Love Songs from a Shallow Grave

“Has anybody seen this?” But at Vientiane police headquarters, three days had passed and nobody had noticed a very significant connection. Sergeant Sihot had been focusing on K6 and the Vietnamese security people and the odd coincidence of victim three’s parents having worked at the murder scene of victim one. He’d been attempting to trace the couple through the lists of refugees their spies had sent from the Thai camps. He’d re-interviewed Miht, the groundsman, who admitted he vaguely recalled the couple but that he couldn’t be expected to remember everyone as the staff changed so often. Like Civilai, Sihot had a feeling the man was holding something back.
    After a long search, Sihot finally found someone with fencing experience. A young attache at the East German embassy called Hans had learned to fence in Gymnasium. He’d just arrived from Berlin. Through a translator, Sihot learned that the épées used in the three murders were far from normal and were totally unsuitable for competition. Fencing, the young man said, was a test of footwork and accuracy. Scoring was done electronically so there was no need for sharp edges or pointed tips on the weapons. The swords Sihot showed him had certainly been doctored to inflict the most damage.
    Finally, Sihot had talked once more to Comrade Chanti at Electricite du Lao and asked why he’d failed to mention the fact he was working on a rewiring project at K6. The engineer had simply put Sihot in his place by saying, “You didn’t ask.” He had been very cool about the whole affair and told Sihot he was busy and, “would that be all?”
    The list of Electricite du Lao employees involved in the project sat on the front right-hand corner of Sihot’s desk held down by half a cluster-bomb casing. The third name on that list was Somdy Borachit.
    Inspector Phosy had been focusing on the returnees who’d subscribed to magazines at the government bookshop. He was attempting to trace the names on the list. As they hadn’t been obliged to provide their addresses, it was a laborious process. He had been sidetracked at one stage after interviewing one bookshop customer: a member of the Women’s Association recently returned from Moscow. She had, she said, filed an official complaint against the bookshop clerk for making ‘improper advances’ towards her. Phosy’s enquiries led to the discovery that the poor man had merely asked her if she’d be interested to attend a cultural event with him. That was as far as the advance went and Phosy hadn’t seen anything improper about it. Unattached single man approaches unattractive single woman with hopes of romance. A flirtation. He wondered whether the complaint would have been made at all if the clerk had been better looking. He let it pass.
    Phosy had been receiving responses too from his Eastern European contacts. The Czech embassy had discovered that Dung, the Vietnamese major, had taken a course in fencing in Prague as part of the physical education component of his course. In fact, his Czech instructor had given him an A and commented that the Vietnamese was a natural swordsman. The major had lied at the interview. As a result, his name was moved to the top of the list of suspects. Over the years, Phosy had come to believe that when all the arrows pointed to one person, that was invariably your man.
    To Phosy’s surprise, word came back from East Germany via the embassy’s diplomatic pouch with regard to the third victim, Jim. Early reports were that she had been a friendly but studious woman who had impressed all her lecturers. She was the perfect student, doing extra research outside the curriculum, not wasting her time with nightlife or parties. Some of her classmates recalled that there had been a man interested in her but nobody remembers seeing him. They only knew from Jim that he was a student on a government scholarship. Jim had once commented with a smile how flattering it had been to have such an attractive man throwing pebbles at a girl’s window.
    As they’d approached the first round of pre-medical examinations, Jim’s comments had begun to sound more desperate. On one occasion, she’d told a classmate, “I’m starting to get a little impatient. He doesn’t take no for an answer.” Some of the Lao had jokingly suggested she invite her ‘boyfriend’ to one of the weekend balls and she’d become very agitated. “Really, there’s no relationship here. Just an annoyance.” Then, even