Monsoon Mishap

A short dark story set in Bangkok

‘HEY, ART, DO you want another Singha?’ asked Bill.

‘Why are you asking me? You own this dump, not the serving wench.’

‘I’m asking because you get one more bottle on credit. Then I want to see some folding stuff.’

‘I always pay my tab.’

‘Yeah, it gets longer and longer each month.’

‘If it weren’t pouring, I’d leave you in here. No customers, no decent staff, warm beer and a lack of enthralling conversation.’ Arthur Davenport grunted and studied his scuffed shoes. ‘And don’t call me Art.’

‘Have you got any work these days?’

‘My news reports don’t fly down to me from the sky, you know.’

‘You used to scribble in your notepad while leaning on the bar. I haven’t seen any of that lately.’

The fifty-year-old serving “girl” swept past Arthur in a damp, blotchy mini-skirt. She winked and smiled, showing off the toothless gap next to her front teeth. Lek had been a fixture at “Willie’s Drinking Place” for thirty years.

‘God, what am I doing here?’

‘Could be because no one else gives you credit,’ Bill said. The reek of cheap liquor wafted across the bar.

‘I’m out of here.’ Arthur tipped his bottle, hoping there would be a mouthful left. No such luck, he laid the bottle on its side and spun it. It stopped pointing left. ‘I’ll go that way,’ he grinned. Lightning cracked, Arthur thought again.

A door slammed behind the bar. ‘Dad, I can’t stay here.’

‘Meet Pim, my daughter. You knew her as a polite young thing,’ said the bar owner. She stormed out into the rain without another word.

‘Maybe she doesn’t fancy a chat? You can tell me all of your family secrets next time. See ya,’ said Arthur, lifting the collar of his jacket. Unsure why he bothered dressing with a semblance of businesslike gracefulness, especially as a torrent of water fell from the cracked roof tile, soaking his neck and halfway down his back. True to the prediction of his spinning beer bottle, he turned left into a “soi” of puddles.

‘I need some work, a story, any story for the rag mag, even for that arsehole editor,’ he muttered to himself. Arthur’s head bounced from dodging broken roof overhangs and skipping puddles.

A female’s voice screeched out. And for all the years Arthur lived in Thailand, he never mastered the language, but he knew it was far from friendly. He peered around to see where it came from—thunder, lightning, then a louder blast and a flash in the lane.

‘Pim, what the hell,’ Arthur said, as he grabbed the sprinting girl.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Hey, calm down, I’m your dad’s friend. Can I help?’

‘He’s not my Dad, just a stepdad.’

‘Okay, whatever. What happened?’

‘Mind you own…’ she started, then the tears flowed like the monsoon rain. Arthur put his arm across her shoulder and led her back to her stepdad’s bar.

‘Pim? Arthur? What’s going on?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping to find out,’ said Arthur, preparing his pen and pad.

Pim marched upstairs to the spare bedroom, her room and slammed the door.

‘Lek, where are you? We need two beers, and quick,’ shouted Bill. ‘Christ, I’ll get them myself.’

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ said Arthur as he ducked outside. He rushed back the way he came. A small group was gathering, phones out. Heads turned, all staring at him.

‘Not much to see,’ Arthur said as he downed his Singha.

‘Well, what the hell happened?’

‘I heard a female arguing, shouting, then shrieking. A gun blasted. Next, Pim rushed away from a dark alley.’

‘Pim, get down here this minute.’ The only sound from upstairs was a key locking.

Two brown uniforms and a well-turned-out man breezed into the bar, shaking raindrops from their clothes.

‘Who do I arrest? You or you?’ The smart suit said.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Arthur.

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Inspector Chamai. A man was shot dead outside your pub, and a white foreigner was spotted near the scene. So, who was it?’

‘It was me outside. But I didn’t shoot anyone,’ said Arthur.

‘Really? The witnesses saw you near the dead man. What have you got to say about that?’

‘Look, I didn’t see the man. I just heard a gunshot.’

‘Are you not going to mention the young lady who ran into this building?’

Arthur looked at Bill.

‘The young lady is my daughter, or step-daughter if you want me to be accurate.’

‘And where is she now?’

The back door opened. ‘I’m here,’ Pim said.

The two uniformed men received the signal from their boss and began searching the premises.

‘Oy, you can’t start turning my home upside down,’ said Bill.

‘Really, do you want to discuss it at the station?’

‘There is nothing to find. What are you looking for anyway?’ said Bill.

‘One thing could be a weapon.’

‘Pim, what have you got to say for yourself?’ asked Bill.

‘Look, Dad, I’ve had a terrible few days, can I go?’

‘Young lady, nobody is leaving until I say so,’ Inspector Chamai said, ‘We’ll start with a simple question, who was the man who caught a bullet in the back of his head?’

‘I don’t know his name, but he worked for my real dad.’

‘Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What is your real dad’s name?’

‘Was his name. He died two days ago.’

Bill raised his eyes and cuddled his daughter.

’Do you know about the shooting in Patpong? Well, my dad was the victim,’ Pim asked.

Chamai turned away, busy with his radio. ‘What’s the latest on the gang leader killing on Wednesday?’ He returned to the bar, ‘Right, young lady, what did you know about your father’s business life?’

‘I knew who he was and what he did. So what?’

‘It seems the man gunned down outside was close to your dad,’ the inspector said.

‘He worked for my dad.’

‘Did you shoot him?’

‘Of course not.’

‘So who did? Him?’ He pointed at Arthur.

‘I honestly don’t know. I didn’t see anyone with a gun,’ she said.

The uniforms came down, shaking their heads.

‘These two will accompany us to the station,’ said Chamai, pointing to Pim and Arthur.

‘Are you arresting my daughter?’ asked Bill.

Six people left the owner alone in his bar.

‘Lek, where the hell are you?’ Bill shouted. The toilet flushed.

‘Sorry, boss, I don’t like policemen.’

‘Have you been in the loo the whole time?’

‘Sorry, sir, yes.’

Two hours later, Pim returned to the bar. ‘Dad, I need to rest after that. Let me sleep for a while.’

‘Why did you leave a white orchid on the body?’ asked Inspector Chamai.

‘I didn’t. I never saw the body, let alone the flower.’

‘We have several unsolved murders in Bangkok, where the killer leaves a calling card, i.e., the orchid. Is that you?’

‘Christ, I’m a journalist, not a killer. Tell me more, and I’ll give you a glowing mention in the Bangkok Post.’

‘You can go, but don’t leave the country.’

‘Can I have a lift back to the bar?’

Arthur arrives back at the bar, sneezing. ‘Is Pim here? We need to talk and solve this before we all get arrested.’

‘Pim, get down here, please.’ No answer. ‘Lek, go and get her.’

‘She has gone. But left this piece of paper: สายฝนชำระล้างเลือด แต่ล้างแค้นไม่ได้ (Sai fon cham ra lang luead tae lap khaen dai).’

‘And what the hell does that mean?’

‘Something like: The monsoon washes away the blood, but not the revenge,’ said Lek.

Arthur’s pen and notebook were busy again.

‘That detective let some info slip. Maybe he meant to, anyway, the dead man worked for Pim’s dad. A kind of right-hand man who did all the dirty work.’

‘So?’ said Bill.

‘He thought that Pim had a secret or two about her father. Something important, worth money, or information that could keep the dead man out of jail. That’s why we need to ask Pim.’

‘Do you think Pim killed the man?’

‘I don’t know. She was there, but so was I, and possibly someone else.’

Bill hammered at his mobile, ‘Answer, damn it. Will you, girl?’

Lek placed two bottles in front of the two men. They were both lost in thought as they drowned their beer.

‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick,’ said Bill as Pim wandered in.

‘I’ve been to see Mum.’

‘Why? What for?’

‘To ask the questions that I need answered.’

‘Why? She hated your dad.’

‘Yes, but her memory is good.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Lek, will you join us, please?’ asked Pim.

Lek inched her way to the front of the bar.

‘Please sit with us,’ said Pim.

‘What is this all about?’ said Bill.

‘My mum told me that Lek works for my real dad, not you. Is that true, Lek?’

‘I did, it looks like that position has gone along with the boss,’ she answered.

‘You mean all this time you have been working for her father?’ asked Bill.

‘I was employed to keep an eye on her. Keep her safe. That’s all.’

Bill’s eyes studied the ceiling, ‘What? So while I was married to her mum, you worked for him?’

‘Yes. That’s why your daughter is still with us.’

‘And what does that mean?’

‘Her father had many enemies. Daughters are easily kidnapped.’

‘And now, he’s dead?’

‘That was why I shot his guard. He was coming for her.’

Arthur’s pen was running out of ink; he was writing fast and furious.

‘My God. What do we do now?’ said Bill. Elbows on the bar, head in his hands.

‘You haven’t asked another reason I went to see Mum.’

‘There’s more? Christ I can’t take any more,’ said Bill.

‘You might be happier with this tidbit,’ said Pim with a huge smile.

‘Don’t tell me the “Old Bill” are coming to take me away?’

‘Dad, calm down. I said it was good news, I think you’ll agree.’

Pim took her time; she tapped Lek on the back and smiled at each person in turn.

‘You’ve seen me wear this locket ever since I was young. You hated it because my Dad gave it to me. You even bought me an expensive gold one, remember? I always wore this one. Why? Not because it was valuable, even close, but also because Dad gave it. But because he told me to love it and care for it. I trusted what he told me. “One day you’ll know why”, he impressed it on me. It has his picture inside.’

‘Yeah, so what?’ said Bill. Lek smiled quietly to herself.

‘Why are you smiling, Lek? Do you know something?’

‘Looking after you was one thing, but I also had to make sure you never lost the locket.’

‘And do you know why?’

‘I can guess?’ she answered.

‘Behind my Dad’s pic is a number. I never knew what the number was. Until yesterday, it was a bank account number. I didn’t know which bank. Until today, my Mum knew.’

All was quiet, the hammering of rain ceased, Bill’s heavy breathing quietened, and Arthur’s pen halted, scratching.

‘Lek, will you be good enough to accompany me to the safe deposit bank? I believe there is a lump sum for you too.’

Bill and Arthur were lost in thought until Bill’s phone rang.

‘Dad, you can sell your bar. You can now retire. Some cash will find its way into your account. Lek will also be retiring; she has been left a nest egg and can disappear before the police come knocking at your door. Arthur, well, he has a great story to write. Bye bye.’

‘Wait a minute, what about you?’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m taking over Dad’s business. And Lek has told me where to buy white orchids.’

The END

Coming soon - Gilly versus Evil