The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery (14 page)

She looked on gratefully as Prem busily stocked the bar preparing for a busy night. In many respects, the small club had become a one stop shopping venue for many of her customers. “Good food, good music, beautiful girls,” Declan often said. The menu was simple: pizza, burgers, fries and onion rings. A loyal clientele had been developed where the men could enjoy all the manly pleasures of life from sports to sex. She was lucky to have found Prem. He was able to run the growing establishment almost single-handedly.

Her eye caught sight of one of Prem’s exquisite paintings which adorned the walls. He had quite a talent she suddenly realized. But the painting of the King’s guard at Bangkok’s Royal Palace arrested her attention. Her eyes focused on the rigidly postured guard’s boots. A shiver struck through her entire body. It was as if she could not get away from those boots. Leaving her manager to his job, Oum quickly retreated to her office. She made sure to double lock the back entrance.

Prem surveyed the premises with a satisfied nod. He especially took pride in the paintings both Oum and Declan had encouraged him to display on the walls.  Everything was spic ‘n span and ready for the day’s festivities. He enjoyed it more when Declan was there. Declan and Oum had given him a sense of purpose. They had become his friends, they had given him family. His English was improving as well and he was even beginning to understand the strange game of baseball that Declan so loved.

Each minute detail he approached with great care. He bent behind the bar for his final bit of duty, time to slice up the lemons and limes. 

“Hi,” a shy squeaky voice called from the other side of the bar.

Surprised, Prem jumped up. He had not heard anybody come into the lounge. He saw pretty, often beautiful, girls come and go on a daily basis. He had never laid eyes on such a sensual sight as this however.

“Hello,” he stammered. His stare trolled down from an angelic face framed by the Japanese hairstyle craze sporting laser precise bangs to a sumptuous pair of breasts which her plaid summer dress did little to obscure.

She stepped slightly back allowing Prem a full view. The dazzling self-confident beauty cocked her head, flashed a sparkling smile, and giggled girlishly, “Do you like?”

Prem erected his posture and gained his composure. He was a professional manager. He was not here to swoon over the merchandise. “Yes, you are lovely,” he replied trying to affect a laid back air. “You are a new girl I see. Well then, you can sit over there on the sofa. When a customer comes you can take care of him, uhm, you know, like a waitress, and then whatever else arises.”

The goddess like creature stood still. Her smile continued to light up the room. “No, Declan send me here to take care of you. I am his centerfold girl and he has give me to you as a gift.” She unhooked her dress allowing it to fall to the floor.

Prem tried to comprehend his good luck. Declan had always treated him well. On more than one occasion he had given him an end of the night freebie. But a centerfold girl! His eyes drifted to the vacant room. The ‘love nest’ as Oum called it. He quickly came out from behind the bar, clutched her hand, and rushed for the ‘nest.’ She continued to giggle, grabbed her purse, and skipped merrily behind him into the room.

“Power, come on now,” Bart Hartin hissed. The receptionist was waiting to escort them into Thanat Jaisaen’s office. Her look of annoyance showed that neither she nor her boss was used to waiting for even one short moment. He looked down at his phone, took a deep breath, and fell in behind Hartin. A sudden urge crept into his mind to call Oum. It would have to wait. He was now entering the Devil’s lair to interview Lucifer himself.

Jaisaen was sitting relaxed on a brown leather chair gazing out a magnificent bay window which perfectly framed Suthep Mountain with its world famous Buddhist temple glistening in the distance. Dressed in a white Lacoste polo shirt with snappily pressed khaki jeans he looked the part of the successful businessman about to enjoy an afternoon of golf.

He rose easily, sported a winning smile, and extended his hand. “Declan Power, a pleasure. Please have a seat.”

He had an air of relaxed confidence. His tone was elegant and inviting. Declan, with a keen eye for detail, always took note of a person’s face. The contours of the face told a story in itself. It was the repository of a life’s journey. Thanat Jaisaen’s face revealed balance, dark, but not too much so, creased, though not overly so for a man of his age and with his responsibilities. Declan saw a man completely comfortable in his own skin, a man who has been the captain of his voyage, a man with a vision and the intellect and fortitude to see it through. Declan Power did not see a murderer. Still, if death was a necessary part of the expedition then it would not register in those terms. Perhaps he did see a man capable of sacrifice.

Declan easily accepted the handshake and took a seat across from Jaisaen and also partook of the view.

“Magnificent isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is?” Power replied. “But I know your time is valuable and I’m not a home and leisure reporter.”

“Yes, I suppose you leave that to Bartholomew,” King Mengrai University’s eminent chancellor said with a breezy laugh.

Declan enjoyed the dry humor and joined in the folly. He also took note of his subject’s ability to lighten the mood. “Perhaps,” he began while Hartin silently seethed, “I did not do proper diligence in trying harder to present your side of the story in the Martin Gay TEFL scam.”

With a dismissive shake of his head, Jaisaen waved him off. “You contacted my office. I was simply in a rage and was in no state of mind to entertain your questions. It is my great weakness you know. Sometimes I let my anger dictate my actions. In any case, mistakes were made.”

Declan raised his eyebrow in a grudging sign of respect. He had expected to be met with arrogance. Instead he was interviewing a man armed with a cordial, accommodating, and self-assured presence.

Two loud taps could be heard against the tin façade of Secrets. Prem gave it no notice. It was probably just an alley straggler who had filled up on whiskey too early. He concentrated his energy on the goddess who rode up and down on him. She took her time, eyes closed, head tilted back, slight moans escaping her clenched jaw. The fluidity of her sensual movements set her curves into a languid motion framed as in a slow motion film. 

Now he heard the little bell ring announcing a customer had arrived. His sexual divinity put her finger to her lips. ‘Keep quiet’ she signaled. Now her rhythm intensified. An animal frenzy started to inhabit her body. He joined her in the ecstasy of the moment. The customer could wait. They wouldn’t need to wait long as he was about to burst. Prem closed his eyes as his hands found the most beautiful breasts he had ever laid eyes on. She too began to moan louder and louder as her body began to tense in anticipation. He opened his eyes not wanting to miss his goddess in her writhing moment of pleasure. She held both arms high in the air with hands clasped. The intensity of her groans began to match the fast pace of her hips grinding down on his member. No longer could he hold off. A glint of chrome caught his attention as he exploded into her. She too let out a wail as her arms came thrusting down.

Prem lay motionless on the floor. He grabbed for his throat where now a blade was firmly embedded. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. Other screams of terror began to fill the air. He tried to yell. But only gurgles emerged. His goddess had jumped off him. For a brief moment she gleamed down at him, a demon admiring its work. Satisfied with her deadly act she quickly exited the room. He struggled to his feet; the blade firmly entrenched in his neck. The screams had now stopped. He staggered into the lounge to encounter two men and his goddess of death. They stopped in their tracks. He noticed two heads, severed from their bodies, placed on opposite sides of the pool table. ‘Lan Na Ripper’ he attempted to shout. The deadly trio then made for the exit while Prem forced himself behind the bar. He emerged with a pistol. Prem steadied his aim and began to unload the chamber. His six-gun emptied, he slumped to the floor knocking over the bucket filled with lemons and limes.

Slowly, all sense of feeling began to fade away. No pain, no agony, simply emptiness. One feeling did appear: regret. His moment of weakness had brought ruin. He saw a pen and pad of paper just within his reach under the bar. With all his might he grabbed them into his hands. Mustering whatever strength he had remaining, Prem began to sketch his goddess of death.   

Thanat Jaisaen took note of his watch. “Mr. Power, our hour is almost up and, as you say, I am a busy man.”

“Well, if I could ask just for thirty additional minutes of your time I do believe I can finish up with an article that will be quite to your liking sir.”

Jaisaen smiled. “You are a good newsman Declan, always digging for more. Well enough then. I’ll allow you fifteen more minutes. But let us continue our conversation in my garden.” The insinuation was clear. The final part of the interview would be conducted alone, out of the prying ears and eyes of Bartholomew Hartin, who sat aloof with the same downcast look he had sported throughout the day.

Declan followed his host through the pane glass doorway which led out onto a magnificently laid and vibrantly colored flagstone patio. There was a small wrought iron table with matching chairs. They looked quite old and well maintained. This veranda was obviously for the private pleasure of its owner. A small path led forth. Declan followed up the slight incline and marveled at the multi-colored orchards which lined the way. The shrubbery which lay just behind the orchards also reflected a high level of horticultural acumen. The path curved to run astride the slope which rose up into the nearby mountain. Stone archways could be seen providing entrance ways for tunnels which apparently dug deep into the side of the hill.

“I’ve seen these at Wat U-Mong,” Declan stated.

“Yes, and they are the remnants of an ancient story,” Jaisaen offered with a smile.

“May we go in?”

The smile disappeared from Jaisaen’s face. “No,” he snapped fiercely.

Declan stepped back. He had navigated the interview adroitly so far. Now was not the time to fall out of good graces. “Very well, then at least you can tell me about the legend.”

“Yes,” Jaisaen agreed regaining his calm disposition. “The third king of Lan Na, King Mengrai’s grandson Kham Fu, had among his counsel a favored monk. This high monk was a very wise advisor and had served his king well. But, the years at court had taken their toll and he sought the solitude of the monastery. Kham Fu resisted yet finally agreed to grant this wish. There was just one provision. A monastery would be built by the king. That temple is Wat U-Mong which lies on the other side of this hill. However tunnels would be built so as to allow access for the monk to come and go easily to court when summoned.”

As Thanat Jaisaen was finishing his tale the pathway curved downward presenting a view away from the mountain. Ruins, some majestic others decrepit, came into view.

“And this is the sight of King Mengrai’s ancient palace.”

“Yes.”

“And the reason you chose to build your stately home on this spot.”

Jaisaen smiled. He understood Power’s subtle implication. “I’ve always been fascinated with archeology. If my father had given me a choice, I would have sought to spend my life in that pursuit. And my main focus would have been on Wian Khum Kam. The original city built by King Mengrai and which has only recently been brought back to life due to the efforts of many esteemed archeologists.”

“It is an interesting pursuit,” Declan agreed. “But others have conjectured that you have chosen this for more symbolic reasons. They believe your main aim is to revive the Lan Na Kingdom.” If Declan was expecting a rebuke he did not receive one.

“Perhaps that was my Father’s dream. From my way of thinking, that is nothing but a fool’s errand. This university is my crowning achievement Declan Power.” His voice was even, devoid of emotion, save a hint of pride. “Still, it seems as if Bangkok is doing their best to drive us, meaning the northern elite, away.”

“Do the mobs and protests in Bangkok anger you?”

“It is clear that the Bangkok elite want the benefits that the north can provide them. They want the bounty that a healthy northern economy provides to line their coffers. What they don’t want is for the northern provinces, or those in the northeast for that matter, to play an active role in politics.”

“The Bangkok elite will say corruption has been the way for the ‘Chiang Mai mafia’, as they refer to your clan, the Shiniwat’s, and others, to gain power.”

The slope of the path now went down a steeper incline with Jaisaen’s palatial looming in the near distance. Thanat Jaisaen expertly made his way down the path and looked at his watch. “Our time is up Mr. Power,” he offered with an affable nod and a shrug of his shoulders. “To answer your question, I am proud of my accomplishments. My activities have gained great wealth for my family and I believe I have carried out my duties as clan leader well. I am also proud of my heritage and proud of Chiang Mai. An independent Chiang Mai, a Lan Na revival,” he said wistfully, “Is not a realistic goal. If you want to call me corrupt, so be it, but first and foremost I am a realist.”

The interview was over. Thanat Jaisaen turned around, sat down in his chair, and set his attention to a ledger which had been placed on the veranda table along with a pot of tea and one glass. Declan got the message. He walked back into the office to find Bart Hartin speaking in hushed tones into his mobile phone. Declan didn’t stop to wait and rather briskly made for the egress. The receptionist did halt his exit however. With all the chaos swirling around him, he didn’t want to take his eye of the ball. The Girl Next Door Page needed to reflect authentic stunners such as Thanat Jaisaen had manning his office. He dropped his card on her desk, gave a wink, and made for the door.