Crinigan had not taken a holiday for many years. The last being to Spain, when his sons were children. However, this trip abroad, came with all expenses paid and a mystery that Crinigan looked forward to solving.
He had requested that he should be allowed to continue to investigate the John Doe that had remained unidentified in the morgue at New Scotland Yard for months.
His superiors eventually agreed, as they wanted the body, and the case, laid to rest as they had become fed up with cranks pestering them for stories about alien abductions and government cover ups, after the press had received a tip off from within the Met.
The Singapore airlines Boeing touched down in Phnom Penh after a seventeen hour flight. Donal enjoyed the flight, especially the several whiskeys and a few meals, but he felt grubby and wanted to shower.
Now into mid August, he’d presumed any trail would have gone cold, but when he had spoken to Dr Clerk on the phone, he assured him the trail wasn’t there to begin with, so there had been nothing to go cold. But as Timothy explained, he was a coroner and not a detective and this needed a good old fashioned investigation to give it some closure.
Timothy told Donal about recent rumours of strange lights around Ta Prohm, near where the body had been discovered and a secret city underground, however he said that they had been just old wives tales as nothing substantial had surfaced.
“Little green men,” joked Timothy.
“Yes,” said Crinigan “I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
He recalled a telephone conversation that he’d had previously with Nicholas Godfrey in the UK. Nick had told Donal that he had visited Cambodia, but could not shed any light on the subject and he had never visited any temples, so he was as confused as the detective. However Nick said that he intended to fly over again the following day, and he would contact Donal on his return in a few weeks time. That had been a few months ago and Nick had never contacted him again. Crinigan thought it pointless to continue with that line of investigation, as all Godfrey wittered on about was how two Englishmen had hexed him. Detective Crinigan therefore thought Nick to be bonkers.
‘Who knows, maybe Nick is still here and maybe I will run into him in a bar somewhere,’ he thought, that would be fun.
‘Hi my name is Nick and supposedly I’m dead’ Crinigan chuckled to himself.
****
The plane came to a stop outside the terminal and the detective gathered up papers that he had been studying on the plane, put them neatly back in his briefcase, got off the aircraft and walked into the terminal. He went through customs and immigration and into the open air of the terminal arrivals, meeting point.
“Donal, Donal!” came a shout from a small middle aged man, wearing wore rimmed glasses from behind a metal rail
Donal noticed the man shouting and went over and shook the hand of Dr Timothy Clerk.
“How did you know it was me?” asked Detective Crinigan.
“You look Irish, Donal” laughed Timothy
“Welcome to Cambodia, this is my wife, Chanda” and introduced Donal to the lady who stood at his side.
“The embassy has laid on a car for you and we have booked you a room in a hotel on Moa Tse Toung Boulevard. It is Sunday, so just relax and freshen up and feel your way around”. Said Clerk.
The party got into the embassies Cadillac STS V6 and drove towards the city centre to the intercontinental hotel. They chatted about the mystifying case and Timothy told Donal that he had gotten no useful information from the tour guide, or group that originally found the body. He also told Donal that a Colonel and an army sniper who worked for the Prime Ministers security force had disappeared around the same time, and place, but wasn’t sure if it had any relevance or could be connected, but maybe it could be another line of enquiry
“Maybe useful” said Donal and took out his notebook and scribbled some details down about Tighe and Tar.
Timothy made arrangements with Donal for the evening to go along to his house for dinner and then the following day they could proceed to Siem Reap and start the investigation and hopefully quickly solve the case, so the poor unfortunate individual in the Met’s morgue could be buried.
Dr Clerk advised that it would be better to get out of Phnom Penh as soon as possible, as a wedding was due to take place, involving the royal families of Cambodia and Thailand, which was being held in the silver Pagoda in a few days time, so the streets and roads would be blocked off to traffic, which would make travelling around the city difficult.
“Who was getting married, a Prince or something?” asked Crinigan.
Timothy chuckled “No, apparently it is two of the respective Royal family’s employees. An ex-Thai monk and a Khmer royal lady in waiting and, according to the press, the couple story had been a real life fairytale, so it will be a big event for the two nations.”
They pulled up outside the plush Intercontinental Hotel and Timothy escorted Donal inside and confirmed his room on the top 15th floor, “the best view in the city“ Timothy told him, they shook hands and Timothy left the hotel. The bell boy took Donals bag to his room.
‘Drink first’, thought Donal and headed to the hotel bar.
“Jameson’s whisky and a Guinness,” he requested the Khmer barman.
“No Guinness sir,” said the barman “but we do have ABC stout”
“Fine” said Donal “and make that a double Jameson’s”
Detective Crinigan felt the amber nectar hit the back of his throat, he swallowed and let out a satisfying ahhh.
It was too early to make a judgement about Cambodia, so he decided to finish his drink, shower then go out and take a lok around. Timothy had given Donal a mobile phone with a Cambodian sim card, with his number in the memory if he needed him. Donal looked at his watch ‘just after noon, another drink, shower and out’ he thought, as he gulped down the last of the whisky and took a swig of the bitter tasting stout.
“One more sir?” asked the bartender.
“Aye lad, one more double whisky, but no more of the stout, it tastes like Shite.”
“Top of the morning to you sir and the rest of the day for yourself” said a voice behind him.
Crinigan spun around on his stool and saw a man stood behind him dressed in chefs whites.
“That is the worst Irish accent imitation that I’ve ever heard” said Crinigan and continued, “You must be English.”
The chef laughed and in a posh southern English accent said,
“How did you guess?” and an evil smirk came over his face, as he extended his hand to shake Donals.
“I’m Richard....are you here on holiday?”
THE END