More Deaths Than One (24 page)

“Harrison sat on the barstool next to him.
Between gulps of whiskey and an occasional belch, David poured out
the entire tale. Several times he got sidetracked and lamented he’d
never be able to have a drink at O’Riley’s in Brooklyn. During the
rest of the evening and late into the night, Harrison kept dropping
casual remarks about Bangkok needing a good Irish pub.

“David opened O’Riley’s Bar and Grill a month
later.

“When Harrison wrote his book A Separate War,
he used the real name of the bar, but he called the owner Hamburger
Dan, a reference to an old song no one but Harrison ever remembered
hearing.

“The book became an international bestseller,
and O’Riley’s became the most famous bar in the world.

“Hamburger Dan, as everybody now called David
Marconi, took it all in stride. He made no secret that his family
was the most important thing in his life. He boasts that his
children, born in the jungled hills of Vietnam to a Montagnard
woman, are now attending college in the United States and have the
whole world at their feet.”

Bob chuckled. “I still remember that night in
The Lotus Room. Harrison thought he was subtle, but Hamburger Dan
saw the truth. He told me once he would never forget how much he
owed Harrison, not just for the success of the bar and for
financing it, but for steering him into it in the first place.”

Bob listened for Kerry’s answering chuckle,
but all he heard was the soft whuffling of her breath as she
slept.

***

Bob dreamt.

The heavy warmth of the jungle wrapped around
him like a familiar blanket. He felt at peace, knowing he’d become
part of this green world. He paused in his journey and looked up at
the small patches of pale blue showing through the canopy of
leaves. From a nearby branch came the clear song of a finch
accompanied by a chorus of tree frogs.

He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils
with the rich smell of earth and vegetation. As he exhaled, a chill
stole over him. Noticing movement to the left, he turned and peered
into the shadows. A darker shadow, a ghost mist, slipped between
the tree trunks.

Suddenly the jungle closed in on him. The
smell suffocated him, the taste of the air choked him. His chest
ached with the effort to breathe.

He felt a touch on his hand . . .

***

Gasping, Bob sat bold upright. He stared
wildly about him.

Where am I? Who am I?

He became aware of the young woman gazing
anxiously at him and of her hand resting on his. Then he became
aware of the room and the intricately designed bamboo
furniture.

All at once he knew. He was in a hotel room
in Bangkok, in bed with Kerry. They had registered as Timothy and
Louanne Prather, the names on their new drivers’ licenses and
passports.

“Are you okay?” Kerry asked. “You panted like
you were in pain.”

He rubbed his chest. “I couldn’t breathe. The
jungle . . .”

She put her arms around him.

His body registered her touch with a strange
sense of numbness. She pulled away from him, a puzzled look in her
eyes. He hugged her close and buried his face in her hair. The
numbness disappeared. He could feel the strength of her arms.

Chapter 21

Bob opened his eyes, then squeezed them shut
against the light. From the heaviness of the air and the brightness
of the day, he presumed it was mid-morning. He opened his eyes
again and this time managed to keep them open.

He turned his head toward Kerry. She lay on
her back, hands behind her head, eyes focused on the ceiling.
Following her gaze, he realized she was staring at one of the
ubiquitous green lizards. Her body vibrated with excitement.

He smiled to himself. Leave it to Kerry to be
thrilled with this small reminder they were no longer in
Colorado.

“Isn’t this great?” she said in a hushed
voice. “We have our own private watch lizard.”

Bob brushed away a fly buzzing around his
head. “We could use a few more.”

A knock sounded.

He tensed.

Kerry patted him on the arm. “It’s room
service. I ordered breakfast. Green tea, coffee, rolls, and fruit.”
She jumped out of bed, snatched her red paisley wrap, and slipped
into it as she headed for the door.

The spring within him wound tighter.

She paused to tie the belt around her waist,
then put her hand on the knob.

He was sitting up, cursing the sluggishness
of his wits, when she pulled the door open.

A young Thai waiter entered and set a tray on
the table. He accepted a tip from Kerry, gave her a small wai and a
large smile, then left, closing the door behind him.

Bob let out the breath he’d been holding, and
some of the tenseness seeped from his body.

Inspecting the contents of the tray, Kerry
pointed to a round object of such a deep reddish brown it almost
looked black. “Is that food?”

“It’s a mangosteen. You need a knife to cut
through the tough skin, but the white pulp is delicious.”

She laughed. “I wondered why they sent a
sharp knife for soft rolls and bananas.” She cut through the rind
and took a big bite of the pulp. “You’re right. This is
delicious.”

She cut off a piece and held it out to
him.

He shook his head. “I need to take a shower
first.”

She stuffed another piece of the fruit in her
mouth. “Good. More for me.”

***

When Bob came out of the bathroom, he found
Kerry dressed in her new cotton pants, a vividly colored shirt, and
sandals.

“I can’t wait another minute.” Her smile was
incandescent. “I’m going for a walk. My very first walk in a
foreign country.” She opened the door. “Do you want me to wait for
you?”

“No. Go ahead. Be careful, okay?”

“I will.” She ran back, gave him a hug, then
dashed out the door.

The hotel was built around a courtyard
accessible from all the rooms. Bob took his breakfast out to the
courtyard, but couldn’t enjoy the fountain, the bushes, the
flowers. He kept stealing glances at the windows, wondering if
anyone was watching him.

When dark clouds rolled across the sky,
pushing a stifling humidity before them, he took refuge in his
room. It did not have air-conditioning, but the slowly revolving
ceiling fan offered a modicum of relief.

He paced the floor, feeling as if he were a
stranger in this land. It didn’t matter that he had lived here for
sixteen years, he realized; any place would seem alien when he
wasn’t with Kerry. She was his home.

He tried not to worry about her all alone on
the streets, but as time passed, the worry grew too strong to
ignore.

Then the rains fell. There was no light
spattering gradually increasing in intensity as in Colorado, but an
abrupt opening of the skies as if someone had turned on a
spigot.

Fifteen minutes later Kerry returned,
dripping wet and laughing.

“I got lost. I kept pointing and asking
people if this was the way back to the Fountain Hotel, and no
matter which direction I pointed, they said yes.”

Bob felt a pang of remorse. “I should have
told you. It’s considered polite to agree. You have to ask direct
questions like, ‘Where is the Fountain Hotel?’”

“I know. I finally figured that out. What’s
wrong?” She narrowed her focus on him. “Did something happen?” Then
her eyes widened to normal. “You were worried about me. That’s
nice. When are we going to O’Riley’s?”

“As soon as we get you dry.”

***

Bob stepped into O’Riley’s and paused until
his eyes adapted to the dim light. When he could see clearly, he
noticed Hamburger Dan, hair now more gray than black, serving a
drink to Jim Keating, an ex-Marine reputed to be a drug dealer. Bob
could not make out Keating’s words, but he could hear the rumble of
his deep voice underlying the ambient noise.

A gaunt, stringy-haired man sat at the piano,
played a soft rendition of “Yesterday.”

Kerry glanced about, dark eyes gleaming with
excitement. She leaned close to Bob and spoke in his ear. “This
place is exactly the way Harrison described it. I feel like I’m in
his book.”

Bob smiled at her. With the smile still on
his face, he let Kerry tow him to a vacant table where they’d have
a good view of the whole bar.

He nodded to Hamburger Dan as he passed.
Hamburger Dan frowned as if he could not place him.

“Hey, bartender,” a portly man at the end of
the bar called out. The man pointed to the skinny woman perched on
the barstool next to his. “The missus needs another a those drinks
with a umbrella.”

Hamburger Dan gave Bob a second look then
fixed the drink.

“This is great.” Kerry took off her dripping
raincoat and draped it across the back of her chair.

Bob took his off, too. In his short-sleeved
shirt imprinted with red, green, and yellow parrots, he felt like a
tourist. He even found himself gazing around as if he’d never
visited the place before.

He saw a couple of the other regulars, a
German and an American—both mercenaries—but most of the people were
strangers to him, including the four men sitting at the next table.
They seemed to be Americans of the right age to have fought in
Vietnam. A man in a Yankees baseball cap waved his arms for
emphasis.

“I did my job,” Bob heard him say. “Then I
got out and continued on with my life. Everything’s great. My life
is full. It happened so long ago. I don’t understand what the big
deal is.”

The haunting strains of “Hey Jude” filtered
through the room.

“What are you going to have?” Kerry
asked.

“A Singha in honor of Harrison. It’s a local
beer he liked. Also a hamburger with fries.”

When a giggling young waitress approached,
Kerry ordered hamburgers, fries, and Singhas for both of them.

Hamburger Dan brought their drinks.

Setting them on the table, he gave Bob a
penetrating glance. “It is you. I wasn’t sure at first. How’ve you
been—”

Before Hamburger Dan could speak his name,
Bob said quickly, “Gandy. I’m Rick Gandy and this is Julie
Walsh.”

Hamburger Dan’s eyebrows rose. “I see. Does
this have anything to do with the two men sitting in the booth
across the room?”

Bob lifted his drink to his lips and gazed
over the top of the mug. The men in question leaned back in their
seats with studied nonchalance, but their eyes were hard and way
too alert—cop’s eyes.

“My supposed friends?” Bob asked.

“Right. They’ve been in and out for the past
six weeks or so, but after you called they started spending a lot
of time here.”

“Something you should know. Your phone is
tapped.”

Hamburger Dan stiffened. “What’s going on?
What are you involved with?”

“To be honest, I have no idea, but I’m
looking into it.”

“You?” Hamburger Dan had the grace not to
smile, but Bob could sense his incredulity.

Seeing the light of battle in Kerry’s eyes
and her mouth opening to come to his defense, Bob laid a hand on
her knee. She closed her mouth, but her jaw remained set.

The waitress brought their hamburgers. The
delicious aroma of grilled meat made Bob’s stomach growl with
hunger.

“I’ll leave you to your food,” Hamburger Dan
said. “I shouldn’t stay here too long anyway, don’t want to draw
the attention of your friends.”

Kerry’s gaze followed him as he moved off,
then it shifted to Bob.

“How come he talked to you like that? Doesn’t
he know you’re the Bob Noone character in Dark Side of Heroes?”

“I doubt it. Now that Harrison’s gone, you’re
probably the only one who knows. And if by chance Hamburger Dan
does know, he still wouldn’t be impressed. He’d think Noone was a
wimp.”

“Oh.” She took a big bite of her hamburger
and ate it slowly. “How did you come up with the names Rick Gandy
and Julie Walsh?”

“They slipped out. I decided we shouldn’t
advertise the names we’re traveling under.”

“Good thinking.” She chewed on a French fry.
“I’m beginning to have as many identities as you. It’s
confusing.”

Bob nodded. Munching on his own hamburger, he
let his glance fall on the other bar patrons.

“Mike seemed like a brother to me,” the man
in the Yankee baseball cap said, tears brimming over. “I tried to
save him, but there was nothing I could do.”

The men with the cop’s eyes stood, took a
final look around, then sauntered out of the bar, still maintaining
their casual air.

Bob felt his shoulders sag with relief.

As he continued to eat, he could hear the
gaunt man playing “Let It Be.”

“Who’s the piano player?” Kerry asked. “He’s
good.”

“Alan Pierce. He’s an Iowa farm boy raised in
a strict Methodist family. He got hooked on heroin in Vietnam. He
came to Bangkok after the war, and he’s been drifting from job to
job ever since. He’s clean now, but he’s still too ashamed to go
home.”

“So many stories,” she said softly.

“That’s what Harrison used to say.”

After the waitress cleared away their plates,
Hamburger Dan returned with two more beers. “On the house.” He set
the beer in front of them. “Have you two known each other
long?”

“Yes,” Kerry said while Bob was saying
“No.”

They looked at each other and grinned.

Hamburger Dan shook his head. “No wonder I
didn’t recognize you . . . Rick. You’re so different.

“Different how?” Kerry asked, eyes
bright.

“Younger. Happier. I don’t think I’ve ever
seen him smile before.”

“Happier?” Bob gave a snort of unamused
laughter. “With people after me for no reason I can fathom?” But
something deep inside him said it might be true.

Hamburger Dan chatted a few minutes, bringing
Bob current on the activities of his regulars.

“I don’t see Donald McCray,” Bob said. “Is he
around?”