Jimm Juree 01; Killed at the Whim of a Hat

late-starting Judo student with no belt to her name. He ignored her so I knew she was either a maid or a mistress. A wife he’d be obliged to introduce.
    “Really?” I asked.
    “I think I should know.”
    I flipped back to the previous page of my clip file.
    “It says here that there was a disturbing incident in nineteen seventy-eight when allegations were made that your…company had been accused of stealing rental cars. My records tell me you spent some time in prison.”
    He laughed again, or, at least, his mouth did. As there were no tics or flickers to be found on his face I couldn’t look for indications of guilt.
    “ Nong ,” he said in his deep baritone, “with a man of my standing, it’s only to be expected there’ll be envious individuals trying to pull you down. There’s a lot at stake. When you have an honest man at the helm, the criminal classes see him as a threat to their well-being. A man who cannot be corrupted or bribed is always going to be a target.”
    “So you weren’t ever arrested?”
    “Of course not.”
    Ooh, he was smooth. The lie was so deft I felt certain a polygraph needle wouldn’t have flickered through the whole performance. A politician if ever I saw one. He glanced at his watch and I could tell he was becoming irritated by the direction in which the interview had headed. So, I fed him a few more scraps of ego fodder to get him back on track. He was chuffing along nicely again with all the aplomb of an elected official, so I chanced throwing another metal bar across the rails.
    “So, we come to your relationship with the Chainawat family in Ranong,” I said casually.
    Of course, I had no idea whether there was such a relationship but it was worth a try.
    “Where are you getting all this background information from, exactly?” he asked sternly.
    “Oh, you know, public records, old news archives, the Internet. I was even discussing you with the provincial governor on the telephone a few weeks ago. He was the one who suggested I write a feature on you. You’re really a local celebrity so it’s thrilling for me to be here in person. I actually went to see the Chainawats on another matter and even they mentioned you.”
    “They did, did they?”
    I had him. His teeth had been exposed to the air for too long and they’d stuck to the inside of his lips. My tentative dig had hit a pipe and caused a sudden charisma leak. There was something. I was prepared to leave it at that and go on to a different topic but he’d switched to slow advance.
    “What exactly did she say?” he asked.
    “Who?”
    “The…Madame Chainawat.”
    “Well, actually, we were discussing land. There’s a plot in Ny Kow that my family’s interested in procuring. We have a number of projects on the drawing board, hotels, you know, study camps for university students, cattle ranches, erm…”
    I was struggling. I needed a few seconds to think of why on earth wicked old lady Chainawat might have mentioned the eel to me.
    “…paintball courses, that kind of thing,” I continued. “Mrs. Chainawat said if I needed to know anything about land in that area, Nong Sugit was the man to ask.”
    Whew! I thought the Nong was a nice touch.
    “That’s how she put it?”
    “Pretty close.”
    “ Nong Jimm,” he said, after a sip from a coffee cup long empty, “there are a large number of good, respectable Chinese families such as that of my ancestors: families who only have the future of our great kingdom in their hearts. Then, there are people like the Chainawats. Be very wary about doing any business with their sort and certainly don’t believe anything they tell you.”
    With that, we were suddenly at the end of our interview. The ex-minister was on his feet and hustling me to the door.
    “Would you mind if I scheduled another session with you?” I asked. “I’d like to get on to your years in government and perhaps take a few pictures. Matichon Weekly news magazine wants to make it a two-page spread.”
    “Of course, of course,” he said, still prodding me onward. “Only too pleased to speak with the press.”
    “When can…?”
    But he’d turned and was back in the shadows of his house, leaving me in the sunshine of the front step surrounded by three or perhaps four camouflaged gardeners.

Twelve
“ We must all hear the universal call to like your neighbor just like you like to be liked yourself .”
    —GEORGE W. BUSH, AS QUOTED IN THE FINANCIAL TIMES , JANUARY 14, 2000
    Y ou