Behind the Night Bazaar by Angela Savage Read Free Book Online

proceeded to a house near the Muang Mai Market where they confronted the farang. When he tried to resist arrest, police opened fire, killing the suspect during his attempted escape. Sources say the man, Canadian expatriate Didier de Montpasse, was a known homosexual who was jealous of Khun Sanga.
    There were no photos of Didier, which suggested the news of his death hadn’t reached the paper until it was about to go to press. She’d left him just before midnight. Nou’s body had been discovered around two. What time had the police gone to Didier’s place?
    An image flashed into Jayne’s mind: Didier kissing her neck. Would he still be alive if she’d stayed with him last night? Or would she—?
    Jayne shook her head. She double-checked her translation, folded the paper and placed both in her backpack. Leaving a fifty baht note under her coffee cup, she began walking in the direction of the river, crushing mango rind and withered frangipani blossoms beneath her feet. She waved away tuk-tuk drivers who crawled along beside her, and there must have been something in her demeanour that made the beggars leave her alone. As she passed a temple, its mirrored mosaic shattered her reflection into pieces.
    When she looked up and saw the Rama IX Bridge, she realised she was on auto-pilot, walking to Didier’s house to keep their appointment. But Didier wouldn’t be there.
    Jayne sat down on the riverbank with her back against a tree and her head in her hands. It couldn’t be true. Not him—not Didier. Not dead.
    Hot, angry tears rolled down her face. How was it possible? Didier was a good man who tried to make the world a better place—unlike herself, who was content to profit from its flaws. It wasn’t fair.
    And what about her? How could he kiss her—almost make love to her—and then die? How was she supposed to make sense of what happened between them now? Guilt mingled with anger in her tears.
    When she finally raised her head, the sun was sliding towards the horizon. She had lost an entire day.
    The Ping River looked like molten bronze and the gilt-tipped spires of Chiang Mai’s temples sparkled in the dusky light. Such beauty seemed a travesty in the face of Didier’s death, and Jayne’s anger found a new target: she hated Chiang Mai.
    She scowled as she walked from the embankment to the road and waved down a tuk-tuk. To avoid conversation with the driver she pretended she couldn’t speak Thai, directing him in broken English back to the guesthouse.
    Komet frowned as he read over his report. Paperwork was arduous at the best of times. Not having slept in more than twenty hours made it more so. Most difficult was recording events he hadn’t actually witnessed. Still, Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn didn’t see it as a problem.
    ‘As soon as we get back to the station, you’re to write up what I’ve told you,’ he’d said as they waited for back-up to arrive. ‘It’s imperative we get it down quickly.’
    Komet complied, writing what he was told happened while he was searching the garden. Ratratarn said when he’d questioned the foreigner further the suspect admitted to being in the Man Date bar with the victim and confirmed they’d argued. When Ratratarn probed him as to the cause of the argument, the suspect became agitated and aggressive. Pointing to the photograph of the victim, he shouted that Khun Sanga was a bad person. Chua meuan mah was the exact phrase he’d used.
    The lieutenant colonel asked the suspect if Khun Sanga was ‘as bad as a dog’, did he deserve to die like one. The foreigner replied in the affirmative. The lieutenant colonel then suggested that the suspect had killed Khun Sanga.
    The suspect responded by rushing at Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn with raised fists. Caught unawares, the lieutenant colonel, though unhurt, was thrown off balance. By the time he righted himself, the suspect had run out the front door, clearly intending to avoid capture.
    Ratratarn said he called out for