Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness (26 page)

“So,” Wipaporn continued, “there is a shortage of marriageable women. And the women who are single have become more choosy. Some do not even marry at all. So you see, Chinese men find themselves in a quandary. Especially middle-aged men, of about our age. They’ve worked very hard, and have become doctors or lawyers or businessmen. They have the means to support a wife, but they can’t find one. And besides, they don’t want a woman their own age. They want a young woman, one who will bear children. Those who are very rich or very handsome may make a good match. As for the others…”

Ladarat could imagine. As for the others, they would look elsewhere. To Thailand, of course. But also to Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. And increasingly, to Myanmar. All countries with a relatively low standard of living and no shortage of beautiful women.

“So we try to arrange matches to meet that demand,” Wipaporn said simply.

“But how?” Ladarat asked.

“Ah, that is our business,” the mamasan said proudly. “That is the business I created. Look—you have to find men and women and you have to match them, right?”

Ladarat and Wiriya nodded. That logic seemed unassailable. Sure that was exactly what you needed to do. But how?

“Well, first we get a request from an eligible man in China. Anywhere, in theory. But mostly nearby. Just across the border in Honghe or Wenshan. But mostly in Kunming. He sends a picture and some information about himself.” She smiles. “He also sends us an electronic payment.”

“How much?” Wiriya asked. “Approximately.”

“Four hundred thousand baht,” she said. “Approximately.”

Ladarat couldn’t prevent a sharp intake of breath. And Wiriya didn’t try to conceal his surprise, which he revealed with a long, low whistle. Four hundred thousand baht was about thirteen thousand dollars. Almost half of her annual salary.

“And that’s for…?” she asked.

“Ah, for that amount, we promise to find a suitable match. Sometimes the first girl we find is acceptable, but sometimes there is more work to do.” She shrugged. For 400,000 baht, one could do a lot of “work” and still make a profit.

“But the girls,” Ladarat said. “Where do you find them? You must have a very large list of eligible girls?”

“That is the most important part of our business,” Wipaporn said proudly. “And the hardest to arrange. These girls who are looking for husbands often find them, you see. Sometimes they find husbands with us, but often they find them elsewhere. So instead of a list, we use a message board. An electronic message board,” she clarified.

“How does it work?” Ladarat was still confused, but she was beginning to see. And how it might be very, very profitable.

“Like a real message board, but on the Internet. It’s a series of postings that girls can view with a mobile phone. Look, I’ll show you.”

And she took her phone from her suit pocket. A few clicks later, she handed it to Ladarat, and Wiriya looked over her shoulder. She looked down and saw a man’s face. That face sported a broad grin, indicating copious amounts of happiness. Presumably his happiness was caused by the large yellow speedboat the size of a city bus in the background. It was included, of course, to show how rich and powerful he was. That, she supposed, was a good reason to be smiling. Of course, if that boat wasn’t really his, some girl was going to be very disappointed.

She took the phone and scrolled down to show them the man’s name: Cheng Chi Weng, age forty-four, and occupation “entrepreneur.”

“So you see, it’s a buyer’s market. The girls can pick and choose.”

“Do you have a record of the… matches you’ve arranged?” Wiriya asked.

Wipaporn shook her head. “No, Somsak, my nephew, deletes them as soon as a meeting takes place. No point in taking up storage space, he tells me.”

Wiriya looked as though he was going to ask another question, and in fact, he began to open his mouth. Instead he just nodded.

“So what does a girl do if she sees a man she’s interested in?” Ladarat asked.

“She would send a text to Somsak, mentioning the man’s name. He handles all the technical aspects of the business. He is a very smart young man. Not like my son.” Wipaporn gestured at the man who had been behind the bar but who was now sweeping the stairs. “Hopeless.” She shook her head.

“Somsak was the one who created the message board. Then he’ll send her some more information about the man. His income, where he lives, whether he’s ever been married. And then if she still likes what she sees, she’ll upload her information to the man’s profile on the message board. So he can log in to see who has responded. If there is interest, we arrange a meeting here.”

“And these meetings,” Wiriya asked, “are they always for marriage?”

“Well, one can never predict the course that romance will take. Didn’t Confucius say that love is the expression of simplicity in emotion?”

Perhaps he did. Ladarat wasn’t sure. But wasn’t 400,000 baht rather expensive for finding simplicity? Especially if a man could fly to Chiang Mai and wander down this street himself?

“And if marriage does not ensue?” Wiriya asked.

“Then we sometimes will give a partial refund.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Rarely,” she said. And she smiled a very thin smile that was not really a smile at all. “Even if there is not a successful marriage, most of our clients don’t ask for their money back.”

Ladarat thought that was odd, although there was no accounting for how men behaved. But Wiriya seemed to be suspicious as well—he was watching Wipaporn closely.

Ladarat thought of the boat in the background as she handed the phone back. “But what if a man were to be less than honest about his… characteristics?”

The mamasan gave her a stern look. “These men should be very careful about lying. That would not be good for them to attempt.”

“So, Khun.” Now Wiriya had adopted an exaggerated politeness. Which meant that he was suspicious. “I’m curious. You say that these men pay… three hundred thousand baht?”

“Four hundred thousand.”

“Ah, my mistake. So you said. Four hundred thousand baht. That’s a lot of money, even for a very wealthy man, isn’t it?”

“It is a bargain, though, to find your soul mate. Don’t you think?”

Wiriya shrugged but continued to watch her carefully.

“Are you married, Khun?” the mamasan asked.

Wiriya shook his head warily, perhaps wondering how this clever woman had turned the tables on him so effortlessly.

“Ah, well, for many men, marriage is easily worth that much or more. Perhaps not for you, but men place a different price on that which they desire, no?”

“But to pay that much and not to find your soul mate,” he said. “Well, that would be a source of dissatisfaction, would it not?”

“Perhaps that is true,” Wipaporn admitted. “But there are certain… compensations.”

“Compensations?”

“Well, when the man arrives, we typically arrange a meeting with the girl.”

“And where would that meeting take place?”

“Why, here, of course.”

“Here, as in
here
?”

“Here, and… upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“Well, these men travel some distance to get here. They need a place to… freshen up. And sometimes they may meet the girl upstairs as well.”

Now this was interesting. Wipaporn was looking very uncomfortable as she was telling them this. Strange. This was a successful businesswoman who was describing a successful business. Yet she seemed nervous. Granted she was also talking about what seemed to amount to prostitution. And Wiriya was a detective. But prostitution was hardly unusual in Thailand, as they all knew perfectly well. Typically it was offsite, not upstairs. But Ladarat’s cousin had run precisely such an upstairs arrangement for years. So why was Wipaporn so distinctly uncomfortable?

“But what about the girl?” Wiriya asked, changing direction. “She comes in, looking for a marriage proposal. And when the man decides he’s not interested… Or he decides he’s interested, but not
that
interested, what happens then?”

“Well, we do have ways of compensating girls when romance does not go well. Heartbreak can be very painful,” she said virtuously. “We do what we can to help the girls get back on their feet after rejection.”

Fair enough. And this was interesting, but it wasn’t helping them catch a murderer, was it? No, it was not.

“So,” Ladarat said. And she suddenly realized that this was the first time she had spoken in a while. “So how would we catch this woman? How would we get the evidence that we needed?”

Wipaporn and Wiriya exchanged a look that Ladarat couldn’t for the life of her figure out. It was almost as if they had a secret that they weren’t sharing. But that was silly. Wasn’t it?

“We would lay a trap,” Wiriya said simply.

“That’s right,” Wipaporn said. “We find a potential husband that this woman would find attractive, and then we arrange a meeting.”

“But how do we find her?” Ladarat asked. “How do we create a profile that will be sure to find this…” Wiriya was looking at her and smiling. “Ah. We include his name.”

“And,” Wiriya said, “we make him as unappealing as possible.”

“Why unattractive?”

“To make sure that no other girls would be interested. We want only one girl to respond, and we want to be sure that girl is the right one.”

“So you make him boring,” Wipaporn said.

“And an undesirable partner.” Wiriya grinned.

“And make him ugly,” Ladarat suggested.

Wiriya and Wipaporn laughed, a bit too heartily. It really wasn’t that funny. Ladarat smiled. Then her two conspirators exchanged glances.

“Khun Ladarat…” Wipaporn said carefully. “This trap?”

“Yes?”

“It needs bait.”

“It does?”

“It does. It needs a person. A real person.”

Why was she looking at Ladarat like that?

“Do we have such a person?” Ladarat asked.

“We do,” Wiriya announced with a smile. “And perhaps he is ugly, but he would prefer not to be described as such.”

Oh dear.

“But how would we know if we’d found the right woman? We don’t know what this woman looks like. And she might not be using her real name.”

“She would use her real name if she were interested in marriage,” Wiriya pointed out. “And we’re pretty sure that she is. In fact, that’s exactly what she’s looking for.”

“But how would that trap her?” Ladarat asked. “If we find her, that’s one thing. But just finding her won’t help us to prove that she killed these men, would it?”

Wipaporn looked from one to the other. “I think I can help with that,” she said. Ladarat sat quietly, waiting for details. But the mamasan didn’t seem to want to say more.

Eventually it was settled. They would post Wiriya’s picture, giving him the not-very-original name “Zhang Wei.” And they made up an unappealing profile for him. He was forty-two—too old to be considered a good catch even by the lax standards of this place. And they captured the most unflattering mobile phone picture they could. They had to go outside and halfway down the block to find a nondescript brick wall to take the photo in front of. It wouldn’t do to have Peaflower recognize the bar in the picture’s background.

Then they all came back inside, and Wipaporn took out a laptop and began typing out a profile. And it was in the description that they did their real work. He was widowed. Three times, they decided. That would be enough to ward off all but the most determined pursuit.

But it was Ladarat who created the crowning touch. Make him a writer, she suggested. A successful businessman who now spends his time writing self-help books for aspiring entrepreneurs. Mention how much he loves to work at home. Both Ladarat and Wipaporn made faces. The last thing any self-respecting girl would want, they knew, was to have a husband who was at home all the time.

“But…” Ladarat saw what seemed to be a big hole in their careful plan.

Wiriya and Wipaporn looked at her expectantly.

“When they meet…” She paused. “If they meet. Well… Peaflower will be expecting a Chinese businessman, will she not?”

Her two accomplices nodded. “Of course,” Wipaporn said.

“And I’ll dress the part,” Wiriya added. “Perhaps with a big fake Rolex.” He smiled.

That was well and good, but there was one thing Wiriya couldn’t fake. “You don’t speak Mandarin, do you?” she asked. “Surely with this… history of interactions with Chinese men, Peaflower will speak Mandarin. Perhaps Cantonese as well. And almost certainly she’ll speak in Chinese to put her new potential husband at ease. And when she does…”

She didn’t need to finish that thought. The baffled expressions of her accomplices made it very apparent that they hadn’t thought of this detail.

They looked at Ladarat with a combination of puzzlement and appreciation.

“It was lucky of you to have thought of that,” Wipaporn said.

“But not luck at all,” Wiriya added. “You have this ability to put yourself in other people’s shoes. To think about what they would do, and what they would want.” He smiled. “No, it is more of a skill.”

Ladarat was flattered that these two people—who certainly had many talents when it came to people—thought that she, too, had such abilities. But that pride faded rapidly as she realized they didn’t have a solution. As soon as Peaflower and Wiriya met, the game would be over.

None of them could think of a solution as Wipaporn uploaded the profile to the message board. “Well,” she said. “That’s all we can do for now.”

“And the problem of our Chinese businessman who only speaks Thai?” Wiriya looked glum.

Wipaporn shrugged. “Let’s hope we think of a solution before she arrives. If she arrives.”

“How long will we have to wait?” Ladarat asked.

“It depends,” Wipaporn admitted. “A day? A week? Maybe Peaflower is lying low for a while. Or maybe she became so rich she isn’t looking at all? But if she is, we’ll know soon.”