Cambodian Book of the Dead by Tom Vater Page A

flash, helped along by her outlandish tale, the monotonous, lazy rush of the surf and the shrill squawking of the seagulls, he was acutely aware of the terrible transience of life’s most wonderful moments. He sat in the shadow of the palm tree, as if paralysed, desperate to stop time.
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    A long while later, Maier shook his head. He’d made a promise to a vision, he knew that much. He smiled. Now he was in the story, in the case and on the case, now the action could begin. Now, he was sure, he had the case of a lifetime to work on.
    And who had named her Kaley?
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    DOG LOVER
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    The policeman was in his mid-fifties. Maier was standing on the first floor of a dilapidated villa when he saw him approach on a small motorcycle. He was fat and every time he drove through a pothole, the rusty vehicle beneath him bounced around like a balloon. An old German shepherd ran behind him.
    The ruined villa stood on oddly angled concrete pillars, had round windows and a spiral staircase with aspirations that extended beyond the first floor. The building, which stood in the centre of a long-abandoned palm orchard, looked like an unlikely prop from a war movie.
    The policeman, now stationary and sweating heavily, waved up to Maier. He took his cap off to wipe his broad forehead, and with these few gestures, he managed to convey the impression of an officer who’d not worked this hard in a long time. Maier jumped down the broken stairs and met the man halfway.
    The handshake was moist, almost wet, like his eyes. The man sweated so hard that he seemed to cry permanently. He also chewed betel – periodically, he spat huge blood-red gobs of juice onto the floor. A well-oiled side-arm hung from his belt. Otherwise, this cop looked scruffy.
    The dog had caught up and sniffed his way around Maier. Maier liked dogs and the policeman’s companion quickly lost interest.
    â€œPolice dog. Very good dog.”
    The policeman patted the head of the exhausted animal. People in Cambodia rarely showed this much affection to their domestic animals. Maier got the impression that the cop and the dog were very close.
    â€œ Soksabai .”
    â€œDo you want to buy this house?”
    His English was not bad, nor was it very clear.
    â€œI am just looking around.”
    â€œThis property for sale. But you go quick. Prices go up every year. Fifty percent.”
    The officer of the law swayed back and forth in front of Maier and for a second it looked as if he was about to embrace the German detective. The two men stood, silently facing each other. The cop looked at Maier with crying eyes. He’d lost the plot.
    â€œWhere you from?” he managed after a while.
    â€œFrom Germany.”
    â€œGermany is rich country.”
    It sounded like “I want to fuck you”. Maier let the statement stand.
    â€œMy name Inspector Viengsra.”
    â€œMy name is Maier.”
    Inspector Viengsra pulled a small red pill from his breast pocket and pushed it into his mouth. His teeth were almost completely black, perhaps that’s why he didn’t smile much.
    â€œ Ya-ba ?” Maier asked innocently.
    The policeman nodded gently and grinned, without showing teeth.
    â€œYou are friend of Mr Rolf?”
    â€œNo.”
    The inspector pulled a face and then pulled Maier onto a broken stone bench in the shadow of an old mango tree.
    â€œIf you want to buy land in Kep, you need friend. No friend, no land. Very difficult. Many people not honest, many document not right.”
    Maier shook his head in shock.
    Inspector Viengsra was recovering from the ordeal of his very recent activities, somewhat. Maier did not feel the need to ponder what this man did in his spare time. The public servant nodded solemnly and, wincing and with some difficulty, pulled a document from his hip pocket.
    â€œHere you see. This is real. For this beautiful house.”
    Maier turned around. The ruin which he had just wandered through was