Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2

by B. M. Allsopp

  ‘I’ve asked you this before, but I must ask again. Did you notice anyone watching Kelera, looking at her in church, choir, or anywhere?’

  As always when she asked them this question over the last two days, Kelera’s parents looked baffled. ‘No, not in any unusual way. We want to help, we wish we were more observant. But in a small village, there’s not a lot to notice. The people don’t change, life’s routines don’t change,’ Pastor Joni said.

  ‘Both of you are just too good for this world. But you believe in evil, and the man who killed Vili and Kelera is evil. I need to share with you some evidence we have found. It may help jog your memories. It is strictly confidential. Please, you must not tell anyone.’

  Kelera’s parents nodded. ‘We will not tell, my dear,’ Mrs Tora said.

  Singh told them about the lantana hideout, and the suspicions of the police.

  ‘The watcher in the hideout rolled his own cigarettes from tobacco bought in a store,’ she added.

  ‘Neither of us smoke, we’re not likely to notice these fine points,’ Mrs Tora answered.

  ‘At least half the men smoke, and unfortunately, some of the teenage boys too,’ the pastor added.

  ‘Perhaps you could make a list for me of all the smokers. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember everyone. It will be a great help. If you do it together, I’m sure the names will come to you.’

  ‘Oh yes, we can do that, my sermon is ready. It’s brief, but I will deliver it in English so our guests can understand,’ Pastor Joni said. He reached behind the table and picked up an exercise book and biro from a shelf.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I will need to seal the church as a crime scene, until the specialist team give the say-so. I’m off to tell Ratu Osea about this now. Can you suggest an alternative place for the service?’

  The pastor reflected. ‘In the open, on the rara. In view of her school. Kelera would like that. If it rains, we can move over to the school shelter shed.’

  ‘I’ll let Ratu Osea and Ilai know as soon as I can get to see them.’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant Singh. God bless you.’

  She opened the door, but stopped at the pastor’s voice. ‘Please don’t think I’m Ratu Osea’s puppet. I respect the chief, but I am God’s servant, not his. It does not matter to Kelera whether the chief’s day of reconciliation is cancelled or not. She is with God.’ His voice shook and his wife took his hand. ‘I will not permit my daughter’s murder to be swept under the mat today. I will pray for her during the service and include her favourite hymn. All the villagers will be glad of that.’

  Except one, Singh thought. But maybe the killer would join in sincerely. If he watched for her hour upon hour, he could believe he loved her, in his own twisted way.

  ‘Vinaka,’ she said. ‘I’ll drop by to pick up the list when I can. Again, let me say I’m so sorry.’ Her eyes welled. That was not like her. She turned and went down the steps.

  ***

  Ilai stood on the verandah of the chief’s house, looking through binoculars towards the rara, which villagers were transforming with finishing touches. He was dressed in a dark sulu, jacket, and tie. ‘Bula, sir,’ she called out politely. He lowered the binoculars and looked down at her.

  ‘Bula, sir, I’ve come to speak to you and Ratu Osea. The matter is urgent, as I’m sure you understand. Is the chief here?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. We’re leaving in a minute to await the arrival of our guests at the bridge. We expect them very soon.’

  ‘I understand. However, I need to speak to Ratu now, before the guests arrive.’ She felt she was shrinking beneath his cold gaze.

  ‘I’ll check. Please come up, Sergeant.’ Ilai went inside. He had not invited her in, but she took off her sneakers anyway, placing them neatly on the top step. Act positive.

  Ilai reappeared. ‘Please come in. Ratu Osea can spare you a few moments.’ He held the door aside.

  The chief was in his anteroom, also dressed formally. He shook hands courteously.

  ‘Bula vinaka, Sergeant Singh, I regret that we meet again under such tragic circumstances.’

  ‘I do too, Ratu Osea. Thank you for seeing me.’

  Neither man invited her to sit. ‘First, I want to assure you that the police will do their utmost to find the killer of these two fine young people of Tanoa. Inspector Horseman is on his way with the scene of crime and forensic specialists, and additional officers. A doctor should get here before them. I’m afraid I cannot move Kelera until the doctor has examined her. The church will be sealed until the specialists have completed their search.’

  ‘Thank you for notifying me, Sergeant. I understand these procedures are unavoidable.’

  ‘I’m grateful, Ratu. I’ve spoken with Kelera’s parents. The pastor expressed a wish for the service to be held on the rara. Should it rain, he thinks the school shelter would do.’

  Ilai and the chief exchanged glances. ‘You may advise him of my approval, if you see him before I do.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll ask him if he needs anything from the church. I can get those items processed as a priority and leave them outside the church for his helpers.’

  ‘Thank you for your consideration, Sergeant Singh. Now we must be going.’

  ‘Gentlemen, may I beg you both to urgently consider who could have killed Kelera?’

  ‘I will certainly do that, Sergeant,’ Ratu Osea replied. ‘However, Tanoa has been filling up with visitors from around the district and beyond for several days now. The criminal is probably not one of us. What do you say, Ilai?’

  ‘Dina, probably not, Ratu.’

  ‘Please let me know straight away if you notice anyone or anything suspicious, gentlemen. I will need to talk to you after the ceremonies are over.’

  The chief nodded. ‘Please excuse us now, Sergeant.’ The two elders paced down the path ahead of her. She felt ineffectual.

  She walked a little further up the slope and looked back to the bridge where more than a hundred people had assembled. The bright colours of floral garments splashed over the grass as more people made their way to join the crowd clustering around the bridge.

  Singh returned to the church where the three officers were still examining, bagging, and tagging. She flipped through the box of tagged evidence bags, but nothing grabbed her attention at first sight.

  She went over to Musudroka. ‘Tani, you’ve been working with the villagers for a few days. Can you write me a list of all the men who smoke?’

  Musudroka frowned. ‘I haven’t spent time with many of them.’

  ‘That’s okay, Tani. Just write down the names of the smokers you know. That will give us a start. Please take a break from the search and do it now.’ Musudroka looked surprised by her insistence but obeyed, squatting down by the nearest wall. He pulled out his notebook and turned to a new page.

  The men had finished the tea, so she picked up the tray to carry it back to the pastor’s house. She hoped she hadn’t put too much pressure on Kelera’s parents.

  The pastor opened the door and took the tray from her. ‘Come in, Sergeant, you are a blessing.’

  Astonished, Singh sat at the table again. How could her questioning during such suffering be anything but a rude intrusion? Mrs Tora smiled at her. ‘Yes, my dear, you are indeed. Giving us this task is helping. I did not believe I could come up with a single name. My soul is stricken, but this task has made my mind function again. That is a blessing. We’re getting on quite well with the list of smokers. Not finished yet, though.’

  ‘My wife is right—we didn’t know where to start at first. Then it occurred to me: a good method would be to take each house in turn, and ask ourselves, “Who smokes in that family?” Write the names and move on to the next house. Mostly, we can do it. If we are uncertain about anyone, we don’t write their name. You can rely that our list is correct, even though it is not complete.’

  ‘Pastor Joni, you’re a scholar. You would make a great detective. Mrs Tora, too.’

 
; ‘Oh no, no, no, I found my true calling,’ he said, but looked pleased all the same. ‘Did you speak to the chief?’

  ‘Yes, he approved your proposal to move the service to the rara or the school shelter.’ The pastor nodded, satisfied.

  ‘Where are your children?’ Singh asked, suddenly alarmed by the silence.

  ‘Oh, they’ll be alright. They went with their young friends down to the bridge to meet the guests. It’s good for them to be outdoors, under God’s sky.’

  Singh was a bit surprised by their easy confidence in their children’s safety. ‘I’ll go down there, too. I’d like to check they’re okay.’

  ‘We will remain here until it’s time to go to the rara,’ Pastor Joni said.

  A low murmur from the unseen crowd reached Singh when she came out of the house. She hurried off, hoping Horseman had arrived. As she approached the bridge, the jumble of people sorted themselves into two lines, like a funnel: children lining each side of the narrow bridge, then two widely spaced rows of adults with salusalu garlands ready in their hands. The others crowded behind the human barricades. The chief and Ilai stood in the middle of this central space. Singh spotted the Tora children with some other teenagers, their arms round each other. Thank goodness.

  Vehicle doors slammed, and a minute later a Fijian woman led the six foreign guests to the bridge. Was it Ratu Osea’s daughter, Adi Ana? Yes, as they got closer she was certain of it. The chief and Ilai walked slowly across the bridge to meet the guests. Melissa was among them. They all shook hands, taking their time about it in Fijian fashion. Singh wondered what the VIPs had been told about Kelera, if anything.

  An upbeat Fijian welcome song pierced the quiet. Singh’s heart lifted, as always, when she heard a Fijian choir. The guests would never guess the customary verve and sparkle was toned down by grief.

  The chief led his delighted guests between the lines of curtseying children. The reception line garlanded the chief, Ilai, and all the guests with salusalu of fresh flowers, while the entire crowd sang another song. Ratu Osea turned left and led the guests along the riverbank towards the remains of the fort. It looked as if a guided village tour was the first item on the program.

  Singh returned to the church, willing Horseman and the doctor to arrive soon.

  41

  Melissa sat on the mats with the other foreign guests, garlanded with sweet-scented mokosoi leaves and frangipani. She was excited to be at her first yaqona ceremony. Like the others, she sat respectful and uncomprehending while the Fijian speeches rumbled on. In front of them, in the middle of the pavilion, stood the carved tanoa which divided the day guests on one side from the people of Tanoa on the other.

  In the clear space around the tanoa, three young men in grass skirts solemnly prepared the brew. Muscles rippled beneath their oiled skin. They poured water from a length of bamboo, swirled the sinnet bag of ground yaqona root through the water, and squeezed it, again and again, until the mixture was right. The same principle as a tea bag, really. The server, moving with military precision, scooped up a coconut bowl of the beige brew and knelt before the chief. He bowed his head low and proffered the bowl. The chief clapped three times, took the bowl, and downed it amid approving claps and shouts.

  Once the principals on either side had been served, the solemnity lifted, and the audience chatted quietly. Then a second round began. The dour-looking headman, who had greeted them when they arrived, invited guests and the media to take photos. Melissa shot footage of guests shuffling around on their knees, careful to keep their heads lower than the chief's. She was delighted with everything.

  The chief, Adi Ana, and the headman rose. The drinkers immediately hushed. The headman spoke directly to the foreign guests. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, our honoured guests, you are now Tanoa villagers for the day. After our lunch and reconciliation ceremony, you will have some free time. You may go wherever you please. At the school there is an exhibition of children’s work and a display by our potters. For those interested in farming, you can join guided tours of our plantations, including our spice projects. Later, there’ll be a rugby match here on the rara between Tanoa and our closest village, Lailai.’

  Enthusiastic applause followed this last announcement. The solemn headman looked disconcerted. ‘You already know that someone died unexpectedly in our village last night. Ratu Osea and the deceased’s family decided our ceremonies today must go ahead. In accordance with Fiji law, police officers are here to investigate. Do not be surprised if you see uniformed officers about. This is normal routine in such cases.’

  The audience quietened again. ‘Please stretch your legs for ten minutes while the boys prepare this space for a presentation of meke, Fijian traditional dances.’

  Melissa was beyond impressed by how this backblocks village, which had no electricity or phone connections, could mount such a slickly organised event. Unimaginable!

  And where was Joe? She expected him to be here by now. On the journey to Tanoa, Adi Ana had told them that a young woman had just died. Melissa was immediately alarmed. Was it Kelera? She said nothing to the other guests. It was probably a natural death, but what if it had been murder? What if Vili’s murderer had struck again? She had her mobile, but it wouldn’t be right to call Joe about this, overheard by others in the van. She’d sent a text but hadn’t got a reply. Joe said he would leave by eleven o’clock. He should be here soon. She’d noticed Susie at the edge of the crowd during the garlanding. How beautiful was that? She fingered her salusalu, releasing more exotic scents.

  But, if there had been a second murder, she needed to know. Without Joe by her side, she was a little afraid. Tanoa was beautiful, but very, very foreign.

  42

  Ash arrived with Alisi, the photographer, and a forensics officer Singh had not met before. She welcomed them with open arms. Figuratively, anyway. Her natural reserve with anyone beyond family and friends always escalated with male colleagues. Ash approved of their work in the church and took over from her. She allowed Tani to join Ash when he finished his list of smokers. She deployed two constables on village patrol, while the third accompanied her to the rara. She could see the bridge from one end of the rara. She didn’t want to miss Horseman’s arrival.

  The six foreign guests, including Melissa, sat on low, carved chairs at the front of the VIP shelter. More than two hundred spectators gathered around the perimeter. The small boys stamped in first, young warriors in grass skirts and war paint, brandishing their small clubs. Their treble voices belied the menace of their advance right up to the guests of honour. The older boys and men followed, filling the space surrounded by the spectators.

  Singh loved a good meke, and they were always good. Fijians performed these action songs wholeheartedly, not holding back on the dramatic or threatening aspects, but enjoying themselves so hugely that no one could feel intimidated. Today’s performance was more subdued. And no wonder. The performers accepted that the show must go on, despite this second murder. But they couldn’t perform at their best. Even if they could, it would seem disrespectful to Kelera and her family. Tomasi would have been disappointed, if he’d been here. Did he know who’d killed Vili and Kelera? If the doctor could be certain Kelera died later than noon yesterday, Tomasi was off the hook.

  A constable jogged slowly up the hill. He’d struggle to pass his fitness test right now, panting like that.

  ‘Sergeant, the doctor’s arrived,’ he managed to puff out.

  ‘Vinaka, Constable. Where is he?’

  ‘She, Sarge. The doctor’s a lady. Dr Krishna.’ Singh ticked herself off twice: first, for being distracted by the meke and missing the doctor’s arrival; second, for assuming a pathologist would be a man. Susie Singh, who was always annoyed when men assumed a detective sergeant would be a man! Beating herself up about that would have to wait, however.

  ‘Oh, good. Where is she?’

  ‘Inside the church already. I escorted her there and ran straight up to you.’

  ‘Anything els
e to report? Anyone suspicious?’

  ‘No, Sarge. The pastor asked to go to his office to collect what he needed for the service. I couldn’t deny him.’

  ‘You did right.’

  ‘Anyone who’s not at the rara or doing jobs for the day must be inside their houses, Sarge. There’s no one around the paths at all.’

  ‘You’re doing well, Constable. Base yourself up here now while I go to see the doctor. Keep an eye out on what you can see of the village, as well as what’s going on around the rara.’

  Singh made haste back to the church. She hoped against hope that the doctor could give a definite time of death. Doctors were always so cautious about that. She had previously assumed that caution masked incompetence, but the wonderful Dr Young was even more cautious than others.

  She entered the church, pulled on cap, overshoes, and gloves, and approached the woman kneeling beside Kelera. Alisi was taking photos at the doctor’s confident direction.

  Singh introduced herself. Dr Lakshmi Krishna had dark skin, beautiful brown eyes with blueish whites, gold-rimmed glasses, and a gold stud in her nose. Perhaps around thirty, like herself. And maybe not the wrong side of thirty, unlike herself. She squatted down beside the doctor.

  ‘Probably death by strangulation, you could see that for yourselves. It’s possible she died some other way and was strangled post, but I can’t rule on that until the post-mortem. I gather Matt Young’s coming back from leave to do that. I’ll assist him if I can wangle it. I need more experience, and Matt’s the best. Pretty hot too, don’t you think, Susie? Call me Lucky, by the way.’

  Singh was surprised by such instant familiarity from a doctor, but couldn’t refuse. She returned Dr Krishna’s friendly smile. ‘I was getting to know Kelera quite well, Lucky. It’s hard for me, seeing her like this. It’s very important that we know the time of death ASAP. Our chief suspect for last week’s murder has been in custody since just after 11:00 a.m. yesterday. If Kelera was killed after that time, he’s in the clear for her death.’