Slash and Burn

squeezed further and the obstruction gave a little until he was inside and had an unrestricted view of the body that hung suspended from the door handle in a sitting position. Siri was not the type to be easily shocked. He’d seen his fair share of bizarre deaths but he’d never witnessed anything like the sight of Major Potter hung by the neck. A macramé twine was wrapped twice around his throat and tied to the handle. He wore nothing but a pair of woman’s knickers, crimson with black lace trim and far too small for him. They cut into his fat like a tourniquet. A post-mortem erection lurched upward from beneath the elastic waistband. His lips were daubed with lipstick and what at first appeared to be an insect on his cheek turned out to be a beauty spot, the type favored by madams at high class brothels.
    Although it wasn’t necessary, Siri felt for a pulse. There was none. The body was cold and the smell of death was prominent. He took hold of the major’s fingers and worked the arm back and forth. He had to make allowance for the low temperature but the rigor mortis suggested the man had been dead for six to eight hours.
    “Oh!” came a voice.
    He looked up to see Madame Daeng’s head peeking through the gap beside the door. She was visibly shocked.
    “Now that is weird,” she said. “Is he…?”
    “Very much so.”
    Dr. Siri and Madame Daeng sat on the edge of the smelly bed and looked at the body hanging from the door handle opposite. They were a couple not renowned for silence but this one lent itself most splendidly to speechlessness. They took in the too-red lipstick and the too-tight underwear. They breathed the whiskey fumes and the scent of vomit diluted with disinfectant.
    “Well,” said Daeng at last, uncomfortable in the early morning quiet. The foggy mist rolled in through the window and rasped the inside of her throat.
    “Well, indeed,” agreed her husband.
    “This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Dr. Siri.”
    “Me? I didn’t do it.”
    “No. Not it exactly. It you didn’t do, I grant you. But the consequences that led to it . They’ve got your fingerprints all over them.”
    “Madam, judging from the evidence in front of us, I’d say this would have occurred whether we were here or not. And it didn’t even have to have happened here. This was a tragedy begging to be let out of the bag.”
    “Again, you’re right. But if you hadn’t volunteered yourself, volunteered us all, we’d be at home now beside the Mekhong eating noodles in relative peace. We wouldn’t be in this room with this particular body, about to be embroiled in an international scandal. This would be someone else’s problem. Someone in good health capable of handling it. But, oh, no. One last adventure before I retire, you say. What can go wrong? you say. Everything’s perfectly safe, you say. And look at us now. Five weeks ago we were perfectly content and now we’re up to our necks in dung.”
    “Come on, Daeng. Be fair. What could I have done to avoid it?”
    “What could you have done?”
    “Yes.”
    “Torn up the note.”
    “I think we need to wake up Inspector Phosy,” Siri said. “I’ll stay with the major. And perhaps you could ask the manager to rouse Second Secretary Gordon and Dr. Yamaguchi.”
    “Right.”
    And she was gone.
    Siri walked around, being careful not to disturb anything. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the room was full of inquisitive people. Once that happened it would be too late to spot any of those anomalies that make a difference to an inquiry. The room was very much like his own in the far wing. There was a strong scent of alcohol with a trace of vomit but there was no evidence that the major had thrown up. At the small carved dressing table he saw the lipstick and an indelible felt-tip pen. The bed was unmade but tidy as if someone had lain there but not slept. An empty whiskey bottle lay on its side on the floor. There was no cap. Beneath the bed was a crate with eight more unopened bottles and four empty slots. Not bad, Siri thought, after only three nights. On the table beside the bed was an open thermos of cold coffee and a used cup.
    He only had time for a cursory look into the bathroom. The alcohol and vomit smells were much stronger in there. There was a small pile of clothing below the shower head and what might have been a short rug. They looked as if they’d been doused with water. He heard voices outside the door. He turned around