Read Murder at the House of Rooster Happiness for Free Online Page A

U.S., it is not used in Europe or most other countries.”
    “And why is that?” Although she knew perfectly well why not, it would help to give Khun Suphit a chance to practice his explanation.
    “Because, you see, it doesn’t add useful information. It is no better than the tests doctors can do at the bedside. Ask any expert, they will tell you the same thing.”
    She knew, then, why the director was so eager to have her translate. This would be a conversation that would be full of conflict. There would be angry words and tears. And, probably, accusations of poor care. Accusations that real “experts” would do things differently. In short, the kind of conversation that would cause all of those involved to lose face.
    Ladarat and the director stood there watching as Andrew Fuller’s chest rose and fell, knowing that movement didn’t mean anything. And knowing, too, that this was not going to be easy to explain to Andrew Fuller’s family on the other end of that long hallway.

THE YIM SOO SMILE OF THE FEMALE SEX
    A nd indeed it was not.
    The first hint of trouble came in the hallway outside the room of Andrew Fuller’s wife. His soon-to-be widow. Kate, she was called.
    As Ladarat and Khun Suphit approached the door, a new nurse, just out of nursing school at Chiang Mai University, one of the best nursing schools in the country, came hurrying out of the American’s room, smiling furiously.
    To a farang —a foreigner—she might look happy. But one glance revealed her smile to be what Thais call yim soo , or “I’m smiling because I don’t know what else to do.”
    If it seems like Thais smile too much, it’s not because we have so much to smile about, but because we use a smile for so many occasions. It was a little like what the undergraduates said at the University of Chicago: Drinking is only for after 5 P.M. , but it’s always after 5 P.M. somewhere.
    In Thailand we smile because even if there is nothing to smile about, there may be something worth smiling about someday. Or there used to be. She was sure that those college students were addicted to their drinking and she often wondered whether perhaps Thais suffered from a similar addiction to smiling.
    The young nurse rushed between them, slowing only for a hurried wai . Normally she was ambitious and almost obsequious, particularly to a powerful doctor like Khun Suphit. Her hurry was bad sign. A very bad sign.
    Khun Suphit paused. Then he sighed. Then—of course—he smiled. Then he led the way into the room.
    It was one of the best rooms in the hospital. Khun Suphit had made sure of that. Normally used for government officials and very important farang , it had wide windows that afforded a panoramic view of the deep green mountains to the west. It also boasted a wide expanse of marble floor and a large sitting area with comfortable teak and rattan furniture.
    Ladarat was in general not in favor of special, private rooms that gave some patients better treatment than others. The proponents of such luxurious accommodations said that those patients do not receive better care, only more comfort, as if that made injustice more acceptable. In her view, it did not.
    And wasn’t the distinction between care and comfort a false one? Don’t people who are more comfortable heal faster? So aren’t we giving some people better care than we’re giving others? That is unfair.
    Yet she could not fault the hospital for giving special treatment to the Americans. They had been through so much, compassion dictated that they should offer additional comfort. One could only hope that the Americans would appreciate this gesture, but she suspected that they would not.
    Americans—and indeed all tourists—never seemed to appreciate the hospitality for which Thailand was justly famous. No matter how hard a hotel clerk or a waitress might try to anticipate a guest’s needs, the guest seemed to take those efforts as their due. Just what was expected. And they never