“Southeast Asia’s like the Bermuda Triangle: People just disappear without trace,” Aston said. He dumped a stack of faxes on Chan’s desk.
“What d’you want me to do with these?”
Chan sifted through, glancing only at the letterheads. San Francisco Police Department, Manila CID, Royal Thai Police Force. Most of them were extracts from missing persons files with reference to the disappearance of young Caucasian women. A small number referred to Chinese males who had also disappeared.
“File them,” Chan said.
“Those concerning the girl-we can forget them, right? Jekyll and Hyde, though, they could be in here somewhere.”
“You know the approximate ages; check it out,” Chan said.
“But there are no dental records for PI. What am I supposed to do if I find some likely candidates?”
Chan lit a cigarette, shrugged. “Positive identification is what they didn’t want. That’s why they shredded the bodies. You’ll have to get hold of relatives to see if they have dental records. Without fingerprints dental records are everything.”
“Only proves that the heads fit the bodies; who they were is another problem. Unless the relatives kept locks of hair…”
“Oh, nothing. Just a thought. Locks of hair.”