Murder on the Angkor Express by Robin Tones

Author:Robin Tones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
Published: 2022-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

The English Connection

I manage to meet Jenny and her school friends at a food stall outside the night market and buy them all fritters. It is my only supper. The double-fried bananas are not only delicious but also very filling. The vendor is opposite the Ta Prohm Hotel which must be doing a special for independent tourists as the English couple, the Jones’s are also staying here.

I have given up on Sofia Stoica as she either speaks no English or is a remarkable actor. We don’t have a broad range of language experts in Siem Reap, and certainly not a Romanian speaker. We have been forced previously to give up using Google translate as even our judges felt this was inappropriate. I asked for an online interpreter, but Cyril declined my request on cost grounds. Instead, I have arranged similar body searches for Mrs Stoica. All I know is that the Romanians are bad and that they have been in contact with Son. They do not appear to have a motive to kill him.

Who the hell was Leap Son, though? He seems to have more tentacles than a squid, and each deep in a murky trade. Then there is the general, but I have found nothing to connect the two. Is Son just a major criminal we had never heard of? Could he be the murdering colonel of the hospital back in the bad old days? Is this all Khmer Rouge business alive and well in twenty-first-century Cambodia?

The file on the English is very bland. They seem to fit exactly the tourist profile, even if it is Mrs Jones who has done all the excursions, whilst Mr Jones has been spending his time merely wandering around the town. I will ask about that. They are on newish passports and have come in via Thailand overland, which is pretty eccentric for such an old couple, who are in their late fifties with neither looking overly fit.

Back in the Ta Prohm hotel temporary interview room, I give them a joint interview to save time.

‘Mr and Ms Jones, thank you for your time,’ I start with a smile. Mr Jones returns this and leans back in his chair, exuding that confidence of a man used to being in charge. He appears content with the current situation. Mrs Jones is far more excitable. Maybe I should have seen them on their own?

‘Have you found out what happened to that poor man?’ she asks me first. ‘I can’t believe those Dutch youngsters did anything, and where could they find a knife? I couldn’t find one to cut the mango I bought.’ It seems she talks in a stream of consciousness, which Mr Jones ignores as he watches me.

‘No, it wasn’t the Dutch couple. They seem to have used this as a publicity stunt,’ I reply, desperately trying to retake control.

‘Oh, dog meat, isn’t that awful? I didn’t know it was legal here, and who would eat some of those animals anyway?’ she continues unabated.

Mr Jones leans forward, physically cutting across his wife.

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