The Merry Misogynist

“I don’t see anything that looks like a note,” she said. “We might have outsmarted ourselves again.”
    “Can you get closer to the bulb? They’d have to replace them regularly so take a look at the socket.”
    Daeng hung like a sloth. She reached down and, sure enough, wrapped around the socket and held in place with a rubber band was a slip of paper: the last clue. A map.
    “Are we or are we not a team?” she asked.
    It wasn’t easy to disagree with a sixty-six-year-old lady hanging upside down from a tree.
    “We are indeed,” he said.

7
AN INVISIBLE RICE FARMER
    P han had the letter written already. His handwriting was impeccable: not one questionable vowel or missing tone marker. The paper was headed Department of Water Management, and the contact details had a false telephone number and post office box number. All he needed to add was the date and the name of the recipient .
Dearest –  How did she spell her name? Oh, yes  – Wei,
I am back in Vientiane, although my heart is still in your village with you and all the wonderful people I met on my trip. I cannot concentrate on my work because you are in my mind all the time. My life has suddenly changed because of you.
I received wonderful news today. I have to return to your area on –  he checked the schedule on the wall  – March 26 to do a follow-up to my project there. I will only be there for a day or two. When I heard this news I felt so happy because it means I can see you again. I have been afraid we wouldn’t get together for three or four months. Sadly, this will be my last trip of the year. It pains me that our marriage will be such a long way off.
That is why I want to make this presumptuous suggestion. The thought of being apart from you for so long makes me feel ill; so, if you are willing, I have a solution. My darling, what if we were to marry during this coming visit? I know it’s short notice, and you might have trouble making arrangements, but I would be so happy if you could return to Vientiane with me as my wife. I have a nice home here, and I believe we would have a chance to go to Eastern Europe soon for my work. I would be so honoured if you could be there at my side.
I would understand completely if this is not convenient for you, but I hope with all my heart that you agree. I apologize if this letter is too formal and not chatty. I have never had the opportunity to write a letter of love before, so I’m not certain how to go about it.
I miss you so much that my eyes are wet with tears as I write this. I pray that you are thinking of me and that we can be together soon and for ever.
With all my heart,
Phan
    He shook his head and let out a little puff of air. He wrote the name of his betrothed and her address on the envelope and ran the gummed edge across the damp sponge that sat permanently on the desk before sealing it. There was a longdistance bus scheduled to leave the next morning for Natan. He’d give the driver a few kip to drop it off on his way through her so-called town .
    He had to play the game carefully. There were so many things that could go wrong. The last one – the ridiculous white girl with her imperfect hands and ugly feet – white cotton socks on the wedding night. He put that down as a fault in his vetting process. But she was beautiful, there was no question about that at all. Every man in the district wanted her. And who won her? Phan, the man .
    That’s why he was so proud of his kills. Five already in a little over two years, and that wasn’t including the whore. He never included the whore. She was ancient history. This was his new life with its new meaning. Five was a good catch. And this Wei, she didn’t have the looks of the last girl but she had bearing and education. Those two attributes didn’t exactly add up to class but she was a step up. He was honing his skills, attracting a better-quality victim. Naivete in the inferior female gender knew no barriers. They were all pretty damned gullible .
 
    Between Madame Daeng’s hours at the shop and Dr Siri’s commitments at the morgue, there were only a few times when the couple could get together for adventures. These amounted to before six in the morning, when Daeng started to get her noodle broth brewing; after eight p.m., when the evening rush subsided; or Sundays. As they hadn’t returned from the Ian Xang Hotel until after eleven the previous night, not even the excitement of having a hand-drawn map was enough