Cockroaches(17)
“Depends how quickly we can get to the bottom of what went on here.”
“The man came here about nine at night and said he wanted room. He flicked through menu and said he wanted Dim, he just needed rest first. Told me to say when she was here. I said he had to pay hourly rate anyway. He said fine and took key.”
“The menu?”
The man passed him something which did indeed resemble a menu. Harry leafed through. There were pictures of young Thai girls in nurse uniforms, in fishnet stockings, in tight leather corsets with a whip, in schoolgirl uniforms and plaits, and even in police uniforms. Beneath the pictures, under the heading VITAL STATISTICS was each girl’s age, price and background. Harry noticed that all of them claimed they were between eighteen and twenty-two. Prices ranged from one to three thousand baht and almost all the girls had apparently completed a language course and worked as nurses.
“Was he alone?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
“No one else in the car?”
Wang shook his head.
“How can you be so sure of that? The Mercedes has tinted windows and you were sitting in here.”
“I usually go out and check. Perhaps he has friend with him. Then they have to pay for double room.”
“I see. Double room, double price?”
“Not double price.” Wang showed his teeth again. “Cheaper to share.”
“What happened then?”
“Don’t know. Man drove car to number 120, where he is now. It’s at back, so I can’t see it in darkness. I called Dim and she came and waited. After a while I sent her in to him.”
“And how was Dim dressed? As a tram conductor?”
“No, no, no.” Wang flipped through to the back page of the menu and proudly showed the photo of a young Thai girl wearing a short dress covered in silver sequins, white skates and a big smile. She was curtsying with her ankles crossed and her arms to the sides, as though she had just performed a successful free program. Her face was dotted with red freckles.
“And that’s supposed to be …?” Harry said in disbelief, reading the name under the photo.
“Yes, yes, right. Tonya Harding. The one who killed other American girl, pretty one.”
“I don’t think she actually—”
“Dim can be her too if you like …”
“No, thank you,” Harry said.
“It’s very popular. Especially with Americans. She can cry, if you like.” Wang ran fingers down his cheeks.
“She found him in the room with a knife in his back. What happened after that?”
“Dim ran here screaming.”
“Wearing skates?”
Wang gave Harry a reproachful look. “Skates come on after panties come off.”
Harry could appreciate the practical side of the arrangement and waved him to carry on.
“Nothing more to tell, Officer. We went to room and looked again, then I locked door and rang police.”
“So, according to Dim the door was not locked when she got there. Did she say anything about it being ajar or was it just unlocked?”
Wang shrugged his shoulders. “Door was closed but not locked. Is that important?”
“You never know. Did you see anyone else near the room that evening?”
Wang shook his head.
“And where’s the guest book?” Harry asked. He was getting tired now.
The motel owner’s head shot up. “No guest book.”
Harry watched him in silence.
“No guest book,” Wang repeated. “Why do I need one? No one will come if they register their names and addresses.”
“I’m not stupid, Wang. No one thinks they’re being registered, but you keep a list. Just in case. VIPs drop by now and then and it could be good to slap a guest book on the table if you have any trouble one day, right?”
The motel owner blinked like a frog.
“Don’t be difficult now, Wang. People who had nothing to do with the murder have nothing to fear. Especially public figures. Word of honor. Now. Book, please.”
It was a little notebook, and Harry scanned the closely written pages covered in Thai characters.
“One of the others will come and copy this,” he said.
The three officers were waiting by the Mercedes. The headlamps were on and they illuminated the briefcase, which was lying open on the patio.
“Did you find anything?”
“Looks like the ambassador had unusual sexual predilections.”
“I know. Tonya Harding. I call that kinky.”
“When can we talk to Dim?”
“We’ll get hold of her tomorrow. She’s working tonight.”
Harry stopped in front of the briefcase. Details of the black-and-white photographs came to the fore in the yellow light from the headlamps. He froze. Of course he had heard about it, he had even read reports and talked with Vice Squad colleagues about it, but it was the first time Harry had seen a child being screwed by an adult.