Bangkok Haunts
I shake my head: “No, it was sent to me anonymously, to my home.” She gives me a knowing look: a personal angle here.
“And the body, where was it found? At the crime scene?”
“No. It had been returned to her apartment, laid neatly on the bed. Forensics say she must have been killed somewhere else.”
Now the American Hero emerges. “We’re gonna get them, Sonchai. Tell me what you need and I’ll find a way of getting it to you.”
“Don’t make promises,” I say, “this isn’t Iraq.”
She frowns. I guess a lot of Americans are tired of hearing those kinds of jibes. “No, but that movie had a certain style, a certain professionalism about it and if that alpha male isn’t North American, I’ll turn in my badge.”
“A Hollywood production?”
“For something like that, frankly the U.S. is the first place I would start looking. Specifically California, but not Hollywood. The San Fernando valley, maybe, with international connections. This could tie in with what I’m doing Stateside.”
“What would you look for, he was wearing a gimp mask?”
“The eye holes are quite large, light had to get in. You have isometric surveillance at all points of entry to this country. Give me a copy of the DVD, I’ll get our nerds on the case. If they can make a good still of his eyes and enlarge it, it’s as good as a finger print, better. Are you going to let me see the body?”