Blue For Red
Short Dark Story. Set in England.
‘HAVE YOU PREPARED my case?’
‘I’m working on it.’
‘Working on it is not good enough. I want it now.’
‘The court case is tomorrow. I do have other clients you know.’ Chayia kicked himself.
‘Oh, really? My money is not good enough for you?’ Khun Dam, a businessman turned politician whispered into the mobile.
‘It’s not that, it’s um, I’m retiring. I’ve had enough, I can’t take it any longer. I’m getting out of here.’
Chayia picked up his car keys and walked out of his office. His secretary shouted after him, ‘What about your briefcase?’
‘Where the hell is he?’ Khun Dam threw back the office door. ‘I should be in court in fifteen minutes.’
‘Sorry sir, we don’t know. I’ve been trying to contact him since yesterday afternoon. He hasn’t answered my calls or messages.’
‘Have you tried his house?’
‘Yes sir, of course.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing. He is not there, his maid has not seen him.’
‘Sir, you haven’t booked passage on our cruise.’
‘No, but I’m sure there is a cabin free? At the very least a seat?’ said Chayia, his Platinum card visible as he opened his wallet.
‘Maybe we could fit you in. Do you have your passport?’
‘Now, can I rest?’ Chayia said to himself as he lifted the cabin phone, ‘A bottle of Thai Red wine, and a serving of your roast of the day please.’
The drive from Bangkok to Phuket had drained him. In his job of defending criminals, timing was everything, as was jumping on the cruise ship on its way to Singapore. He had broken no law, but people would be looking for him. They would check the airports, but not shipping. At least he hoped so.
The bottle popped open, his food spread before him on his cabin’s dining table.
He relaxed, for the first time in years.
‘Please send me a brandy, and then clear the plates.’ The cabin phone returned to its place by the door. He looked at his mobile and dialled his office.
‘I’m going to make this quick. Thank you for your diligent efforts on behalf of my company. I will send you a fair settlement. Now take any valuables from the office, lock it up, and keep the keys until I contact you. It could be a while. Good luck in the future.’ The Apple phone drowned in the sea as the cabin window closed.
Chayia sat back, put his feet up and dozed. They reached Penang, he remembered the place well from his early days of arranging visas for foreigners. He chuckled at the memories. Years later, he had taken his wife to Kuala Lumpur, their first and last holiday together, the memories were painful, and she didn’t return to Thailand. Today, he avoided the sights and Five-Star eateries they had visited, instead, he snacked on roadside restaurants. Then on to Singapore, his memories were mixed, his sight-seeing time was limited, but he successfully bailed out a Thai crook for conning fellow Asians out of their life savings. That case made his name. Now he could forget his career and get a ticket to fly to England and a new life.
Heathrow was the same chaos he remembered those years ago. But would Viewer Green be the same sleepy village? And his beautiful little home? Was all his client had promised, be true? Would the cottage he had earned as payment still be standing? Memories hammered home. ‘Get me off this charge, and this lovely little home will be yours.’ The London hitman, true to his word, handed over papers and keys in Bangkok on his way to Australia. Chayia giggled to himself as the killer was arrested at Sydney Airport for a previous murder he had been accused of.
‘Are you sure this is the place?’ asked the taxi driver. Chaiya checked the folded paper from his pocket. He read the address. ‘This is it.’
‘Good luck mate,’ he said as he pocketed his tip and drove back to London.
The grass and weeds burst through the rotting wooden gates, and the garden path, cracked and broken led to a burst open front door. Slang and swear words decorated the hallway in red spray paint. Chayia turned and sat slumped on the front doorstep, head in hands.
‘Oi mate, you can’t go in there, the “Old Bill” will nab you.’
‘What? This is, was, my house,’ said Chayia.
‘Bit of a mess ain’t it? Do you need some decorators?’
It was agreed, that Chayia would live above “The Lamb” pub until the renovation was completed.
Life in Viewer Green was quiet, Chayia made friends in the pub, and he aided the workers at his house and shared a beer or two with them. Progress was quick, he even started to buy some furniture to stock the rooms.
‘The Guinness is going down well tonight, Chayia,’ said the landlord.
‘Yeah, a lot of memories on this date. Twenty years ago today my wife was murdered.’
‘Oh, God, sorry about that,’ the audience grew as the black beer flowed.
‘We were just married, I had started as a prosecution lawyer. I got the criminal two years inside. It was not enough for the accuser.’ Chayia ordered another round of drinks. Drinkers sat mouths open waiting to hear what happened.
‘He threatened to kill me for not getting the thief a life sentence. We ignored the man, thinking he was delusional. We went to KL for a well-earned break. As we left the airport, a man pulled a gun, the security grabbed it. The pistol fired, instead of shooting me, he killed my wife.’ Tears stopped Chayia from continuing. The landlord restocked everyone’s drinks.
‘Sorry guys,’ said Chayia coughing. ‘Anyway, now you know why I became a defence lawyer, it is a great deal easier dealing with criminals.’ Everyone joined the laughter.
The decorator perked up, ‘Oh, this came for you today, I forgot to give it to you earlier, I guess it must be yours as it is written in Thai,’ he laughed and handed over the envelope.
‘Who knows my address?’ whispered Chayia, as he tore it open.
“Hi, Mr Super Clever lawyer. Remember me? I was the innocent chap you couldn’t bother to turn up for at court. Yes, me, and guess what, a Thai colleague of mine ended up in the next cell to a Brit mate of yours in an Aussie jail. Yes, I got your full story, of how you got paid with property. A friend of mine will visit you soon. He or she could be Thai, a Brit, or even an Aussie. What fun waiting.”
‘Sorry if the translation loses a bit of its drama. It looks like I’ll be moving on. Anyone want to buy a newly renovated house?’ he said.
‘My God, she’s beautiful,’ said the decorator, as a tall, slim Asian lady ordered a white wine. She sat and checked her mobile. The two lunch-time customers couldn’t peel their eyes off the gracious and immaculate woman. She finished her drink, smiled and strode to her sports car parked outside. It roared into the distance.
Hours later, Chayia finished packing his suitcase. He heard a crack of glass from downstairs, he was scared, but he had to brave a look. His head peered around the bedroom door, he then edged onto the landing leant against the staircase and crept down step at a time. He reached the bottom, silence. Suddenly a wire noose looped over his head and tightened. Throat veins popped proudly as if dancing. Not a sound came from the ex-lawyer. He was dying. Slim gloved fingers inched nearer his red face. Scarlet lipstick brushed his nose. Chayia choked, breath suddenly squeezed into his throat, he coughed and panted collapsing to his knees. The woman was now dead next to him.
‘We didn’t mean to kill her. Sorry,’ said the decorator.
‘He is stronger than he looks,’ said the landlord pointing to the paint-splattered man.
‘Now what?’ said Chayia.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of her body,’ said the landlord.
‘I, I, didn’t expect this,’ said Chayia.
‘Funny things can happen in the quietest village,’ he said as the men laughed as they lugged the body to the door.
‘Oh, by the way, we want to introduce you to our other Thai friend. You will like him. We think it’s time.’
END of Part One
