Jimm Juree 01; Killed at the Whim of a Hat

“The reason we called you in, is that…the camera’s lost.”
    “Lost?”
    “Stolen.”
    The police were always good for a laugh.
    “From a police station?”
    “No,” he said, grimly. “This afternoon I had Sergeant Phoom run it over to the Lang Suan station on his motorcycle. There was an accident.”
    “That was no accident,” said Chompu.
    “Lieutenant! Quiet! We don’t know for certain. It could have been an accident.”
    “Is the sergeant all right?” I asked.
    “He’s in Pak Nam hospital,” said Chompu. “He was run off the road by a car. He lost a lot of skin and was knocked out. A passerby phoned an ambulance and the hospital called us. When we got there, the passerby was gone and so was the camera.”
    “Technically, it could have been highway robbery,” said longan skin. “But it’s unlikely. There are much safer targets than a police officer in uniform. That’s why we need to know who you’ve told about the camera.”
    “Who I…?”
    I had to think about it. If they asked Arny he’d tell them without even a suggestion of thumbscrews.
    “Just me and my brother knew,” I told them.
    “You didn’t tell anyone at the temple?”
    “I didn’t see anyone, apart from Abbot Kem.”
    “You told him?”
    “Er, no.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I’m sure. I said goodbye to him, went to get my shoes, then followed the dogs to the back of the hut.”
    “What about the nun?”
    “She wasn’t there.”
    “But she could have seen you. She could have been somewhere else.”
    I looked around the room. Some of the men turned away in embarrassment.
    “Is the nun…?” I began.
    “That’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Mana. I could see he was perturbed at being outgunned in his own station. He’d been relegated to crowd control. I didn’t want to think about the nun being a suspect. I swung the subject back to the accident.
    “Is anyone with Sergeant Phoom?” I asked.
    “We’ve got a man there,” Chompu said.
    “Were there any other witnesses apart from the person who phoned it in?” I asked.
    “It happened at a point on the way to Lang Suan where the road curves around the river,” Chompu told me. “There are no houses there and the road’s very quiet after midday.”
    It was the perfect location at the perfect time.
    “All right, then assuming I’m not lying, and I really didn’t tell anyone,” I said, “how could the perpetrator know that Phoom had the camera? Did the sergeant have any idea?”
    “He’s still unconscious,” said Mana. “But we didn’t actually invite you here to conduct an interview. We just want you to answer our questions and leave the inquiry to us.”
    “And there I was thinking I’d been helpful,” I said.
    “You have,” said the paunch. “Did you happen to note down the make of the camera?”
    “Yes.”
    He produced a piece of paper from his folder.
    “Do you remember if it was a Nikon DSLR D3555?”
    There was something going on between Bangkok and our Major Mana. They glared icicles back and forth across the room. I wondered why the police needed to ask me about the make of the camera. I have a good memory for little facts with numbers and letters in them.
    “That’s the make that I wrote down,” I told them.
    “Are you sure?”
    I wished he’d stop asking me if I was sure. If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t say anything, would I now?
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Because, according to our detective friends from Bangkok, here” – Mana smiled – “the camera details that both you and I wrote down are wrong.”
    “We didn’t say they were wrong,” said longan skin. “All we said was there was no such camera listed in the Nikon catalog. We’d have to contact the company and have them run a check on it. It may be a discontinued line.”
    “And you’re sure you didn’t make a copy of the film?” asked the paunch.
    If only I’d had a machete on me…
    “Sir,” I said, earnestly, “not all reporters are rebels. I worked for a responsible newspaper and they taught us ethics. My grandfather was a member of the Royal Thai Police force for over forty years. He taught me the difference between legal and illegal.” I noticed Arny duck out of the room. “My mother is a religious woman. She taught us all the difference between right and wrong. Please don’t insult me by suggesting I’d do anything underhanded.”
    See? I didn’t exactly say, no.
    “Then that’ll be all,” he said. “We may have to contact