"Oh," I said.
"Apparently they are thinking of making arrests."
"They started it," I said.
"Oh yes," Win said, "and I'm certain that everyone in town will take our word over a local police captain's and three lifelong residents."
He had a point.
"But I was thinking," he went on, "that we might enjoy a few weeks in Thailand whilst my attorney works this out."
"Not a bad idea."
"I know of a new gentlemen's club in Bangkok off Patpong Street. We could begin our journey there."
"I don't think so," I said.
"Such a prude. But either way, you should probably make yourself scarce too."
"That's my plan."
We hung up. I called Air France. "Any room left on tonight's flight to Paris?"
"Your name, sir?"
"Myron Bolitar."
"You're already booked and ticketed. Would you like a window or an aisle seat?"
4
I used my frequent flier miles to get an upgrade. I don't need the free booze or better meal, but the legroom meant a great deal to me. When I'm in coach I always get the middle seat between two ginormous bruisers with space issues, and in front of me, without fail, is a tiny old lady whose feet don't even touch the ground but she has to put her seat back as far as humanly possible, getting a nearly sexual thrill as she hears it crunch against my knees, tilting back far enough so that I can spend the entire flight looking for dandruff flakes in her scalp.
I didn't have Terese's phone number, but I remembered the Hotel d'Aubusson. I called and left a message that I was on my way. I got onto the plane and jammed the iPod buds into my ear. I quickly slipped into that airplane half-sleep, thinking about Ali, the first time I had dated a woman with children, a widow no less, the way she turned away after she said, "We're not forever, Myron…"