Jimm Juree 01; Killed at the Whim of a Hat

south, renting cars and motorcycles on false IDs and reselling them. I’m not sure if they ever caught up with the gang but I know I didn’t get my vans back. That’s what killed off the rental business for me.”
    “So, do you have any idea why one of your vans might have been found buried under two meters of dirt in a field in Chumphon?”
    Boondej attempted to replace the lock of hair that had been annoying me all this time. He had a look of genuine surprise on his face.
    “Shit. Is that what this is all about?”
    “Yes.”
    “You came here just to ask me why one of my vans was buried in a field?”
    “Yes. Well, there was also the fact that there were two bodies buried with it.”
    That upset him.
    “Damn. Do the police know about me?”
    “Not yet.”
    “They’d put two and two…”
    “Afraid they would.”
    “Just like you.”
    “Yes.”
    “I couldn’t take any more of that. I’m not a criminal, but once you’ve got a record they pull you in for anything.”
    “Then we should try to solve this before they get to you. I don’t suppose you remember the people who rented your vans?”
    “I’ll never forget them. Two couples they were, both ripped from the same cloth. I’d seen their type before, young Thai kids pretending to be Western hippies. Long hair. Fluffy excuses for beards. Dressing like bums so people would think they were artists or musicians. Stench of musk. They walked in off the street looking so straggly I thought they were about to ask me for the cost of a cup of sweet tea. Then they handed over a wad of money to rent the van. Those musicians, you never could tell. So you had to be nice to all the bums just in case they were rich. I should have been suspicious that the two couples were so alike.”
    “And why weren’t you?”
    “I assumed the first pair had told their friends. Either that or there was some hippy music festival on somewhere. It was just a few days between the two rentings. Of course, it’s easy to be logical after the damage is done. No. I was just greedy. I’d rent the vans out to anyone with the money to pay for them.”
    “And the IDs they left you?”
    “Like I say, they were fake. The photos were a lot more respectable than the kids but there was a likeness.”
    “Did you keep them?”
    “No. I had to hand them over to the police.”
    “Did the kids have any distinguishing marks?”
    “Not really. Beards. Hairy armpits on the girls. Nothing soap and a razor couldn’t fix.”
    “All right. I might have more questions but, if I do, I’ll phone you.”
    “And you aren’t going to…”
    “ Koon Boondej, in my line of work you meet liars with varying degrees of skill. You have to recognize the signs. You strike me as a man forced into dishonesty by the system. So, no, I’m not going to tell anyone about you.”
    “I appreciate it. There’s nothing else?”
    “Well, yes. There is one more thing. I need five minutes with your computer without you in the room.”
    “I – ”
    “I’m not going through your files. I just need to open some photos. But they’re personal.”
    The manager turned on the computer for me and left quite placidly. I clicked out the memory card from the camera and worked it to the rim of the plastic bag so I wouldn’t have to touch it directly with my fingers. I slotted it into the Home Art computer and waited for the machine to find it. I looked over at Arny. He was sulking but the color had returned to his cheeks.
    The computer found the external link and asked me what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to save the photos on the computer so I opened them in ACDSee just to have a look. I clicked.
    “Holy…”
    It felt as if the office had sucked all the air out of me. My stomach was up somewhere around the fluorescent lights. Until I saw those pictures I’d always believed there couldn’t be a great deal of difference between your basic, six command, non-rechargeable digital camera and anything at the top of the line. Digital was digital. But, I tell you, I was wrong. I was in those pictures between the 3D layers, feeling every horror as if I were the victim. I swear I could hear the flies buzzing and smell the blood. I was mesmerized and horrified all at once by the awful clarity of the photography.
    “Arny,” I said, “normally I wouldn’t show you pictures like these but, just in case anything goes wrong, I need you as a witness here. But I warn you, you aren’t going to like them.”

Eight
“ Free