The interviews hadn't taken as long as Sihot and Phosy had imagined. The answers had all been so pat it was as if everyone had memorised them from an official circular.
"I barely knew the girl."
"Didn't talk to her."
"I have no idea about her personal life."
"She seemed like a good soldier"
Phosy had noticed the bandage on Security Chief Phoumi's wrist and enquired about it. He was told it was a torn ligament from a motorcycle accident. The rest of his answers were brief and unhelpful. Only Major Dung, in that cocky style of his, had strayed from the script. Even the interpreter was annoyed by his responses to the questions.
"Do you have any knowledge of the victim having an extra-marital affair?"
"It wouldn't surprise me," Dung had said with a grin. "She put out enough signals."
"Meaning?"
"A lot of your Lao girls in uniform start to think like men. They like to put themselves around. Gather feathers for their caps."
"Are you saying this from personal experience?"
"I might have taken her up on it if I were younger…less fastidious."
"She approached you?"
Dung grinned and raised his eyebrow for the nth time. Phosy wanted to reach over and knock that eyebrow clean off his face.
"She made it quite obvious she wanted me, yes." ?
The Intelligence Department jeep drove into the Electricite du Lao compound on Samsenthai and, after a brief chat with the guard at the gate, pulled up in front of the office of the chief engineer. As they drove, Siri had passed on his findings from K6 and listened intently to the results of the interviews. Before they climbed down into the deep puddles, he asked, "Did you find out why our playboy major sent soldiers over to Sixth Street in the first place?"
"He said he got a call from the wife of one of the residents complaining about a strange smell," Sihot told him.
"Did he say who?"
"Said she didn't leave her name."
"Convenient. So he sent half a dozen men in search of a smell?"
"Does seem a bit much, doesn't it, Doctor."
"And another thing. If you're called to a murder scene, your first reaction would be to go inside the room and confirm that the girl is, in fact, dead. According to the guard, Dung just took a look from the doorway, shut the door, and went in search of his boss."
"It's possible the Vietnamese wasn't authorised to make that determination," Phosy suggested. "There might be some protocol involved."
"Be worth checking on that, though," Siri nodded. "Then there was the peculiar incident of dragging me out of a perfectly good film and getting me to examine the body. And, once I'd confirmed she was dead, they decided they could handle the case and they couldn't wait to get rid of me. It could have been just them covering their rear ends when it came to filing the report. Or, there might be something more sinister going on."
"I wasn't much taken with the security chief myself," said Sihot. "Now, there was a man with a secret if ever I saw one."
They were disturbed by a tall man with greased-back hair who came down the front steps to greet them. He wore a spotless white shirt with sleeves folded to his elbows and a tight patent leather belt that seemed to divide him into segments like an ant.
"Can I help you, Comrades?" he said.
"Comrade Chanti," said Sihot, stepping down from the jeep and into a pool of water. He shook the man's hand and indicated to his colleagues. "This is Inspector Phosy of police intelligence and Dr Siri attached to the Ministry of Justice."
They passed on their condolences to the husband of Dew and he suggested they go inside and out of the damned rain. Despite mumbling that he had a lot of work on his plate, he led them to the canteen where they ordered a thermos of tea and a plate of two-day-old Chinese doughnuts.
Phosy took up the questioning where Sihot had left off. They had their tactics worked out.
"Comrade Chanti," he said. "This morning we received transcripts of your wife's courses in the USSR. It appears she learned to fence while she was there."
"She what?"
"She learned to use a sword."
Chanti looked surprised.
"You didn't know?" Siri asked.
"No." The man sipped at his tea.
"She didn't tell you about her courses?" Phosy asked.
"Not a lot," he replied.
"You don't see her for four years and you aren't interested in what she studied?" Siri pushed.
"I'm interested. Of course, I'm interested…"
"But?"
"She didn't get around to mentioning it."
"How would you describe your marriage, Comrade?" Phosy asked.
"If this is an interrogation I should be read my rights or something, shouldn't I?" Chanti said coldly.
"I'm afraid the legislators haven't got around to giving you any rights just yet," Phosy countered. "So perhaps you could just answer the question."
"No need to get defensive," added Sihot.
"I'm not. I'm not being defensive. I'm just…I'm just upset."
"Of course, you've just lost your wife," Siri sympathised. "It's only natural for you to be irritable."
"I am not…All right. Yes. I suppose I am. I'm sorry. My marriage was…was a typical Lao marriage."
"Really?" Phosy asked. "I thought in typical Lao marriages the husband goes out to work and the wife stays at home and looks after the children. The wife certainly doesn't run off for four years and leave her husband to look after two little ones."