DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1

by B. M. Allsopp

  ‘Someone in a rage could do that, I guess. But how could anyone be in a rage with that nice kid? It sure wasn’t me.’

  ‘Is Dr Chakra a good friend of yours?’

  Burgermeister frowned. ‘He’s an amusing guy, pleasant company, but I wouldn’t call him a good friend, no. I’ve met him a few times at parties, and now and then I run into him in town or on Paradise.’

  ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘As I said, he’s good company. Kinda superior, though, puts people down. Talks like he’s some character in a pith helmet out of the British raj—I guess it’s just an act but it sure can get irritating.’

  ‘Did he ever speak of Nisi?’

  ‘Not that I can remember, no. I don’t think she was ever around when Vijay and I were chatting, so he’d have no occasion to.’

  ‘Think back to when you discovered Nisi’s body, Professor. How did Dr Chakra react?

  ‘He was wading in waist-deep water and he just froze. But he pulled himself together and we got her out from under the ledge. It was mostly him. I was in a mess, not too agile on the reef. Once she was out of the water he started resuscitation and I went for help. He did all any doctor could do.’

  The door suddenly opened and Anil came in. He stopped immediately he saw them. ‘Sorry Bill, I didn’t know you were in a meeting.’

  ‘That’s okay, Anil. We’re just finishing up,’ Singh said

  Anil looked to the professor, who nodded towards an internal door at the end of the lab. ‘Go through, Anil. You’ve come to pack the San Diego order?’ Anil nodded, hurried through the lab and disappeared through the door.

  ‘Guess you’re wondering what we’ve got through there, Detective Sergeant? Like to see the aquarium?’

  She was intrigued. ‘Yes, I’d love to,’ she said, sliding off her stool.

  The room was smaller than the lab, and air-conditioned. Benches with sinks were built around three walls. Shelves above were stacked with all sorts of containers and unfamiliar tools. Beneath was an array of cylinders, and coloured cables, pipes and hoses were looped around the walls.

  All that was dim background to the central glittering glass island floating above the floor. The glass was transparent, yet shimmered like a mirage. Intense spots of colour danced in the shimmer. She blinked and stepped closer. As her eyes adjusted, the island resolved into a stack of hollow glass bricks, sparkling with water. Within each swam a single small fish. She stared at a creature the size of her thumbnail which somehow concentrated the pigment of six metres of scarlet gold-threaded sari. If it weren’t for the movie Nemo, she couldn’t have put a name to any of them. Fascinated, she scanned the rows, and with a surge of gratitude to Disney, recognised clowns, angels and butterflies.

  ‘Wow!’ She wished she didn’t sound so lame.

  ‘FIMS Aquarium Supplies—my baby,’ the Professor said. ‘And she’s walking now. Maybe she’ll be running in another year. I say “my baby”, but of course the business is owned by FIMS. Even research institutes are expected to contribute to their upkeep these days. We supply several major wholesalers in the States and Asia, with Europe our next target market.’

  She hesitated, puzzled. ‘With respect, Professor, I understood the aim of your work was to conserve the coral reef species. How does the aquarium supplies business fit in with the marine reserve?’

  ‘Attagirl! Mind like a laser, eh Anil? Yep, the aquarium supplies trade can be a filthy business. The goddam Philippines, for example. Fuck, I ‘m not gonna think about that now.’ His head shuddered the thought away, setting off ripples through his body.

  ‘The business and the reserve are quite separate, Detective Sergeant. They have no impact on each other at all. Let me bore you with our rules of sustainability. First, we don’t source our fish from the reserve or any other protected area, and of course, we never supply protected species. Second, we capture to fill an order. No more. An order comes in for two Moorish Idols, we go get two Moorish Idols. Third, juveniles only. You can see all these are babies. Adults remain to breed and the ultimate buyer enjoys observing their babies grow and live a long life. Anil will tell you the fourth principle.’

  Anil came in on cue. ‘The fourth is no waste. Each fish is kept in isolation, to control the spread of contagious disease. We treat any infection and all fish sent from here are healthy.’

  ‘How are they transported?’

  ‘Each in its own plastic bag, about the size of these little tanks. The plastic’s really tough. We pump extra oxygen in before we seal the bags. So far, we haven’t had a single fish arrive dead. I’m about to pack an order that will land in Los Angeles tomorrow morning and be with our customer in San Diego before lunchtime.’

  ‘Are the prices high?’

  The professor took over. ‘Ours are—very. The more unusual endemic Fijian species can fetch thousands. Business has gotta be sustainable too. The companies that deal with us get quality every time. Retail customers are getting very demanding, thanks to the bad press the fuckin’ pirates have brought the trade. FIMS is certified as a sustainable supplier. That’s a big marketing edge for us. But, I must stop lecturing, Anil is looking embarrassed on my behalf.’

  ‘I don’t know why. I’m fascinated. Every time I meet you guys I learn heaps about things I never knew existed.’

  The professor eyed her shrewdly. ‘But not about what you came here for. I’m truly sorry about that.’

  Singh smiled and said with more confidence than she felt, ‘We’ll solve the mystery of Nisi’s death soon, Professor.’

  26

  PARADISE ISLAND

  The dive boat was twenty minutes overdue. There wasn’t any shade around the jetty, so Horseman retreated under the eaves of the boatshed, where he pondered the implications of Ledua Marama’s home remedies. Could Nisi have miscarried because of the doses she’d been taking? His mother had told him there were traditional herbal abortifacients that were quite effective. Lab analysis of the samples had to be a priority.

  He was brought back to the present by Eseta’s approach. She brandished the luncheon menu.

  ‘If you give me your order now, Josefa, you won’t be kept waiting in the dining room, and you’ll be able to have what you want, no matter how late you are. Some items are limited, you see. Chef recommends the clams, but there are only a dozen portions of those.’

  Best to avoid an unwinnable battle and surrender now. ‘Vinaka, Eseta. I’ll get fat with you looking after me like this!’ He scanned the menu; there were four choices for each of three courses. ‘I’ll have gazpacho followed by grilled walu steak, please. No dessert today.’

  ‘Cassava chips and salad, or baked vegetables, with the walu?’

  ‘Cassava chips and salad, please Eseta.’

  She nodded approvingly. ‘You know, a sportsman like you will always be trim, Josefa. You must have dessert.’

  ‘Vinaka, but not today.’

  ‘How about the mango mousse? Or even just some guava and passionfruit ice cream? You really need something cold and sweet to refresh you, keep your energy up!’

  ‘I hate to disappoint you, Eseta, but. . .’ He couldn’t help chuckling. Did she mother all the guests like this?

  ‘Of course, you don’t have to order dessert in advance—there’s plenty of everything. I hope you’ll change your mind.’

  Smiling to himself at Paradise Island’s relentless hospitality, he wandered back to the jetty in time to see the dive boat round the point. He stood back while Guy Dawson and the boatman unloaded the air tanks, buoyancy vests and weight belts onto a trolley. The four guests, wetsuits peeled off to the waist, picked up their masks and ambled back to the dive shop, talking animatedly. Horseman followed, waited while the divers dumped their wetsuits and masks in the waiting troughs of water, picked up fresh towels and sauntered off. Dawson was still in his unzi
pped wetsuit, the skin of his chest milk-white beneath his red-brown neck. Blond hair curled below his ears. He regarded Horseman with alert grey eyes.

  ‘Waiting for me, Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Dawson. I’d like to speak to you in private. I can wait if you need to change.’

  ‘No, best get it over with. The suit’ll keep me cool while it’s wet. You’d better come inside. Soli, you can hang the gear out when you’ve washed it. Remember to rinse everything twice, please.’ He opened the screen door, ushering Horseman into a room housing a mass of equipment and tackle, sorted and stored on labelled shelves, hooks, racks and rails. All shipshape. Dawson reached over a battered desk, lifted the only chair in the room, and placed it in the central space for Horseman. He pulled out a short bench from under a rack of fins and seated himself. ‘Mind you, I told the sergeant everything I know on Sunday.’

  ‘I’m afraid the post-mortem results mean that Akanisi’s death is now classified as suspicious, Mr Dawson. She was probably murdered. We also know that she miscarried very recently, in the early stages of pregnancy.’ Dawson raised his eyebrows at this, but showed no other reaction as Horseman summarised the findings. ‘You can see that it would help us to know who was responsible for Akanisi’s pregnancy.’

  ‘Yes, I can see it would. But I don’t know. It wasn’t me, if that’s the way you’re thinking.’ His voice was level, calm.

  ‘Some people believe you and she were close.’

  Dawson’s face remained serious, unreadable. ‘We were friends, Inspector. I don’t deny that. Nisi was bright. She wanted to learn all she could of the world beyond Vula lagoon. I’ve travelled quite a bit, I could tell her about other places, other peoples. She taught me a lot about Fijian culture in return. But nothing more than friends.’

  ‘Did you want it to be more?’

  Dawson remained perfectly calm. ‘I’m a heterosexual man, I naturally enjoyed having such an attentive and lovely audience. But I’m not a man to take advantage of an innocent eighteen year old girl. I’m twice her age.’

  ‘Who could have taken advantage, Mr Dawson?’

  ‘I can’t speculate on that, Inspector, although others seem to have speculated about me. Believe me, if I knew, I would certainly tell you.’

  ‘What did you talk about, the last time you spoke with her?’

  ‘She wanted to know more about the marine reserve, whether it was the right thing to do. Not the first time she’d asked me about it. I told her it was the right thing, and why. We talked about the pros and cons of it for some time.’

  ‘You watched the ceremonies after lunch on Saturday, I believe?’

  ‘Yes, I mentioned that in my statement.’

  ‘You weren’t very specific. Tell me about your movements in detail, please.’

  Dawson gave no sign of being irritated. ‘I walked over to the jetty first, to see the boat leave and hear the choir. Mainly to hear the singing. I hung out there for a bit, then walked around to the sea wall by the beach. There was already a crowd there and I knew the boat wouldn’t arrive for another ten minutes or thereabouts, so for something to do I walked across to the beach west of the staff quarters, to catch sight of the boat earlier.’

  ‘Who were you with?’

  ‘No one really, just among the crowd.’

  ‘And on the beach?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Were you with anyone on the beach west of the staff quarters? I don’t suppose you were the only one there.’

  Dawson looked at him without speaking for a few moments, but his face remained calm, reserved. He must now realise that someone had told Horseman he and Nisi were on the beach with Lee. He’d be working out how little he could get away with. ‘Yes, I met Akanisi and Winston Lee on the way. They’d had the same idea. But I think there were just the three of us there. We waited for the boat, then we went back to the main beach and witnessed the full catastrophe when the chief almost went overboard.’

  ‘Where were you then?’

  ‘I watched from the bar terrace. We didn’t stick together. Nisi raced off ahead with Winston. I didn’t see her again until Maika carried her dead body into the rec hall.’

  ‘Tell me about Winston Lee.’

  ‘What’s to tell? I first met Winston over a year ago, not too long after I came here. I take him on a few dives, but he’s more into fishing, which doesn’t interest me. He’s a regular here, loves the remoteness and quiet, he says. He’s in business in Hong Kong, but precisely what, I don’t know. I think he said import-export.’

  ‘Do you keep in touch with him when he’s in Hong Kong?’

  Dawson eyebrows shot up. ‘No, he’s just a casual acquaintance. We have a drink sometimes when I run into him at the bar. I hardly see him apart from the dives. He’s really a very active guest, always out fishing with Maika. Or kayaking or sailing on his own.’

  ‘Were you surprised to see him with Nisi last Saturday?’

  ‘Of course not. The resort’s so small, it’s not surprising to see any staff member chatting to any guest. The great thing about Paradise is that guests are treated as friends, not customers, whether they’re celebrities or nobodies. And Nisi was a friend to everyone. I imagine they met on the track by chance.’ He paused. ‘But now you’ve got me speculating—I don’t know.’

  ‘You must have speculated about how Nisi died, Mr Dawson.’

  ‘I’ve tried, but my imagination fails me there, Inspector. Nothing makes sense.’

  His milk-white skin was pimpling, mottling with blue, and he shivered. ‘I’d better get out of this wetsuit now,’ he said.

  27

  SUVA

  Dark had fallen during the CID meeting, and as Susie Singh walked through central Suva she could hardly think for the ear-splitting shrieks of thousands of Indian mynahs gathering in their roosting trees.

  She reviewed what she now knew about Dr Chakra. It had been easy enough to find out about his public life: a staunch Rotarian for fifteen years, amusing if risqué guest speaker at fund-raising dinners, donor to Hindu charities, board member and generous supporter of the cricket club, which he supplied with equipment and trophies. He also donated considerable sums to the Suva bookmakers. Funnily enough, beyond the bare facts of his training and hospital appointments, his professional life was harder to penetrate. Doctors closed ranks, just like police. But doctors’ ranks never included nurses, even triple-certificated registered nurses like her friend Maraia Namata, whom she was meeting for dinner.

  The onshore breeze was pleasantly cool, but pushed the polluted air back over the town into the hills, doubling the diesel smell. She crossed Victoria Parade to Ratu Sukuna Park, where the greasy fumes of frying food from the night-stalls spiced the atmospheric soup, making her feel hungry and nauseous at the same time. She picked her way between a humble roti vendor and an ambitious, brightly lit stall whose proprietor, in full chef’s regalia, kept up a showman’s spiel as he danced behind his trestle counter, flipping hamburgers, stirring onions, draining chips, assembling hot dogs with a final flourish of sauce. Salivating, she hurried through the dimly lit park and into a lane behind McDonald’s.

  Fifty metres along was the Summer Palace, one of the oldest of Suva’s eating establishments. It looked a lot better at night, when the soft lantern light glamourised the tacked-on plywood cut-outs of oriental columns and pagoda roofs painted scarlet, gold and black. In daylight they were faded and peeling.

  Maraia was waiting at the bar, glass of rum and coke in hand. Her frizzy black hair was now cut close to her head, making her brown almond eyes huge. She stooped to wrap Susie in a crushing hug.

  ‘A bottle of Fiji Water please,’ Singh told the barman.

  Maraia raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. ‘Come on, Susie, we haven’t seen each other for months. Have a rum and coke! You’re not on duty no
w.’ She paused, grinning. ‘Or are you? Don’t tell me there was some ulterior motive for your phone call.’

  She smiled back. Maraia could take the truth. More than that, she’d be offended if she concealed it. ‘No harm in killing two birds with one stone, Maraia. Let’s take our drinks to the table and order. I’m starving.’ She took her friend’s arm, looking up at her affectionately. ‘I love your new hair—really shows off your earrings. Silver butterflies—gorgeous!’

  Maraia flicked her earrings happily. ‘Thanks, got them at the craft market last Sunday.’

  The tofu hotpot and sizzling Mongolian lamb came quickly and they caught up with each other’s lives as they ate. Then, hunger satisfied, Singh came to the point.

  ‘Ever had any contact with Dr Vijay Chakra, Maraia?’

  Maraia looked at her, curious. ‘Not much, but what I’ve had was more than enough, thanks. Why, what’s he up to now?’

  Singh shrugged. ‘Probably nothing. I’m getting background, just between ourselves. What’s he like as a doctor?’

  ‘Competent enough. I worked with him at Savusavu Hospital about ten years ago. I don’t suppose he’s changed.’

  ‘Damning with faint praise?’

  ‘It’s just that he wasn’t dedicated to the patients—unless they were female, young and pretty. He likes his career, but I don’t think medicine’s a deep interest with him. He was a playboy on the prowl then, despite his lovely wife and young children. I can’t respect that type of man—and he is a type.’

  Susie leaned forward, lowered her voice. ‘He came on to you, did he?’

  Maraia didn’t lower her voice one bit. ‘Sure, but I sent him packing. He didn’t care. I think he tried it on with all the young nurses, married or single, on the principle that the wider he cast his net, the more fish he’d catch. And he caught plenty, I’m sorry to say.’ Fun-loving Maraia pursed her lips in uncharacteristic disapproval.

  ‘What’s his attraction?’