Behind the Night Bazaar Read Online Free PDF Page A

her hands to stop him kissing her. ‘Sweetheart?’
    ‘What?’ He raised his head so they were eye to eye.
    ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ she said.
    ‘Why not?’ He sounded offended.
    ‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just…to be honest, this is fucking with my head.’
    ‘Well, it’s not your head I want to fuck with.’ He squeezed a nipple between his fingers, a spasm of pleasure ricocheting to her groin.
    ‘That’s not fair,’ she said, flustered. ‘I mean it, Didi. I’m not comfortable with this.’
    ‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ Didier rolled over and propped himself up on one arm. ‘What is it? What’s wrong, Jayne?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said, searching for her clothes. ‘This just doesn’t feel right.’
    ‘But I thought you wanted it,’ Didier said, watching as she retrieved her underwear.
    ‘I do!’ she said. ‘At least, I thought I did. I don’t know! Don’t take it the wrong way,’ she added, seeing the hurt on his face. ‘I just don’t know where it would leave us. I mean, sex is the perfect way to ruin a friendship.’
    ‘Maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘Or maybe it could be the start of something else.’
    Jayne frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean by that, but I’d be very careful about making promises you can’t keep.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Look, let’s not talk now.’ Jayne zipped up her jeans and sat down beside him. ‘I’m going to stay in a hotel—’
    ‘You don’t have to do that.’
    ‘No, I will. I mean, you’ve still got things to sort out with Nou, remember?’
    Didier groaned. ‘ Merde ! Jayne, I’m sorry. What can I say? My life’s a mess at the moment.’ He took her hand. ‘Just tell me I haven’t damaged our relationship.’
    She shook her head and squeezed his hand. ‘It’s OK. And I’m sorry, too. Let’s talk tomorrow.’
    Didier kissed her palm, reaching up with his free hand to trace the scar above her elbow.
    ‘You still haven’t told me how it happened,’ he said softly.
    ‘It was an error of judgment,’ she said.

T he body in the bar was mutilated beyond recognition, but the wallet identifying him had been left on a nearby table as if out of courtesy to the police. For Officer Komet Plungkham it was a relief to examine its contents, even though it was a job for a rookie cop. The lieutenant colonel’s condescending smile implied as much as he issued the order. Komet didn’t care.
    He chalked around the black leather wallet so forensics could place it, and extracted an identification card with latex-clad fingers. He stared at a head-and-shoulders photo of a boyish-looking young man, as if he might transpose the image onto the body. Instead, the photograph mutated before him, triangular gashes appearing on the broad forehead and each of the smooth cheeks. But that was not the worst of it. At first, Komet thought what lay beside the bloodied corpse was a rat and took a closer look. Clutching his stomach and retching, he staggered over to an open drain to vomit. The young man had been castrated.
    By the time his colleagues had responded to his radio call, Komet had cleaned himself up, tightening his belt one notch to keep his shirt tucked in and restoring his hat, pressing it down hard over his thick mane of hair.
    ‘He was Sanga Siamprakorn,’ Komet said now, making an effort to keep his voice steady. ‘Age twenty-four. Born in Ayuthaya. Lives in the Hang Dong district.’
    ‘I believe he hangs out more often round Loh Kroh,’ offered Sergeant Pornsak.
    Pornsak Boonyavivat had the swagger of a man who believed himself irresistible to women. And it was true he turned a few heads, having inherited his Chinese father’s fair skin and bone structure, and his Thai mother’s generous lips and lean physique. But on closer inspection, something made women inclined to walk on. Pornsak had joined the force a year before Komet and acted ten years his senior, though at twenty-five—both born in the Year