Death Beyond the Limit: Fiji Islands Mysteries 3

by B. M. Allsopp

  Singh’s eagerness returned. ‘Or was he murdered elsewhere, maybe on land, and the body taken way out there to be dumped. But why would the murderer do that? A deep burial in the bush would be easier and safer, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Ordinarily, yes. But if the killer had a boat and could leave quickly, it makes sense to head straight to the FAD. He would know sharks cruise round there.’

  ‘Yes! He would rely on the body being ripped apart immediately and the pieces not lasting more than a few days.’

  Dr Young reappeared carrying three mugs on a shiny steel hospital tray. He served them with a flourish.

  Horseman glanced up. ‘Vinaka, Matt.’ He turned back to Singh. ‘So, if we’ve got murder, we’re looking for someone from the province who has access to a boat. I still think an accident’s more likely and you’ll get a report that fits soon.’

  Singh sipped her tea. ‘I always try to remember what you’ve taught me about wishful thinking, sir.’

  ‘So you should,’ he smiled. ‘But I take your point, Singh. None of this speculation helps us identify the victim. Have you any tricks up your sleeve, Matt?’

  ‘No tricks, Joe, but I’ve contacted a forensic anthropologist in New Zealand. She’s got a great reputation, especially with identifying Polynesian and Melanesian remains. Whenever the condition doesn’t allow identification, an anthropologist can help. They always prefer working with dry bones, but our victim is as we see. I think Professor Ferguson is the best expert to help us.’

  ‘What about DNA?’ Singh asked.

  ‘DNA analysis will tell us the sex, and ethnicity, but we need the anthropologist too. I spoke to Dr Ferguson this morning and sent her photos and a video of our head. She’s going to see what she can do at a distance and get back to me. She’ll let me know if there’s any point in her flying up to make a personal examination. Would you have the budget for that?’

  ‘I’ll ask the super. I’m not sure if he’ll be keen. I’ve never heard him say a good word about anthropologists.’

  Horseman glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll be late for Shiners training again. Thanks for the tea, Matt. See you at home. Are you coming, Singh?’

  ‘Yes, I’d better get started on calling the Lomaiviti police posts.’

  ‘Let’s get a cab and I’ll drop you at the station first.’

  6

  Junior Shiners training gave Horseman a lift. Now the motley crew of shoe-shine boys and ragtag street kids was an officially registered rugby team, their confidence and discipline had improved. Even though it was tricky to get to training, he could hardly preach commitment to them if he didn’t show it himself.

  He managed an even jog onto the field from the road. The boys clustered near the grandstand. As he got closer Musudroka pushed his way in and hauled two boys out of the huddle. He pulled them apart. A fight?

  ‘What’s up here, DC Musudroka?’ Boys peeled away from the huddle.

  ‘Sir, sir! Look, sir!’

  Tevita, the boy who had begged Horseman to start the team back in January, was on the ground. He sprang up, devoted eyes on Horseman.

  ‘Joe. Joe! Vili, he tried take my boots.’

  So that was the problem. From the beginning, Tevita’s ambition was for the Shiners to play in proper rugby boots. Most other junior teams played in bare feet too, but that fact didn’t lessen Tevita’s obsession. In a weak moment, Horseman promised he’d get them boots, but so far he’d failed to entice sponsors. Sure, Sonny Khan of Khan Sports Emporium had generously come up with smart team jerseys, but boots—not yet.

  ‘Tevita, you’ve got yourself some boots? Good on you!’

  The boy beamed. ‘Found these in Clearance City. Ten dollars, but good, you see?’

  It was a challenge to find shoes large enough for Fijian feet in the warehouses of second-hand clothes imported from Australia. Tevita’s boots were well worn but his cleaning could not be faulted.

  ‘Congratulations, Tevita. You’ll kick a goal with those. But what are you fighting about?’

  Vili muttered, ‘Tevita’s a bighead. He bought these old boots and thinks he’s better than us. You say we don’t need boots, sir.’

  ‘Quite right, Vili. When you’re young, going barefoot toughens up your feet, makes them flexible and strong. But Tevita really wanted boots. He worked to buy them himself and he can wear them at training if he likes. I don’t see the problem.’

  Mosese shouted, ‘He’s a show-off. Tevita can’t kick for nuts, boots or no boots. He won’t kick no goal!’

  ‘Enough! Back to training. DC Musudroka, have they practised passing?’

  ‘Not yet sir.’

  Musudroka shouted. ‘Boys, spread out in rows of five at the goal post. Start running as soon as I pass you a ball.’

  The shambles soon resolved itself into rows spread out the width of the field.

  Musudroka gave him the thumbs-up. ‘Good idea for separating them, sir. I’ll remember that trick.’

  ‘You’re doing fine, Tani. Off you go now. Let them take it slow on this first length. We’ll get them to pick up the pace on the way back.’

  Horseman strode along the sideline, observing gradual progress masked by fumbling, missed catches and poor passes. After reaching the opposite goal post, he and Musudroka demonstrated how to pass the ball more accurately before the squad set off again. The boys calmed as they kept their distance from each other and focused on their task.

  As they ran back, Dr Pillai’s car pulled up close to the grandstand. The diminutive doctor waved and Horseman went to meet him. Together, they unloaded the boxes of food for the boys’ dinner. Knowing that nutrition was one of the keys to fitness, Dr Pillai provided a healthy meal for every boy who turned up on time for training. No boy was ever late.

  ‘It’s chicken and dalo today, Joe. As usual, a bunch of bananas and milk afterwards. Oh, and my neighbour gave me a bag of oranges from her tree. Should be enough for each boy to take three.’ Dr Pillai smiled up at Horseman.

  The hungry youths cheered as the two men carried the boxes over to a trestle table set up near the grandstand. At first wary, even suspicious, the boys had warmed to the doctor who supported them with medical expertise and food without fail, twice a week.

  ‘I hope you know how much the boys really appreciate you,’ Horseman said.

  Dr Pillai dismissed the heartfelt remark with a flick of his hand.

  ‘Cupboard love,’ he said. He ducked his head, embarrassed. His black crown of hair was so dense it looked impenetrable.

  ‘There was a scuffle when I arrived at training today.’ Horseman told Dr Pillai what had happened.

  ‘Joe, if I may speak plainly, I don’t think you realise how much the boys idolise you. Tevita more than anyone. He sees himself as your partner in setting up the team. The others resent his special claim on your friendship. There’s nothing you can do about that. Not a thing, except treat all the boys equally and you do that, I know.’

  ‘Do you think a word to Tevita might help? I could suggest he lay off boasting about being my friend. He was a real help in the Tanoa case so I don’t want to seem unappreciative.’

  ‘You could try. I doubt Tevita’s mature enough to follow through. The others are jealous. Perhaps they think you bought the boots for him. Perhaps he told them you did. We can’t know.’

  Horseman was baffled. ‘I’d better talk to him. But not now.’

  ‘No, don’t let the others see you singling him out.’

  He didn’t feel so certain about the boys’ growing discipline anymore. Underneath the fragile surface, he feared they were as uncontrolled as ever. The only discipline many had known was a stick or a fist. And they were so young. He would try again to find a sponsor for rugby boots. New boots.

  TUESDAY 12th September

  7

  At seven o’clock in the morning, Dr Young stumbled into his kitchen, yawning. Horseman was already there, peeling fruit.

  ‘Morning, Matt. Want some fruit?’

  His
landlord rubbed his hands through his sandy hair. ‘Sure. I feel so bleary, don’t mind me.’ He slumped onto a chair.

  ‘Get this inside you.’ Horseman ladled chopped pawpaw, pineapple and guava into a bowl and set it in front of Dr Young.

  ‘Thanks, mate. Taken Tina out yet?’

  ‘That’s why I’m up. She resorted to whining and scratching my door.’

  The mongrel who was the subject of their conversation lolled in her basket, ears twitching at the mention of her name. Four months earlier, when Melissa was visiting him, she rescued an emaciated, diseased dog and her pups foraging in Ratu Sukuna Park. When Melissa returned home, she entrusted the mother to a reluctant Horseman.

  Dr Young reached out his foot and rubbed Tina’s black and grey stippled coat. ‘Time for a nap now, Tina? Where did Joe take you today?’

  ‘Just our usual route along the waterfront then back up the hill home. She loves hurling herself off the sea wall onto the sand when the tide’s out. Today she chased crabs, sorted through piles of seaweed and ate a beche-de-mer for breakfast.’

  Tina stepped out of her bed so Dr Young could rub her head and ears. ‘You’re a gorgeous girl now, aren’t you?’ he said. Tina’s tail thumped.

  ‘Toast?’ Horseman asked.

  The pathologist nodded. ‘Please.’

  Horseman filled the toaster and continued. ‘I’ve been thinking, what exactly can we expect from this forensic anthropologist? I mean, can she produce a likeness? Like an Identikit?’

  ‘At best, yes. I’m worried in this case that the bloating may conceal the head’s bone structure too much. Let’s see if she’s got back to me yet.’ He got up and came back with his laptop. Horseman put toast, peanut butter and marmalade on the table and sat down.

  ‘Let’s see, no, nothing yet.’ The pathologist scrolled down his emails. ‘Not that I expected anything so soon. As usual, we must wait.’

  ‘I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking more about how our victim could have been killed on land. Want to run it past you.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ Dr Young spread a slice of toast with both peanut butter and marmalade.

  ‘What if our victim was strangled or hanged, then dumped in the sea with the ligature intact? Is it possible that the corpse’s swelling tightened the ligature and severed the neck right through? Then the shark simply swallowed it?’

  Dr Young looked thoughtful as he munched. ‘Might happen with a strong chain or zip ties. Hmm. Good idea. I’ll take another look at those partial teeth marks when I get to work. But I reckon we wouldn’t have those marks unless the shark was biting through the neck, tearing off a nice mouthful from something bigger. I’ll take another look, though.’

  ‘Just a thought. Eating at home tonight?’

  ‘No, I’ve got a Hospital Board meeting. It’ll probably be interminable, but the catering will be generous. I really wonder why they produce a huge feast for about twenty people. They must know more than half will be wasted.’

  ‘Ah, but it won’t go to waste, Matt. The staff will divide it up and take it home to their families.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. Well, I hope something turns up for you today.’

  ‘I’m hoping Fireti and the divers will find more of the body.’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s not much chance of that. But then, what are the chances of catching a shark with a human head in its guts?’

  ‘Exactly. Be in touch.’

  *

  Horseman shut the door to the super’s office and returned to the CID room. Superintendent Navala would not approve funds to fly Dr Ferguson to Suva until he had a good idea what the result of her visit was likely to be. Fair enough. His own eagerness to race ahead on all fronts had only raised suspicion in the super.

  He made two mugs of tea and found Singh. She was talking on the phone. He raised the mugs and went to his desk in the corner.

  She joined him a few minutes later. This morning she had scraped her hair back into a gleaming ponytail. Her orange blouse and royal blue pants were just as immaculate. How did she do it?

  ‘How’s it going, Susie? Anything to report yet?’

  ‘No possible matches for our head from any official Mispers reports. Musudroka and I are contacting all the police stations and posts in Lomaiviti. We’ll get through those by the end of today and if we don’t find our victim, we’ll spread out to the adjoining provinces.’

  ‘I’m pinning my hopes on Fireti and the divers who should be out at the scene now. Matt doesn’t think they’ll find anything, but…’

  Singh’s sea-green eyes were sympathetic. ‘I know, it’d make this case—not easier, but possible.’

  They sipped their tea. A new thought occurred to him. ‘What if our victim was a diver?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ She looked out the louvres, frowning. ‘That could fit.’

  ‘No trace of the face mask or any bits of equipment in the shark. But think—what if our victim is diving, has problems with his mask, removes it to adjust it and the shark zooms in.’

  ‘Yep, or there’s another problem only worse and the diver drowns. After all, that happens from time to time, both with tourists and locals. Shark bait, as they say.’ The cheerful triumph in her voice made Horseman wince.

  ‘Both Fijian and Indian fisherman dive for lobsters and eels even though they’re not properly trained or equipped. Maybe we’re onto a lead here.’

  He gulped the rest of his tea. ‘I’m going to consult our head diver. If he rates the idea, Musudroka and I will check on all the dive shops.’

  ‘Shall I ask the local police stations about divers in their areas?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Yes, you can start that right away. Add questions about fishermen who dive on the job—they’ll either know already or be able to find out easily enough. Get the constables to check where those men are if they can. The rural cops always boast how well they know their communities, unlike us in the big smoke. Let them demonstrate that now when we need them.’

  ‘Let’s hope they can. If we’re going to double the time spent on each call, I’ll need another constable.’

  ‘Sure. Have you got anyone in mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Someone patient who won’t need much training or supervising.’

  ‘There’s a new rugby volunteer who’s got potential—Apolosi Kau. He’s a good kid. I’ll clear it with the super and you can try him out. He’s conscientious about Shiners training. That’s a good start.’

  Singh made a note. Her notes were things of wonder to Horseman; so organised, hierarchical, neat. She used a colour code with underlining and highlighters known only to herself, which enabled her to retrieve information, dates and names almost instantly. One day he would ask her to share her system.

  ‘Looking ahead a bit, if our checks and the forensics don’t give us our victim’s ID, the super will go public. I’ve made an appointment to see public relations at four o’clock to plan a media release kit. Time you got some experience with that, so I’d like you to come with me.’

  Horseman wondered why she hesitated. ‘Sure,’ Singh replied.

  The phone rang. Horseman grabbed the handset.

  It was Ash bearing mixed news. Fireti had caught another tiger shark, but after sifting through its guts they couldn’t find any human remains. Ash and the police diver had found some small pieces of fleshy tissue caught in the artificial reef and would bring them back to the lab. They would wind up their search tomorrow.

  Singh made more notes as Horseman relayed the news. She looked up. ‘D’you think this one was an accident?’

  ‘I don’t know, Singh. But we’re going to find out, one way or another.’

  8

  Singh entered The Great Wok precisely on time at half past seven. She’d been on edge all day and not in a good way. Dread, rather than anticipation, was what she felt. She would far prefer to inspect severed heads or work the phones at the station than step inside a restaurant to eat a good Chinese meal with a matchmaker’
s choice bridegroom.

  Brij sprang from his chair, smiling while Singh took her seat. Could he be nervous too? He didn’t look it, unruffled in his string-coloured linen suit, striped tie knotted just a little below his collar. Quite the urban sophisticate. Singh was outclassed. She’d caught a cab straight from the station, first dashing into the Ladies to release her ponytail and smear lipstick on her mouth.

  He offered his hand. It was strong and dry. That was something.

  ‘I was beginning to worry you’d changed your mind, Susila. It was such a relief when I saw you talking to the receptionist.’ Singh glanced at her watch.

  ‘No, no, you’re not late. It’s just that I arrived absurdly early.’ He gestured to his almost empty beer glass. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘I’ll have a beer too. Fiji Bitter, please.’ She detected a flicker of surprise at her choice of drink.

  He’d addressed her in Hindi. She hardly used her mother tongue in her life in Suva. English was the norm in the busy open-plan CID office where it was considered rude to speak a language not everyone understood, whether Fijian or Hindi or anything else. These days, she only spoke Hindi with her family and a few old friends.

  ‘Do you speak Hindi at work, Brij?’

  ‘Why, would you prefer English?’

  She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, I was just wondering.’

  ‘Everyone in the firm is Indian, so we do speak Hindi a lot. With non-Indian clients and so on, we speak English, of course.’

  ‘Does it seem strange that all your documents are written in English, but you discuss them in Hindi?’

  He smiled. ‘No, I’ve never thought about it. There’s no policy. It’s just what happens naturally, habits we’ve fallen into without even noticing. Oh, here comes our Peking duck.’

  Singh was very hungry and demolished the delicate dish with indelicate speed. ‘No time for lunch today, I’m afraid.’