, Khun Daeng. Shove your Starbucks where the sun don’t shine!” Daeng understood the sentiment, namely because he was already aware that most of the words Bob Lowe used were superfluous piffle.
The two older men chatted about their plans for the day. Daeng was feeling a bit lazy and said he would work for a few hours but then Toon would come and pick him up as she was taking him out to some fancy restaurant for dinner.
“Does she know you don’t know anything about fancy food?” Nat ribbed his old friend.
“I know how to eat. That’s enough.”
“Ahaan Thai! Marvellous!’ Bob tried to get in on the act and chatting about ahaan Thai (Thai food) was a conversation he was very skilled and comfortable in. Fortunately for him, Thai people, Daeng and Nat included, never tired of chatting about food. It was one of the perks of living in the country with the world’s greatest cuisine that one could always enthuse about it. Bob had lived in Thailand for over ten years but still felt he was learning about the culinary nuances and it was amazing how often he would still be introduced to new foods.
“Do you know, boys, my first five years in Thailand I never tried Yam Thua Plu.” Yam Thua Plu, a Thai salad made with wing beans, eggs, and shrimps was now a Lowe favourite.
“It was life changing. Life changing. When I first tasted that salad it was without doubt one of the best days of my life. I almost get emotional thinking about it.” Bob grinned and slurped his coffee noisily.
“Yes, delicious.” Nat agreed.
“Unquestionably.”
“Yes.” Daeng spoke almost as a reflex.
These three sat in near silence, punctuated by the odd comment. Bob was now morphing into the group, making similar sounds and nods to the other two. The power of group dynamics. Bob was certainly easily influenced and suggestible and it would have been fascinating to a psychologist to study these three. Daeng himself had begun to adopt a few of Bob’s phrases, and realising they had finished their coffees said, “More tea, vicar?”
Bob laughed heartily and noticed in the distance Nont walking down the soi towards the three men. Game on, thought Bob. He had discussed the plans with Nont, or rather Pat had told Nont how to play it, and she was certain it would pan out as she expected.
Daeng recognised Nont. “Morning. How’s your mother?”
“She’s good. Same as ever, Khun Daeng. In fact that is why I am here. I need to ask you a favour.”
“You’re not stealing sweets from my shop I hope!” Nat chipped in, remembering when Nont was about six or seven he had caught him trying to distract Ning so he could take a one baht sweet. Nont laughed.
“My mother has no transport to take all her pork to the stall in the mornings.” Nont dived straight in.
Daeng might have looked like a grizzled old uneducated man but he was wise enough to know where this was going, immediately.
“Oh. What’s happened to the truck?”
Nont looked down. “I am waiting for some repairs, it may take a few weeks.”
Daeng had a little glint in his eye when he asked, “So how can I help?”
Nont glanced towards the tuk-tuk. “I wonder if you would be prepared to do an early morning run every day. We’d pay you well of course.”
Daeng shook his head. “I’ve seen what time your mother starts. Too early.”
Nat nodded, way too early.
There was a short silence before Daeng looked up as if he had just had a masterful idea. “If you know how to drive my tuk-tuk, you could rent it from me, every morning, but I would need it back by seven at the latest.”
Nont beamed. “Thank you so much. How much would I need to pay you?”
“You pay whatever you can afford, young Nont.” Daeng winked and Nont thanked him again before walking away.
“Remarkable,” uttered Bob Lowe.
“Oh, you understood did you, Bob?” Daeng sarcastically enquired of his new friend.
“I think I picked up the gist, Daeng.” Lowe smiled, and Daeng patted him hard on the back before shuffling inside to make a new pot of coffee.
Bob couldn’t have felt happier. Pat was spot on. Everyone knew what was going on, but no one said anything. All was well.
“That fried pork his mother makes is delicious.” Nat was thinking about crunching down on a crispy piece. “Delicious.” Bob began to wander into the same daydream.
He texted Pat. ‘Tuk-tuk case reached an amicable conclusion. We did it, Pat. Lunch?
Pat replied almost immediately. We did it!
They arranged to meet for lunch, Bob insisting that he had to have Yam Thua Plu, not open to negotiation. His final message, No yam thua plu, no lunch.
‘The Bizarre Case of the Suicide Killer’ – COMING SOON! Click here for an exclusive free preview.
The next book in the Bob Lowe PI Series will be available here from early January 2020. Sign up at zachjbrodsky.com for advance notice of new releases.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Zach J Brodsky spent much of his youth traipsing around the world where he was fascinated by observing people and creating absurd back stories in his mind about their lives. The result was the creation of an endless list of characters. He roamed around East and Southern Africa in the early 1990s sneaking into what was Zaire to spend some time with mountain gorillas, and later travelled extensively in South East Asia and the West Coast of the USA. Zach experimented with traditional employment for many years before deciding to base himself in Bangkok where he began to observe all the oddities that Bangkok has to offer, ultimately motivating him to try and patch some characters together in creating his first full novel "Bangkok Delusions".
Zach continues to roam the globe milling around South East Asia and quietly observing places and events that might inspire a new storyline.
For more information on Zach’s books visit http://www.zachjbrodsky.com and sign up for advance notification on future releases.
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