Cockroaches(16)

“Bit more victimology, folks. My guess is Molnes was not a practical man. This toolbox has never been near a car engine. At most, the screwdriver has been used to hang up a family photo.”

A mosquito applauded by his ear. Harry hit out and felt his wet skin was cold to the touch. The heat hadn’t abated even if the sun had gone down. Now the wind had dropped and it felt as if moisture was trickling from the ground beneath their feet and condensing the air so that it was almost drinkable.

Beside the spare tire was the jack, apparently also unused, and a thin, brown leather case of the kind you expect to find in a diplomat’s car.

“What’s in the case?” Harry asked.

“It’s locked,” Crumley said. “Because the car is, officially speaking, embassy territory and therefore not under our jurisdiction we haven’t attempted to open it. But now that Norway is represented maybe we can …”

“Sorry, I don’t have diplomatic status,” Harry said, lifting the case out of the boot and placing it on the ground. “But I can state that the case is no longer on Norwegian territory, so I would suggest you open it while I go to reception and speak to the motel owner.”

Harry sauntered across the car park. His feet were swollen after the flight, a drop of sweat rolled down the inside of his shirt, tickling him, and he was desperate for a drink. Apart from that, it didn’t feel too bad to be on a serious case again. It was a long time since his last job. He noticed that the “m” had gone out.


Wang Lee, Manager said the business card the man behind the counter passed Harry, presumably a gentle hint that he should try again another day. The bony man in the flowery shirt had sleep in the corners of his eyes and looked as if he definitely did not want anything to do with Harry right now. He had started to flick through a pile of papers and grunted when he glanced up to see Harry still standing there.

“I can see you’re a busy man,” Harry said. “So I suggest we do this as quickly as possible. I know I’m a foreigner and I’m not from your country—”

“Not Thai. Chinese,” he heard, accompanied by another grunt.

“Well, then, you’re also a foreigner. The point is—”

From behind the counter came a couple of gasps which might have been scornful laughter. The motel owner had at any rate opened his mouth.

“Not foreigner. Chinese. We make Thailand work. No Chinese, no business.”

“Fine. You’re a businessman, Wang. So let me make you a business deal. You run a brothel here and you can flick through papers as much as you like, but that’s how it is.”

Wang shook his head firmly. “No prostitutes. Motel. Rent rooms.”

“Relax, I’m only interested in the murder, it’s not my job to lock up pimps. Unless I do it off my own bat. Hence the business deal. Here in Thailand no one checks people like you out, there are simply too many of you. Reporting you to the police isn’t enough, either. I’m guessing you can pay a few baht in a brown envelope to avoid being bothered by that kind of thing. That’s why you’re not particularly afraid of us.”

The motel owner repeated the head-shaking.

“No money. Illegal.”

Harry smiled. “Last time I looked, Thailand was third in the world corruption table. Please be nice and don’t treat me like an idiot.”

Harry ensured his voice was lowered. Threats generally work best when delivered in a neutral key.

“Your problem, and mine, however, is that the guy who was found in the motel room is a diplomat from my country. If I have to report back that we suspect he died in a brothel it suddenly becomes a political issue and your friends in the police cannot help you. The authorities will feel obliged to close this place and haul you off to prison. To show goodwill, to show they’re maintaining law and order, right?”

It was impossible to see from the expressionless face whether he had hit the nail on the head or not.

“On the other hand, if I report back that the woman had arranged to meet the man, and the motel was a random choice …”

The man looked at Harry. He blinked, pinching his eyes as if he had a speck of dust in them. Then he turned, pulled aside a curtain that hid a door opening and waved for Harry to follow. Behind the curtain was a little room with a table and two chairs, and the man motioned Harry to sit down. He put a cup in front of Harry and poured from a teapot. There was such a strong aroma of peppermint that it made his eyes smart.

“None of girls want to work so long as body’s there,” Wang said. “How quickly can you move it?”

Businessmen are businessmen the world over, Harry thought, lighting a cigarette.