Slash and Burn

mechanic—forty pages worth—but isn’t interested enough to interview the only other witness there that night. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
    “Perhaps he died before they could interview him,” Dtui suggested.
    “He’s dead too?” Siri asked.
    “Yes.”
    “When?”
    “About the same time as Sebastian. In fact there was a couple of days between the two deaths.”
    “He didn’t fall into a storm drain, by any chance?”
    “No. He had a heart attack in a go-go bar in Thailand.”
    “Oh.” Siri gasped and coughed. “This is far too much of a coincidence for my liking. No wonder Major Potter found something smelly here.”
    “I think the fact that we didn’t find any of those released papers in the major’s belongings is relevant,” said Phosy. “Whoever killed him helped himself to those.”
    “It also makes you wonder whether Judge Haeng was looking for them too,” said Siri.
    “You think Justice might be involved in all this?” Daeng asked.
    “I don’t know. Haeng was looking for something he didn’t find. He’d been in Potter’s room earlier. And he’s been acting like the Americans’ own private little Pekinese all week. He’s up to something.”
    “You think he’s being nice to them so he can have them killed one by one without being suspected?” Daeng asked.
    “No. I believe the killer of Major Potter was a completely different animal to whoever took a potshot at the senator.”
    Phosy agreed.
    “You think we have two different assassins?” Daeng asked.
    “Maybe three if you include the post office tower explosion.”
    It was time to bring Dr. Yamaguchi and Gordon into the discussion.
    *
    Meanwhile, deep in the west wing, Civilai had chuckled and hmm’d and ahah’d through thirty minutes of Senator Vogal eulogizing himself to heaven and back. Ethel Chin was always at the senator’s side. From this close proximity it was clear why she had joined the senator in isolation. The stress of events at the Friendship, or perhaps just the unpleasantness of being in such a nasty place, had brought her lower face out in hives. She’d pasted a layer of make-up over it but the damage to her skin was plain to see. She sat at the desk purportedly reading a book but with such lack of commitment as to look up with a laugh at all the senator’s jokes. Not a minute into the meeting, Civilai had become the American’s best friend. The senator had already shared two tearful “not even my family knows this” moments.
    On the rare occasion that Civilai was allowed a few seconds to respond to a question, he did so with a respect and humility that made Peach’s nostrils flare. After exactly twenty-eight minutes, there came a knock on the door and Rhyme entered with his flash unit attached to a cumbersome hunk of equipment and he took several photos of the elder statesmen in conversation. Ironically, in the photos, the senator appeared to be listening intently to Civilai’s thoughts. Rhyme’s departure was clearly designed to be the end of the dialogue. Vogal stood at the door bidding farewell and nodding at Civilai who remained seated. Peach stood then sat down again. Ethel Chin rolled her eyes. Reluctantly, the senator closed the door, locked it, and returned to his perch on the end of the bed, making a pointed study of his wristwatch. It wasn’t as if he had somewhere to go. Civilai decided it was time to probe.
    “Peach,” he smiled, “ask the senator what type of family it takes to produce such a noble and intelligent son.”
    “Do I have to?”
    “Please.”
    The senator beamed when he heard the question and settled happily into the role of interviewee.
    “All my people are in tea,” he said. “Importing originally from Ceylon. My family are the business brains. My Uncle Edwin and I were the black sheep. We had our hearts set on public service. Money just didn’t seem too important to me. My focus was on removing evil from the world and replacing it—and I know this sounds corny—but replacing it with a little love and humility. I believe we owe it to the world, not just to take, but….”
    This drivel went on for another two minutes before the subject eventually found its way home.
    “It was my Uncle Edwin who introduced me to the foreign service and for that I shall be eternally indebted to him. God rest his soul. He was a great man.”
    “So you were in the foreign service?” Civilai asked. “I knew it. I just knew it.”
    “How?”
    “Your confidence.