“So, what do we do now?” asked Daeng.

“We try to work out why Yuki would involve us. Why did he send me the diary? We need to have ourselves a serious brainstorm and, for that, we need beer with a small b.”

They sat on the odd chairs looking out over the water. The sun was smearing a purple bruise across the horizon. The clouds were highlighted in lilacs and mauves, the river pink. The bougainvillea bush in front of the balcony was being ravaged by a hostile gang of purple butterflies. It was the type of scene that would have graced the photo albums of all the tourists the government dreamed would one day come to appreciate the country and spend their money. But this evening only Siri and Daeng could be bothered to enjoy it. There was another ugly hotel being built on the far bank and they hoped the Lao would someday build an even uglier one in revenge.

It was a hot early evening that anticipated more rain. The couple waved paper fans in front of their faces. Thanks to the generator the beer was cold but the ideas were not flowing.

“It has to have something to do with my reputation as an internationally renowned crime fighter,” said Siri at last.

“That, or the fact that you can read at all,” said Daeng.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it like this. Yuki-san recovers the diary from Satsai’s house in the village. He knows somehow that Hiro has gold or whatever. He can read the Japanese section but it tells him nothing. Half the diary is written in Lao language. The few academics we have here got their qualifications in French language. Most of them fled in ’75. We’re left with school teachers with classes up to grade six with no textbooks and college tutors with degrees in Russian. The teachers have nothing stimulating to read so they’ve not developed a reading habit. Hiro’s diary would be beyond the comprehension of almost everyone in Laos.”

“Apart from Satsai,” said Siri.

“But Yuki-san isn’t about to recruit the man from whom he’d stolen the diary to explain the hidden meanings in it,” said Daeng.

“And I doubt Satsai would have seen it as anything but a literary masterpiece,” said Siri. “What Yuki-san needed was someone with a reading background, with a track record of solving mysteries, with research resources and endless retirement hours.”

“Enter Dr. Siri. Someone recommended you to Yuki-san, someone who admired your work. You were the perfect man for the job and, voila, here you are solving the mystery just as he planned.”

“But he doesn’t know that,” said Siri. “All that effort would only be worthwhile if he was sitting here with us taking notes.”

The screeching of the cicadas was momentarily drowned out by the grinding of cogs.

“Oh, shit,” said Siri who had reached his conclusion only seconds before Daeng.