The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery Read online

  Initially Rose had haughtily said ‘no’ to the arrangement. Actually she had laughed in Ben Post’s face. Mamasan then stepped in. “Stay with Ben until centerfold,” her boss said uncaringly. “Centerfold bring Foxy Lady money. Man like you come back tomorrow,” she explained so her ‘date’ Ben could understand. “Teach Kiki how to take care man too. Be good ‘sister.’” She could have gladly smacked the grin off of Ben’s face but settled for a well placed barb. “Give me man and I can teach sure!”

  With that she stormed off to where she now stood. Kiki happily giggled with Ben supplying the perfect contrast to her discontent. But Rose’s mood began to change as a Mercedes Benz limousine rolled to a stop in front of the club. A nattily dressed driver got out. He opened the back door. Ben looked at her sharply. “I told you Rose, I have very high friends in this town. Tonight just shut up and learn.”

  “Ok Nam, please, slowly.” Declan had barely been able to keep up with Martin Gay’s wife who spoke in a garbled mixture of Thai and English. “Just answer my questions slowly.”

  “Ok. I’m sorry confuse to you,” she managed between sobs.

  “When did you last see Martin?”

  “One week go by.”

  Declan wrote the information down on his phone’s notepad. “Was that in the morning or night?”

  “I make breakfast. Marty eat and go.”

  Nam knew the difference between breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so he punched in ‘morning.’ “What bike was he driving?” He remembered that Ben had told him about their cash for bike arrangement.

  “He take Harley, but then come back and get Kawasaki. He come back in tuk-tuk. I don’t know about Harley.”

  Important information Declan thought as he thumbed the details down. Martin was trying to drum up money. But why? He was fat.

  “Nam, Martin had a lot of money. Why did he need to sell off the bikes so fast?”

  “Marty want to take us away from Thailand. He want to have our family Australia. Live with sister. He send money to sister because Marty say Thailand want to steal his money. When he come to home on tuk-tuk he give me money. He say, “Give this to Declan if I don’t come back. Declan Power will know what to do.”

  “Ok. But why wait one week?”

  “I go see the monk. Monk say to see Oum on a Tuesday. So, I wait till the next Tuesday.”

  Declan shook his head, Thai monks and their mumbo jumbo fortune telling.

  If nothing else, Nam had a good ear for detail. She recited back Martin’s orders precisely. There was nothing more she could provide. Martin Gay was making a run for the border. He wasn’t skirting alone. He had made arrangements for his family to escape with him.

  Escape. That’s what this was. What was Martin Gay so fearful of that he had sent all his money outside the country and was relying on selling off his assets to pay for the escape? Nam couldn’t help with that. In any case, she was crumbled in a heap in Oum’s arms.

  “Declan, Nam and her baby can’t stay at their house,” Oum said with a sad smile.

  Declan knew what was coming next. Ever the guardian angel, Oum would put up Martin Gay’s family at their apartment. He couldn’t protest. He pulled out a couple of bills. “Here, get in a taxi and order some food. I’ll be back late but I’ll be hungry.” He got up and pecked Oum on the cheek. “Nam, everything will be ok.”

  It was a lie. Still, it was colored white and the only thing he could think to say. In reality something far different was adding up.

  Rose was impressed. She had never been in a house of this size. Maybe this night would be a ‘winner’ after all. Their host reeked of money. Some would call the decor ostentatious. But for a poor village girl like Rose it was beyond impressive. She could live like this. She should live like this. Rose looked on with disdain as Kiki focused all her energies on the buffet table. She had a bigger appetite. Rose understood the lust in her host’s indiscreet stare. Once the meeting with Ben was concluded she would put her charms to good use.

  “Benjamin, thank you so much for calling.”

  “I didn’t know who to turn to. Imagine the nerve of that midget chief barging in on me like that.”

  This elicited a laugh from the perfectly tailored host. “Ben, I like your style. Remember, you were my teacher. You gave me the power of English to deal with many people. These people have become important supporters of what we do here at Mengrai University. The Lan Na cause is growing and I need men, strong men, like you to aid the cause.”

  Ben relaxed. Finally things were starting to roll his way. He leaned back in the chair and leisurely crossed his legs. “I’m your man. Perhaps we can pick off where Martin Gay left things. I know how the game works after all.”

  “You do. We can be partners because I trust you and, as you say, you ‘know how the game works.’”

  Ben smiled. “Hell, Martin didn’t know how to use computers. It was me who set up the bank accounts. It was me who made them untraceable.” Ben Post held the cards. It was time to cash in his chips.

  “I always thought you were the brains behind Marty’s charm. Come show me how that works. Tracing those accounts that is. Another drink?”

  Chiang Mai Land was not Declan’s favorite haunt. The clientele was dissolute. The girls had seen one too many rodeos. Still, the dimly lit dirt alley of sin had its champions, many of them amongst his readership. He ducked into the first beer bar as you entered the narrow lane. The Brass Pole had possibly been Chiang Mai’s first go-go. No one had been around long enough to remember, but before the action had moved closer to the moat, it was the place to be for steamy nightlife. The Brass Pole was now a desultory rundown shack. The two dancing girls and the hallowed eye customers did little to improve its image.

  A thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung over the festivities much like the smog which hovers daily over Los Angeles. Declan added to the haze. He had wanted to slam Chiang Mai Land in his column for being what it was: the lowest rung on the whorist map. But business was business. Who was he too judge? He was a beat writer. Chiang Mai Land was on the beat.

  But it was the people who were the story. The beer bars, go-go joints, and freelancer hangouts simply provided the venues for the dramas which were played out nightly. He took note of two young men occupying a corner booth. They were going at it heavy with a seasoned bronco rider. Both ends were stuffed.

  He didn’t want to stare. Truth be told, it was not out of the ordinary. In Chiang Mai Land all sense of decorum had long since been cast aside. On one occasion, a drunk had hopped up on stage, dropped his trousers, and demanded a blowjob on the spot. His wish was the happy dancer’s command. A rousing ovation followed.

  But for some reason, the two in the booth struck a chord. One brought his head out of a pair of sizeable breasts and noted Declan. The sign of recognition was anything but friendly. He alerted his friend.

  There are two types of lads who venture up north: the ones that get it and the ones that don’t. It is easy to tell the two apart. The twenty-something Irishmen that approached Declan resided in the latter camp. He could easily spot the onset of youthful alcoholism setting lazily under each set of eyes. The alcoholic can effortlessly play the hooligan. These two had mischief on their mind.

  “Look who the fuck has walked into our watering hole Mick.”

  “The motherfucker who almost got us thrown out of this fine Kingdom Oscar,” slurred the other.

  “I’m impressed,” Declan countered. “You’ve bought a pub.” The humor was lost on his numb audience.

  He had no intention of bantering with this pair of knuckleheads however. With a quick gesture of the hand, Declan discreetly signaled the bartender. On cue, a Lahu tribesman from the mountains of Mae Hong Song Province emerged from the back room. He lumbered his hulking frame over to Power’s barstool.

  “Hi Declan,” he greeted in a squeaky high pitched voice. “You have problem.”

  “I don’t know Kiw. Boys, do we have a problem?”

  Kiw, standing well o
ver six feet tall and hovering around three hundred pounds, looked down passively at the suddenly cowered drunks.

  “No, no problem,” they stammered in unison.

  “Good,” Kiw smiled genuinely pleased. “Declan, how my sister. She ok?” he asked with concern.

  Declan stood up and patted Kiw on the shoulder. His sister was one of Oum’s stable at Best Bar. She was quite a popular item. It was the only avenue of employment for most young girls from the hills as they lacked the basic rights afforded most Thai citizens. She was well taken care of by Oum and her ‘sisters’ at the bar. But Declan knew the score. Kiw’s sister was a money-maker. She was a sizzling hot pistol and one the men flocked to. Once her looks faded her fortunes would change. It was the way of the world.

  “She’s doing fine Kiw!” he answered with a big smile. “She’s making good money for her family.”

  Kiw sported his million dollar gap toothed smile. “You want me to throw these guys out?”

  “No Kiw, I want you to line us up a round of drinks. Put it on my tab.”

  The drunken whorists exchanged curious looks. Kiw just shrugged. Declan led the way to a vacant booth. He was on a story, on the chase, and these dumb drunken lads were part of the tale.

  Ben looked around trying to get a bearing on his situation. He had passed out obviously. He was groggy. Opening his eyes was a chore. He felt as if he was being levitated in the air, his left arm suspended away from his body. He heard talking. The sound was dim. He vaguely heard a muffled scream. There was laughing mixed in as well. Somebody was pulling at his arm.

  A glistening shard of light filtered through to his vision which was gradually returning. He was tied to a palm tree. Unclothed, he looked down to see his body tightly tethered by thick rope to the tree’s trunk. What had happened? What the fuck was happening! His memory lurched back.

  Directly after having outlined the banking codes, he had been led into a sumptuous bedroom by Rose. Her demeanor, sultry and seductive, had taken him slightly by surprise. She understood power and wealth and had clearly come to the realization that he was in close proximity to both. It was the best sex he had ever had. But wait. Did he have sex with Rose or the Foxy Lady mountain girl? It was all too hazy. His brain felt like a swamp infested with reeds. Whatever the case, he was no longer in that bedroom. He was outdoors.

  He craned his neck to look to his left. Kiki, the pudgy sex kitten was also tied to a tree. Her right arm and his left were held connected by rope. The young girl’s look of fright coupled with her shrieks registered little with him. Strangely he was reminded of the actress Fay Wray. Tied to a tree and waiting for King Kong, her screams would go unanswered. But he could not hear the shrieks. It was as if his ears were turned to mute. He readjusted his gaze to look straight forward.

  Rose was laughing hysterically. She was wrapped gaily in their host’s arms. Then she was handed a sword. Like an eager to please young cadet her laughs disappeared and were replaced by a studious expression. She listened attentively as she was skillfully taught how to wield it. The sword was ancient and expertly polished. One could see how it easily slashed through a thick tree branch. Ben too carefully observed the proceedings. A hint of terror harkened from the depths of his consciousness. But he didn’t allow it free reign. Rather he looked on with sedated interest.

  She was then gently urged by her teacher towards Ben and Kiki. “Go on now Rose!” their host prodded, ‘First her then him.’ He could almost make out the command. He felt the words more than he heard them. The situation had yet to register with his predicament abstract. He saw the blade rise high and then lowered in a precise slice. Kiki’s arm came cleanly off. Ben dimly heard a scream. ‘Was that his voice?’ Blood spat from the socket which once held the unfortunate go-go girl’s arm. His arm was pulled downward by the limb’s fall.

  Rose, now with a maniacal gleam in her eye, then turned her attention to the object of her hate. Her work wasn’t as expert on Ben. It took several hacks to relieve him of his left arm. He sensed the pain more than he actually felt it. He had been heavily drugged. The terror tried to rise up to the fore. Ben Post was witnessing his murder. Yet, he somehow felt detached from the proceedings.

  She then approached him closely and got on her knees. Rose took Ben’s flaccid member into her mouth. He couldn’t believe it, for the first time since he met her she was putting real enthusiasm into her work. He was screaming in agony. Still, he responded. He was quickly brought to attention.

  Rose got up and accepted a sharp blade, equally ancient, and returned her interest to Ben. She brought the blade to his eyes while stroking his cock. She whispered in his ear: “Bye bye Ben.”

  Rose held his manhood, full staff, in her hand and slowly began to saw away. She took her time. Each slice of the blade attended to with a deep concentration. She made sure to cut thoroughly through the stiff flesh. Upon completion she held his penis aloft. Her look was a beaming smile of triumph. Rose then deposited her trophy in his mouth.

  His executioners then paused. A bottle of wine was produced. Ben looked on as the happy couple began to undress. Laughter filled the air as the blood flowed from his body seeping the life out of him. Curiously, a pang of jealousy registered. He couldn’t watch Rose being handled by another. He forced his head to look away. He fixated on one of the ancient mountain tunnels that once allowed the monks of the past passage. It was gated. He was on the other side of Wat U-Mong. Ben Post thought of Declan Power. Why hadn’t he listened to his friend’s advice? Rose’s cries of lust disturbed his thoughts. All he wanted were comforting thoughts to guide him to his death. But even here, she continued to taunt him.

  Almost two years ago Declan had met the two drunken thugs who now sat across from him. At that time they had recently arrived in Chiang Mai and were flush with optimism. The younger one, Mick, was a talker. It was here where Declan first caught wind on Martin Gay’s TEFL center scam. The con was simple. A prospective student would pay Martin, the director of the Lan Na Language Center at Mengrai University, for a TEFL course. What they were paying for, essentially. was a year’s vacation. They would receive an educational visa and told to return in a couple of month’s to pick up their certificate. The plan was gold. Each course had room for thirty students. Martin was able to place eighty to one hundred ‘students’ for each course.

  Naturally, Martin told his ‘phantom’ students to keep mum. Mick didn’t get the memo. After one night of drunken revelry Declan had been able to ply the whole scheme out of him and his equally verbose friend.

  From there, Declan went to work. In a few short months he had penned an expose which brought down the whole deck of cards. Declan Power had made a name for himself. He had also made enemies.

  “Shite mate, we almost got tossed from the country. Fuck all if I want to go back to Ireland,” Mick said as he poured down another shot.

  Declan nodded gravely. The Chiang Mai Immigration office acted swiftly after the story broke. All visas issued under the program were revoked. Many a student was whisked out of the country lighter in the pocket and without any teaching certificate.

  “Say what you want about Martin Gay, but he worked things out for us,” Oscar blurted.

  “How’s that,” Declan inquired.

  “He set us up with a job first at CEC language school. Then he got our money back to us. After he opened World TEFL Center he gave us a fifty percent discount in their first course. I got me a right proper certificate I do,” he slurred with about as much pride as he could muster.

  Declan was on the right track. They were talking. Perhaps they had nothing to offer. But talking usually led to something. “When was the last time you saw Marty?”

  “Four or five nights back mate. Marty came over with a bottle of Hennessey, we got right blasted we did.”

  Declan made a mental note that Martin Gay had fallen off the wagon. It happened to Marty when the stress got too high. “So what, just a couple of friends getting lit,” he laughed trying to keep the conve
rsation light.

  “Yeah, but then he stumbled off with a bird.”

  Oscar was also famously loquacious when he was on the bottle. He poured the two another shot. “What were you guys talking about?” Details of drunken conversations could be difficult to recall. But he wanted them to focus as any details, however small, could prove valuable.

  “Oh man,” Oscar shrugged emptying his glass, “I don’t remember what I had for lunch.”

  “Marty said he had one last big score to settle and then he was back to Oz,” Mick offered. “He had sent a lot of money back to his sister and they were going to open a travel business.”

  Declan smiled to himself. This fit in with what he had gathered from the ‘Mayor’ and Marty’s wife. Marty was tying up loose ends and making a run for it. “Ok, so Martin gets himself all lathered up and then walks away with one of these hookers. Not a bad bon voyage ‘eh boys.”

  “Fuck no!” Oscar chimed back in. “Hell, Martin Gay flew first class. A real looker came in here and sat right down beside him. She was no hooker mate. They got all cozy for a bit and then left.”

  Declan waved over Kiw to update his tab. He placed a hundred baht tip into the mammoth bouncer’s hand. There wasn’t much more to wrangle out of Mick and Oscar so they parted ways. Still, it was productive. He was able to place his subject further down on the timeline. Martin had left with some society broad. Perhaps Ben would have knowledge of that. He included that along with the other bits of information he was able to gather that evening into his i-phone.

  The mobile then began to light up. It was Pao. Declan sighed. It was late and a call from the Chief at this hour meant one thing. This was a double edged sword. He’d be fatter by ten thousand baht, but he wouldn’t get back to his girl until four or five in the morning. Business was business.