Slash and Burn

and a shudder ran along his spine. The sight of the dimly lit room gave him a profound attack of déjà vu. He didn’t know when or how, but he’d been in this room before—after dark.
    Inspector Phosy had barred all but Second Secretary Gordon, Dr. Yamaguchi and Peach, who was needed for her linguistic skills, from entering the room. Peach had taken one look at the corpse and run into the bathroom to throw up. They often forgot how young she was. But she composed herself and, by keeping her gaze fixed out of the window, assured everyone she’d be able to translate. Judge Haeng, who was technically everybody’s boss, had barged his way into the room past one of the two old guards they’d posted there. He’d insisted on conducting a search of the major’s bags and drawers and even lifted the mattress to see if there was anything concealed beneath. Once satisfied—exactly of what they weren’t sure—he’d retired and left them to it. Senator Vogal had made a brief appearance in the doorway, paled visibly and quickly taken Mack Gordon off for a briefing.
    Siri and Yamaguchi had unfastened the major from the door handle, a feat made easier by a slip knot device tied into the rope. This should have been the major’s escape route; a tug on the loose end and the noose gives way. But, on this occasion, the old soldier hadn’t been fast enough. They enlisted the aid of Phosy to lift him onto the bed. He was as heavy as a jeep. As the erection had failed to go away, they covered the body in a sheet for Peach’s benefit. All the indicators pointed to death by hanging. There was a clear ligature impression between the chin and the larynx. The face was pale and the eyes protruding. Saliva had dried around the mouth. As for the erotic element to the death, both Siri and the American had seen such a thing before. Siri had witnessed it only once; the death of a deviant neighbour in his Paris apartment. A middle-aged man, dressed in pajamas, had hanged himself from a coat rack in a closet. The rail had given way and he had fallen to the floor, waking everybody up. Yamaguchi, it turned out, had seen post mortem autoerotic accidents on numerous occasions, making them sound as common a pastime in Hawaii as Frisbee. Siri decided Western perverts had too much time on their hands. Although he was convinced that the major had accidentally killed himself, there seemed to be something troubling the American. Yamaguchi retreated to his room to look through a reference book he’d brought along for a little light reading.
    Breakfast was laid out on the tables as usual but after the events of the morning few people had an appetite. Sergeant Johnson and Gordon went into town on Toua’s ponies to phone the consulate and inform them of events. Judge Haeng, not about to trust his fate to a wild beast, had them send back one of the trucks so he could be driven comfortably into town to pass on the disturbing news to the ministry. At the Friendship, word had spread rapidly and the buzz around the hotel was that this tragedy would surely mark the end of the mission. They knew that as soon as the smoke cleared they’d be on their way back to Vientiane. Only Auntie Bpoo saw the major’s demise as “a heroic way for a pervert to go.” Other opinion ranged from disgust to pity. Civilai arrived late for breakfast, weighed down with a thunderous hangover and oblivious.
    “He what?” he said, after receiving a rushed description of the death.
    “I doubt he intended to kill himself,” said Siri. “He was involved in a session of autoeroticism.” (He’d resorted to French as there was no Lao equivalent for such a concept.) “You do know what that is, I assume?”
    “Of course I do,” Civilai replied. “It’s when you make love to your car. I’m quite fond of my Citroën.”
    “Civilai!” said Daeng.
    “Sorry. Bad time for a joke. Bad joke for the time.”
    “Tact has never been your forte,” said Siri.
    “But I very much doubt the major was capable of anything erotic last night,” Civilai said. “Sex, even with oneself, is an act of passion. I’m scouring my memory here but I seem to recall it comes at a time of heightened awareness. You become stimulated to the point when you need release. When I saw him he was dead to the world, snoring like a wild boar.”
    “When you saw him where?”
    “In his room. I went there last night.”
    “You told us you’d forgotten,” said Daeng.
    “I had to say that. I could hardly