DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1

by B. M. Allsopp

  He let his outrage subside and lined up the facts. Of the scientists, Burgermeister and Anil Gupta remained possibles for Chakra’s murder. Maybe Steve Doka too. If Chakra found out about the wildlife smuggling and threatened to blow the whistle, one of them may have been desperate enough to kill him. Maika said Burgermeister wasn’t involved in the gang, but he couldn’t take that at face value; Maika might want to protect the professor. Horseman hoped to high heaven Burgermeister was innocent—the professor had impressed him. Therefore, of the scientists, Anil seemed the most likely.

  Outside the scientific team, Winston Lee stood out as a suspect. He’d set up the smuggling supply line and would respond to any threats to that. Last night he’d attacked Ian McKenzie to protect his secret. On the other hand, Horseman thought Lee was motivated by profit, pure and simple. If the threats to one operation became critical, wouldn’t he choose to move on to another, rather than commit two murders? This Vula lagoon project would be just a minor operation to him, surely. There were many other isolated islands with endemic species waiting for him to exploit.

  The helicopter landed neatly on the pad at Lautoka naval base. Horseman unfastened his harness, climbed down and, bent double despite protests from his knee, got clear of the whirring blades. After handshakes and bellowed thanks, he limped to the entrance to hail a taxi.

  A dilapidated cab veered across the double line towards him trailing bursts of stinking black exhaust. Before he could open the door the driver leaned over to do the honours. ‘Bula, sir. So sorry the door handle doesn’t work.’ Horseman saw that quite a few of the interior fittings were neatly bound with black duct tape. The same material patched the upholstery. ‘Bula. Nadi police station, please driver.’

  Ten minutes into the drive, Horseman’s mobile rang.

  ‘Keli here, Boss, good news. Immigration intercepted Winston Lee at the airport. He’s at the station awaiting your arrival. DC Agar just telephoned.’

  Relief surged through Horseman. ‘Thank God. Tell Agar I’ll be at the station in 15 minutes if this taxi can last the distance. Has Lee’s luggage been searched yet?’

  ‘He’s insisting Immigration has made a mistake and is refusing to cooperate. Nadi prefer to hold him until you arrive; they don’t want to make a procedural mistake. Lee wants legal representation but as he hasn’t been charged yet. . .’

  ‘Let him. If he can rustle up someone in Nadi, I’m not going to stop him. He’ll know every trick in the crook’s book. We can’t give him even a shadow of a cause to complain about police behaviour.’

  ‘Right boss. Good luck. Keep in touch.’

  48

  NADI

  ‘No comment,’ Winston Lee answered calmly, a slightly amused glint in his eyes. ‘I will not say anything without the advice of my lawyer.’

  ‘I understand a solicitor is on his way, Mr Lee. In the meantime, I am empowered to search you and your luggage on suspicion of offences under Fiji’s Wildlife Protection Act.’

  ‘Nonsense. What grounds do you have?’ Lee asked.

  ‘The police have received information that you are carrying eggs of protected bird species out of the country contrary to the provisions of the Act. That is sufficient grounds for suspicion.’

  Lee was unreadable. Horseman pointed to a corner of the interview room where a pair of smart Samsonite suitcases, a matching carry-on case and a backpack were stacked. A leather shoulder bag lay on the top. ‘Is this all your luggage here?’

  Lee nodded. Constable Agar said, ‘Yes sir, we retrieved the checked-in bags and we have his hand-luggage too.’

  ‘Let’s have a look then,’ Horseman said.

  While Lee and Constable Agar watched, Horseman opened each suitcase and quickly checked through the meticulously packed clothes, camera equipment and digital devices. The squat wide-necked vacuum flask was in the second suitcase, wrapped in a brand new Paradise Island T-shirt. Horseman unscrewed the lid. Inside were small eggs packed in some sort of soft, fluffy material. He set the flask on the table, shut the case and put it on the floor.

  ‘What’s this?’ Horseman asked.

  ‘No comment,’ Lee answered.

  Another flask, also containing eggs, was in the carry-on case, as well as some notebooks. Horseman placed all these on the table, together with a lightweight laptop computer from the backpack and a mobile phone from the shoulder bag.

  ‘DC Agar will give you a receipt for all these items here, Mr Lee. May I ask what you did with the clothes you wore last night? All the garments in your bags are laundered.’

  Lee frowned, obviously surprised, then recovered his impassivity. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I have received information that you assaulted Mr Ian McKenzie, who is now in hospital, around midnight last night on Paradise Island.’

  Lee was silent.

  A light knock on the door interrupted them. Horseman turned as a constable ushered in a young Fijian woman neatly dressed in a green skirt and flamboyant red blouse. He thought of the parrots whose stolen eggs lay in the vacuum flasks.

  ‘Joana Senibua, solicitor,’ she announced, extending her hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Detective Inspector Horseman.’ Her brief handshake was firm. ‘You must be my client, Winston Lee.’ Lee stood courteously and shook hands. ‘Well now, what’s this all about, Inspector?’

  ‘Mr Lee was intercepted at the airport and brought here for questioning on suspicion of offences under the Wildlife Protection Act following information received. I have just searched his luggage and found these two vacuum flasks of eggs, yet to be identified, but suspected to be from kula, the collared lory and kaka, the red shining parrot. He is also suspected of assault causing grievous bodily harm to the manager of Paradise Island resort last night. Mr Lee has declined to comment.’

  ‘Well now, I need to speak with Mr Lee in private, Inspector.’

  The uniformed constable opened the door, ‘Just along here madam. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  Fifteen minutes later, Horseman was finishing his own mug of tea with DC Agar when Joana Senibua entered alone. She was unusually short for a Fijian, with strong features and a confident manner. Horseman rose.

  ‘Please sit down, Ms Senibua. Where is Mr Lee?’

  ‘Well now, Inspector, Mr Lee has asked me to speak for him. First, we are prepared to admit to sourcing the parrot eggs from Delanarua Island and intending to transport them to Hong Kong, without first obtaining the licence approved by the Act. Mr Lee was forced to take this action because of his frustration with the absurd complexity of the bureaucratic licensing process. His aim is to protect endangered species through donating the eggs to an authorised captive breeding project in Hong Kong.’

  Horseman couldn’t help but smile at the solicitor’s earnest brazenness. ‘Your client needn’t worry on that score. The eggs have now been photographed and will be collected shortly by the Kula Eco Park, where they will do whatever can be done to keep them alive in a proper incubator. With luck, they’ll hatch and be raised there.’

  ‘Well now, he’ll be relieved to hear that. On the second matter, the assault, we deny that completely. Further, Mr Lee requests the advice and protection of the Chinese Embassy in Suva.’

  Horseman was surprised. Not by Lee’s denial, but he thought Lee might well prefer to operate under the radar of the Chinese government. Anyway the Embassy was known to take a hands-off approach to nationals prosecuted under Fiji’s criminal law. He hoped Lee didn’t have official connections.

  ‘That suits me, Ms Senibua. I need to get back to Suva myself. I will arrest Mr Lee now for both wildlife smuggling and assault and inform the Chinese Embassy. He and his possessions will be transferred securely to Suva where he will remain in custody until he can be questioned on these matters. Of course he will be permitted visits by consular representatives.’

  ‘Well n
ow, that seems in order.’ She sounded grudging.

  Horseman planted his hands on the table and pushed himself up. The solicitor flashed him a sympathetic glance, which annoyed him. ‘DC Agar, we’ll arrest Mr Lee now.’

  49

  SUVA

  Horseman managed to book a seat on Fiji Air’s Twin Otter service at five o’clock from Nadi to Suva. He thought some more about Winston Lee, the amoral trader, while he paced the domestic passenger lounge. He’d be convicted of wildlife smuggling, and probably be fined, a mere tap on the wrist. No wonder international crime syndicates were moving into wildlife smuggling. Eggs and baskets. Big money and compared to drugs, light penalties.

  He had no doubt whatsoever that Lee had attacked McKenzie; whether Maika’s evidence would be enough to convince a jury he wasn’t sure. Maika said he hadn’t actually seen Lee attack McKenzie, that Lee had walked from the dark shrubbery onto the lit beach immediately after McKenzie had fallen flat in front of Maika. Perhaps Maika would yet tell them more; he would hardly have handed over the vacuum flasks to Lee without asking about the unconscious man at their feet. But perhaps, as he said, he was simply scared. Perhaps he just wanted the money Lee paid him.

  He also badly needed to know when Steve Doka had travelled to Savusavu. He had phoned Taleca from the Nadi police station, just in case a message to his mobile had failed. But no, the Sea Tracks computer had not produced those passenger lists yet, despite Taleca’s frequent enquiries.

  Horseman went to the public phone and rang the number Steve’s sister had given him for their mother’s neighbour. He hoped this time he’d reach a nosier, more gossipy member of the household but no one answered. He listened hopefully until the phone rang out.

  When he arrived at Suva airport he was met and driven into town in a police vehicle. As they passed through the old inner suburb of Flagstaff, his mind veered from the case at the familiar sight of the Marist High School boys on the playing field next to the road. He asked the driver to pull over. Senior rugby training was in progress: large bare brown feet pounded up and down the rough field. Yesterday he’d promised rugby shoes to the Shiners. Totally unnecessary, but they’d prove a tremendous source of pride for these feral boys at the frayed edges of society. Where would he find the money?

  He needed a brief mental break from the case, an interlude where he focused on something quite different. He often found this a useful strategy when over-tired, thinking of it as a waking power-nap. He’d make a quick exploratory visit to Khan’s store to get a general idea of prices. ‘Could you stop at Khan’s and wait for ten minutes, driver? Vinaka.’

  Pudgy Sunny Khan clasped Horseman’s hand in both his own, pumping it up and down whenever Horseman moved to break the hold. ‘My, my, my, so extremely pleased to see you again, Joe! And walking, my, my, it must be a miracle. My family, including myself of course, we are all so saddened by your injury. We’ll always remember your great matches.’

  Not another mourner! ‘I hope I have more in me yet, Sunny. I have to rest the leg for a while, but I’ll be back next year, better than ever.’ Sunny wagged his head as if indulging a child, which did nothing to improve Horseman’s temper. But, conscious of his mission, he smiled.

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Sunny. I see you’ve expanded the shop.’ He spread his arms to embrace the space, the plate glass front wall, new racks and display gadgets. ‘Everything looks first class. Business must be booming, eh?’

  Sunny nodded sadly, while looking proud at the same time. ‘Oh no, no, Joe, business is always difficult, always risky. But the lease next door came up and I thought, my, my, this could be my only chance. So I am sinking everything, everything, Joe, to make Khan’s All-Sports Emporium the premier sports retailer in Fiji.’ He clasped his plump hands to his chest, as if entranced at the audacity of his ambition.

  ‘Congratulations, Sunny. It’s quite the equal of the stores I saw in Portland, Oregon.’

  ‘The home of Nike? My, my, that means a lot to me, Joe.’ He clasped Horseman’s hand once more.

  ‘I’m sure your investment will pay off with this set-up, and you might be able to help me with a project of my own, Sunny. A crime prevention project. I’m organising a team for the street boys, with the official support of the Police Force.’ That was stretching reality, but just a little. Support would become official soon. ‘We’re calling them the Junior Shiners. You know how beneficial sports are for these kids, Sunny. Discipline, team work, pride and motivation. I’m looking for official sponsors for uniforms, especially shoes. You’re the first supplier I’m offering the chance to stamp his name on the Shiners.’

  Sunny grimaced, wagging his head. ‘My goodness, Joe, Joe, what are you doing to my business! These ragamuffins are hardly the boys I want sporting my logo!’

  Horseman waved his hand at the shop displays. ‘They won’t be ragamuffins any longer in your gear, Sunny. You know rugby can be the start of a different life for them, turn them away from crime. I was hoping we could work something out—we can look at sponsoring single items, you wouldn’t be up for the whole kit.’

  ‘We can talk about it over a cup of tea, Joe. No promises, by no means! Come through to the back room.’

  When he emerged onto the street and checked his phone, he was shocked he’d spent forty-five minutes in Sunny Khan’s back room, drinking tea, eating Indian sweets, looking at catalogues. No promises yet, but he was hopeful. He’d just meant to take a break for ten minutes, plant an idea. Still, no calls or messages, so no harm done. He wondered how Singh had got on at FIMS; he expected she’d already brought Anil and Steve back to the station.

  And his power-shop had produced a new idea. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before? He rang his mother’s mobile phone. When she didn’t answer, he left a message.

  ‘Bula Mum. Is Mere Kurolo your sick friend in Savusavu? And what’s the name of her son who you helped? Vinaka,’ then followed up with a text, wondering as he did so if she’d discovered text messaging yet. Fijian naming customs, where parents gave each child a different surname, always complicated things for police.

  50

  SUVA

  ‘What do you mean, Sergeant Singh’s not back yet? She left here hours ago! FIMS is ten minutes’ drive away! For Christ’s sake, man! Why didn’t you go with her?’ Horseman fumed. Mostly at himself. He shouldn’t take it out on his team.

  Musudroka’s face darkened. Anger or shame?

  ‘Sergeant Singh didn’t wait for me, sir. I was in the hospital canteen getting lunch when DC Taleca called me to return here. I had to go back to the ward to check on Mr McKenzie and tell the sister another constable would take my place.’

  ‘Man, feeding your face when you had a job to do?’ He thought guiltily of the tea and sweets he’d just enjoyed. But Musudroka needed reining in.

  ‘Sir, the nurse said—’

  ‘You take orders from your senior officers, Detective Constable. Not from nurses. Did Mr McKenzie have anything to say?’

  ‘Sir, he remembered Maika paddling ashore and dragging the kayak up the beach. That’s all. The nurse told me it’s possible he’ll remember more later. It’s unpredictable. We can only wait. Mrs McKenzie is with him.’

  Kelepi Taleca patted at the air, as if trying to calm him down. ‘Let me explain, boss. Sergeant Singh didn’t call for the search team or Customs. I’m still waiting on the warrant to be issued, so I couldn’t send Tanielo or anyone else over to FIMS with it. When I didn’t hear from her, I assumed she didn’t need to search after all. I radioed at five o’clock to check what was happening. When she didn’t answer I called her mobile, then I rang Professor Burgermeister’s secretary at FIMS. She told me she would make enquiries, and rang back to say Sergeant Singh had been there, but had left. I concluded she must have missed the boys and perhaps had gone to Paradise Island. I should have checked further. Musudroka and I have b
een up to our ears with our own jobs.’

  Horseman nodded. ‘Of course, you two have been great this afternoon, Keli. Thanks to teamwork, Lee’s now in custody and he’ll be brought to Suva tomorrow morning. Call Sergeant Singh again, Tanielo.’

  The phone on Taleca’s desk rang. After a few moments, he hung up and clapped his hands, grinning. ‘Sea Track’s computers are up and running, boss. They’re emailing the lists to me now. I’ll also send a constable to their office to pick up their own printouts, just in case. Might be quicker.’

  ‘At last, thank God,’ Horseman said.

  Musudroka put down his own phone and shook his head. ‘She’s not answering, sir.’

  ‘Something’s happened to her. I’ll take Tanielo with me to FIMS. Keep in touch, Keli.’

  Musudroka pulled up at the FIMS gate in twilight. Horseman got out, showed his ID to the guard and asked for directions to Professor Burgermeister’s office. Petero introduced himself, shook hands, and asked him for his evaluation of the Tri-nations rugby teams. Horseman’s business was too urgent for chat. But after raising the boom gate, Petero stuck with him all the way to the reception office. Musudroka ran up from the carpark and Petero held open the door for them.

  ‘Reception’s closed, now, sir,’ he explained. ‘Some of the academics are still here, but no office staff.’

  Horseman didn’t stop. ‘Fine. Just show us the way to Professor Burgermeister’s department, please. Through here, is it?’ He barged through the door marked ‘Staff only’ followed by the others. Horseman briefly registered a high space and greenery. ‘Quick as you can, man,’ he urged, impatient. Petero got the message at last.

  The Biology Department office was empty. ‘Do you know which staff are in?’ Horseman asked.

  ‘No sir, let me look.’

  ‘Vinaka, Petero. How do I get to your wharf—is it further along here?’