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

life of hard outdoor labor and just enough food—mostly fruit and fish and sticky rice—to survive.
    He stooped, keeping his head at a respectful level below hers. And that was difficult for the poor man, since she herself was only one and a half meters tall. Then he returned her greeting with a mumble that was barely audible and offered a deep wai . Joining his hands, palms together, in front of his chest, he brought his nose down to touch his fingertips, bending almost double at the waist. It was as deep a wai as Ladarat would offer the dean of the school of nursing, or a high government official.
    Yet despite that demonstration of profound respect, the man did not linger. Instead, after a pause that was just long enough to avoid an appearance of disrespect, he scooped up an old gray burlap bag that had been behind him, slung it crosswise over his shoulder, and scurried toward the hallway. It was only as he padded away that Ladarat noticed that he wasn’t wearing shoes.
    But she didn’t have time to think about that, because Khun Suphit was waiting for her at the large double doors to the ICU. He’d been watching her interaction with the Karen man, and now he was nodding.
    “Yes, it’s strange,” he said. “The man arrived here last night. I don’t know who he’s here to see. He just sits and waits. And he’ll run away if you try to talk to him. Last night the charge nurse told him he couldn’t stay there all night, so he left, but I don’t know where he went. Then first thing this morning he was back.”
    “If he’s from a village, it’s likely he doesn’t have a place to stay here, or anything to eat,” she said. And that is no way to treat a guest, she thought.
    He nodded. “I’ll make sure the volunteers know to send him to Wat Sai Moon.” Many staff prayed at that temple and gave their donations there to make merit. In return, the monks would visit patients and would take in visitors who needed a place to stay.
    The man might not want to accept their hospitality. Indeed, he had seemed almost painfully shy and was almost certainly overwhelmed by the big city. It was, in all likelihood, the first time he’d been to Chiang Mai, and almost certainly the first time he’d been in a hospital. So it was all the more important that they make him welcome.
    As Professor Dalrymple said: “You must always treat a patient’s family as an extension of your patient.”
    “But…” the director said.
    “But?”
    He sighed. “I’m only thinking of the Royal Inspectors. They will be here next Monday, you recall?”
    She certainly did recall. Indeed, hardly a waking moment in the past month had gone by that Ladarat hadn’t paused to recall that impending event. And if she did forget, there were the frequent reminders from Khun Tippawan, the Director of Excellence.
    “And it won’t do to have this man in his bare feet in our waiting room.” He paused, and then, perhaps sensing her im-pending objection, he asked a question that she hadn’t thought of. “Would you see a man like this outside the ICU of the University of Chicago?”
    “No, Khun,” she agreed. “You would not.”
    “It’s not that it is bad that he is here necessarily. But it is not the sort of scientific and academic image we want to present to the inspectors, is it?”
    Ladarat agreed that was probably true. But she also thought that if one of the inspectors were in the ICU, they would want their visiting family members treated with respect and courtesy, no matter what those family members looked like. And whether those family members wore shoes.
    But there would be time later to consider the ethical rights of a barefoot visitor. For now, there was work to be done.
    As Khun Suphit led her through the glossy steel double doors that swung open automatically, it was as if she’d stepped back in time to her days at the University of Chicago five years ago. Indeed, what she saw was an ICU to make the director proud. The Sriphat Hospital