PAWS TO SEE CHIANG MAI

Eeehhh, that is probably a very small apartment. This was Ladarat’s first thought as she nosed her squawking car down the narrow soi to which Jonah had e-mailed her directions. Every few meters the little car sensed an imminent threat to its silver paint or its fenders, and it emitted a shrill warning as Ladarat squeezed by trash cans and signposts and a fruit seller’s stand. The apartments in this section of the Old City seemed so crammed together that the families shared living space and balconies. Four adults plus—soon—a baby? Oh, dear. That was her first thought.

Her second thought was a fervent plea that this soi wasn’t a dead end, because she’d never be able to back up through the twists and turns that had taken her here.

And then, in the background, an ill-defined third thought slipped into her head. Less a thought than a sense of unease, no more defined than the cool mist that would spread across the Ping River on especially cold days, it said: Is this a waste of time? Wiriya’s dismissal last night of these disappearances had been easy enough to ignore in the confident afterglow of a good meal and kanom maprao. Kanom maprao was a powerful eraser of doubts and anxieties.

But now? In the harsh light of morning, without any coconut dessert nearby, Ladarat had to ask herself: Was this just a silly amusement?

That possibility brought her little car abruptly to a halt.

As she sat there, hemmed in on all sides, a new worry occurred to her. As if she didn’t have enough worries. What if Jonah wasn’t ready? What if he didn’t see her? As she woke up this morning, she’d realized that she’d neglected to get his cell phone number, so she couldn’t call him.

Her car was blocking the narrow soi like a cork in a bottle. Only a slender person could get by on either side; perhaps a bicycle, but certainly not a motor scooter or another car.

But she needn’t have worried. Jonah was waiting in a doorway just ahead, the collar of his windbreaker turned up against the cool morning air and the steady breeze that was funneled down the soi. He greeted her and climbed into the passenger seat as the little car settled under his not inconsiderable bulk.

Ladarat’s old yellow Beetle would have found an imaginative way to protest, by squeaking or stalling. But this soulless machine lacked the necessary creativity to voice its misgivings and simply accepted its extra burden as a matter of course. As usual, it confined its communication to alarmed warnings that there was an obstacle to the left or to the right, or in this case, in all four directions, since they were surrounded by walls and trash cans that came to within half a meter of both sides of the car, which had required Jonah to execute a feat of gymnastics to shoehorn his large self into the car.

“It’s lucky you were waiting—I’m afraid if I stayed here long I’d cause a traffic jam.”

Jonah laughed. “No, not luck. Not so much.” He paused. “To tell the truth, it’s nice to be able to get out of the house. You could have come an hour earlier, Khun, and I would have been out here waiting.”

Actually, she couldn’t have come much earlier. She’d stayed up very late the night before, reading. Ladarat consoled herself with the thought that what she was reading was improving her mind. It was called A Nail Through the Heart, by Khun Timothy Hallinan. It was in English, because that’s all that was available at Back Street Books.

It was a mystery—not something that Ladarat would normally pick up, but the clerk at the bookstore had recommended it heartily when Ladarat asked for a book about how to be a detective. So she thought: Why not? It would be a pleasant way to improve her detection skills, and perhaps to practice her English as well.

She’d stayed up reading about Poke, the detective, and Rose, his girlfriend, and Miaow, his daughter, long after Wiriya had fallen asleep. When Wiriya left, he turned off the alarm and let her sleep. But feeling guilty in her subconscious, she dreamed that the hospital director asked her to move her office back to the small closet in the basement that she used to inhabit.

“You are not earning your nice, new office,” the dream director told her sadly. “The Director of Excellence is coming back, and in fact she’s on the overnight bus from Bangkok right now. She’ll arrive in the morning, and I’m afraid that you must move back to the basement.”

That guilt was enough to wake Ladarat up. She was still running late, and she just had time to take a shower and dress, and drink a single cup of blue peaflower tea as she spooned some dry cat food into Maewfawbaahn’s bowl, slopping half of his breakfast on the tile floor. Then she drove as fast as she could so as not to keep Jonah waiting, since he was doing her a favor, after all.

Moments later, Jonah emerged from a doorway and eased his bulk into her car, which listed under his weight. Then they were under way.

“Ah—turn left there.”

That turn required a few seesaws back and forth to urge the car around, and it induced increasingly frantic warnings about impending doom on all four sides. But then this new soi expanded to a more welcoming width, and soon they were out on a main street and heading toward the Magic Grove Hotel.

Ladarat knew the way, so driving required little concentration. It was a little after nine o’clock—past rush hour. Besides, they were traveling out of the city, in the opposite direction of many of the harried commuters rushing in the other direction, late for work.

Once they were on the road proper, Jonah heaved a big sigh of relief. “It’s not that I don’t like Krista’s parents, Khun Ladarat. No, not at all. It’s wonderful to have them here, and of course they’re very good to come. Such a long trip, and so many cultural differences that they’ve had to understand.”

“They must love their daughter very much.”

Jonah nodded, watching as they passed a woman on a bicycle balancing one child on a rack behind the seat, and another, smaller child on her lap. The car squawked its usual warning about the threat the little family posed to its paintwork.

“Khun Ladarat? That woman … do you think perhaps she is a little close to this car?”

Ladarat nodded. “Perhaps. I would think that she would be a little more careful, with two children. But I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.” Ladarat glanced over at Jonah. “That is why Krista’s parents are here, no doubt. Because they care very much about her.”

“Yes, they love her very much.” Jonah turned back to look at the little family on the bicycle, although why he found them so fascinating Ladarat wasn’t sure.

“And me, too, I think. But my job … well … that’s not something they’re fond of.”

“You told them where you work?”

“Not in so many words …” He paused. “Well, not exactly.” Another pause. “Well, not at all, to tell the truth. They heard from one of our neighbors that I work in a bar.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Exactly.”

“Her parents are … Mormons?”

Jonah nodded.

“So perhaps it would be good if you found another job?”

Jonah nodded emphatically. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Khun Siriwan, but I’m sure she could find someone to take my place.”

“So what would you do?”

“Well … I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“A business idea,” Jonah clarified. Then: “An idea for a business.”

Ladarat was wondering what that might be when she realized at the last moment that she was about to miss the turnoff from the ring road that encircles the outskirts of Chiang Mai. She swung the car resolutely across two lanes of traffic, producing frantic honks from several cars and the roar of an air horn from a rather large truck. At least its front grille was quite large—that was all she could see.

But then they were on the ramp and then the road that led through rice paddies and into the forest north of the city.

“So what kind of business? Perhaps I could offer advice?”

Jonah seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. Ladarat hoped he wasn’t about to get carsick. That would be a shame, what with her new car.

“You didn’t need to drive this morning, you know, Khun. I could have taken the bus.”

Now Jonah was taking deep, regular breaths. Good. He would be all right. And it was nice of him to worry about her, even when he himself was feeling so poorly.

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be right. You’re doing me a favor. And of course I’ll give you a ride home at the end of the day.”

Jonah gulped and tightened his grip on the handle above the passenger door. Perhaps her passenger wasn’t well.

“You’re not carsick, are you? I could pull over.” She turned her attention to her passenger, who did indeed look a little green. “Khun Jonah, you’re sweating.” Ladarat leaned over so she could get a better look at her passenger’s face, which did indeed seem unnaturally pale. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

The whoop of an air horn from a truck hurtling toward them pulled Ladarat’s attention back to the road. She was surprised to note that the yellow line on the tarmac had managed to work its way under the car, from where it had been on the right, the last time she’d looked. You really did have to keep an eye on these things. She corrected the car’s course, thinking that her yellow Beetle wouldn’t have meandered back and forth like a drunken businessman.

“So tell me about this business idea.” She snuck a quick glance at Jonah, who was still sweating and clutching the door handle like a lifeline. She should take his mind off his symptoms. She should distract him. The traffic wasn’t too bad; she didn’t need to devote much attention to the road ahead.

“I’m sure it’s a good idea—tell me?”

“Well, it’s about dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Sure.” Jonah took a couple of deep breaths and focused on the road ahead. “You know how farang tourists come to Chiang Mai? I see them all the time; they try to make friends with the dogs outside the shops here. And many of them say they miss their dogs back at home. But of course they can’t travel with their dogs.”

“So you’re going to … sell them dogs?”

That didn’t seem like such an excellent idea to Ladarat, but she’d be the first to admit that her cousin Siriwan inherited all of the business acumen in their family.

“No, Khun. Not sell. Rent. We’d rent dogs to farang. They would feel sad because they’re missing their dog at home. So they would go to our website and place a request. Then we would drop a dog off at their hotel. With a leash and supplies, of course. Then they would have that dog for a day, or perhaps longer. They could go for walks, just as they would at home. They wouldn’t feel lonely. And the best part, Khun, is that they would advertise.”

“Advertise?”

“Of course. That was Krista’s idea. We would get them vests that identify them as one of our dogs. And those vests would have the name of our business: ‘Paws to see Chiang Mai.’ ‘Paws’ as in dog feet, you see? There would be a website and a phone number, too. So the farang would be walking their dog, and other farang would stop them and say how cute their dog is. And then they would see the advertising, and they’d think—”

“I should do that, too!”

“Exactly so. Our customers would do our advertising for us.”

Ladarat had to admit that was a good plan. But there was at least one flaw that she could think of.

“And these dogs? Where would you keep them?”

“Well, that’s a problem. We hardly have enough room in our flat for the two of us. And now with four … or five … Well, it’s just not possible.”

Jonah looked out the window at the passing scenery. As the rice paddies disappeared, the traffic died away and they were alone on a road that stretched out through the dense forest. That seemed to make his carsickness better. Perhaps there was something about the other cars on the road that caused people to feel ill, if they were predisposed? She would have to ask one of her doctor colleagues about that.

Now Jonah shrugged and turned to her. “Well, it is a good idea, don’t you think?”

Ladarat agreed that it was a very good idea. And if the only problem was finding a place to keep a team of dogs, that wasn’t such an impossible problem. But when she said as much, Jonah shrugged again.

“No, Khun. There’s also the matter of getting dogs who are well trained. And vaccinations, and feeding them, and transporting them back and forth.”

“You’d need a … what do do you call it?”

“A backer,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “Exactly. We’d need a backer. But who am I kidding? Who would give me money to start a business like that?” Then he looked up, almost smiling. “Still, maybe this temporary job will turn into something permanent. I could be … a detective’s assistant!”

Oh, dear. That was the last thing she needed. But hopefully Jonah was joking.

“So what should I be looking for?”

“Well, first, you must be careful. Very careful.”

Jonah laughed, although not unkindly. “Khun Ladarat, do you really think there is any danger here? It’s a hotel, after all. How perilous could it be? And what sort of danger might confront me?”

“I don’t know.” And, truly, she didn’t. The more she thought about this, the more convinced she became that there wasn’t anything nefarious going on at all, let alone any nefariousness that posed a danger to someone of Jonah’s bulk.

“Well, it’s possible that people who stay here then disappear.”

“How many people?”

Ladarat admitted that she didn’t know.

“So where do they go when they disappear?”

Ladarat admitted she had no idea.

“And the motive, Khun Ladarat? What would be the motive for a hotel to make people disappear?”

Ladarat was stumped. In all of her thinking about this, that was a question that hadn’t occurred to her. What motive indeed? Why on earth would a hotel want to make paying customers disappear?

“Ah, to tell the truth, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“You hadn’t?”

Jonah sounded genuinely surprised—as if he’d just now realized that she, Ladarat Patalung, was not in fact a detective but only a nurse. A nurse ethicist, perhaps, but not someone adept at the fine art of detection, and not someone who was skilled at thinking about motives.

“No,” she admitted. “It just seemed … suspicious.”

“Oh, well, it certainly is,” Jonah agreed, a little too heartily, perhaps.

Whether he was trying to make her feel better or whether it was because they had slowed to turn into the hotel’s gravel driveway, Ladarat wasn’t sure. But as soon as the car slowed down, he began to breathe more easily and he released the door handle for the first time in the past ten minutes.

“You can let me off here,” Jonah said as they turned into the circle in front of the main entrance.

“Perhaps I should wait? Perhaps if there’s a problem, or if she’s found someone else for the position, you’ll need a ride home.”

“No, no, Khun. You’re very kind, but that seems unlikely. You only spoke with her yesterday, right? And Khun Siriwan called her last night while I was there, and they reached an agreement. And besides,” he said, extracting his large frame and closing the door behind him, “I can always take the bus back.”

Jonah leaned down through the passenger window, bending his frame like a giraffe. “I know this bus route—the bookkeeper at the Tea House lives this way, and he says the buses come very often. Very, very often.”

“Well, still, be careful.”

Jonah nodded, although he seemed to be suppressing a smile. “Of course, Khun. I’ll be careful. And whatever happens, I’ll give you a call on my way home.”

“And of course call me if you need a ride,” Ladarat called out after him. “I’d be happy to drive out and pick you up.” But Jonah was hurrying toward the front door, and she wasn’t sure that he heard her.