Bangkok Knights by Collin Piprell

Author:Collin Piprell [Piprell, Collin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-17T22:00:00+00:00

LOOKING FOR MISS GOODBAR

I was waiting to meet Eddie. He was on a mission, he had said, and he needed my help. Could I be at this bar called Lots O’ Hots around six o’clock?

If he wanted to make sure I started the night in a great mood, then he really knew how to pick a rendez-vous. There were two customers in the place — myself and one other guy who sat at the end of the bar with a beer in front of him. He didn’t have any arms, and the cashier would lift his beer to his mouth for him every once in a while. This lady wasn’t a bad-looking thirty-nine years old or so, though she seemed pretty tired and she didn’ t have a lot of teeth. There was another woman behind the bar, and she had a big greasy bag of fried grasshoppers. She’d offered me one when I first sat down, but I said no thanks. She and the cashier were crunching up these crispy morsels, occasionally popping one into the guy with no arms, who would do an imitation of a hungry baby bird whenever he needed another. He had a grasshopper leg stuck to his upper lip. I stood drinks for the house — for all four of us — and tried to find something to smile about.

Eddie finally showed up and he explained how he had wanted to meet in a quiet place with no hassle so we could talk.

“This joint is quiet, Eddie; I’ll give you that,” I said. “In fact, I’ve known cemeteries that would’ve seemed pretty rowdy by comparison.”

Eddie assured me we’d soon move on to more festive venues. He ordered two more beers, and proceeded to outline the problem. It seemed a mutual acquaintance of ours named Ronald from Riyadh, a regular traveler to Bangkok, had returned to the Sandbox last time with an unpleasant souvenir of his vacation. As far as he could see, he had written to tell Eddie, there had been only one possible source of this memento, and that source’s name was Ann who was a dancer at Pogo’s Gogo Bar. Now, Ronald was quite fond of this particular exponent of the hoofer’s art, and not a little surprised that she would do such a thing to him. He had to assume it had been inadvertent, and he wanted to warn her, as discreetly as possible, that she was not entirely dissimilar to Typhoid Mary in some respects, these respects being ones that should be spoken of, if at all, in hushed tones and far away from the public ear and the idle tongues of gossips.

“So Ronald wants me to talk to Ann,” said Eddie, “and break the news as gendy as I can, suggesting she see a doctor.”

“Why didn’t he just write her a letter?” I inquired.

“He said he didn’t want to embarrass her. He only had her address at the bar, and you know how that would’ ve gone. Anyway, he’s

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