CITY OF ANGELS – A Murder Story in 30 Chapters (Part 2)

On Thailandblog you can read the pre-publication of the thriller 'City of Angels' which, as the title suggests, takes place entirely in Bangkok and was written by Lung Jan. Today part 2.

Chapter 2.

Clearly against his will, the slick company lawyer, who apparently never sweated, opened the front door of the spacious, classically French-looking villa Anuwat and his wife moved into in the green and residential area of ​​Dusit. The beautifully renovated building was originally built as a consulate for one of those Western powers who, in order to safeguard their own colonial ambitions, had put a limit to the territorial expansion of the still very popular among the population at the end of the nineteenth century. Siamese King Chulalongkorn.

J. gave the lawyer and Anong, who followed closely behind him, a brief wave of the hand to understand that he preferred to enter alone. He could work better when he was alone. A beautiful watercolor with a Chinese mountain scene by Zhang Daqian in the spacious entrance hall reminded J. of the owner's refined taste. Anuwat may have been an asshole, but he was an asshole who knew something about higher aesthetics and about investing, because a smaller work by this Chinese artist was in the catalog of the next Christie's auction in New York, estimated at a minimum of between 200 and 300.000 USD…. J. walked slowly on and looked with great concentration at the art everywhere, the expertly displayed antiques, the opulent and especially expensive fabrics. He had to admit he was impressed. His experience had taught him that it didn't happen often with the 'new riches' who settled in the City of Angels that good taste and money went together. This interior was truly exceptional and a feast for the eyes. Either Anuwat had an absolute topper of an interior designer or he knew damn well what he was doing fashionable was and especially how he had to show this…

Everything in the living room had been left as it had been found. Although the three bodies had been professionally removed and may have disappeared forever, the place where they had been was still clearly recognizable. The photos taken immediately after the discovery of the theft showed that the two security guards and the elderly maid, blindfolded and handcuffed, had sat on their knees next to each other when they had each been cold-bloodedly wounded in the neck. Without emotions. Ice cold, reasoned and ruthless. J. hoped they hadn't suffered. The cleaning products, the pungent smell of which still lingered in the house, and which had been used to remove the blood and other residue, had more than done their job, leaving light stains on the antique teak floor. There was also another very distinctive smell that J. recognized all too well as the brassy smell of blood and death.

After carefully going through all the rooms, J. took a seat in a very comfortable Eames Lounge Chair in the spacious living room and called Anong over. 'How long were the guards and maid on duty?'

"Gosh, I don't know exactly." she said with a furrowed brow. J. noticed she was one of those rare women who became even more attractive when they frowned…”The guards had been under contract here for at least three years. The maid had been with the family for over sixteen years. She lived with the cook in the small staff house at the back of the garden.'

 'And where was the cook on the day of the break-in? '

'No idea. At least not here. He was off. Monday is his day off. '

' I assume that all references of staff have been checked, including those of the security people? '

'Yes that's right.'

In the center of the seating area was the heavy sandstone pedestal on which the Buddha statue had stood. The thieves had tipped it with the glass security cabinet through the Neoliticio coffee table, one of the icons of contemporary Italian design. Hundreds of shards were strewn around the plinth like glittering diamonds. J. looked uncomprehendingly at the havoc. Foreign. Why this violence? Senseless vandalism and senseless bloodshed apparently went hand in hand…

'Where did the safety display case monitoring take place? '

'In the securityroom.'

'Hm… So the lasers have been switched off manually there?'

'Yes, there's almost no other way.'

The more he took in the space, the more strange it seemed to J. that only this statue – however fabulously expensive and unique it might be – had been stolen. In the beautiful hardwood Japanese-looking Montis Design display unit that divided the living room in two was one of the most beautiful collections of antiquarian figurines from the Khmer empire that J. had seen in years, with a beautiful, almost one meter high, four-armed bronze Lokanatha in the center of the Sri Vijayapura style. A masterpiece from the mid thirteenth century. This statue alone was worth a small fortune…. Bizarrely, because it must have been at least two, maybe more, the thieves hadn't lifted a finger. It seemed that their only concern had been to hit Anuwat where it hurt him the most. But who would be crazy enough to provoke Anuwat in this way? Was there a reckless lunatic somewhere in the City of Angels who was tired of his life? How curious…

'Has a ransom been demanded?'

'No…. And that alone is a test on Uncle's nerves… Do you think there will be a ransom? '

"Probably not, too much time has passed for that and… it's J. not you…"

'I'll note that last one,'  Anong laughed.   

J., meanwhile, had got up and walked again, lost in thought, to the mess that had once been the very trendy coffee table. He crouched down and inspected the scene extensively. The statue's plinth was made of polished laterite, the orange-brown sandstone that had been the favorite building material of the Khmer lords a thousand years ago. According to his estimate, the block weighed at least two hundred and fifty or even three hundred kilos. Way too heavy to be tipped by one man alone…. Intrigued, he looked around the room again and suddenly asked 'Is there a safe here?'

'Yes, but she has remained untouched… Although…' She immediately took a piece of paper from her red folder. Stunned, J. looked at the note that read 'THANKS !' and a broad smile smiley, which the burglars, as if to defy Anuwat, had left on the door of the safe…. What kind of bizarre, unusual case was this? Suddenly he didn't know what to ask anymore. He didn't know how to put it into words, but there was no point in this case. All the time he had the bizarre feeling that the answers he was getting were always just wrong… Strange… He was trying with all his might to understand a completely incomprehensible situation. To imagine the unthinkable. Slowly but surely a pattern began to form in his head, but it defied all logic. Although, logic… In all the years he had tried to understand the Thai psyche, he had learned that logic was not their forte, but this really beat everything. Intensive preparation, close teamwork, a lot of money and the necessary logistical support were essential to successfully break into a fortress-guarded and secured building like this. This operation, which may have taken months to prepare, had been carried out with almost military-like precision. It was therefore incomprehensible that these burglars had not touched the safe or other valuables. And then there was the scale of violence, the broken coffee table and the brutal murders. Completely pointless. This method fit like a pair of pincers on a pig. On the one hand an extraordinarily meticulously planned burglary and on the other an explosion of blind rage and ruthless violence. As if two different perpetrators were at work at the same time. A Thai version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde..? Not only his gut feeling told him that this picture just wasn't right. These were anything but ordinary thieves. And what the hell was their motive? Even that old half-senile Agatha Christie sock already knew:There is no murder without a motive… ' This really didn't make any sense.

J. considered his options, but they were in fact very limited. If this statue had been stolen on commission, it might never be resurfaced, but it would undoubtedly become the showpiece of a private collector. Placing it on the market would be even more unlikely and tantamount to suicide because it never stayed under the radar for long. In the worst case, it would be melted down. He couldn't imagine that this could actually happen...

Over the years he had built up a very interesting network of useful contacts in the most diverse circles in the capital, but experience had also taught him that when he farang indiscriminately into the environment, or even asking questions at its periphery, this would surely set off alarm bells. And no one was waiting for that. This file required a much more subtle approach than what he was usually used to. So he decided to call his old buddy Tanawat. But first he had to visit an old girlfriend. He left the house with a head full of questions.

Back in the garden, on the neatly trimmed and surprisingly green lawn for this city, J. took one last look at the villa: a deceptively harmonious picture of absolute peace and deep tranquility. On the other side of the high, barbed wire-lined wall, the city grunted and clawed, restless, merciless and cruel…

To be continued….