7
Friday, January 10
They drove up Sukhumvit Road where three-star hotels, luxury villas and wooden and tin shacks stood cheek by jowl. Harry didn’t see any of this; his gaze appeared to be fixed on a point straight in front of him.
“Traffic’s better now,” Crumley said.
“Yeah.”
She smiled without showing her teeth. “Sorry, in Bangkok we talk about the traffic the way other places talk about the weather. You don’t have to live here for long to figure out why. The weather’s the same from now until May. Depending on the monsoon it starts raining sometime in late summer. And then it pours for three months. All there is to say about the weather is that it’s hot. We tell each other that all year around, but it’s not the most interesting topic of conversation.”
“Mm.”
“The traffic, on the other hand, determines our everyday lives in Bangkok more than any goddamn typhoons. I never know how long it’s going to take me to get to work. Could be forty minutes, could be four hours. Ten years ago it took twenty-five minutes.”
“So what’s happened?”
“Growth. The last twenty years have been one long economic boom. This is where the jobs are, and people flood in from the rural areas. More people traveling to work every morning, more mouths to feed and more demand for transport. The politicians promise us new roads and then just rub their hands with glee at how well things are going.”
“Nothing wrong with good times surely?”
“It’s not that I begrudge people TVs in their bamboo huts, but it’s happened so damn fast. And if you ask me, growth for growth’s sake is the logic of a cancer cell. Sometimes I’m almost glad we hit the wall last year. You can already feel its effect on the traffic.”
“You mean it’s been worse than this?”
“Of course. Look there …”
Crumley pointed to a gigantic car park where hundreds of cement mixers stood in lines.
“A year ago that parking lot was almost empty, but now no one is building anymore, so the fleet has been mothballed, as you can see. And people only go to shopping malls because they have air-conditioning, they don’t actually shop.”
They drove in silence for a while.
“Who do you think is behind this shit?” Harry asked.
“Currency speculators.”
He looked at her, uncomprehending. “I’m talking about the photos.”
“Oh.” She glanced at him. “You didn’t like that, did you.”
He shrugged. “I’m an intolerant person. I can’t help thinking about the death penalty.”
The inspector checked her watch. “We pass a restaurant on the way to your apartment. What do you say to a crash course in traditional Thai food?”
“OK. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Who’s behind the photos? Harry, there are probably more perverts in Thailand per square inch than in the whole world, people who have come here because we have a sex industry that meets all needs. And I do mean all needs. How the hell should I know who’s behind a few pictures?”
Harry grimaced and rolled his head from side to side. “I was just asking. Wasn’t there some row a couple of years ago about an ambassador who was a pedophile?”
“Yeah, we busted a child sex ring involving a number of embassy people, among them the Australian ambassador. Very embarrassing.”
“Not for the police though?”
“Are you crazy? For us it was like winning the soccer World Cup and an Oscar at the same time. The Prime Minister sent his congratulations, the Minister for Tourism was in ecstasy and medals rained down on us. That has a big impact on the credibility of the force, you know.”
“So what about making a start there?”
“I don’t know. First up, everyone who was involved with the ring is either behind bars or has been deported. Second, I’m not convinced the photos have anything to do with the murder.”
Crumley turned into a car park where an attendant pointed to an impossible gap between two cars. She pressed a button and the electronics buzzed as the large windows on both sides of the vehicle were lowered. Then she put the car in reverse and put her foot on the accelerator.
“I don’t think …” Harry started to say, but the inspector had already parked. The side mirrors quivered.
“How do we get out?” he asked.
“It’s not good to worry so much, Detective.”
Using both arms she swung herself through the window, placed one foot on the windscreen and jumped down in front of the Jeep. With a great deal of difficulty Harry succeeded in performing the same feat.