The Angry Dwarf

In Bangkok one morning last week The Dwarf awoke in an ugly mood.

The Dwarf was a five-foot Chinese gunman who had been arrested 15 months ago with 18 others for hijacking a $2,000,000 shipment of gold on its way to Bangkok's Don Muang airport. Now he was out on bail while the case dragged on in Siam's slowpoke courts. So was another chief suspect, a husky retired police captain named Pramote Prathuengphong. The two thieves, it seemed, had fallen out.

The Dwarf got dressed, thrust two Lugers into shoulder holsters under his long blue gown, then stopped in a back-alley opium den to share a pipe with an underworld crony, Nai Sakon. The Dwarf complained: "Pramote has doublecrossed us all. Now he has a racing stable, a new Packard and a beautiful wife. We have nothing but worry."

That night he and his crony went to Pramote's lavish house. Pramote and a Ceylonese friend had just come back from the races at the Royal Turf Club. The Dwarf twirled his two Lugers, sarcastically asked Pramote: "Can you spare 300 deals?" (about $15). Pramote said his wife had all his money; she was out. The Dwarf waited. When she arrived, on a three-wheeled Siamese pedicab, he grabbed her purse; it contained only keys, a compact and some change. The Dwarf shot her in the chest, wounding her seriously.

Pramote, who had heard the shot, ducked out the back door and dived into a canal. The Dwarf tore off his blue gown and rushed into the house, firing wildly. He killed Pramote's eight-year-old niece and the Ceylonese guest. Then The Dwarf dashed out, shouting to his pal to start Pramote's Packard. Pramote's chauffeur protested, trying to protect his boss's car. The Dwarf killed him, too. By the time police arrived, The Dwarf had disappeared.

Police put Pramote back in jail for safekeeping.

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