“You have competition, Khun Wichai,” I said, softly. “And no, I am not accusing you of killing Chat. I know who did that. Let’s just say that someone without your scruples gave the pills to him, someone whose ambition is, if anything, greater than yours, someone whose greed is insatiable. Chat had a headache, and thought he was taking painkillers. The person who did that wants to own the company, too. Like you, he is prepared to consider marriage, in this case to Wongvipa, and if that doesn’t work, then he’ll try something else. Murder, apparently, is one option he is rather partial to.”
“Yutai!” Wichai said.
“Fatty is his daughter, by the way, by Wongvipa.”
“Ah,” he said. “The power of love. Interesting, indeed. Can you prove it? That Yutai gave Chat the pills?”
“No. But I know what I saw.”
“And about Yutai and Fatty?”
“No, but just take a good look,” I said.
“And are you saying that what Yutai has done, he did with the approval, or at least the acquiescence, of Wongvipa?”
“I am.”
“Even so far as the murder of her own child?” His voice sounded as if someone had put a rope around his neck and was slowly tightening it.
I took a deep breath before I replied. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Yes. I didn’t see her try to stop it.”
“I see. I can’t say I ever really loved my wife,” Wichai said. “But I have always loved my daughter. You are a fierce adversary, Ms. Lara. I am glad that we are not on opposite sides of this issue. I have found this conversation a most enlightening one. These are perhaps not the kind of people I would be able to do business with at all. Now I think you should go home, don’t you, to Canada? You should take Miss Jennifer with you.”
“That is exactly what I plan to do, Khun Wichai,” I said.
“Good. Thank you for the information, and for the painting,” he said, rising from his chair. “It means a very great deal to me. I remember her a little. Sometimes I still dream about her. Now I think this is good-bye. I believe you and I have reached an understanding here. I don’t anticipate we will ever have the pleasure of meeting again. One of my colleagues will see you safely back to the airport.”
“I have a couple more things,” I said. He remained standing. “It would be very helpful if this colleague of yours could be persuaded to tell someone where William Beauchamp is buried. His daughter requires a great deal of medical attention, and she and her mother would benefit from the life insurance, assuming Beauchamp is proven dead.”
“And the second thing?” he said. His voice was very quiet.
“If you look behind the painting, you’ll find a small package containing a floppy disk taped to the back. It is the only disk I know of, and my paper copy has been destroyed.”
“Good-bye, Ms. Lara,” he said with an almost imperceptible nod.
“Good-bye, Khun Wichai,” I replied. We did not shake hands.
Epilogue
The opportunity to save Ayutthaya from the evil usurper came only two weeks later and was acted upon with considerable speed and the utmost coordination. When the usurper ordered his officials to move out to capture a large male elephant, the four conspirators, joined now by the Phraya ofPhichai and the Phraya of Sawankhalok, moved quickly and assertively. Mun Ratchasena was dispatched to the Sua Landing to wait for Khun Worawongsa’s brother, the upstart uparat. The others took to their boats and went to the Pla Mb Canal to wait in ambush.
That day, Mun Ratchasena, who had hidden himself at the landing, shot the uparat off his elephant, whereupon the man died. The other conspirators with their supporters, myself among them, rowed their boats right up to the royal barge, upon which rested Khun Worawongsa, Lady Si Sudachan, the daughter of their union, and Prince Si Sin, younger brother of Yot Fa. All were to die. “Save the Prince Si Sin,” I begged them, remembering my mother’s words. Moments later the usurper, the lady, and their daughter were all dead. Prince Si Sin, alone, was spared.
The victorious conspirators then entered the great city and secured the royal palace before taking the Chai Suphannahong Royal Barge to Ratchapraditsathan Monastery to ask Prince Thianracha to leave the monkhood and to accept the throne. The prince agreed, and casting aside his simple monk’s robe, assumed the trappings of majesty. The barge, with the peacock umbrella, fans, and golden shades, and accompanied by vast numbers of subjects, carried the prince to the palace landing, where he was invited to enter the royal palace.
On an auspicious day soon after, with all due ceremony, in the presence of all chief ministers, patriarchs, astrologers, poets and counselors, abbots and monks, Prince Thianracha ascended the throne, taking the royal title of King Chakkraphat.
Those of us who assisted the great prince have been well rewarded, the ministers with positions of great authority, the right and left gold trays of rank, land, and royal ladies and concubines for their wives. I, a lowly commoner, have been given a government post, the hand of my beloved in marriage, and many gifts, among them my most cherished possession. It is a sword, given to me by the king, sharp in its silver scabbard, its bone handle smooth in my hand.
I fear I will have much cause to use it, and indeed have already done so. Our enemies lurk, always poised to take advantage of the slightest sign of weakness. Already there is discontent and intrigue brewing within the cadre of nobles, Prince Si Sin, though he was adopted by our most compassionate king, among them. And sometimes, in the night, I look back on the past with some regret and to the future with much foreboding.
I’ve done a lot of thinking since I got home, most of it in the middle of the night, about whether or not I should have done what I did. In the end I believe justice was done, but at a price I am only just beginning to understand.
I have this idea that there’s a concept in law that has to do with the notion of the reasonable person. It’s a test, really. Could a reasonable person be expected to know something or other? Would a reasonable person act in a certain way? Because that, surely, is the question that haunts my sleep. Could I reasonably have anticipated what would happen next?
This question has cast a shadow on my relationship with Rob. He feels it, too, although he doesn’t understand it. He says he thinks there must be things we need to talk through. I wish I could, but at the end of the day, how could I possibly tell a policeman what I’ve done?
I would dearly like to discuss it with someone. Moira, perhaps, who is my best friend, even if she took up with my ex-husband. She’s smart, and best of all, very down to earth. Or even Clive, who beneath that rather cavalier exterior is actually an intelligent, thoughtful, man. The person I would most like to talk to about this is Jennifer, young as she is, but that’s a long way off. She is, as all have said, resilient, but she still has a way to go. She’s decided to finish up her university studies in Toronto. She can’t bear to go back to California right now.
There are others I remember with real affection from that time: David Ferguson, who was a generous friend, and most especially, Praneet. She has more or less moved into the tiny teak house on the klong with David. So far there has not been so much as a peep out of her family about the fact that David is (a) white, and (b) twenty years older than she is. Real life has caught up with some of the Chaiwongs at last.