Horseman nodded. ‘And I saw him get in a cab with Winston Lee, headed for Navua and Paradise Island. Adi Litia told me they arrived before nine and Maika took Burgermeister back to camp in the speedboat. We can rule out the idea that they met between discovering Nisi last Saturday and drinking at the Paradise bar on Thursday night. So, no evidence of falling out this last week, or of being either enemies or friends. Probably just acquaintances, as they both said. No real motive for Burgermeister to plan to kill Dr Chakra that I can see.’
‘While you two are eating my sandwiches,’ Taleca cut in, ‘I have to report I’ve failed in my efforts to clear our friend Steve. So far, that is. This morning I finally got the flight lists for all arrivals to Vanua Levu, both Savusavu and Labasa. No Sitiveni Doka. And no booking in either direction. But more likely he travelled by ferry, and Sea Track’s computers are in some sort of meltdown. They’re hopeful for this afternoon. However, I have a quite unexpected, if minor, victory to report.’
‘Out with it, Keli!’ Horseman urged.
‘Remember you gave the Vehicle Unit the paperwork for the stolen Paradise Yamaha outboard? Well, a little miracle has happened.’ Taleca spread his arms in blessing. ‘Those brilliant guys have found it! Alive and well but badly disguised in the Yasawa Islands. Someone did a very poor job of grinding off the serial number. They haven’t yet traced who removed it from Paradise, but give them time, boss.’
‘Fantastic! You may have the pleasure of giving that good news to Mr McKenzie. See that Vehicles let him know when they’ve finished with it.’
‘Io, boss.’
‘Well done, both of you. You’ve covered everything you can, now we’ll just have to wait. Fortunately, Sergeant Singh and I managed to get to Paradise yesterday afternoon, so we were able to talk to a number of staff. I had luck with Waisele—we can eliminate him. Adi Litia phoned her father and I spoke to him in person. He vouched for Wes for all Thursday evening. He ate the evening meal with Ratu Ezekaia’s family, went out about eleven for reserve warden duty from midnight to dawn. One of the village boys, a trainee warden, was with him all the time, on the point at the end of the bay. He got back to the chief’s house about seven and went to bed. Ratu Ezekaia got the boy to call me later. Wes has a sound alibi.’
‘Keep an open mind around any ratu, boss!’ Kelepi teased.
Horseman grinned, reached across and swiped one of Taleca’s corned beef sandwiches from his lunch box. ‘Vinaka vakalevu to your wife, Keli. She gives you far too much to eat. Well, that leaves Anil. Sergeant Singh? I’ve a sandwich to deal with.’
Singh smiled. ‘Save one for me, Kelepi, they look good. Well, with Wes on Delanarua and the professor at the resort, Anil was alone at the camp on Thursday night. Yesterday afternoon all three of them were there, busy packing and writing up notes. Anil confirmed Professor Burgermeister’s story that he left at eight on Thursday evening to walk to the resort for dinner and stay overnight. Anil heated a tin of stew to eat with instant noodles for his dinner, then did some work and went to bed. Burgermeister returned around nine on Friday morning. No one to confirm or otherwise.’
Taleca offered his lunch box to Singh. ‘Vinaka,’ she said, taking a sandwich. ‘Do you think Anil and the professor could have been in it together? Surely not!’
‘This one’s inexplicable. The only suspects with credible motives, that’s Jona and Maika, have cast-iron alibis. The only ones with means and opportunity don’t seem to have any possible motive. We can only keep digging deeper. I’m off to change and visit Steve Doka’s sister, out past Seven Mile. Vinaka for tracking her down, Kelepi.’
Taleca bowed. ‘Boss, I’ll ring you immediately I get those Savusavu ferry passenger lists.’
‘Please. Tanielo, I’ll see you at four o’clock at Albert Park. Keep slaving for DC Taleca until then!’
Tanielo Musudroka’s smile split his face. ‘Io, sir.’
The three mean-eyed dogs did not recognise Detective Inspector Josefa Horseman, sometime saviour of Fiji rugby, as he entered their territory. They rushed him, barking at maximum decibels, baring their fangs as if their lives depended on killing this interloper, and fast. Their alarm spread in an instant to their neighbours, whose frenzied chorus destroyed the sleepy suburban peace. This was normal Suva dog behaviour, but after a year among the more civilised canine population of Portland, Oregon, Horseman’s adrenalin surged. As one dog launched itself at him, he kicked out, jumped, grabbed an overhanging guava tree branch and wrenched it down hard. It snapped. He swung it down between the brutes, whereupon his attackers cowered, whining.
Angry shouts heralded their mistress flinging open her front door. She hurled a hefty stick at her pets, who slunk back to the hedge of red hibiscus that marked the border of their territory. Horseman picked up the stick and returned it to the lady of the house, whose athletic figure and strong throw were at odds with her calf-length dress, frill-trimmed and flower-sprigged. He showed her his ID and introduced himself.
‘I am so sorry about my dogs’ behaviour, Ovisa. They are guard dogs.’
‘I understand, ma’am, but you do need to keep them under control. And not by beating them. Did you know the RSPCA has free obedience training you can attend with your dog?’ He was wasting his breath, he knew. The free classes were attended by foreigners and locals more prosperous than those who lived in this government subdivision for owner-builders.
‘My husband says spare the rod and spoil the dog. Just like children, eh?’ She grinned. ‘Please come in.’
‘Vinaka, ma’am. Are you Mrs Analisa Nawava?’
‘Io, sir.’
He followed her into the neat living room. It was small and low-ceilinged but a cooling cross-breeze blew through the louvered windows front and back. Colourful floral cotton billowed beside the louvers and covered the sagging armchair cushions and a mattress on the floor facing a television. Mrs Nawava offered him the best chair.
‘Let me make you some tea, Mr Horseman.’
‘Vinaka, but no, Mrs Nawava. Some water would be nice.’
His hostess soon returned with a plastic mug of water. He sipped gratefully.
‘I hear you are the sister of Sitiveni Doka?’
Her smile was proud. ‘Io, sir. He’s our parents’ youngest child, twelve years younger than me. He has already graduated from USP, but he is still studying there, in science.’
‘That’s a great achievement. I think he’s very clever—hardworking too. All that study! Mrs Nawava, I’m talking to all the science team who are working at the Paradise Island camp in connection with a death at the resort nearby. Your brother has a mobile phone, but it seems to be turned off, or out of range. Sitiveni’s professor told me he gave him a few days’ leave to attend to family matters. I wondered if he was staying here with you.’
Mrs Nawava paused, fear flickered in her eyes. ‘No, sir, he is not. I’m very sorry.’
He smiled again. ‘That’s quite alright, there’s no reason why he ought to be here. When did you see him last?’
She looked straight at him and answered without hesitation. ‘Last Thursday. He was going to visit our mother in Savusavu. She’s not well.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope his visit cheered her up?’
‘I hope so, he’s her favourite. But I haven’t heard from him at all. Perhaps he will return today, or tomorrow.’
‘No phone call?’
‘No, sir. We don’t have a phone in our house. I can ring my mother’s neighbour from the public telephone at the post office. She will take a message to my mother. You know how it is.’
He did know how it was—getting worse. Ten years ago people like Mrs Nawava had only lacked a private home telephone, which they regarded as an unnecessary luxury anyway. Now they lacked much more: mobile phones, computers, internet access, and thus the ability to use text messaging,
emails, Skype and social networking. Each advance in technology added to their lacks and the gaps between them and the acquisitive rest of the world. He thought of his Melissa, many thousands of kilometres away, in the northern hemisphere. Now he had internet connection, they emailed each other daily, and they’d even managed three magical VOIP video calls so far, despite the time difference and his unpredictable work hours. All at no expense too. But for Mrs Nawava, telephoning her mother on Vanua Levu, Fiji’s second largest island only 200 kilometres from Suva, was fraught with complexity.
‘How was he planning to travel?’
‘On the overnight ferry. It’s not so expensive as the plane—$45 for students. You know, the fare includes the bus from Suva to Natovi port. The ferry leaves at seven at night and arrives at Savusavu at four in the morning, so no time wasted.’ Her mood brightened as she recounted the details.
‘Have you heard from your mother or her neighbour since your brother arrived in Savusavu?’
‘No, nothing, sir.’
‘And your mother’s name is?’
‘It’s Mere Kurolo.’
‘Could you please give me the neighbour’s name and number, ma’am?’
Mrs Nawava went to the kitchen and returned with a well-thumbed school exercise book. When he’d copied the information he rose and handed her his card and a pre-paid phone card. ‘I’ll leave these with you. If you hear from your brother, I’d be grateful if you could let me know. Please ask him to contact me too.’
Mrs Nawava nodded seriously. ‘Vinaka vakalevu, Mr Horseman. I will do as you ask.’
The dogs glared balefully as he left, but did not budge from under the hedge. He got into his car and checked his watch. Half past four. If he didn’t step on it, he’d be late, and that would not do.
43
SUVA
He pulled up beside the Albert Park oval ten minutes late. What on earth was going on? Boys were packed down into two heaving red and yellow scrummages, a few others hovered around them, intent on possessing the freed ball. Musudroka and two other volunteers were bent double, watching. One scrum collapsed amid anguished howls. The ball shot out. A red scooped it up and charged down the field, pursued by two yellows.
The other scrum still heaved, opposing muscles and joints straining to their limits but too well matched. Musudroka blew his whistle. The collapsed scrum turned into an all-out brawl: kicking, butting, choking and biting. Three whistles blew insistently, again and again until finally the jumble of body parts resolved into individual teenage boys, standing or slumped or rolling on the ground, gasping and moaning.
Horseman managed a lopsided jog down the steps to the field and across to Musudroka amid welcoming shouts. ‘Bula, Shiners! Let me see you run, now. Twice round the oval, off you go!’
He observed them start, pulled back two boys who were limping, then turned to one who’d only been able to haul himself to his knees, swaying, before vomiting on the grass. He told the volunteers how to treat this suspected concussion, and when they carried the boy off and laid him down in the shade beyond the sidelines, he turned to Musudroka who was looking extremely pleased with himself.
‘Well done Tanielo, you started on time. That’s always important. How long did they spend warming up?’
‘Oh, er, not long, sir. Across the oval and back. They were so keen to get started, couldn’t wait to do scrum training. I wanted to encourage them, so we got stuck into that first.’
Oi le! Horseman was profoundly grateful there wasn’t a spinal injury to deal with already. ‘If you’re in charge, Tanielo, the boys follow your orders, not the other way around. Rugby’s dangerous. If we’re going to mount a team, these boys need to be alive and uninjured. We can teach them the rest: ball skills, team work and strategy.’
‘True, sir.’ Musudroka nodded emphatically.
‘We haven’t had time to plan a training program, and anyway, that should develop from our observations today. What did we call the boys here for, Tanielo?’
‘Trials, sir.’
‘Exactly. When we’ve selected our squad, we begin training. Look at them run now—speed, coordination, stamina. Comments?’
‘Quite a few fliers, sir.’
Horseman nodded. The runners, now aware of the coaches’ scrutiny, doubled their efforts as they headed into their second lap. One boy dropped out, grey-faced, stumbled over to his injured colleagues and dropped flat on his back. With a pang of sympathy, he recognised Tevita, who’d begged for the revival of the Shiners. ‘Many of these kids are malnourished, you know. Even if they’re fit, some physical types just aren’t right for rugby. See this boy about to finish? Runs like the wind, but he shouldn’t play rugby with those fine bones and long slender neck. He could end up a quadriplegic. I’ve seen it and I can’t risk that.’
Musudroka looked grave. ‘He’s going to be disappointed, sir.’
‘I know. He could make a good distance runner or jumper. If he wants, I could get Samesi to check him out for the athletics squad. Now, let’s get some system into this assessment—we’ll start simple and work up.’
Horseman divided the barefoot, hopeful urchins into three groups, each directed by one of the volunteers, who rotated them through the gamut of ball handling skills and kicking. He mentally tallied each boy’s strengths. All had youthful enthusiasm, and many had agility. About half had good speed over distance but only a minority had the strength and stamina expected for their age. A very few ticked all those boxes and handled the ball with instinctive skill. But it was far too early for selection, even for the junior competition. The top teams were from boarding schools like Queen Victoria, the Eton of the Fiji Islands, where the boys had punishing training schedules six days a week and plenty of food. Damn, he should have thought it all through before making Tevita that ill-advised promise. Even with three months’ training, these black sheep would be slaughtered. But a promise was a promise.
By six there were more casualties flaked out on the sidelines and Horseman called a halt. He asked the three boys he judged to be high injury risks to step aside. He hated dashing their hopes, but this was his only ethical option. While he explained his decision to them and offered training in safer sports, the other boys raced for the grandstand taps. When they returned, shaking off water like puppies, Musudroka and the other volunteers lined them up in red and yellow groups again and methodically took down details.
At last a white Honda pulled up behind the police car and Horseman hurried over. The driver retrieved a large cardboard carton from the back seat. The diminutive man with the shock of abundant black hair balanced the carton on his left arm and grasped Horseman’s outstretched hand.
‘Vinaka vakalevu, Doctor Pillai. I’m truly grateful.’
‘Not at all, not at all, Inspector Horseman. My goodness, the honour is all mine.’
‘First, let me introduce you.’
Horseman called for attention. ‘Dr Pillai, although being very busy indeed, has agreed to be the Shiners’ training squad doctor. He’s the expert and we must follow his advice. None of us can play his best rugby right through the season unless he is strong and healthy.’ Not knowing how well the doctor understood Fijian, he then repeated his speech in English. ‘Three cheers to welcome Doctor Pillai!’
The cheering was as ragged as the Shiners themselves, but the boys would come to appreciate their doctor in a moment. ‘What’s your tip for today, Doctor?’ Horseman asked.
‘My goodness, boys, it’s food. Rugby stars eat plenty of root crops, vegetables, fish and meat. They drink lots of water, coconut juice and milk—not expensive lolly water. Let’s start off right with our supper tonight—pumpkin and spinach rotis, boiled dalo, bananas and milk!’
‘Line up, boys!’ Musudroka blew his whistle. Instantly, the hopefuls scrambled to obey. One of the volunteers held out the box labelled Surgical Supplies,
and a delighted Doctor Pillai shook each boy’s hand and formally presented him with a greaseproof paper parcel. When they were all eating, he beamed at Horseman.
‘The bananas and milk are in the car. I’ll go and get them.’
‘I’ll come with you. This is really very, very generous of you, Doctor. We need to sit down and thrash out our training program. It’s difficult with my current cases. . .’ He pulled himself up. He shouldn’t have referred to Dr Pillai’s friend as a case, even if Chakra had been a bastard of the first order.
‘We can make a time now, don’t worry. My goodness, each boy needs a medical check before they begin and. . .’
Dr Pillai’s plans raced along with his fast-moving body. Horseman could barely keep up and stopped at the bottom of the steps. Dr Pillai stopped too. Horseman transferred his weight to his left leg and rested his right. He was glad the doctor pretended not to notice.
‘Let me assure you Dr Chakra’s death is top priority. It was kind of you to identify his body. How is his family?’
The doctor shook his head slowly, tutting. ‘Terrible shock, terrible. The delay in the post-mortem report isn’t helping. Mercifully, his parents are dead. His wife comes back tomorrow to sort out what she can. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes a new life in Auckland. She has permanent resident status already, and her sister’s settled there. I know you can’t discuss the case, but—’ He looked up at Horseman hopefully.
DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1 Page 25
