Jimm Juree 01; Killed at the Whim of a Hat

name?”
    “Oh, I don’t think you need to know that.”
    “I meant the bat.”
    “Thanom, you know? Like the Field Marshall. Same eyes.”
    I leaned on the bat story as heavily as I could. Her memory was intact when it came to Thanom but she skipped around my father with alacrity. I didn’t pursue it. I had my key word now. It was like the trigger hypnotists use to put someone in a trance. I felt I could return to that time and place with Dad just by asking her about bats. Patience. It had taken thirty-four years to get this far.
    “I’ve hired a man,” Mair said.
    “To do what?”
    “He’s a private detective.”
    “You hired a…?”
    I was astounded. Not so much that Mair had need of one but that in a place like this she’d been able to find one. And when?
    “You didn’t say anything last night,” I said.
    “I hadn’t hired one then.”
    “Mair, I saw you go to bed. How and where did you find yourself a private detective between then and now?”
    “Ed the grass man knew somebody.”
    “And you’ve contacted him already?”
    “Ed stopped by his house on his way home. You’d be surprised how much is going on in Maprao early in the morning. We should all get up earlier.”
    “Are you telling me there’s a private detective in Maprao?”
    “Meng.”
    I dredged through the names I’d heard. It shouldn’t have been that difficult. According to the official register there were five thousand residents in our district but I got the feeling that figure included everyone who’d ever died here. I was sure I’d seen every face there was to see. A couple of hundred at the most.
    “Not Meng the plastic awnings man?”
    “That’s him.”
    “Mair” – I sat on the little stool at my feet – “he’s the plastic awnings man. He attaches plastic awnings. That’s his job.”
    “And window shades.”
    “Same difference. Tell me, where does he find time in his busy awning schedule to squeeze in private detecting?”
    “There isn’t a lot of detective work here.”
    “Of course not.” I lowered my voice. “Of course there isn’t a lot of work for a private detective who puts up plastic awnings. Who’s going to hire him?”
    “Ed did.”
    “Ed the grass man hired Meng the awnings man as a private detective?”
    “He said he’s very good.”
    I suppose a day that started like this one only had one direction to go.
    “What, Mair, did Ed hire a detective to do?”
    “To find his wife.”
    “Oh, super. Super. You’re trying to fix me up with a married grass man.”
    “He’s not married anymore.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because Meng found his wife. She was living with a glazier in Lang Suan. Meng took photographs. They’re divorced now.”
    I was exhausted.
    “You found this all out this morning?”
    “I think we should get up with the sunrise.”
    “How much does this private detective awning man charge?”
    “He said it’s up to me. I can pay what I like. Whatever I think the information’s worth.”
    “Well, that’s a relief. And what information are you looking for, exactly?”
    “Just local gossip.”
    She was so transparent I could see the sardine tins behind her.
    “Mair?”
    “Basic information, that kind of thing. Who lives where? What do they do for a living? If they have a boat or a truck. Where you can get hold of basic goods and materials like bricks or manure or cement…”
    “Mair?”
    “…or rat poison.”

Six
“ I am a person who recognizes the fallacy of humans .”
    —GEORGE W. BUSH, OPRAH , SEPTEMBER 19, 2000
    L ieutenant Chompu and I were driving across the skinniest part of the country. If you looked at the map of Thailand we were at the very squeezed waist. Since the seventeenth century they’d talked about digging a canal from the Gulf to the west coast but to lift such a long-term project off the ground it probably would have helped to have an administration in power for longer than five months. If they ever did get around to it, this would be the perfect place. There was so much pretty nature to churn up. In an air-conditioned police truck with Mai Charouenpura on the CD player and a little strawberry-shaped bottle of air freshener on the dash, the journey from one coast to the other would take us forty-five minutes. Chompu drove like a beast.
    Involving the Pak Nam constabulary in my inquiry had been a calculated risk. If we stayed here, I mean if my family didn’t move away or if we weren’t all arrested for complicity in Mair’s