Free Everyone Burns by John Dolan

throat. “Because the murder bears a remarkable resemblance to another one we had here three months ago.”
    I was aghast. “You mean to tell me that someone else has had his head bashed in, and been set on fire? Another farang?”
    Charoenkul nodded.
    “But there was nothing about that in the papers. I’m sure I would remember. I would definitely remember.”
    “The incident never made the papers.”
    “You hushed it up?” I asked incredulously.
    “It was not deemed to be in the best interests of the public to create a panic,” he said stiffly. “The peak tourist season was coming up and we did not want visitors to be unnecessarily apprehensive. Samui is a safe place.”
    “Not for Hannes Boehme it wasn’t.”
    “Well, we see that now, naturally.”
    “So let me get this clear. You dismiss the first killing as a one-off event and convince the mainland police of your viewpoint on this; all the while keeping it out of the press. Then there is a second murder – which can’t be a copycat killing since no-one knows about the first – and you are forced to act. No wonder the Surat Thani boys are all over you like a rash.”
    Papa Doc looked discomfited. “That’s a pretty crude summary,” he snorted.
    “But basically accurate?”
    “You could say so.”
    “So will the first murder hit the press tomorrow also?”
    “No. Only the second one. We don’t want people thinking there is some Western-style serial killer on the loose.”
    “There may be a Western-style serial killer on the loose, for all you know.” I thought for a moment. “Do you know of any connection between the dead men? Other than their both being farangs , presumably?”
    He shook his head, “No. The first one was English, not Dutch. He was here with his brother on vacation. It was the brother that raised the alarm.” Charoenkul looked annoyed for a moment. “His brother was troublesome and tried to get the newspapers involved. But in the end, good sense prevailed and the matter was kept quiet. Fortunately, the brother is no longer on Samui.”
    Troublesome? I’d be troublesome if someone had just murdered a member of my family.
    “Anyway, now you know the story,” he said finally, and with a matter-of-factness that irritated me.
    “If I’m going to be any use in all this, I’ll need more information,” I muttered testily. “What else can you give me on the victims and the forensics?”
    “I will have copies of the files sent round to you tomorrow. But I need your undertaking that you will treat them confidentially.”
    “Well, I won’t be leaving them around on the back seat of my car, if that’s what you mean,” I spat out rather spitefully.
    He recognised the unsubtle reference to our early acquaintance and said sulkily, “Of course not.”
    “And you’re not expecting me to be part of some cover-up?”
    His face looked outraged, and for a moment I thought I’d gone too far, but he controlled his temper and replied icily, “In the first place, as I explained, the investigation is not mine to run. My colleagues over at Surat Thani want this business cleared up properly. Secondly, given the fact that our local journalists are already on to the recent murder, a degree of transparency is inevitable from this point. There will be no cover-up.”
    “Although you haven’t told the press about the first murder –”
    “That is mere detail.”
    “– but you have told me .”
    He looked up with a start, as the realisation hit him that involving me may not have been such a good idea after all; that he may inadvertently have given me some leverage over him again.
    I wondered whether Buddha’s expression was like that when he saw the morning star and the thunderbolt of enlightenment hit him. I doubted it. Actually, Charoenkul looked more like he had eaten a bad oyster.
    The Chief recovered quickly, however, and purred in his most insinuating tone, “M r. Braddock, I know you are a man of integrity. We would not be having