The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery Read Online Free Page A

shook her head ‘no.’ She meant it.
    He reluctantly shuffled to her side. “And what trouble did Nam drop in your lap? We’ve got the wedding to think about Oum. We can’t be lending out any more money.”
    Declan softened and wrapped his arms around her. She was always there to help a friend in distress.
    “Nam, Marty’s wife.”
    His ears jumped. Martin Gay’s wife was in no need of money. She was fat. Thoughts of the futon faded. “I was called down to police headquarters this morning baby.”
    “Why?” Oum asked.
    “A man, a Bangkok man, questioned me about Martin Gay.”
    Her eyes opened wide. She reached into her purse and produced the envelope Nam had given her. She slid it across the table. Declan recognized it for what it was. He was paid in the same fashion down at headquarters. Only this was fatter. He picked it up and held it in his hands. He didn’t need to open it. “There’s one hundred large in here Pilsbury Dough girl.”
    Oum nodded. “Doc Martin leave it with Nam. He say to give it to you if have problem.”
    “What kind of problem?”
    “She say government man come to see Marty. Next day he go to meeting and he never come back. Nam want you to find her husband. She say Marty say you are the true friend and you will take care sure.”
    Declan flipped the envelope from hand to hand. Martin Gay was a con-artist, a good one. That was beyond a doubt. But what was the con?  He continued to toss the envelope in the air. The smart move was to give it back. Getting in bed with Martin Gay meant trouble. The envelope fell to the floor with a thud. He picked it up. It was fat. Everybody was getting fat.
    His mind traced back to the last he had heard from Marty. The time he didn’t mention to Bangkok Man. It was at Best Bar, Oum’s pride and joy. In came ‘Doc’ Martin. He was off the wagon and all lathered up. Declan thought they would finally come to blows. But his former friend had a different way to rub his nose in the dirt. Marty hopped on the bar and gleefully rang the bell. Not once but twice. He grabbed the microphone. “Sold the company! Made a shitload of dough! So go fuck yourself Declan Power.” Before exiting the pub a hero, he ambled up to Declan, spit in his face, and tossed a roll of bills into his lap.
    Declan had blown up Martin Gay’s TEFL scam, torpedoed his reputation, all on the front page. But there he was, walking around all puffed up, walking around fat. Declan Power slammed the envelope on the table. He had an idea.  
    He took Oum’s cherubic face gently in his meaty palms. “Baby, here’s what we’re going to do.”
     
    The beginning of a story, a truly juicy tale, was like the beginning of a relationship. It was exhilarating. Still there was an element of danger, turf never travelled. The bird would take flight with one wrong move. Trust needed to be built. Declan took a long drag off his Marlboro. He had promised Oum he would quit, but now he was on the chase, a story to be romanced, to be tracked down. The sticks would be cast away later.
    He could sit on his balcony, gaze up at the famed mountain monastery of Doi Suthep, and formulate a story in his head. A Jack and Coke cast his mind towards the scent. It was time to game-plan. He’d meet the ‘Mayor’ tonight. Martin Gay had gone missing. If he was hunkered down in Chiang Mai most likely the ‘Mayor’ would know about it. The how was anybody’s guess. But this man held the pulse of Chiang Mai in his palm. That was step one.
    The Chief had finally contacted him via sms. ‘Tomorrow, 19:00, meet at Pom Pui, bring wife.’ It was a strange message. The chase was off to a good start. Strange is good when dealing with a potentially hot story. The odder the details meant a hotter account. And something truly odd was going on at the station. That was step two.
    Ben Post was another matter. He shook his head, drunk by mid-afternoon. Ben was his best friend in the city. He could trust Ben with just about