Confessions of a Bangkok Private Eye: True Stories From the Case Files of Warren Olson by Stephen Leather, Warren Olson Read Free Book Online Page B

mine would have blown it to kingdom come. But if the hairs on the back of my neck hadn’t stood to attention, my army career would have come to an abrupt end there and then.’
    ‘And this Ying is making your hair stand to attention, is that it?’
    Knight made a gun out of his right hand and faked shooting me in the face. ‘Got it in one. There’s nothing I can put my finger on, it’s just a feeling.’
    He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a couple of photographs and handed them to me. I tried to look at them without drooling. She was beautiful all right. Shampoo commercial hair, toothpaste commercial teeth, moisturiser commercial skin, you get the picture. Drop dead lovely, but as Greig Knight was one of the richest farangs in Thailand, it was only to be expected. The only dogs he’d go near would be at the greyhound track in Macau.
    ‘I’ve written her Thai name, date of birth and ID card number on the back of one of the pictures,’ said Knight. ‘Look, I pay all her bills, I’ve bought her a BMW, a house for her parents in Surin, and I’ve given her a gold Amex card. She gets an allowance of 200,000 baht a month and I’ve lost count of the gold jewellery I’ve bought for her.’
    I tried not to turn green with envy but he was giving her twice what I made in a good month. And I didn’t have a BMW. Or a gold Amex card. But then I didn’t have a body to die for and a face to kill for.
    ‘She’s as loving as she ever was,’ Knight continued. ‘The sex is great, there are no mysterious late-night phone calls, nothing I can put my finger on.’
    ‘Just a feeling?’
    Knight nodded. ‘That’s right.’
    I didn’t say anything to Knight but in my experience once a guy feels that his wife or girlfriend is up to no good, she probably is.
    ‘I’m flying to Hong Kong this weekend. I asked Ying to go with me but she said she was busy, she’s got a conference in Pattaya that she has to go to.’
    ‘A conference?’
    ‘She works for a pharmaceuticals company. Sales director. She doesn’t need to, I’ve told her that, but she wants her independence.’
    I wanted to point out that she didn’t want her independence enough to turn down 200,000 baht a month or give him back the BMW, but I kept my mouth shut. Discretion being the better part of not pissing off the client and all that.
    ‘Anyway, I’m off to Hong Kong, she’ll be in Pattaya, so I want you to follow her. You can do that?’
    I smiled confidently. ‘No problem. I’ll need her car registration number.’
    ‘It’s on the back of the photograph,’ said Knight. He pulled out a thick wallet and flicked his thumbnail across a stack of 1,000-baht bills, counted out thirty and handed them to me. ‘This is on account,’ he said. ‘But money’s no object, I just want to know the truth, one way or another.’
    I pocketed the cash and nodded over at the bodyguard. ‘Is Gung going with you?’
    ‘No, he’s looking after my house.’ I’d seen Knight’s house in one of the glossy magazines. It was in an expensive area of Sukhumvit, a mix of old Thai teak and white minimalist chic, full of modern Asian art and ancient Buddha figures looted from Burma.
    ‘Get Gung to call me when she leaves the house, and if you can get any details of what hotel she’s staying at, so much the better.’
    ‘Whatever you need,’ said Knight. He scribbled on the back of an embossed business card and handed it to me. ‘My private number is on there. Gung’s too.’
    I shook his hand and headed out. The money was burning a hole in my pocket, I had several bills that were past their sell-by date and I owed my maid last month’s salary.
    By Friday afternoon I was all set. Knight was on a three o’clock Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong so he left his house at just before midday, sitting in the back of a. large Mercedes. I was in a rental car, an inconspicuous Honda Civic, down the road. He didn’t see me. As a rule, guys in the back of big Mercs