The Axe Factor: A Jimm Juree Mystery (Jimm Juree Mysteries) by Colin Cotterill Page B

turbulent sea and she’d be screaming to come back. Togetherness on a wooden boat in a hostile environment was a real test of compatibility. Everyone should have to do it.

 
    UNPOSTED BLOG ENTRY 2
    (found two weeks too late)
    I’ve found another one. She has a family and people who’d miss her, but she’s adventurous. Nobody would be surprised if she got herself into trouble, vanished one weekend. And if it doesn’t work out, no problem. There are a lot of lonely women out there. She came under the pretense of an interview, but I could tell there was more. It wasn’t just a job. She was lonely. She needed somebody in her life. That’s why I agreed. I’m not sure I have a “type” exactly, but if I did, she wouldn’t be it. Too short. Too heavy. But I have a copy of her résumé. The Internet is very accommodating like that. It yielded up an essay of her more personal thoughts. I know her desires. I can play on them. That’s the modern age for you. Nobody is private anymore. Social networks are dark alleyways for people like me.
    I can’t believe I waited this long to satisfy my urges. Now I know how frightfully simple it is I can’t wait to try this new me out. I’ll wait a few days before I call her. I don’t want to seem too keen. I’ll invite her for a meal and let her know she’s the lucky candidate. She can be my next. She’ll be so pleased she won’t see me for what I have become, until it’s too late.
    C.C.

 
    5.
    Ladies Are Requested Not to Have Children in the Bar
    (hotel sign)
    E-MAIL FROM CLINT EASTWOOD TO JIMM JUREE
    Dear Jimm and Sissi,
    I’m sorry to have taken so long to reply to your many fascinating e-mails. Of course I’m not mad at you for hacking into our accounts here at Malpaso. It shows great initiative and drive. You were right about the jerk I hired to assess your earlier works, and I apologize for any embarrassment he may have caused you and your family.
    You were right too about the great material you’ve been sending my way. The latest really topped the lot. Man, we all adored that last screenplay. I would just love to sit down with you both to discuss rights, financing, and perhaps a directorial collaboration.
    I’ll be passing thru Thailand over the Christmas period, and it would be peachy if we could get together and discuss money. Perhaps you could give me an address so I can swing by your place when I’m there. Failing that, give me your phone numbers so I can give you a call and arrange a get-together.
    I’m real excited about this project, and I have a strong feeling it’ll work out great for all of us. I look forward to meeting two really creative people such as yourselves.
    Your pal,
    Clint
    “OK. It’s well written.”
    “Thank you.”
    “If you like your prose flowery and girly.”
    Khun Boot, the proprietor and chief editor of the Chumphon News , found it impossible to give you a compliment without taking it away again. He had a complexion like an aerial photo I’d seen of Afghanistan. I’d never met him standing up. I wondered whether he’d lost his legs in a Weedwacker accident and they’d grafted a desk onto his lower torso.
    “What can I say?” I said. “I’m a flowery girl.”
    “I was expecting more grit from a journalist from Chiang Mai.”
    Ooh, bitchy.
    “You mean more than throwing axes half-naked at watermelons?” I asked.
    “That’s exactly what I mean. You lead with that, so we expect you’ll go on to … to more. But we’re halfway through it and you’re talking about books.”
    “He’s a writer.”
    “Our readers don’t give a shit about writers.”
    “Then why send me to interview—”
    “They want smut. They want confirmation that farang living in Thailand are all losers and maniacs and mafia. They don’t want nice guys being successful. Did you really not find anything sleazy about him? Abused wife? Love affair? Gay liaisons?”
    I hadn’t mentioned the departed wife or the horny maid. If I had, I knew Khun