Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2

by B. M. Allsopp

  Singh explained. ‘When I’ve finished, I’ll visit every house in the village and ask when each person last saw Kelera. When the timeline is complete, we’ll have a full record of these last days. I just hope there’s someone who saw her this morning. We can ask those who saw her most recently to try to remember more about that time.’

  ‘You’re a real scholar, my dear, like Pastor Joni. He did something very similar, a timeline of Jesus’ life, combining all the incidents related in all four gospels.’

  ‘I’m impressed! He’d make a good detective,’ Singh said sincerely.

  ‘Little Kelera helped him. He explained it all to her. No wonder she became a teacher. Don’t forget to drink your tea, dear.’

  Singh added milk and obeyed. Mere poured her another cup. ‘It’s likely Kelera will come back home of her own accord long before I’m finished with this. But I hope you understand it’s better to do as much as we can to find her now, in case she’s lying injured somewhere.’

  ‘You’re very sensible. I’m going into the church to pray in quietness. When I come back, we’ll go together to visit people’s homes. I can introduce you and I think that will help.’

  ‘It will help immensely. Thank you.’ Singh fought back tears.

  ‘God can help much more than me. I’m going to ask Him now.’

  The search parties returned one by one, having found no trace of Kelera. Singh allocated new areas to each party, but they returned empty-handed again. By this time, the sun had set behind the western range and the light was fading. The searchers were tired. Time to call it a day.

  Her timeline aroused interest among the villagers Singh and Mere visited. Everyone seemed happy to talk about Kelera. But no one had seen her today. The last people to see her were still her parents, because she was at home when they had gone to bed.

  Singh raised her voice, a bit hoarse after speaking all afternoon. ‘Vinaka vakalevu, people of Tanoa. You have worked hard to find Kelera. I am so grateful for your cooperation. I’ll be back in the morning, with more police support. I hope that by then Kelera will have returned. But if she hasn’t, we will continue the search. In the meantime, please ask yourselves where she might have gone.’

  Singh would do her utmost to find Kelera. She believed they would succeed. But she feared Kelera would not be alive.

  28

  Horseman lay beside Melissa, watching her breathe. Her elfin face and fair skin, her nose sprinkled with light freckles, made her look young and vulnerable. They’d tumbled into bed as soon as they got inside Dr Matthew Young’s colonial cottage. She’d been alarmed when he enfolded her in his arms in the living room.

  ‘No need to look over your shoulder, now. Matt Young’s discreetly taken himself off for a long weekend.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting such a thoughtful man, but I’m glad it’s not right now.’ She returned his embrace, kissing his mouth tenderly. His doubts vanished and he guided her to his bedroom.

  He’d let her sleep now. She must be tired after the long journey, the time zone shift, not to mention coping with his mother and missing her final flight. He felt tired himself, but was much too keyed up to sleep. Also too happy. He propped himself on one elbow and gazed at her some more. Strands of light brown hair were stuck to her face. She wasn’t used to Suva’s sticky air. He got up and switched on the overhead fan and turned it to low. That should help. He padded back to the bed and covered her with the thin cotton sheet. He didn’t want her to catch a chill. She smiled in her sleep.

  Horseman decided not to think about a future for him and Melissa. Just enjoy this time together and see where it led. In the taxi home from the airport, she’d readily agreed to his proposal to go to a café for lunch, then a walk around Suva. It looked like it would be an extremely late lunch now.

  He showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and was stretched on the sofa perusing a rugby magazine when Melissa appeared in the doorway. She was wrapped in the new fluffy towel he’d bought for her. She flopped on the sofa next to him and kissed him. ‘Wow, I feel bleary, how long was I asleep, Joe?’

  ‘Two hours. Have a shower, darling. Then we’ll go out for lunch.’

  ‘Sorry, honey. You must be starving.’ She picked up her suitcase from the middle of the floor. ‘Be right back.’

  She came back looking fresh, her short hair feathered around her face. How could he tell her? ‘You look irresistible in those short shorts, darling. But—I hate to say this—they’re not the thing for the Suva streets.’

  ‘Are you telling me what to wear, Joe Horseman?’ Her blue eyes challenged him.

  ‘No, I’m just giving you the heads-up on local custom, honey. You want to learn about Fiji, don’t you? Well, you’ll attract disapproving glares from some and salacious stares from others in your very cute shorts, which are fine in a resort, but not on the streets. It’s just the way it is here.’

  She sighed her resistance. ‘What should I wear then?’

  He tried to sound light and jokey. ‘Knee-length pants or skirt. None of that terrific taut midriff showing, I’m afraid. Sorry.’

  She was offended, he could tell. She left the room without a word. He should have told her about that before she’d got dressed. No woman would easily accept being told she’d worn the wrong thing.

  But when Melissa reappeared, she’d clearly decided to forget it. She wore white capri pants and a loose cotton shirt. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he said. ‘Of course, you looked gorgeous in your tight shorts, but now you’ll fit right in.’

  ‘Joe, you’re right, you gotta tell me what I should do here. I don’t want to offend people.’

  Melissa put on sunglasses and a floppy hat. They started walking down the hill towards the centre of town when a cab slowed beside them. Horseman waved. ‘Let’s take this, you must be starving.’ He certainly was.

  The taxi laboured to a stop outside the café. ‘Republic of Cappuccino? Cool name!’ Melissa was delighted, so Horseman was happy.

  ‘The ROC started not long after a military coup, when the new leader declared the Republic of Fiji, severing ties with the British monarch, Queen Elizabeth, until then Fiji’s head of state. It was a very cheeky name then, but the owners got away with it.’

  ‘I love it! I really should have done more reading for this trip, Joe, but I’ve been so busy at work, and with my Masters… I’m quite ignorant about your lovely country.’

  ‘No worries, I’ll fill you in. I’ve got to be good for something, I suppose.’ She elbowed him in the ribs, smiling. ‘It’s always full. Simple food, great coffee, and most important of all, air conditioning.’

  ‘And a very cool name,’ added Melissa.

  The staff greeted Horseman enthusiastically, not hiding their interest in Melissa. They shared a salad and iced coffee. Horseman pulled out a tourist map he’d picked up and spread it on their table.

  ‘We’re here on Victoria Parade, the main city street. Definitely the best end of town. The top two hotels are opposite, on the waterfront. The gardens, Albert Park, the museum, and government buildings are on this side, further along. As we head west, the city centre widens out. Socially too. The city market’s near the western fringe of town. And so is the Suva Central police station, where I work.’

  ‘Let’s hit Victoria Parade then, babe.’

  As they ambled along, Melissa exclaiming with surprise and delight at the run-down shops, mean hole-in-the-wall eateries and shadowy interiors glimpsed through dirty glass, Horseman tried to look at Suva from Melissa’s viewpoint. He saw too much peeling paint, too few attempts at improvements, too many beggars (well, one was too many for him).

  They soon came to the emerald of Ratu Sukuna Park, which interrupted the buildings on the southern side of Victoria Parade.

  ‘Oh honey, that park’s right on the bay. Can we cross over? It looks like there’s a wall we can sit on for a bit.’

  ‘Sure, the main street’s roughly parallel with the shore. It’s just that you’d never know. It’
s flat here and you can’t see over the buildings.’

  The park was bright with clipped hibiscus and crotons. People rested on benches or ate snacks on the grass. A hopeful emaciated dog limped to meet them. Melissa reached out.

  ‘Don’t touch it, Melissa,’ Horseman said sharply.

  Stunned at his tone, she retracted her hand. ‘Why, Joe? The poor dog’s limping and so thin. Look at her swollen teats. She’s got pups.’

  ‘I know. I feel sorry for her too. But she’s probably diseased, and she might bite you.’

  ‘But I can’t just pass her by. Is there an animal shelter here that would look after her?’

  ‘There’s the RSPCA, but they focus on education and rescuing animals from cruel treatment. This dog’s just a stray. There are hundreds more like her. Fijians accept stray dogs as a natural part of life. They believe dogs can fend for themselves.’

  ‘I can’t ignore her. She needs help. Where can I buy meat, Joe? I can at least give her a good meal so she can feed her pups.’

  ‘Melissa, if you help the pups survive, there’ll be another twenty diseased strays on the street before the year’s out. Just from this one mother. You know that.’

  ‘I do know. And you’re right. But she’s suffering, she’s sick. I’m just a visitor, I can’t take responsibility for her. But I can ease her hunger for a while. I intend to do that, Joe.’

  Horseman had seen this stubborn side of Melissa before. Perhaps it was just as well she’d forgotten about relaxing on the stone harbour wall. Although the city council had improved the promenade and planted shrubs, an oily line of litter lapped against the wall on the bay side. A bloated dead dog could even be caught up in the revolting debris. He should spare her that.

  He took her hand and smiled. ‘I give in. There’s nothing near here, though. We need to go a few more blocks to a supermarket, further to the butcher’s. Or there’s KFC here beside the park. Your choice.’

  ‘KFC—much as I hate patronising them. She mightn’t be here by the time we get back.’ The dog, alert with hunger, trailed them cautiously to the chicken outlet. Melissa went in and returned triumphant. ‘They’re very obliging. A box of chicken pieces with no bones. Now come with me, little mother.’ She led the dog to a quiet spot between two hibiscus shrubs and gave her the food piece by piece. They stood guard while she wolfed it down.

  ‘Now we’ve got to give her the slip. I know you don’t want her.’ Melissa threw the last piece of chicken about five metres away, and they dashed in the opposite direction back into Victoria Parade. They strolled a little further into the beating heart of colonial Suva. Timber-balconied buildings lined narrow, crooked streets, holding their own against the invasion of concrete and glass. They came to the little triangle in front of the Tourist Bureau, where five streets almost met, in a jagged sort of way.

  ‘Oh Joe, I meant to say, I saw one of these traffic cops in Nadi! Look, here’s another one.’

  Horseman glanced at the officer directing the traffic at this tricky not-quite intersection. ‘What’s wrong, Melissa?’

  ‘Oh, nothing Joe. I’m just blown away by their bizarre outfits. The navy tunic is regular. But the white starched skirt, with the hem all jagged like shark’s teeth? And sandals!’

  Horseman pretended to be offended. ‘That’s the dress uniform of our Fiji Police, I’ll have you know. And it’s a sulu, not a skirt. You’ll change your mind if you ever see me in it, young lady. Or better still, if you see a formal parade. I’ll see if I can organise that, just for you. Name me a more smartly turned-out police force and I’ll buy you dinner.’

  ‘Joe, do you really dress up like that? I thought it was just put on as a tourist show.’

  ‘Melissa! I’m a plain-clothes detective now, but for formal occasions I wear the dress uniform with pride. We cops love our uniforms, you know. For everyday duties, it’s the light blue shirts and navy shorts, navy berets. Navy skirts for women. But we consider the traffic cops lucky to wear the sulu every day.’

  ‘Please, dress up in it for me.’ He loved the cheeky glint in her eyes.

  ‘Only if you’re good. Of course, traffic cops all marry young. They have to. Only a wife can handle all that laundering, starching, and ironing.’

  ‘Joe Horseman. How dare you?’

  ‘That’s for mocking our police sulu.’ They laughed together. ‘But you must have noticed a lot of men wearing sulu, both in Nadi and here?’

  ‘Yep. Odd at first, but hey, I’m already used to it.’ They crossed the road at the officer’s direction, Melissa giving him a surreptitious once-over as she passed. ‘You’re right, honey. That sulu is starched! And the poor guy’s face is dripping with sweat.’

  Horseman recognised the rhythmic rapping as they walked on towards the western creek, the cinema, and the vast verandahs of the Steamships Trading Company department store buildings.

  ‘You’re about to meet another stray, Melissa. I was hoping he’d be here.’

  The rapping increased in volume, accompanied by a sing-song chant. ‘Shoe-sine, Uncle, shoe-sine, Aunty. Like a mirror, like a mirror, eh-eh-eh! Shoe-siiiiine!’ Tevita was in one of his regular spots, at the entrance of the Jubilee Arcade. He was looking in the opposite direction. Horseman planted one foot on his wooden box.

  ‘Bula, Tevita, my sandals need your best service today, please.’

  ‘Hey, Joe. Bula, bula!’ The boy’s face lit up. Then he noticed Melissa and became wary.

  ‘Tevita, this is my friend, Melissa. She’s come all the way from America to have a holiday in Fiji. Melissa, Tevita is a member of the Junior Shiners Rugby team. I’m their coach.’

  ‘Oh yes, your mother told me all about the Shiners. I’m so pleased to meet you Tevita.’ She held out her hand, which Tevita shook solemnly, while staring at her feet.

  ‘Sorry, Miss Melissa, you got canvas sneakers. Today I no have canvas cleaner.’

  ‘That’s quite okay, Tevita. They’re still clean. You better fix Joe, though.’

  Tevita dusted off Joe’s sandal, then wiped on a meagre amount of Kiwi polish with another cloth. A vigorous brushing restored the wide brown straps to newish condition, while a final light polish with a knitted cloth cut from an old singlet perfected the shine. ‘Like a mirror, eh, Joe?’

  ‘Like a mirror, Tevita. Good job.’ Tevita rapped on the box peremptorily and Horseman obediently swapped feet. As Tevita repeated his process on the left sandal, Horseman casually asked, ‘Did you hear about the break in at the Fiji Museum a few weeks ago?’

  ‘Not me! No way!’

  ‘I know it wasn’t you. But some of those rascals talk to you, Tevita. If you do hear anything about it, please tell me. That will help me a lot.’

  ‘I always wanna help. I not know about this one. But I will ask bad boys. For you, Joe!’

  ‘The boys who hang around Thurston Gardens might have heard about it. They must know some of the museum staff, don’t you reckon?’

  Tevita nodded as he polished off Horseman’s sandal.

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu, Tevita.’ The boy rapped his box and Horseman assessed his left foot. ‘Great job, just like a mirror.’ He handed Tevita ten dollars, far too much for a shoe-shine. Tevita would understand this was compensation for time away from his job, on mission for Horseman.

  ‘Remember, Tevita, it’s no help to me if you just make up a story. If you can’t find out any news, please say you can’t find out any news.’

  ‘Io, Joe. You know!’ They shook hands on their deal.

  He explained the situation to Melissa as they passed the cinema, crossed the smelly creek flowing in to the working port, and reached the market. ‘Now, Melissa, Suva market on a Friday is the jewel in Suva’s crown. Just stick by my side. The only way to tackle it is to plunge right in.’

  ***

  They decided to stay home. Horseman grilled some coral trout from the market and fried chipped cassava in coconut oil. Melissa, delighted with both the look and range of market vegetables, had also bought
two large woven baskets to carry them back. She included as many as she could in her salad: four kinds of leaves, chilis, tomatoes, nuts, endive, coriander, and basil.

  Horseman was contented. They cleared the dishes together. He resented the phone ring, and snatched it up. It was his mother. ‘Bula, Mum.’

  ‘Bula, Josefa. How is Melissa?’

  ‘She’s fine. We cooked at my place, we’re just clearing up now.’

  ‘I won’t keep you, Joe. You look after that young lady, now.’ Her tone was playful.

  ‘Io, Mum, I will.’

  ‘I’ve been talking to your sister Eva. She’s looking forward to taking Melissa for a picnic at Colo-i-Suva tomorrow. She’ll get to your place around ten o’clock.’

  ‘Vinaka, Mum. I’m sorry I can’t go with them.’

  ‘We understand, Josefa. Your job isn’t a convenient one, but it’s important, so we excuse you. I hope you crack the case soon, so Melissa can see something of you.’

  ‘Io, but it’s probably someone else who’ll crack it. The super banned me from going up to Tanoa today.’

  ‘That’s good. What does it matter who does the cracking? Moce, son.’

  ‘Moce, Mum.’ Horseman realised it did matter to him. Quite a bit.

  Melissa smiled. ‘I love the sound of Fijian. It rolls along so rhythmically.’

  Horseman didn’t realise he’d automatically spoken Fijian to his mother.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Mum was just reminding me that Eva’s picking you up at ten in the morning for the picnic.’

  ‘Your mother was just wonderful to me, Joe.’

  ‘Apart from making you miss your flight?’

  She chuckled. ‘It all worked out.’

  ‘I could have done without it,’ Horseman grumbled.

  His phone rang again, just as he was hanging up the tea towel. It was the super.

  ‘Navala, Joe. Sorry to intrude. I know you want to be updated.’

  ‘Io, appreciate that, sir.’

  ‘Susie set up a methodical search, but no trace of Kelera by nightfall. The Kumi officers who were on post when she called said she set off walking back to Tanoa when she left. One of them handed her the phone and claims not to know anything more.’