‘I doubt that, don’t you, sir?’
‘Io, but you can’t expect them to admit to listening in.’ The super shrugged. ‘They’ll resume the search in the morning with the reinforcements I organised. Only two extra constables, I’m afraid, but they’re experienced.’
‘Vinaka, sir.’
‘You’ll be pleased the techs tested the new equipment with Singh today. She received okay, even with her own radio. So it’s looking better than I hoped was possible. Singh and Musudroka will take the pilot vehicle with the new Motorola gear installed. They should be in direct communication with us here in Suva. Even if not, they can certainly reach Korovou and Nausori stations, who can relay.’
‘Sir, I want to be there. It’s my responsibility. Melissa understands this. My sister is collecting her tomorrow and taking her out for the day. So I’m quite free.’
‘No. I know how you feel but you’re best placed here, coordinating. There’s plenty for you and me to do. I don’t want to make that an order.’
The super hardly ever pulled rank, so Horseman did not argue further.
‘When the pastor’s daughter turns up, we’ll revise our plan. Susie’s looking up a couple of Kelera’s friends in Nausori this evening. Let’s hope she gets a lead from them. Moce mada, Joe.’
‘Moce mada, sir.’
‘Bad news?’ Melissa asked.
‘Not really, I guess. The super won’t let me go to Tanoa tomorrow. I feel bad that Susie’s got to shoulder the fieldwork up there.’
‘Will that worry her?’
‘No, she’s capable and she’ll probably enjoy it. She’s got a strong hunting instinct.’
‘Well, that’s fine, then. Isn’t it?’ Was that a note of impatience in her voice?
‘Yes. You make me sound like some sort of control freak. I’m not. I need to do all I can to make progress and the super’s getting in my way.’
She got up from the table and took his hands in hers, looking him straight in the eyes. ‘I think I’m the one getting in your way, Joe.’
Horseman was shocked. He wrapped her in his arms. ‘No, Melissa! I’m so glad you’re here!’
‘Would it help if we sat down and you told me all about this case? You never know, I just might turn out to be a born detective.’
He kissed her. ‘In the morning. Let’s go to bed.’
29
Singh and the super had agreed that Horseman was not to be disturbed, at least for today, when the mysterious Melissa would land in Fiji. Singh shouldn’t have been so surprised when he’d announced her arrival, no reason to be when she thought about it. After all, it would be more surprising if he hadn’t met someone that year he was in the States—no CID and no rugby! Presumably it was the combination of the job and the game that had kept him single all this time. And what about herself? She only had the job—her family was only on the margins of her life now. The two weeks she’d spent with her beloved parents recently would last her for quite some time. And while she adored her nieces and nephews, she avoided her sisters and brothers, who were obsessed with finding her a suitable match.
She had to admit that apart from the job, another thing that kept her single was a lack of suitors. Oh, her parents had been approached by matchmakers offering suitable boys, and others had preferred the direct route, asking her for dates. She’d liked one or two of the latter, and wanted to get to know them better. However, when these guys found out that she would not give up her job on marriage, or even on having children, they disappeared, with sincere regrets.
What surprised her about her boss was how secretive he’d been about Melissa. Maybe secretive was not exactly it. He was a very private person when she analysed his behaviour. He was quite open about anything except himself. Perhaps this was why she felt such confidence and trust in him. She was sure he would guard his team’s privacy with the same care he did his own.
How could she not respect his one day alone with his girlfriend—because Melissa couldn’t be anything else, could she? If she could find Kelera and solve the murder without Horseman, then he could take the leave the super told her he had approved a month before, and enjoy a holiday with his girlfriend.
Mrs Tora had given Singh the names of Kelera’s friends in Nausori and Suva—all of them from her Teachers College days. She had phoned them from the Kumi police post and, although they hadn’t seen or heard from Kelera for a while, they willingly agreed to speak to Singh.
She pulled up in a Nausori back street, where modest timber houses raised on posts were close to the road. Behind them, half-acre strips of fertile silt ran down to the river. The yards were intensively cropped and productive, although regularly destroyed by floods. Here was the house she wanted; bright blue with yellow trim and shaded by a rain tree.
A work-worn woman, hair scraped back into a long plait, opened the door. Singh addressed her in Hindi. ‘Mrs Bhagwan? I’m Detective Sergeant Susila Singh. Is Indira at home, please?’
‘Yes, yes, she said you may come,’ Mrs Bhagwan said. Singh removed her shoes and followed Mrs Bhagwan into a crowded living room. Three children were sprawled out watching television while a teenage boy was busy with schoolwork at a table.
‘Please sit down, Ms Singh. I’ll fetch Indira. She’s in the plantation.’
‘No need, I won’t interrupt her for long. I’ll find her.’
‘Come through and go down the back steps, then.’
Singh salivated at the spicy aromas wafting from the kitchen. She put on her shoes and went down to the verdant garden.
‘Indira, Indira, come!’ Mrs Bhagwan yelled from the verandah.
Indira was a young version of her mother. She came to the steps carrying two plastic buckets. She put them down and shook hands with Singh.
‘What beautiful tomatoes!’ Singh said.
‘Thanks, they do well here. I’m picking stock for the Saturday market.’
‘Indira, as I told you on the phone, Kelera’s friend was murdered a week ago, and she’s not been seen today at all. Her friend’s funeral was this morning, which makes her absence most out of character. The police are helping her family and friends search for her, with no success so far. When did you last hear from Kelera?’
Indira frowned. ‘About three weeks ago. She came to do some work in the library in town. We met for a cup of tea and had a good chit-chat.’
‘Did she tell you about the work she was doing in the library that day?’
‘No. I guess it was connected with her school class. She’s very conscientious. That little village school is lucky to have her.’
‘Is the library open on Saturdays?’
‘Yes, from ten o’clock. I think it shuts around four.’
‘Did you make plans to see her again?’
‘No, she doesn’t come down so often these days. You see, her boyfriend works in Suva and goes to Tanoa most weekends, so that keeps her there. She’s like me, helping in the plantation in her spare time. Who would have guessed it? She’s always been more into books than farm work. That’s love for you!’
‘How long has she been seeing this boyfriend?’
Indira smiled. ‘I don’t know, Kelera guards her secrets. It must be more than a year ago she told me about him. She’s really serious about him, but she’s not sure he feels the same way. He’d be mad not to!’
Singh saw no reason to fill Indira in on all the details of Vili’s murder.
‘Did Kelera want to make a move away from Tanoa?’
‘She was thinking about it, I know. But last year she decided to stay so she could help her boyfriend with his spice projects. I urged her to try for a transfer to Nausori, but she’d say “One day perhaps, not now”.’
‘Is there anyone else who might know her whereabouts?’
‘Not many, I think. She did get a bit cut off up in the hills.’
Singh handed Indira the list of names suggested by Kelera’s family. Indira looked at it. ‘I know some of them, but not all. There’s no one else I
can think of. I’m sorry.’ Indira frowned and shook her head.
Singh gave her a card. ‘Please ring me if you think of anything else, and of course, if Kelera does get in touch with you. Thank you very much, Indira. Please give my thanks to your mother, too.’
The second address was a small concrete block house past the airport. A middle-aged woman, tall and thin, sat on a stool under an orange tree, scraping coconuts. Singh always liked to hear rhythmic coconut scraping at the end of the day. Comforting, like a slow heartbeat.
‘Bula vinaka. I’m Sergeant Singh. Are you Mrs Kiti Waqa?’
‘Bula vinaka. Io, I am Kiti.’ She rose to greet her guest. Mrs Waqa was tall and thin, quite unlike her sister Mere Tora.
‘I’m here about your niece, Kelera.’ Singh explained the situation.
‘My, my, how worried they all must be up there. May God have mercy! But I am so sorry, Kelera isn’t here. We haven’t seen her for a few months, in fact. She’s a hard-working primary school teacher and she’s occupied on weekends with agricultural projects in Tanoa. I think sometimes that she’s too dutiful, too serious. You know?’
Singh did know, being a bit that way herself. She showed the list to Mrs Waqa, who took her time reading it, then shook her head.
‘No, I’m very sorry, but I can’t think of anyone else to add to your list, Sergeant. All I can do is pray that Kelera will return to us safe and well. God bless you.’
Singh thanked Mrs Waqa and departed for Suva. She made a brief stop at the Nausori police station to phone Superintendent Navala and fax him her list of Kelera’s contacts. He would get officers working through the list right away.
When she returned to Suva station it was completely dark. Tanielo Musudroka was on the telephone. When he ended the call, she asked, ‘How’s it going?’
Musudroka shook his head. ‘Nothing so far. Only half this list have phones, or phones that we can find numbers for, anyhow. The super roped Keli in and he’s tracking them down. If anyone can find these people, Keli can. He’s a bloodhound, the super says. By the way, he wants to see you, Sarge.’
***
‘Detective Sergeant Singh, you’ve met our forensic accountant, Sai Balolo, I believe?’ Superintendent Navala asked.
Singh nodded and held out her hand. ‘Yes, yesterday, sir. Good to see you again, Mr Balolo.’
‘Just Sai, please Sergeant. I’m not a serving officer, just a civilian employed by the Financial Crimes Unit.’
Navala eased her awkwardness. ‘Sit down here, Susie, and listen to what Sai has to say.’ Singh had started a separate notebook for the NLTB and financial side of the investigation. A green one. She retrieved it from her backpack and sat at the table, pen poised.
‘You have something for us already, Sai?’
‘Yes and no, yes and no. So far, there’s nothing of interest in the files your victim Viliame was working on currently. So far. We’re not through them yet, even though I’ve got a team on it.’
Singh tried not to look disappointed.
‘However, we have come across something in the files on leases for the Tanoa lands.’
‘We believed Tanoa was too far off the beaten track to have any leased land,’ Singh said.
‘That’s so, and that’s why none of the land is leased for agriculture or business operations. Were you aware there were mahogany leases, though?’
‘Well yes, we saw mahogany trees in the forest and the leases were mentioned. Apparently there’s a belief the mahogany harvest will solve all Tanoa’s problems. Vili called it their magic bullet. He believed that was one reason the elders thought his cash crop projects didn’t matter.’
Sai listened with great attention. ‘Aha, I see. Your victim requested these files a couple of months ago, even though they weren’t assigned by his supervisor. His private research project, you might say. What I’ve found, and presumably he also found, is that back in the early 1970s, the area of the mahogany leases for the chiefly clan was doubled. This was due to the extinction of the clan that held the leases until that point.’
‘I’ve never quite understood this clan extinction process,’ Singh said.
‘It happens naturally sometimes, when there are no male heirs to carry on in this patrilineal setup we have here. It was particularly common following the measles and influenza epidemics, when whole families were wiped out in a matter of weeks. That’s the real reason this provision in law was made, I believe. The upshot is that the lands of the extinct clan revert to the State. But in reality, this was unacceptable, so in practice they reverted to the chief. This is what happened in Tanoa. And Viliame had flagged that in the file, so he must have thought it was relevant to what he was seeking.’
‘Could it be that Vili was connected to this extinct clan through the female line? Is that why he was looking this up?’ Singh asked.
Sai spread his hands wide. ‘It’s possible. Is there any other evidence pointing this way?’
Singh felt excitement mounting. ‘Vili’s NLTB colleague told me yesterday that he heard Vili muttering to himself something about mahogany roots spreading into everything.’
‘It’s a bit vague for a simple accountant like me, but it does fit. Some genealogical research could give you the information to support your hypothesis. The Registry office won’t be open until Monday, though.’
Navala’s face darkened as he stood up. ‘If you ask me, it would be quicker to pay a visit to Ratu Osea’s house here in Suva and ask him. Coming with me, Susie?’
‘Now, sir?’
‘No better time, is there?’ Navala almost growled. This was not the calm voice of reason she expected from the super. Singh glanced at Sai, who was pointedly studying his file.
‘No, sir. I’ll just ring to let him know we’re coming, shall I? I’ve got his card right here.’ She flipped through her notebook for the card she knew she’d tucked away in it.
‘That won’t be necessary, Sergeant. Sai, if you can grab a photocopy of the relevant file entry for me, we’ll be on our way.’
Sai handed the super a copy he’d made in advance of their meeting.
‘Vinaka vakalevu, Sai. Where would we be without you accountants, eh? Let’s go, Sergeant Singh.’
She had grave doubts they were adequately prepared to question, much less confront, Ratu Osea. But she couldn’t possibly challenge a senior officer’s order. She hastily shook hands with Sai and rushed to catch up with the super.
30
Superintendent Navala was silent during the fifteen-minute drive to Suva Point. As they turned left from Queen Elizabeth Drive into the leafy enclave of colleges and quiet residential streets, Singh felt less and less sure of herself. Not only because their mission was ill-defined and ill-prepared, but she always felt like a fish out of water in these elite suburbs, once the preserve of British colonial administrators.
Navala parked in the street, and they approached the front door along a path bordered by small clipped shrubs. The brass door knocker delivered a loud rap. Singh hoped no one was at home. But the knock was quickly answered by a Fijian woman, probably staff. The two officers introduced themselves and asked to speak with Ratu Osea.
‘I regret Ratu Osea is not at home this evening, officers,’ the woman told them respectfully.
‘Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,’ the super replied. ‘I know he is expecting special guests. Have they arrived, by chance?’
The woman brightened. She took in Navala’s age, bearing, and formal grey sulu.
‘Io, sir, Ratu Osea is with them now. They are having dinner at the Grand Pacific Hotel. That is where Ratu’s guests are staying, you know.’ She was clearly impressed by this fact.
The super smiled and offered his card. ‘Vinaka, madam. Will you tell Ratu Osea that I called? I’d be grateful if he gets in touch.’
‘Io, I will indeed. Moce mada, sir.’
As they walked back to the car, Singh waited for the super to say something.
‘I’m not in the mood to let this g
o, Susie. It’s off to the Grand Pacific for us.’
‘Do you agree with Sai, sir? I mean, when he said that the reversion of extinct-clan lands to the chief was standard practice?’
‘I don’t know, Sergeant. I’ve heard it spoken of, but only with disapproval and suspicion. Whatever the legal position, it’s simply wrong. What’s more, I’ve a feeling Viliame would have thought so too.’
‘Sir, with respect, we don’t know if Viliame is related to the extinct clan, do we?’
‘No, that’s why I want to ask the chief about it, instead of waiting until Monday to start some time-consuming research project at the Registry Office. I was shocked by that theft—the Triple C. Ratu Osea has got to be somewhere behind that. What are our chiefs coming to? Their role is to protect us, speak truly, keep faith with us. Corruption is creeping through our society, Sergeant. Can it be that a chief can steal, even steal land from his people?’ He shook his head.
Singh was surprised by the super’s passion. Did Horseman share this reverence for chiefs? Maybe, but she doubted it. Her own parents and relatives certainly respected the Fijian feudal hierarchy, but readily discussed and criticised chiefs’ behaviour, particularly in relation to Indian leaseholders.
The super pulled into the hotel car park. A smart attendant opened Singh’s door. Nice, but embarrassing. Doormen in the same uniform ushered them in to the swish foyer. At least the long skirt she’d chosen for the funeral was appropriate, but she’d been wearing her clothes all day in the heat. She must at least wash her face and comb her hair.
‘Sir, excuse me a moment, please.’ She headed to a narrow passage she guessed would lead to toilets. She was right. She returned feeling a little better. If only she could stop Navala from going ahead with this misguided encounter.
A smooth waiter escorted them through a noisy bar, where drinkers competed for volume with a lively Pacific reggae band and a handful of jigging dancers. Then across a broad verandah to a dining room, with quaint timber panelling on three walls, the fourth entirely glass. The waiter spoke almost in a whisper. ‘This is the mahogany room, sir. Panelled with the first harvest of Fijian mahogany.’
Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2 Page 16
