fifteen or so years ago. This was just a year or two before Bill’s ex-wife, Sheila, sailed off on a Caribbean cruise and disappeared at sea. Presumably, she fell overboard, though nobody knows

for sure.”

32 Richard Stevenson

So the JAP was actually the late JAP. “This is news.”

“It does help show,” Horn said, “why Gary might take

predictions of bloodshed by a fortune-teller more seriously than a lot of us would.”

“It seems,” I said, “as though Gary was closer to his former

wife than to his brother Bill. Why might that be true? Or am I

wrong?”

“There was never any love lost between Gary and Bill,”

Horn said. “They were just two different types of animal. It was partly the gay thing. The Griswolds only accepted that

grudgingly, and it just wasn’t discussed. But there were other big differences. The steel and building supply businesses never

really interested Gary. He was in it for fifteen years to prove

something to his family and to himself, I guess. And then he

walked away from the company without giving it a second

thought.”

“Plus,” Romeo said, “Gary’s brother was some kind of big

Bushophile. That was certainly an issue. It was another topic

that could never be mentioned among the Griswolds.”

“Gary hated the militarism of the Bush people,” Horn said.

“He was constantly giving money to peace groups and to

human rights organizations like Amnesty International and

Human Rights Watch. A big part of Thailand’s draw for him

was the Buddhism and the philosophy of nonviolence.”

I told them I wasn’t surprised that the reality of Thailand for

Griswold may have turned out to be something other than a

travel-poster Buddhist paradise. “I am also fond of the place,” I said. “But if you don’t like militarism, it’s hardly the place to go.

Thailand has had a dozen or more military coups since it started electing governments in the nineteen thirties. The generals, of

course, always go to the country’s beloved King Bhumibol to

ask his permission to overthrow the elected government. If he

ever said, ‘No, sorry, you can’t do that,’ I’m not aware of it. The place also has a thoroughly corrupt police force that’s been

known to simply execute suspected drug dealers, as I recall.

And drive-by shootings are sometimes used to resolve business

disputes, I’ve heard.”

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 33

The three were now looking at me queasily. I guessed I

should have told them, as with Timothy, only about the

reclining Buddhas. I said, “But the Thai people generally are

gentle and humor-filled. And deeply spiritual. And they have a

highly developed sense of fun — sanuk, they call it. Sanuk infects just about everything the Thais do.”

“Like their drive-by shootings?” Romeo asked.

The waitress arrived to clear away the antipasti platter, which

we had picked clean. Griswold’s three friends, subdued now

and a bit shaken, decided this would be a good time to order

another round of drinks.

“Look,” I said, “I think you’re right to worry about

Griswold. It’s reasonable to think that anybody vanishing in

Southeast Asia with thirty-eight million dollars at his disposal has either met foul play or is in hiding in order to avoid foul

play. Or — and I know you’d much rather not think about this

— Griswold has himself done something illegal, and he is in

hiding not from criminal bad guys but from Thai-cop bad guys.

Which are sometimes one and the same thing, I’m sorry to say.”

They all set down their glasses of Ketel One and looked at

me soberly.

After a moment, Horn said, “I guess we were hoping you

would tell us things about Thailand that were more reassuring.”

“I wish I could.”

“Well, then,” Weems said. “It’s good you’re going over.

When do you leave?”

“In a couple of days, I think. I’ve booked space on both

Thursday and Friday.”

“Are you going alone? Or do you have a staff?”

“I may have help. That’s unclear.”

“Poor Gary,” Horn said. “I can’t believe, really, that he’s

done anything wrong himself. The guy is just so decent. So, something really bad must have happened to him. Oh, God.”

Our pasta dishes arrived, and we talked quietly about what

Horn, Weems and Romeo all saw as the good life in Key West.

34 Richard Stevenson

There were rising costs and overpopulation and the threat of

catastrophic hurricanes. But low-pressure island life was still the best, they all agreed and wished that Gary Griswold had not lost his capacity to be happy in this place that his friends all loved.

We were well into our lasagna and fettuccine when an

acquaintance the three hadn’t seen for a while stopped by the

table to greet them. Nadine Bisbee, an angular, middle-aged

woman in a sarong and fourteen pounds of turquoise and silver

jewelry, was introduced to me as another friend of Griswold

who was quite concerned about him. Horn told her I was a

private investigator preparing to fly to Thailand to search for

Griswold.

“Oh,” Bisbee said, “I don’t think we need to worry about

Gary anymore. Elise Flanagan saw him two weeks ago in

Cambodia.”

Horn and Romeo said it at the same time. “She did?”

“It was at a border crossing. Elise was on a tour bus on her

way from Bangkok to Angkor Wat with her Antioch-alum

architecture history group, and there was Gary at Thai passport

control heading back into Thailand from Cambodia. She yelled

at him, she said, but he either didn’t hear Elise or for some

reason he didn’t want to run into anybody he knew. Elise said

she thought maybe he had some underage youth in tow and was

embarrassed by it.”

I said, “Does Gary have a history of underage youths as a

sexual interest?”

Romeo said, “Just Lou.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“No,” Weems said. “It had to be something else. Was Elise

sure it was Gary she saw?”

“Elise said it was definitely Gary. Elise has been getting

forgetful in recent years, but she certainly knows Gary as well as any of us. I mean, she bought art from Gary and Lou for years

and was in the gallery at least once a month, wasn’t she, Lou?”

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 35

“Elise would certainly know Gary,” Horn said somberly.

“Maybe this means he’s been in Cambodia for six months, and

that’s why nobody has heard from him.”

Romeo said, “For chrissakes, Cambodia surely has

telephones and post offices. Even the Internet, I’ll bet. Am I

right, Don?”

“In the Khmer Rouge era, it didn’t. But now Cambodia is

not so cut off, no.”

“So, what’s going on with Gary?” Weems said, and they all

looked at me.

CHAPTER FOUR

Despite creeping gentrification, Stock Island, just east of

Key West, had one of the few remaining low-rent districts in

the lower keys. It had dockage for fishing and pleasure boats,