DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1

by B. M. Allsopp

  He knocked at the front door. The uncurtained floor to ceiling louvers revealed a hallway that ran halfway along the house. Four doors opened onto it, probably to bedrooms. The other half was a spacious open plan living room and kitchen. Pity about the burglar bars, which also ran floor to ceiling the length of the house, but one had to be practical. He left a card under the door and walked across to the twin house.

  Before he reached the door, an overweight Fijian woman in a bright floral dress came out carrying a laundry basket. So Dr Chakra was blessed with an observant neighbour.

  ‘Bula, bula,’ the woman called out cheerily. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Io, ma’am.’ He showed her his ID. ‘Detective Inspector Horseman. I’ve come to speak to the Chakras, but they must be out. Do you know when they might be back?’

  She put down her basket, then folded her plump arms beneath the overflow of her bosom. ‘Not exactly, no. You didn’t know Mrs Chakra was in New Zealand, then? She’s been there a week already, visiting her sister. Both the kids are schooling in Auckland now, so she’s gone to be near them for a while. Isa, she does miss them so much.’

  ‘You must be a good friend to her, Mrs—?’

  She extended her hand and gripped Horseman’s. ‘Io, Sala Walesi, sir. Yes, I do think of her as a friend, but actually I’m her maid. Dr Chakra built both houses, and lets out this one. I look after both of them, but it’s not a big job. The Chakras are back and forth and the tenant here, Dr Obeid, works for the World Health Organisation and he’s away as much as he’s here. He’s a single man so I offered to cook for him, but he said no thank you, he likes cooking. Imagine that!’ She refolded her arms.

  Horseman smiled. ‘I think you’re being unfair to us men, Mrs Walesi. Who builds the lovo ovens, eh? Tell me, do you live in staff quarters here?’

  ‘Io, sir. My flat is at the other end of this house, and I have my own door. The Chakras are generous—I have a bedroom and bathroom, and my own living room, a kitchen too.’

  ‘You must be comfortable here, Mrs Walesi. When did you last see Dr Chakra?’

  ‘Let me think now.’ She leaned forward confidentially. ‘It was Friday. He drove off as usual in the morning, said he was going to Paradise Island for the weekend and I could leave when I’d finished my work. I went home to the village on the bus on Friday afternoon. When I arrived back here this morning at nine o’clock, there was no one here.’

  ‘Do you know what his program is today, where he might be now?’

  ‘No, sir. I’ve learned to expect him when I see him, just like Mrs Chakra does. He’s a very busy man, so many commitments, you know.’ Suddenly she gasped, clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘I hope you haven’t come to break bad news, sir. Are the children alright?’

  ‘I have no reason to think otherwise, Mrs Walesi. And I’m not the bearer of bad news this time. But I think Dr Chakra can help me with a serious matter I’m looking into. I need to speak to him without delay.’

  It was quite likely the maid would let him into the house, and the temptation to have a look was strong, but better not to risk a complaint. He had an inkling the elusive Dr Chakra would insist on his legal rights.

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu, Mrs Walesi. You’ve been very helpful.’ He handed her two of his cards. ‘Can you please give Dr Chakra my card as soon as he arrives home and ask him to ring me immediately? It really is important. The other’s for you to get in touch with me if you hear anything at all about the doctor’s whereabouts, even if you’re not sure the information is correct.’

  Mrs Walesi nodded seriously. ‘You can rely on me, sir.’ She hesitated, embarrassed. ‘It’s good to see you’re back in Fiji, Josefa Horseman. So sorry to hear you had to retire from rugby.’

  As they drove back down Princes Road to town, he checked his mobile phone with little hope. Nothing from Dr Chakra, nor from his sergeant. But to his surprise, he had a text message from the government pathologist, Dr Matthew Young. The post-mortem was underway. Matt Young was back in Suva! Things were looking up.

  ‘Could you drop me off at the hospital, Livai? The morgue, please.’

  16

  SUVA

  ‘Joe, how are you mate? Great to see you again!’ The lanky pathologist pumped Horseman’s hand.

  ‘Great to see you too, Matt. Your text stunned me, man. It must be two years since you left Fiji for good.’

  Dr Young ran his hand over his sparse blond hair and nodded ruefully. ‘I know, I know, mate. After Talei died, with the kids at uni in Sydney, I got a bit ragged. Fiji bugged me, the bureaucracy bugged me, the weather bugged me. Have you ever noticed it’s bloody hot here? I just felt it was time to pack up, get back to my roots, help the kids. Never meant to stay in Fiji twenty five years, you know. If I hadn’t met Talei on that Air Pacific flight to Nadi I don’t think I ever would have.’ He broke off, as that far away time claimed him.

  ‘Why’d you come back?’

  ‘Beats me, mate. I felt a bit like a visitor in Sydney. The kids have their own lives—they were great, but they don’t need me hovering. Been here too long, I suppose. Then old Professor Fletcher came to see me when he was passing through Sydney and mentioned that my replacement had resigned after only six months and hopped on the next plane out. A couple of pathology registrars from New Zealand were holding the fort. The surgeons were helping them when they could. Hell.’

  Horseman nodded. ‘I remember. They did their best, but we missed you.’

  ‘This place needs someone in charge, someone who owns it. It may be basic compared to what they’ve got in Melbourne or Washington, but it used to work. At the very least, not one body went missing all the years I was here. Doesn’t sound like much of an achievement? Fletch told me that they’d lost four in the year since I left—four! Including premature twins accidentally put in the incinerator while the parents and grandparents were waiting outside the door to bury them! I couldn’t have that, Joe.’

  He stood clutching the edge of the stainless steel table, shaking his bowed head. Whether mourning the loss of those tiny bodies, or of his beloved Fijian wife, Horseman was uncertain. Probably both. He remembered the case, which the media had pounced on, harrying the new pathologist until he quit.

  ‘No, you couldn’t, Matt. So, Professor Fletcher’s quite the strategist, eh?’

  Dr Young came back to the present and looked proprietorially around his domain. ‘Yeah, the old bastard. But I couldn’t resist his bait, so I got back four months ago, only to find some of my favourite toys had been taken by the bigger boys.’

  ‘Really? How could they?’ Horseman asked, in mock horror.

  Dr Young straightened belligerently, furious hands on hips, remembering. ‘Yeah, a bloody decent microscope, the best in this country, bought specifically for me by Rotary, and a couple of other gizmos it took me years to get and saved us heaps of time, because we could do a lot more here instead of sending off samples to Australia. It took me a month to track them all down and get them back. One was in bloody Lautoka! But samples from every hospital, including bloody Lautoka, come here to Suva to be analysed. Make sense to you, Joe? Reallocated to a more appropriate facility was the official line. But I reallocated them back again, and no one’s arguing. Gave the place a good sweep out, literally and metaphorically, and we’re shipshape now.’ He smiled in glee.

  Horseman chuckled at his vision of Matt in full surgical garb, charging after his equipment and seizing it, leaving his opponents writhing on the floor. ‘Good on you, man.’

  ‘But I’m rambling, Joe. We finished your case half an hour ago, but I know you won’t be sorry you missed the PM. Given immersion in the sea and the preparation of the body for the funeral—hell’s bells, surely the resort could have stopped that?—a lot of what the poor girl had to tell us is gone forever. Still, we know something.’

  ‘Cause and time of death, I
hope?’

  The pathologist held up both hands in defence. ‘Whoa, now. That’s a big ask, mate! What do you know about the indicators of drowning?’

  Horseman was in for an instructive tutorial from Matt, who was a compulsive teacher. No choice. ‘Not much,’ he replied. ‘Water in the lungs, froth in the airways?’

  ‘Good. Did you know you can find both these indicators in deaths from heart failure, drug overdose and head injury? There’s actually no specific test for drowning. Imagine that! Such a common cause of death!’ Horseman obliged him by shaking his head in wonderment. ‘Diagnosis is largely circumstantial and a process of excluding other causes. This one’s tricky. She had a bit of water in her lungs, but not much. I’d still be happy to plump for drowning if she had a lot of water and debris in her stomach, but again, there was only a little. That suggests she drowned rapidly, with little struggle, or she wasn’t breathing when she entered the water. Or already dead. You saw the head wound, of course?’

  ‘Yes, was it post-mortem?’

  ‘Can’t be sure, thanks to the effects of immersion. A heavy blow, consistent with direct impact by a blunt object. Could have been sustained by falling or diving into the water, or by an attack, the object either thrown very hard or held in the hand.’ He picked up an enamel bowl and hit it with a steel clamp, thrust the dent under Horseman’s nose. ‘See?’

  Horseman obliged and peered closer at the bowl, suppressing a smile. Dr Young continued. ‘Skull’s fractured, but not severely—it probably wouldn’t be fatal by itself, but it would have knocked her out.’

  Horseman felt energised already. ‘Could the wound have been caused by her being tossed around on the reef?’

  ‘Not in my opinion. She’s got other cuts and abrasions, plus tears in her clothes caused that way. But the head wound’s different, looks like a single impact. When was she last seen alive?’

  ‘So far, we haven’t found anyone who saw her after lunch on Saturday, around two o’clock.’

  ‘And Vijay Chakra found her around half past seven?’

  ‘Yes, Professor Burgermeister was with him, so no doubt there.’

  ‘Bill, really? Oh yeah, he’s heading the research over there connected with the marine reserve, isn’t he? Stands to reason he’d be there for the opening, or whatever they called it. Interesting bloke.’

  ‘Yes, and enthusiastic. I spoke to him yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘Well, there’s only a five-hour window anyway, so time of death’s probably not so vital for you. Just as well, as it’s impossible to be precise. I’d put death between three thirty and five o’clock.’ The pathologist shrugged. ‘However, I’ve got more to tell you that could be significant. She’d been pregnant recently, perhaps until a week or ten days ago.’

  This was preposterous. ‘You mean she gave birth when she was on sick leave? That was the reason for it? But surely everyone would have known. What are they all playing at over there? The Paradise office manager wondered if Nisi might have been pregnant, but said she had no real reason for thinking so.’

  ‘No, no, don’t get excited, mate. It was early days, definitely first trimester. Nothing much to notice. She miscarried, but whether naturally or induced, I can’t say yet.’

  Horseman was shocked. ‘If it’s the latter, we’ve got a serious crime on our hands, even if Nisi’s death proves to be accidental.’ Abortion was only legal in Fiji in a few narrowly defined circumstances.

  The pathologist looked as grim as Horseman felt. ‘Yes, you have.’

  ‘Could the abortion have killed her?’

  ‘Depending on how it was induced, yes. But it didn’t. I’m sure that when she returned to work last Monday, she wasn’t pregnant. She aborted at least a week before she died. Infection is the main complication, and the onset of symptoms could be delayed. If she had an infection, it’s possible that on Saturday she felt ill, dizzy, or even fainted, and fell in the water. But how likely that is, I can’t say. I’ve taken all the usual samples and I’ll work on those that I can analyse here. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get results. I’ll have to send some over to the toxicology lab—they’re going to take longer.’

  ‘Vinaka, Matt. I’m grateful.’

  ‘No worries, mate. Let’s have a beer later, unless I’m burning the midnight oil here.’

  ‘Sure thing. By the way, Nisi consulted Dr Chakra nearly two weeks ago—he sent her on a week’s medical leave.’

  ‘Well, what’s Vijay got to say about it?’

  ‘He hasn’t returned my calls. He’s not in his surgery today and his receptionist delights in being obstructive. His home’s unoccupied and his wife’s been in New Zealand for the last week. Oi le, it’s a relief to visit the morgue.’

  ‘Oh, I assumed you’d spoken to him at the resort.’

  ‘He left Paradise on the launch that brought the constables over at first light Sunday morning. Why on earth did he have to run off like that? If he wanted to look suspicious, he couldn’t have done any better, could he?’

  The pathologist smiled. ‘Perhaps he had a plane to catch.’

  17

  PARADISE ISLAND

  The blustery squall had swept through Paradise Island at noon but now all was calm, and the resort boats headed out with eager divers, fishers and snorkelers. Despite her misgivings about small boats, Singh accepted Anil’s offer of a ride to Delanarua Island in the dinghy. She couldn’t just hang around at the resort doing nothing.

  Anil smiled as she fumbled with the buckle of the orange life-jacket.

  When her trembling fingers finally managed to snap the black plastic bits together, she looked at him. ‘Have you got oars, rope and a bailer? What about a hook?’

  ‘Relax, Sergeant. Look, all the safety equipment’s on board.’ He pointed to a couple of paddle handles protruding from the bow locker.

  As they putt-putted out from the lee of the island, she realised that the squall had left the sea choppy, at least by her standards. Anil wasn’t wearing his lifejacket, but arranged it as a combined seat cushion and backrest in the stern. He casually rested one arm on the gunwale as he steered. Quite a change from the sad, nervous boy of the morning. She started with an issue he’d raised then.

  ‘Is it unusual for Indians to go in for marine biology, Anil?’

  ‘No, not really. Plenty take it at university, probably more than Fijians. Most of them go into high school science teaching. Very few go on to FIMS for postgraduate work. Crazy isn’t it? We’ve all grown up on these tiny specks of land in the middle of a vast ocean, and more students want to take accounting than marine studies.’ Anil accelerated and the dinghy cut through the chop more smoothly.

  ‘I guess parents think accountants make a lot of money.’ Her own parents would have been overjoyed if she’d chosen accounting. ‘But I can tell you, there are more accountants in gaol in Fiji than scientists. Not one scientist, in fact.’

  Anil looked at her, agape. Then he smiled. ‘I must tell my parents that.’

  ‘I’m really curious about this study—was it the homing behaviour of sea kraits? What’s that all about?’

  ‘Oh, it’s cool. You know, banded sea kraits have to come ashore to digest, slough their skins, mate and lay eggs. As you’ve seen. What we want to find out is whether snakes just come ashore anywhere convenient, or whether they return to the same island all the time. It’s about how territorial they are.’

  ‘How do you find out? I suppose you note down the painted numbers when you come across them?’

  ‘You’ve got it. We also clip their scales, which is permanent. We already know that most of them come ashore after ten days at sea. We just walk around Paradise at night, picking up snakes as they come ashore. We mark, weigh and measure them. Then we take them across to Delanarua and let them go. Some of the islanders help—they catch snakes there
and one of us brings them over to Paradise for processing and then they’re released.’

  Despite the desensitising process of the last twenty four hours, Susie was alarmed. ‘You mean we’re going to bring back Steve and a whole lot of snakes in this dinghy?’

  Anil laughed out loud, his face bursting through the curtain of hair. ‘Not this time. We’re just doing recapture now, we’re near the end of the fieldwork. Steve will have checked all the captured snakes already. Don’t worry, it’s just him we’ll be bringing back.’ He shook his head, a touch of contempt in his smile.

  She ignored his ridicule. ‘Did Nisi help with the project when she was at home on Delanarua? I believe the staff have one week off after three weeks at the resort. She must have been here quite a bit since you started work in October.’

  ‘Maybe, I’m not sure.’ He looked up at some birds swooping after each other. ‘See—frigatebirds chasing a noddy.’ Susie looked up too. Soaring and looping, the frigates’ sharp black letter-M profiles and deeply forked tails spelled streamlined elegance. But, clued in by Anil, she could now see their effortless swoops were no joy flight. They dived, harassing the desperately fleeing noddy a fraction of their size. Yet the noddy persisted, dodging their attacks, determined to hang onto the fish flapping in its beak. Then a frigate spiralled around the noddy, forcing it to climb steeply. It must have been exhausted, or perhaps thought its time would be better spent catching another fish. Then it was all over. The fish fell from the noddy’s beak, tumbling until caught neatly mid-air by the diving frigatebird. That was nature, she guessed—unfair.

  Anil was the first to speak. ‘Do you know why they do that—the frigate birds?’

  ‘I take it you mean the bullies—the elegant black ones?’