Death Beyond the Limit: Fiji Islands Mysteries 3

by B. M. Allsopp

  ‘Eh, bula vinaka, Josefa Horseman, star of Hong Kong sevens! I’m sorry but I’m driving a passenger to Nausori airport. He’s running a bit late, so I can’t pick you up right now.’

  ‘Vinaka, that’s okay, Livai. I don’t want to be responsible for you talking on the phone while you’re driving. Can I ring you back in half an hour?’

  ‘Io, Josefa. When I’m at the airport I’ll call you. Maybe in twenty minutes.’

  He made another mug of tea and flipped through the case file while he waited. Perhaps he would find something that needed following up. He wondered when the Chinese detective team would arrive. Surely it would not be for another few days. It occurred to him that the Chinese did not need to read this entire file. Much of it, leading to the identification of Jimmy Inia, was irrelevant to the cause of his death and Joy-13. A useful task would be to mark the pages that should be passed on to the Chinese. It would be a much slimmer file. He went to Singh’s desk, borrowed a lime-green highlighter and set to work.

  The taxi driver called back when he was half-way through the file.

  ‘Vinaka, Livai, this is good of you.’

  ‘My pleasure, Josefa. How can I help?’

  ‘It’s the passport you handed in this morning. The sergeant tells me you were sure which passenger dropped the passport.’

  ‘Io, I always tell my passengers to check for their belongings, especially between the backrest and the seat. It’s a nuisance if I have to drop into the police station with lost property every other day. So, I remind everyone before they get out. But these passengers didn’t understand me. They spoke a foreign language to each other.’

  Horseman remembered Livai’s detailed reports. There was no hurrying him, and he prided himself on being accurate. ‘Would you recognise any of them again?’

  ‘Maybe. I saw two Asian men clearly, not sure if they were Chinese, Japanese, Thai or something else. About one o’clock last night, or this morning, to be precise.’

  ‘Where did you pick them up?’

  ‘Oi lei, Josefa, outside bad place in Flagstaff. Its official title is massage parlour, but it’s really a brothel, if you’ll excuse the term.’

  Horseman smiled. ‘I will, I’m a policeman. Let me note down the address.’

  Livai dictated the address. Horseman was surprised he hadn’t heard of the place.

  ‘The sergeant mentioned you had three passengers.’

  ‘Io, indeed. The third man was in a stupor—drunk or drugs or ill, I don’t know. But he was slumped between the other two, they were holding him upright. I didn’t really see his face properly, his head was hanging down on his chest. If his passport had fallen out of his pocket, he wouldn’t have known anything about it.’

  ‘Where did you take them?’

  ‘Near the wharf entrance gates. That’s the reason I told the sergeant that I thought they might be seamen. But how would I know where to find them?’

  ‘You couldn’t possibly, Livai. You’re a model citizen. You’ve done everything you should and more. Vinaka vakalevu.’

  ‘Happy to be of service, Josefa Horseman. I hope we run into each other again soon.’

  ‘Io, Livai. So do I. Moce mada.’

  He checked the Joy-13 surveillance roster. The report for Sunday morning wasn’t filed yet. He’d chase the officers up tomorrow.

  He tried both Filipo and Santo again. Again, no answer.

  He’d exhausted all the possibilities he could think of to inch the case along. Better to do something useful now: go home and take Tina for a long romp along the edge of the bay.

  MONDAY 25th September

  38

  Singh was already at her desk when he arrived at eight o’clock. She looked up with a spontaneous smile. ‘Good morning, sir! How did you go yesterday?’

  ‘Lost most, but won one. I’ve got a lot to tell you.’

  ‘I’ve been looking through the file. What are these strange lime green blobs on some of the pages?’ Her tone was severe, but she was grinning.

  ‘My colour coding, Detective Sergeant. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, isn’t it? We don’t know when the Chinese investigators will show up, so I made a start at deciding which parts of the file would be useful to them. The painful steps we took to identify the unknown remains won’t be of interest, for example.’

  ‘How thoughtful, reducing their reading burden.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so too. I’m about halfway. You may have time to skim through and add your own suggestions later. I’ve got a lot to tell you before we plan today. Let’s do that over coffee at Arabica. I need a kick start.’

  *

  They left Arabica with plans in their notebooks: Horseman’s an untidy series of phrases and dashes; Singh’s numbered, dotted and highlighted. Kau would come off surveillance mid-morning when Musudroka took over: he couldn’t delegate jobs to the lower ranks today.

  The first step in his quest for Filipo Moreno was Princess Wharf. The gate security men told him they hadn’t been on duty on Saturday night. He would have to check with the office to find out who was working when Livai’s taxi dropped the seamen in the early hours.

  ‘Don’t you log everyone in and out?’ Horseman asked, hearing the impatience in his voice and regretting it.

  ‘Io, sir. Between you and me, I wouldn’t rely on that happening a hundred per cent on the weekends.’

  ‘Who is likely to be missed?’

  ‘Sometimes lady visitors to the boats, sir. If you know who I mean. But only guests of bona fide crew, you can be sure of that.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it? Man, what has become of this wharf? Used to be all by the book.’

  The guard looked reproachful. ‘Just trying to help you, sir. I’ve watched you play, you see.’

  Horseman softened. ‘Vinaka, it’s good to have the heads-up.’

  At the office, the sleepy-looking security guard looked perplexed at his request.

  Again, Horseman couldn’t hide his impatience. ‘It’s hardly ancient history, man. I’m only talking about Saturday night, you know. Well, Sunday morning actually. Between one and two o’clock.’

  The reluctant guard leafed back several pages in the file and extracted two sheets. ‘Take your pick, Inspector.’ He handed them over.

  ‘Oi lei! What’s this—thirty or forty people entering at that time?’

  The guard nodded.

  Horseman ran his eye down the list. He recognised half-a-dozen names from Joy-13, but there was no Filipo Moreno. If he’d been dead drunk, maybe his name was missed. But why? Maybe just general slackness. Or maybe the trio didn’t go through the gate after getting out of Livai’s taxi. He spied a photocopier in one corner. A good idea to get a copy anyway.

  ‘Could I take a photocopy of these pages, please?’

  The guard hauled himself from his chair. ‘I’ve got to do it,’ he said, taking the papers from his hand and lumbering four steps to the copier. What use would he be in a chase?

  But when he was done, the guard handed over the copy with a half-smile.

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu, that’s a great help to me.’ Horseman wanted to make up for his impatience earlier.

  His third call was to the port authority itself. He waited in the public section of the POSA offices beneath the control tower. Before long, Manoa Naulu, the shift supervisor he had spoken to on his visit a week ago, beckoned him in. Horseman settled in an armchair in Naulu’s office and accepted tea.

  ‘How can I help you today, Inspector?’

  ‘Once again, I need to check on Joy-13’s entry documents, Mr Naulu. Mr Shaddock, the ship’s agent, told me he’d already lodged them with POSA and I could access them through you.’

  ‘He did, did he? Understandable, I guess. Let me check.’ He swivelled to his computer and clicked his mouse for a while, frowning at the screen. Horseman liked computers, but he couldn’t help thinking how much quicker it would be to retrieve a physical file.

  ‘What did you want exac
tly?’ Naulu asked.

  Horseman smiled. ‘I’m not sure what you’ve got. What would be most useful to me is the actual ship’s log, or an itinerary, listing the vessel’s route each day. What would you call that?’

  Naulu shook his head slowly. ‘Most of the information is related to fishing. I regret we don’t have such a document. This isn’t a travel agency, you know.’ He chuckled at his joke. Horseman joined in, but he felt more like crying in frustration.

  39

  Singh decided to call the Immigration section manager who’d been so cooperative with the Joy-13 crew entry cards. The data entry clerks either took pleasure in making life difficult for the police or were so lazy they only performed on direct orders from their supervisor. She couldn’t relate to that attitude at all.

  ‘You see, Mr Shaddock of TTF said he knows Mr Yee has previously arrived in Suva by air and departed by fishing vessel or vice versa. Although there’s no entry record for him arriving on Joy-13 on 15th September, we want to be quite sure before we conclude he entered Fiji illegally.’

  ‘Of course, Detective Sergeant Singh, of course. Even when boat crew are flying in and sailing out, they still must show evidence of return air bookings in order to qualify for a visa. They still need a visa even if they’re only spending a few days in Fiji.’

  ‘I see. I don’t know how long he’s been in Fiji this time, so I can’t tell you the time period to check for Yee’s entries and departures. I’d be grateful if I could rely on your experience.’

  ‘No problem. Instead of searching for a date or time period, simply request a name search. The only complications could be that there are multiple Chinese visitors with the same names and you don’t have his passport number. However, our search will soon reveal that and you can then identify him from his passport photo. Make sense?’

  Perfect sense. A rare commodity. ‘That’s exactly what I need. Is there a form to submit?’

  ‘Technically, but no need to worry. Just shoot me an email stating the name.’

  ‘Any indication how long this will take?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll give this to one of the best. There are other urgent requests ahead of yours, however. I can’t promise this morning, but definitely before five o’clock this afternoon.’

  ‘Wonderful, sir. I’ll send the email right now.’

  Afterwards, she recorded his details in her own alphabetical index of useful contacts under ‘I’ for Immigration. She noted her email request on the running sheet.

  *

  Singh had mixed feelings, or rather attitudes, towards prostitution. Much like her parents, she would be horrified to discover a friend or family member had turned to this occupation, but for different reasons. Not for fear of shame enveloping her as an associate of the outcast, but because she could not imagine a more abhorrent or humiliating labour. These days, with ten years of police experience, she knew it to be ruinous to body and soul. Whose health would not be broken by such savage invasion, assault and enslavement by the evilest of men? Day after day of obedience to sadistic profiteers and pathetic customers.

  On the other hand, she accepted that the oldest profession was a fact of any society bigger than a village. She felt no antipathy towards individual prostitutes. She accepted that some girls and women would always be persuaded or forced into it, or even choose it as the best option for them in desperate times, as Salome seemed to have done. Salome must be almost unique if she was indeed an independent operator who made a comfortable living, as Horseman claimed. She wondered if that was really the case. He was so chivalrous in his approach to women he could easily be deluded. One of his nice qualities as a man, but a blind spot for a police officer.

  She sighed and dialled Vice—the last area she’d want to work in herself. She’d prefer Drugs or even PR to Vice.

  ‘Inspector Elaisa? DS Singh, Suva Central. DI Horseman’s team.’

  ‘Bula, DS Singh. What can I do for you?’ His voice was gruff and nasal like he had both a head cold and a sore throat. Maybe it was just his voice.

  ‘Three foreign fishermen of interest to us left premises in Flagstaff in the early hours of Sunday morning. Their taxi driver said it was a massage parlour and brothel in Waqa Street. I want to check with you for any information about it before I approach the occupants of the address myself.’

  ‘Well, I’m very glad you’ve done that, Sergeant. Please don’t approach anyone there.’

  ‘May I ask why not, sir?’

  ‘You may ask, but I can’t give you much of an answer.’

  She heard a hoarse choking sound that may have been a chuckle. ‘I’ll appreciate whatever you can tell me, sir. I can promise it won’t go beyond DI Horseman and myself.’

  ‘All I can tell you is that address is part of a wider ongoing vice investigation. Our officers are keeping a low profile. The proprietors are likely to shut down the premises the moment they detect any police interest.’

  ‘I understand, sir. Can you confirm that the address operates as a brothel, then? We don’t automatically accept the taxi driver’s opinion.’

  ‘No, I cannot. I’d just say that we often find taxi drivers to be useful sources of information.’

  ‘Vinaka, sir. You seemed to imply that this address is part of a chain or network run by the same operators. Could that be the case?’

  ‘I implied no such thing, Sergeant. That was your take on what I said. Please explain to DI Horseman that any further enquiry of his into this address could wreck our long-term investigation. I know he wouldn’t knowingly do that.’

  ‘No, sir. I’ll pass on the message.’

  ‘I’ll send him an email, too.’

  Two wins in one morning didn’t often happen. It was time for a lunch break. She’d pop into Tappoo’s and browse for a new top. She wondered if Brij had ever gone to a brothel. She dismissed the question. She didn’t want to know the answer.

  40

  Salome sat beside Horseman on a bench facing the bay in Ratu Sukuna Park. ‘How are you, Salome?’

  ‘It’s difficult adjusting to a new future, Joe. I thought Jimmy and me had it all worked out. Well, we did. Now he’s gone, and my future with him.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  ‘You will rebuild your life, Salome. You told me you have plans. Good plans.’

  ‘My plans depended on Jimmy. Very much so. He managed to save a good sum to set us up before too long. I didn’t want to admit it to you before, but I can’t go on much longer. Things are changing, more dangerous now.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Gangsters are moving in. Foreigners—especially Chinese. As you know, I work for myself and I operate in a clean manner. I’ve never taken drugs or committed any crime, even though some of my customers probably have done so. The Chinese bosses won’t tolerate independents like me. I’ve had threats. I used to feel protected in my place next to Holy Trinity. I believe the bishop understands that. But these new thugs moving in have no respect for churches or any religion. You’re right, Joe. The time has come to move out of this filthy business.’

  ‘Do you know if Jimmy left a will?’

  She was taken aback. ‘What? I don’t know. Sometimes he talked about the dangers at sea, but not often. I could hardly ask him about that!’ She smiled at the very idea.

  ‘I’ll look into it for you, with Fisheries. They arranged Jimmy’s assignments.’

  ‘Vinaka, Joe. I’m grateful.’

  ‘It would really help if you could tell me more about these foreign operators. They’re probably in Fiji without permission. I could help get rid of them if I knew more.’

  She glanced around. ‘They bribe and threaten, Joe. They’ve got protection from some police, some other government people.’

  ‘I hate to think that, Salome.’

  ‘I’m right, Joe. Believe me.’

  He’d respected his colleague Elaisa’s request to stay out of an ongoing op, but was that just a smokescreen? He hated to think so. How could he fin
d out?

  ‘Asian girls seem to appear out of nowhere, filling the Chinese brothels. The girls aren’t all Chinese, some from the Philippines, I think. Other places—I don’t know. How do they come here?’

  ‘Good question. I don’t know either. But it’s not hard to come to Fiji as a tourist and just stay on.’

  Salome again looked around, anxious. ‘Have you got a notebook, Joe? I’ll write some addresses for you. You might be able to do something.’

  Horseman handed her his notebook and biro, open at a fresh page. ‘Vinaka, Salome. Any names you’ve heard would be useful, too. It doesn’t matter if you’re not sure. Leave the investigating to us.’

  He didn’t ask more questions while she was thinking and writing. By the way she clenched the biro, he could see this task was a struggle for her, taxing her writing skills and her courage both. When she finished, she painstakingly read through what she had written and handed Horseman his notebook.

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu, Salome. You’ve done a good thing here.’

  ‘I hope so, Joe. When I see the streets flooded with these young Asian girls—it’s not right, Joe. Talk about the walking dead! There’s something badly wrong with them. But you must keep my name out of it.’

  ‘Absolutely. You can trust me.’ He pulled out his phone and showed her Yee’s photo. ‘Do you recognise this man?’

  Salome angled the phone close to her face. ‘It’s not very clear, but I don’t think so.’

  He wondered if she was short-sighted or dazzled by the reflection off his phone. He glanced around, no one was near. He fished the print-out from his notebook and unfolded it. ‘Is this clearer?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know who he is. What about Jimmy’s things I gave you, Joe? Can I get them back now?’

  ‘I’m sorry. The Forensics officers haven’t finished with them yet. Jimmy’s parents also asked about his possessions. Unless he left a written will, I’m afraid his immediate family have the legal claim.’