she
knew her.”
“ We have lots of
girls here.”
Nigel took out a
thousand, folded it and slid into the manager’s hand.
“ I know her, but I
don’t know where she is.”
“ When did you last
see her?”
“ We fired her last
week.”
“ Is there anybody who
would know where she is?”
“ Her friend Tee
might. She used to work here.”
Nigel sighed. “You
fire a lot of girls?”
“ It’s hard to get
good staff.”
“ Where is she
now?”
“ She works at a
massage place not far from here.”
“ What’s it
called?”
The manager handed
Nigel a card. “A friend of mine works there. Tell him I sent
you.”
Nigel settled both
bills then turned to leave.
“ Are you alright Mr
Nigel? What happened?”
“ I’ll tell you all
about it in the car.”
“ Where we
go?”
“ To the pharmacy then
I need to call a PI.”
EIGHTEEN
THE PLAQUE read HARVEY GOULD, P I. It was the middle of the
day, but the blinds were closed. Inside a desktop sat flanked by
three non-matching chairs, a creased, leather sofa and a bookcase
full of fiction.
A middle-aged man lay
back with a pair of briefs hanging around his ankles. A gorgeous,
young lady was bent over him in a pair of pink panties that
stretched over her pert buttocks. Her head was bobbing up and down
and her long, thick black hair swished around her neck with each
bob. Harvey lay motionless, moaning.
He was an ex-pat
who’d lived in Thailand for many years. He was short and stocky
with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He currently had one
lady in his life for which he cared for-his assistant Bo: She
was assisting him now.
He’d found her
working the seedy hostess bars of Bangkok and taken her home.
They’d become more than friends, she knew the capital well and had
helped him on a few cases. He’d offered her a better life and with
his investigative skills and her knowledge of the streets, they
made a good team.
Harvey’s body
suddenly stiffened. He was about to let go, when the Mission
Impossible theme rang loudly on his phone. Her head popped up,
Harvey pushed it back; she couldn’t stop now. She continued. He
finished. She left for the bathroom. The phone was still ringing.
Harvey answered, out of breath. “Hello?”
“ Is this Harvey Gould
PI?”
“ Hello? Yes, this is
he.”
“ Are you all
right?”
“ I’m fine. I was just
working out. Who is this?”
“ My name is Nigel,
Nigel Walker.”
“ Hello Mr Walker.
What can I do for you?”
“ I’m looking for a
couple of missing Thai girls.”
“ Are they officially
missing?”
“ What do you
mean?”
“ Are the police
looking for them?”
“ Not that I know
of.”
“ Do you know them,
personally?”
“ No, not
personally.”
“ Can I ask why you
are looking for them?”
“ Can we meet? I’m at
The Landmark.”
“ I know it
well.”
“ Are you free
today?”
“ One second, let me
see.”
Harvey laid the phone
on the table and rustled through some papers. “Mr
Walker?”
Nigel
coughed.
“ I have a window
after six.”
“ Why don’t we meet in
the pub downstairs, say around seven?”
“ That works for me,
see you then.”
Harvey hung up, took
a tissue, wiped his crotch then pulled up his shorts. Bo stepped
out of the bathroom fully dressed. “Who that?”
“ It was a client. We
have a case.”
“ It about
time.”
NINETEEN
NIGEL STROLLED into the Huntsman and clocked a middle-aged man
in a wrinkled shirt and creased trousers. He was sitting with a
gorgeous girl about a third of his age, wearing tight, faded jeans
with designer rips in the knees and a top that teased.
On the table beside
them was a chunky camera with an enormous zoom lens.
Nigel approached as
the man and his companion stood up and smiled. “Mr Walker I
presume?”
“ Hello, Mr
Gould.”
They shook hands,
each trying for the firmer grip.
“ Harvey is fine. And
I should call you….?”
“ Mr
Walker.”
“… .Very well then.
This is my
knew her.”
“ We have lots of
girls here.”
Nigel took out a
thousand, folded it and slid into the manager’s hand.
“ I know her, but I
don’t know where she is.”
“ When did you last
see her?”
“ We fired her last
week.”
“ Is there anybody who
would know where she is?”
“ Her friend Tee
might. She used to work here.”
Nigel sighed. “You
fire a lot of girls?”
“ It’s hard to get
good staff.”
“ Where is she
now?”
“ She works at a
massage place not far from here.”
“ What’s it
called?”
The manager handed
Nigel a card. “A friend of mine works there. Tell him I sent
you.”
Nigel settled both
bills then turned to leave.
“ Are you alright Mr
Nigel? What happened?”
“ I’ll tell you all
about it in the car.”
“ Where we
go?”
“ To the pharmacy then
I need to call a PI.”
EIGHTEEN
THE PLAQUE read HARVEY GOULD, P I. It was the middle of the
day, but the blinds were closed. Inside a desktop sat flanked by
three non-matching chairs, a creased, leather sofa and a bookcase
full of fiction.
A middle-aged man lay
back with a pair of briefs hanging around his ankles. A gorgeous,
young lady was bent over him in a pair of pink panties that
stretched over her pert buttocks. Her head was bobbing up and down
and her long, thick black hair swished around her neck with each
bob. Harvey lay motionless, moaning.
He was an ex-pat
who’d lived in Thailand for many years. He was short and stocky
with dark brown hair and light brown eyes. He currently had one
lady in his life for which he cared for-his assistant Bo: She
was assisting him now.
He’d found her
working the seedy hostess bars of Bangkok and taken her home.
They’d become more than friends, she knew the capital well and had
helped him on a few cases. He’d offered her a better life and with
his investigative skills and her knowledge of the streets, they
made a good team.
Harvey’s body
suddenly stiffened. He was about to let go, when the Mission
Impossible theme rang loudly on his phone. Her head popped up,
Harvey pushed it back; she couldn’t stop now. She continued. He
finished. She left for the bathroom. The phone was still ringing.
Harvey answered, out of breath. “Hello?”
“ Is this Harvey Gould
PI?”
“ Hello? Yes, this is
he.”
“ Are you all
right?”
“ I’m fine. I was just
working out. Who is this?”
“ My name is Nigel,
Nigel Walker.”
“ Hello Mr Walker.
What can I do for you?”
“ I’m looking for a
couple of missing Thai girls.”
“ Are they officially
missing?”
“ What do you
mean?”
“ Are the police
looking for them?”
“ Not that I know
of.”
“ Do you know them,
personally?”
“ No, not
personally.”
“ Can I ask why you
are looking for them?”
“ Can we meet? I’m at
The Landmark.”
“ I know it
well.”
“ Are you free
today?”
“ One second, let me
see.”
Harvey laid the phone
on the table and rustled through some papers. “Mr
Walker?”
Nigel
coughed.
“ I have a window
after six.”
“ Why don’t we meet in
the pub downstairs, say around seven?”
“ That works for me,
see you then.”
Harvey hung up, took
a tissue, wiped his crotch then pulled up his shorts. Bo stepped
out of the bathroom fully dressed. “Who that?”
“ It was a client. We
have a case.”
“ It about
time.”
NINETEEN
NIGEL STROLLED into the Huntsman and clocked a middle-aged man
in a wrinkled shirt and creased trousers. He was sitting with a
gorgeous girl about a third of his age, wearing tight, faded jeans
with designer rips in the knees and a top that teased.
On the table beside
them was a chunky camera with an enormous zoom lens.
Nigel approached as
the man and his companion stood up and smiled. “Mr Walker I
presume?”
“ Hello, Mr
Gould.”
They shook hands,
each trying for the firmer grip.
“ Harvey is fine. And
I should call you….?”
“ Mr
Walker.”
“… .Very well then.
This is my
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