Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness Read Online Free PDF Page A

Thailand.
    So she would have to help. No question. But this was the director’s responsibility as well.
    “Then we should meet with her together,” she suggested. “I will need to ask you for the medical details and prognosis, and of course, the importance of your position and status will make the conversation easier.”
    A little flattery, Ladarat had always found, worked wonders with doctors. With everyone, actually. But with doctors more than most.
    Yet the director did not seem to be overly enthusiastic about this plan. He looked down at his hands. Then up at the tiny mail slot window set high into the wall behind her.
    “You are the expert in injuries of this type,” she explained gently. “Everyone knows this. It would seem strange, would it not, if you were absent for such an important discussion?”
    This direct appeal to his vanity was her last hope. The director considered for a moment. At last, Khun Suphit seemed to agree that his absence would be strange indeed. He nodded.
    “But you will do the talking?”
    What could she say? She nodded. “I will do the talking.”
    The director stood up, at least partly relieved. This meeting had not gone quite as well as he’d hoped, but it had gone better than he’d feared.
    And that, Ladarat had always thought, was the way things usually worked out. One’s hopes are never fully realized. Or almost never. But on the other hand, one’s fears are not usually justified. If she were wise enough to write a book like Professor Dalrymple’s, that would be the sort of advice she would offer.
    “Then we should go now,” the director announced.
    “Now?” Ladarat’s stomach gave a modest lurch of protest as she realized that there would be no khao neo dam in her immediate future. Nor would she be able to begin her work as a detective. Nor would she be able to prepare for the upcoming inspection.
    “Right now,” the director said. “You see, she has been transferred out of the ICU and is in a private ward. And the man’s parents are here. They flew here last night from Alb… Alb…”
    “Albuquerque?”
    “Yes, that’s it. Al-bu-quer-que. And they want to know what is happening.”
    “I’m certain that they do.”
    And she was certain, too, that the man’s parents wanted their son to get the best possible care. No doubt they were deeply suspicious that anyone could get the best possible care in Thailand, of all places. If he’d had the good fortune to be in a Bangkok hospital, which everyone knew rivaled the best in the United States. Instead, they were here in Chiang Mai. Little more than a point of departure for tourists and trekkers venturing into the wild forests of the Golden Triangle. At least that was what they thought.
    So she would need to reassure them that Sriphat Hospital was the equal of any hospital in Bangkok. Or Albuquerque. Or even Chicago, for that matter. But that, she knew, wasn’t going to be easy.
    As Ladarat rose to follow Khun Suphit out of her little office, her gaze rested for a moment on Professor Dalrymple’s wise book. She thought of another wise passage from that very wise book: “One must never tell a patient that there is no hope. There is always hope. It’s just a matter of helping our patients hope for what is reasonable.”
    That was good advice indeed. But what could this poor man’s family hope for? And certainly there was no simple aphorism that could offer comfort to his wife. Still, perhaps Ladarat could offer something.

THE ETHICAL RIGHTS OF A BAREFOOT VISITOR
    K hun Suphit led the way, swinging his thick arms around a broad middle section as he strode down the low-ceilinged hallway. It was not difficult to remain a few deferential steps behind him as they walked to the north elevators. The director moved very quickly for a man of such… roundness.
    She caught up with him at the elevator, just as the doors slid open. It seemed to have been waiting for him. Odd how some people inspire the world to give them what