Death by Tradition
Fiji Islands Mysteries #2
B.M. Allsopp
To all the people of Fiji
Glossary and Guide to Fijian Pronunciation
bula – hello
moce – goodbye or goodnight
moce mada – see you later
io – yes
tanoa – large wooden bowl for ceremonial mixing of yaqona (kava)
ndina – true, indeed
vakalevu – very much
vinaka – thank you
yaqona – kava (applied to the plant, its roots, ground powder and drink)
Acronyms
DI – detective inspector
DS – detective sergeant
DC – detective constable
SOCO – scene of crime officer
NLTB – Native Land Trust Board
Spelling
The Fijian alphabet is based on English but it is phonetic, so each sound is always represented by only one letter, unlike English.
Vowels
a as in father
e as in met
i as in Fiji
o as in or
u as in flu
Consonants
Most consonants are pronounced roughly as in English, with the following important exceptions.
b = mb as in member eg. bula = mbu-la
d = nd as in tender eg. dina = ndina
g = ng as in singer eg. liga = li-nga
q = ngg as in stronger eg. yaqona = ya-nggona
c = th as in mother eg. moce = mo-thay
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
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49
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
SATURDAY
Viliame used the torch on his phone to light his way. No reception here in Tanoa, but the torch was handy while the charge lasted. Kelera had left the spice gardens by the upper path and should be back home by now. Her eager embrace stayed with him as the evening air cooled. Her willingness to lie to her parents touched him. She deserved better than him; she deserved someone who loved her. But he wanted to protect her from village gossip. So he’d waited a while before taking a different path that skirted the nutmeg grove before descending to the village.
From Suva, it was a bit of a trek to get back home to Tanoa on Saturdays; over two hours on the bus followed by a truck from the market corner if he was lucky. If not, then he walked uphill for another two hours to the clusters of houses strung out above the river bend. He had to head back to Suva again after Sunday lunch. Still, it was enough time to build influence. Even some of the older villagers were starting to take notice of him, even to ask his opinion; not about village matters of course, but about the doings of the wider world. Despite their profound distrust and suspicion, they were intrigued by the modern world. His people were tough and enduring, but more were now ready to welcome a modicum of comfort and convenience. Electricity would give them that.
He entered the fallow garden site invaded by morning glory and lantana. As he brushed against the leaves, a sharp scent assaulted his nose. Why didn’t the farmers root the lantana out when it appeared instead of shrugging helplessly once it had taken over? But that was just one of his many frustrations with village thinking.
As the path widened, he heard a rustle to the left. He pointed his dimming phone torch towards the noise, but saw nothing. Probably a mongoose returning late to its burrow under the protective lantana brambles. Now there was an animal with purpose and energy. If the villagers had a mongoose’s sense of mission, their lives would be very different.
A brittle lantana cane snapped beside him. He turned, recognised the face in the faint glow of his phone. ‘What…’
Two burly arms drove the weapon into Viliame’s skull. His body crashed through the lantana and fell to the ground.
SUNDAY
1
Detective Inspector Josefa Horseman watched the game with increasing concern. The first match of the Suva Shiners was not going their way. They’d been unlucky to come up against Marist Brothers High School, one of the strongest rugby teams in the Suva district. None of the Shiners had made it to any high school; most eked out a meagre living as shoe-shine boys on Suva’s streets. Their lack of discipline equipped them poorly to survive the Marists’ attack. And that was just the psychological aspect.
Their physical fitness was another matter. Most were undernourished, their rapidly growing teenage bones straining against their skin. Dr Pillai, Horseman’s right-hand man through four months of Shiners’ training, stood beside him now. He looked up at Horseman, his brows drawn together in anxiety.
‘I did have my doubts about Mosese, Joe. Look at him now.’ He pointed to a lanky lad who was bent double, hands on knees, back heaving.
Horseman looked at his watch. ‘Four minutes to half-time. Can he make it or do you want to pull him off now?’
Noticing he was the focus of attention, Mosese straightened and gave them the thumbs-up.
‘My goodness, that boy could do four minutes more on willpower alone,’ Dr Pillai said. ‘Look, the forwards are getting themselves in something like a line now. Mosese!’ he yelled. ‘Line up!’
It seemed like a miracle—the much-practised manoeuvre unfolded before Horseman’s eyes. Scrawny Tevita threw himself at the bigger Marist boy, who lost balance and toppled, the ball slipping through his hands. Pita scooped it up, sped down the field, passed it to Simeone just as a Marist blocked him. The forwards kept level with Simeone, who passed to Livai a split second before two Marists brought him down. Livai fumbled the ball, but managed to hold on and ran like the wind. Suddenly the Marists were all behind Livai, the team clown, who stopped dead just before the line and placed the ball gently on the other side. The Shiners erupted in triumph, the roars of Horseman and Dr Pillai surpassing even those of the team. No matter that the Marists already had three tries and three goals, this was the Shiners’ first. Ever! The referee blew his whistle. Could Paula, the Shiners’ best kicker, now convert the try for two extra points? Yes, the ball arced between the posts. More eruptions of joy interrupted the whistle blowing for half-time.
Dr Pillai rushed to the team’s resting spot beyond the sidelines. The boys cheered as he joined them. The reserves handed out water and hands of bananas.
Horseman limped after Dr Pillai, elated. On duty four months ago, he’d set back his slow rehabilitation from knee surgery. A year earlier he’d shattered his knee on the rugby field playing for Fiji. But he didn’t need the crutch any more, nor the stick. In time he would play for Police again and maybe the national team. He knew most people were sceptical of his ambition, believing he was washed up for good.
During the break Horseman laid out the strategy for the s
econd half. The referee blew the whistle, pitched in the ball and the game was on. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Damn, he’d forgotten to switch it off. He couldn’t tolerate any interruptions now. It was Sunday, he was off-duty, and it was the Shiners’ first game. But perhaps it was his mother or one of his sisters. He’d better check.
Horseman regretted this decision when he saw the call was from Detective Superintendent Navala.
‘Bula, hello, sir.’
‘Bula, Joe. Bad news, I’m afraid. Murder up in the hills. Tanoa village. A young man found dead in the church before morning service. Viliame Bovoro. Bludgeoned. This one’s clear cut, according to Dr Tavua in Nausori. Definitely murder. You’re the Investigation Officer.’
‘Me, sir? Surely that’s Korovou district?’
‘Theoretically, Joe. Their inspector’s on leave. They’ve only got one sergeant; they simply haven’t got the resources. And Viliame, the victim, actually lives in Suva. He was home for the weekend. You might think we’re short-staffed here, but you know we’re the best-resourced district in Fiji. We’re expected to be generous with our help.’
‘Io, yes, sir.’
‘Get in to the station soon as you can. It’s too late to get a team up to the village today. Pity. Viliame’s body is on the way to Suva. Dreadful business. His family…terrible.’
‘Io sir. It’s a shame they couldn’t leave him there.’
‘Dr Tavua made that decision. He must have had his reasons. We do have photos, however.’
‘Okay. Is forty-five minutes alright?’
‘Sure, it’ll take me that long to get there myself.’
‘Sir, have you given any thought to the team? I wonder if Detective Sergeant Singh would be available.’
‘My thought exactly, Joe. See what I can do.’
Horseman put the call behind him and gave his full attention to the second half. The Shiners showed more courage, scored a penalty goal, and ten minutes later, another try. After that, the superior fitness, size, and experience of the Marists prevailed. For the final five minutes, the Shiners pushed themselves beyond their limits, but failed to stop the Marists scoring again and again. A lump came to his throat when he saw the street kids giving their all. He glanced at his watch. He couldn’t leave before speaking to the boys, even though he’d be late for the super’s briefing.
The boys clustered around him, slumped with fatigue, faces expectant. ‘Shiners, how proud I feel at this moment. Your first competition game, and you scored two tries off Marists, the strongest team in third grade!’
‘We lost, Joe,’ Tevita said gloomily. ‘No hope against Marists.’ Others muttered in agreement.
‘Tevita, we’ve got those two tries to build on now. Look at the Marist coach over there. He’s blasting those boys!’
Tevita stood up to look and grinned at the semicircle of boys, whose heads hung while their coach let them have it.
‘He expected you not to score a single point!’ Horseman smiled. ‘Be happy, boys, you’ve done well. Let’s celebrate the Shiners’ first tries and goals. Give yourselves three cheers, you all deserve it. Hip, hip…’
The first cheer was subdued, the second stronger, but with the third, the boys shed their disappointment and roared happily.
‘Shiners, one of my great pleasures as coach is to select the Man of the Match.’ Horseman continued. ‘Today it’s Livai, who scored both tries, the first ever for the Shiners. Livai, let me shake your hand.’
Livai came forward, bowed, and grasped Horseman’s hand. ‘Three cheers for our coach, Shiners!’ The full-throated response was deafening until the smell of grilling sausages demanded their attention.
Horseman announced, ‘Dr Pillai is providing a special meal today, Shiners. Let’s go.’ The boys cheered again. Dr Pillai raised both hands, grinning.
There was a race to a portable barbecue set up near the grandstand where Detective Constable Tanielo Musudroka was turning sausages while two other police volunteers were unpacking loaves of sliced bread, tomato sauce, and cartons of milk on a trestle table.
Horseman had to get away, but he had another supporter to thank first. As Sunny Khan, the proprietor of Khan’s All Sports Emporium, approached them, Horseman clapped his hands for attention. ‘Shiners, how do you like your new jerseys, donated by your sponsor Mr Khan?’ The boys sported tan jerseys with black collars and trim, shoe logo on the left breast, and the sports store’s name emblazoned in large white lettering across the front. Spontaneous cheers broke out as Sunny Khan reached them.
‘Vinaka vakalevu, thank you very much, Mr Khan. Your beautiful jerseys made the boys a team today. In your jerseys, the Shiners took twelve points from Marist Brothers this afternoon.’
Horseman interrupted the cheering so Sunny Khan could speak.
‘Boys, boys, when your coach first asked me to sponsor your new team, I was doubtful. But Fiji’s great rugby star, Josefa Horseman, is persuasive, isn’t it? My, my, I couldn’t say “no” in the end. You’ve made a good start today, boys. I look forward to you climbing the ladder as the season progresses. You’ve got the best coach and the best jerseys, so you’ve got everything going for you, isn’t it?’
Their energy recovered, the boys jumped around, cheering and clapping, delighted with themselves. Only Tevita was subdued, and Horseman knew why. Sunny had not supplied them with rugby boots, Tevita’s greatest desire. Of course they were expensive. Why should Sunny spend such a sum? It wasn’t as though the Shiners would bring him any business. The jerseys had been purely a favour to Horseman. So the boys played barefoot, as did Marists and most of the junior teams. No shame in that, but one day Horseman would get boots for them.
He really did have to go. ‘I’m off to work now, boys. See you all on Tuesday. Four o’clock. Don’t be late now.’
Horseman strode off among more cheers, almost managing not to limp.
2
‘Bula, hello, Joe, come in. How did your pet rascals go this afternoon?’ Superintendent Navala asked.
So the super knew why he was late. ‘Sorry, sir. I just couldn’t walk out on the Shiners during their first game. They’d see it as desertion.’
‘Never mind, Joe. We all admire the work you’re doing with the street kids. Not all of us can share your optimism about the saving power of rugby, that’s all.’ One corner of the super’s mouth turned up in an ironic curve, which was as close as he usually came to a smile. ‘At least we know the boys in the team have alibis for any petty thefts this afternoon.’
Horseman chuckled. ‘True sir. I don’t think they’ll get up to any mischief tonight, either. They’re zonked, wrecked. Two tries, two conversions, and a penalty against Marists this afternoon. Their first game! Who’d have thought it possible, even a month ago?’
‘You did, Joe. You’ve done well. Musudroka and the other volunteer officers too. I hope the rascals are grateful and don’t pick your pockets.’
Horseman obliged the super with a chuckle again. ‘What have we got then—a murder in a highlands village? How unusual is that?’
‘Highly unusual, Joe. No pun intended.’ Horseman grinned. He didn’t mind indulging in puns himself, when they occurred to him.
‘Io, yes, Tanoa is at the end of the road, or beyond the end of the road. Only four-wheel drive vehicles can get there, and even they have to stop across the river. Never been there myself, but I hear it’s one of those old-fashioned places where they keep modern evils at bay. The parking bay, in the case of trucks. I guess many isolated places are the same. Bound to be conflict there. But murder? Your job is to find out who and why. The how’s more straightforward this time.’
‘That’s something. Tell me, sir.’
‘Fortunately, one of the villagers is a retired cop, a constable his entire career. The pastor discovered the murdered man in the church when he was preparing for Sunday school before nine this morning. Tomasi, our cop, advised the pastor about preserving the crime scene, rustled up a camera, took photos, and got someone
to drive to the nearest police post at Kumi. Kumi post sent their entire force of two constables and Korovou station sent Dr Tavua. The doc certified death. He expects the PM to confirm death by a blow to the head with the proverbial blunt instrument. In church!’
‘Any crime scene officers been there yet?’
The super shook his head. ‘No SOCOs today, but I’ll get a couple up there in the morning. In the meantime, there’s a uniform from Kumi police post and Tomasi sharing guard duties.’
‘Tomasi’s not ideal, sir. The murderer’s got to be a villager, don’t you think?’
‘Not so fast, Joe. Io, less than ideal. You can hardly expect the uniform to stay awake all night. Relief wasn’t available.’
‘Io, understood. Who have you lined up for me?’
‘Take Musudroka with you. He seems to be a good choice after all, eh.’
He remembered taking issue with the super about assigning the raw CID transfer, Tanielo Musudroka, to his team back in January. Embarrassing. All Horseman had achieved was to expose his own lack of confidence to the perceptive super. But Musudroka proved keen to learn and would do well in time.
‘Io, sir. Glad to have Tanielo. He’s not ready for solo interviews yet, though. Can anyone else be spared?’
One corner of the super’s mouth turned up again. ‘As you know, Sergeant Singh’s still on leave at her home in the west. But as she’s due back on Wednesday, I sent her a message asking if she’d like to resume a day or two earlier. I’m waiting for her reply. She’s in the backblocks, too, but much more accessible than Tanoa. An officer from the closest police post has already taken the message to her parents’ farm.’
Horseman’s spirits rose. ‘I don’t think Susie will refuse an early return to work, sir.’
‘Dina, true Joe. You made a good team on your double murder.’
Horseman nodded. ‘Any chance of Kelepi Taleca?’
‘As you know, Taleca was finally promoted to sergeant so he could join Training Division. He’s an asset there. You hardly need two sergeants at this stage, Joe. Let’s see how it goes, eh. I’ve booked the vehicle for six thirty. Call in at Nausori station on the way, find out what you can there, then head for the hills.’
Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2 Page 1