Death by Tradition: Fiji Islands Mysteries 2

by B. M. Allsopp

  They crossed to the weapons display, one of the most popular with visitors in the entire collection. Horseman failed to understand the pull these grisly artefacts of cannibalism had for foreigners. He found them horrible; he could only too readily picture the casual brutality of their routine use by men, and women too, without any sense of wrongdoing. Was this the mindset of Viliame’s killer, or had he simply chosen his weapon for its certain deadliness?

  ‘Here’s the display from our website,’ Dr Sailasi said. He stood back a little while the others crowded in. There were lethal clubs of different sizes and designs, most plain, but a few with carved decoration something like they’d seen on both Viliame’s head and on the weapon in the image. Something like, but not the same.

  ‘The club we wanted to see isn’t in this display,’ Horseman commented. ‘Have you changed it around?’

  ‘Yes, but we haven’t changed the website. Come into my office where we can talk in private.’

  The investigators exchanged glances.

  Only a tactful soul would call Dr Sailasi’s office messy. Even chaotic would be an understatement. On every surface were piles of books, journals, unbound papers in rubber bands or bulldog clips, or loose. Some of the piles looked about to collapse. Intriguing lumps of stone stopped loose papers from blowing away under the ceiling fan, which was on the high setting. Leaning against walls and poking out of baskets were haphazard collections of spears, arrows, wooden and cane objects whose functions were mysterious to Horseman. Dr Sailasi removed piles of papers from two chairs and put them on the floor.

  ‘You won’t believe it, but I know where everything is in here,’ he said. ‘Please sit down. Dr Young, please take my chair.’ They all complied while the curator perched himself on the edge of a low filing cabinet.

  ‘I don’t often meet visitors in here, as you can see. But this matter is rather confidential. Tell me, why are you interested in this particular club?’

  Horseman looked at the others. The detail of the pattern imprinted on Viliame’s head could not be revealed to anyone outside the team. He thought fast. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you about the crime we’re investigating yet. However, we’ve come across a fragment of carved wood and the pattern is very reminiscent of this club. Dr Young found the image on your website. We’d like to see the actual object to compare.’

  Dr Sailasi frowned. ‘Well, the design is typical. The one we had on display isn’t unique.’

  ‘It would still be good if we could see the club.’

  ‘Well, now I’m the one in a difficult position, officers. What I’m telling you is also confidential. I’m sure you will respect that. Our star war club exhibit is missing, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Missing? What do you mean?’ Horseman asked.

  ‘About three weeks ago, first thing in the morning, a cleaner brought me a key he found in the lock to the weapons cabinet. He told me the chiefly ceremonial club was missing. I checked and he was right.’

  ‘Did you report this to the police, Dr Sailasi?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Yes, I did. But before I did that, I told the director, who didn’t want the news to spread. With his agreement, some colleagues and I searched throughout the exhibit spaces, the museum workshops, and offices and around the outside. We checked our key records, questioned all the staff who had access to keys. I believed it would turn up in the conservation lab, for instance. But no. No trace anywhere. So the director rang the police, who searched professionally, took fingerprints, interviewed everyone—a full investigation.’

  Singh frowned. ‘Really? I’ve been on leave until yesterday, so I hadn’t heard.’

  Horseman was put out. ‘Well, I’ve been on duty, and I didn’t hear either.’

  ‘Inspector Chatterjee and his officers told us to tell nobody. He said security here is difficult and if word gets out, more thieves would be attracted to the museum. We can’t prevent staff talking to their families and friends, but Inspector Chatterjee took the time to explain his reasons carefully to all the staff. So far there’s been nothing in the press. We’re thankful for that.’

  ‘Any news from the police since the club went missing?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Not news exactly, no. Regrettably, we’re getting used to the idea that we might never see that club again. Inspector Chatterjee or his team have made numerous visits to ask questions, then more questions. The Cultural Treasures legislation is relevant, of course. It’s illegal for the museum or anyone else to sell that club to a foreign individual or organisation. It’s protected and must stay in Fiji. I realise now that we should never have put that club on public display at all.’

  Horseman didn’t get this. ‘Why not? You just said the club wasn’t unique.’

  ‘The style of decoration is typical of chiefly war clubs, although no two examples would be identical, in decoration or in any other way. No, it’s not the style or craftsmanship. This club is unique because of its provenance, its history. It would command a very high price from a certain type of private collector.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, we didn’t include the provenance on the label. That would encourage salacious interest, and we don’t want that. But whoever stole it must have known.’

  ‘Known what, Dr Sailasi?’ Singh asked patiently.

  ‘The missing club came from Tanoa in the eastern Viti Levu highlands. It’s the club that killed the Reverend Charles Weston there in 1875.’

  14

  Horseman and Singh found a table at the Republic of Cappuccino, ordered iced coffees and a roasted vegetable panini to share.

  Horseman couldn’t wait to swap ideas. ‘Whatever this is, it can’t be a coincidence, can it? Three weeks ago, that club was stolen for the purpose of murdering Viliame. Is any other explanation possible?’

  Singh chewed thoughtfully. ‘I agree, it’s unlikely to be a coincidence. But I can think of other reasons for stealing the club.’ She sucked on the straw and closed her eyes briefly. ‘Mmm, this is so good. Well, it could have been stolen for illegal sale and export, as Dr Sailasi suggested. The murderer hears about it, robs the thief, and takes it to Tanoa. He doesn’t plan to kill Viliame at that point, but when he does, he’s got a lethal weapon to hand.’

  Horseman had to concede the possibility. ‘Okay, then why does the murderer take the club to Tanoa?’

  Singh took another bite. Horseman smiled at her delaying tactic. ‘Because it’s his village and he believes it won’t be discovered there. He stows it away secretly.’

  ‘Why did he steal it from the museum thief?’

  ‘Well, he could have known the provenance, wanted to save the club for Fiji.’

  ‘Then why not return it to the museum?’ Horseman persisted.

  ‘Maybe because the museum demonstrated it couldn’t safeguard it. So it should go back to Tanoa, where it came from in the first place.’ Singh looked pleased with herself.

  Horseman wasn’t giving up his first theory. ‘Fine, that’s plausible. However, I think it’s more likely the murderer and the thief are one and the same. Whether he stole the club in order to kill Viliame, I agree that’s a question mark.’

  He pushed the plate of panini slices towards her. ‘Please finish these, Susie. I need a proper coffee now. I’m still sloshing with tea from this morning.’ He waved a waiter over and ordered an espresso.

  ‘I spoke with Ratu Osea at length this morning. He told me all about Mr Weston’s murder back in 1875. He’s very fervent about it. Seems a bit fanatical about this reconciliation ceremony he’s planned. He’s got to be a suspect. But it’s hardly chiefly to sneak into the Fiji Museum at night and rob a display case, is it? I can see him delegating the theft and even the killing, though. He’d believe he was doing God’s will.’

  ‘That’s a stretch, sir. He says he was in Suva last Saturday.’

  ‘If he delegated the murder, he wouldn’t need to be there. First, we need to acid test that alibi.’

  Singh balanced her notebook on her knee. ‘And?�
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  ‘Two, talk to Chatterjee, get his case files if we can. There’s no need to investigate the museum theft from scratch. Three, gather all the information we can about the Tanoa elders—they seem to be the ones who opposed Vili.’

  Singh nodded, jotting neatly. ‘Now we know what we’re looking for, let’s go back to Tanoa, ask more questions, and extend the search.’

  ‘Fine. I reckon that the killer would never toss that club in the bush, though. It’s much too precious, in every way. And we can hardly turn out the contents of all the houses.’

  ‘True. But if we had a CID officer there full-time, he could observe, get to know people better,’ she suggested.

  ‘Okay, I’ll put that to the super. That would have to be Tanielo, if he could keep his mouth shut.’

  Horseman waited while Singh finished the last panini triangle. ‘Any luck this morning at Vili’s digs?’ he asked.

  ‘So so. We’ve sealed his room at the NLTB single staff hostel. Tanielo and I had a quick look, but nothing jumped out at us. Tani will go back with the SOCOs this afternoon. I’ve got an appointment at three o’clock with Vili’s superior at the NLTB.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go back to the station. I’d better put the super in the picture right away.’

  ***

  Detective Superintendent Navala didn’t say anything for quite a while. He sat back in his chair and stared at Horseman. The unflappable boss looked like he didn’t know what to do. He ran his hands over his face. Horseman noticed a slight tremor.

  ‘Oi lei, Joe! This changes everything. No doubt you and Singh have talked it over. What do you propose?’

  ‘Three things to start with, sir. First, we need to liaise with Chatterjee and get access to his case files. That would be more successful coming from you. Second, we need a CID presence in the village, around the clock. Extend the search now we know what we’re looking for. Get to suss out the political undercurrents. My suggestion is DC Musudroka—he’s Fijian and young, Vili’s helpers may confide in him. Third, we need to probe the lives of the Tanoa elders.’

  ‘That makes sense. You left out something, though. Pray to God for some evidence. I’ll go and see the deputy commissioner about Chatterjee’s investigation. I’ve never heard any mention of it—how’d they keep that quiet?’

  It unsettled Horseman to see his boss so disturbed. He realised for the first time how he relied on the unfailing calm of this big man.

  The super rubbed his hands over his face again and got to his feet. ‘And why did they want to—keep it quiet, I mean? And who are they?’

  He wasn’t really asking Horseman, who simply said, ‘Good luck, sir.’

  15

  The General Manager of the Native Land Trust Board, Ratu Sirilo Qerewaqa, sat at an impressive mahogany desk at right angles to the spacious windows overlooking Victoria Parade. Singh hoped she masked her surprise at his wheelchair. That explained the lift, the first she’d ever seen in a three-storey building. It probably also explained Ratu Sirilo’s unhealthy obesity.

  ‘Forgive me for not standing, Detective Sergeant Singh, but as you see…’ He reached across his desk to shake hands.

  ‘How do you do, Ratu Sirilo. My condolences on the loss of Viliame Bovoro, your employee.’

  Ratu Sirilo bowed his head sadly. ‘Vinaka vakalevu. Indeed, all of us at the Board are shocked by the news. His death is a loss to us. Please take a seat at the table.’

  Ratu Sirilo picked up a buff government file and wheeled himself over to a glass-topped conference table. Singh sat and placed her notebook on the table. A tiny Indian assistant entered with a tray of tea and water. Tea was the last thing Singh felt like, but she accepted a cup with a smile, then poured herself some water.

  ‘Sir, I know nothing of Viliame’s work at the NLTB. What can you tell me?’

  He opened the file. ‘As I’m sure you know, one of our main roles is to centrally manage the leasing of the land owned by native Fijian people through our customary landowning groups, the tribes and clans. If a farmer, business, or developer expresses an interest in using a block of native land, then that lease is drawn up by the Board to the agreement of both parties. Then it is legally ratified and managed by us. All rents are paid to the Board and income distributed to the landowners after costs are deducted. So, you’ll understand the Board’s main work is surveying and accounting. Viliame was identified as a bright boy when he joined us after high school. He should have gone to university, but we were glad he chose the Board after topping the public service examinations. We trained him as an accounts clerk. He was quick to learn. The Board sponsored him to take the FIT book-keeping certificate, and then the Diploma in Accountancy. He was to finish the diploma at the end of this semester. His work has always been of a high standard.’

  ‘Was he popular with his colleagues, Ratu?’

  ‘I haven’t heard otherwise, but I’m not the best person to tell you about that, Detective Sergeant.’

  ‘Was he working on any controversial projects?’

  Ratu Sirilo smiled. ‘The Board’s work is not often controversial, but it can happen—usually when we’re involved in a court case. As far as I know there was nothing like that. Viliame was a skilled book-keeper, soon to qualify as an accountant. His job was technical. However, you are welcome to talk to Vili’s supervisor and other colleagues if you think that may be of help.’

  ‘Many thanks, sir. Yes, I’d like to do that.’

  ‘Rajeshree will take you to Viliame’s section, then. Any way I can help you further, please get in touch.’

  ‘I will. Thanks again, Ratu Sirilo.’

  Rajeshree appeared as if by magic and led Singh towards the stairs. The lift must be reserved for Ratu Sirilo’s use. Fair enough.

  ‘Rajeshree, did you know Viliame?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Oh, not so much, you know. Just by sight and to say hello. I met him a few years ago at a Diwali staff party—he looked great in Indian clothes! Since then we’ve just chatted when we run into each other. I can’t believe someone murdered him!’ Rajeshree sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, removing make-up intended to conceal an acne flare-up.

  Singh wondered if she’d known him better than she admitted, or would like to have done. ‘Did he talk about work at all?’

  ‘Not really. He might just mention how busy he was, or he had exams coming up for FIT.’

  ‘Did you ever see him outside the office?’

  ‘You mean like a date? No. Occasionally I’d run into him in the street or a shop. By chance,’ she added.

  The accounts section occupied a very large, open office to the left of the stairs. Rajeshree led Singh through a central passage between desks to a separate office at the end partitioned with flimsy glazed panels about two metres high.

  A middle-aged man looked over the top of his glasses at them as they stood in the doorway. ‘Mr Ghosh, this is Detective Sergeant Singh. Is it alright to interrupt you now?’

  ‘My goodness, I guess this is about poor Vili, isn’t it. We can’t believe what has happened. Come in, come in, ma’am.’

  Rajeshree left and Singh took the empty chair opposite Mr Ghosh, whose warm brown eyes softened his tense and wary face. ‘Were you Viliame’s supervisor, Mr Ghosh?’ she asked.

  ‘Indeed I was. I can honestly claim to have taught him the ropes here. We’ve both been promoted in the five years since he started, but I’m still his line manager and he is still, or was, the most promising apprentice I’ve ever had, or likely to.’ His face drooped.

  ‘Can you tell me some more about him, and his job?’

  ‘My goodness, Vili was different from the others. Usually, the young recruits are clock-watchers, not really interested in the Board and our purpose. They just want some routine tasks which they do unquestioningly, spend the minimum time, and get paid. Someone like that can learn bookkeeping and work alright under supervision but will never make an accountant, much less auditor. You know Miss Singh, an accountant is a detective, constantly on
the lookout, asking questions of every single number that comes to his attention. You will understand that, being a detective yourself.’

  Singh nodded. ‘And Vili?’ she prompted.

  ‘Vili was a natural auditor, a natural detective. He still had to take his final exams, but already he was a gifted accountant. He was aware of the big picture, was never content with a routine task unless he understood where it fitted in. That was his strength.’

  ‘Did his ability create resentment or jealousy among his colleagues?’

  Mr Ghosh shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. I wasn’t aware of it. Vili had an easy manner, I thought he was well-liked. Some of the other young boys teased him about his habit of working late, or always having his nose in a book, but he laughed it off. I think those who did that thought he was stupid for working harder than he needed to. That sort can’t comprehend anyone being passionate about their work.’

  This rang very true with Singh, for it was her experience exactly. Friends and family were astonished, and still were, that she strove to become a detective when just about any other job was easier.

  ‘Was he ever promoted over the head of older colleagues, for example?’

  ‘Well, yes he was, but you can’t be suggesting someone would kill him for that? For being passed over?’ Mr Ghosh sounded annoyed now.

  ‘No normal person would kill another for such a reason, I agree. But murderers are not normal people, sir.’

  Mr Ghosh shook his head in sorrow.

  ‘Did he work on particular projects, or particular districts?’ Singh asked.

  ‘Both at different times. We rotate the young clerks to give them a broad experience—it’s part of their training.’

  ‘What was his most recent area?’

  ‘He was managing disbursements to landowners in the Central Division.’

  She was pretty sure Tanoa was in Central. She made a note to check. ‘Who were Vili’s particular friends at work, Mr Ghosh?’

  ‘You know, he didn’t have much free time. He was always friendly, but I’m not sure he had close friends at work. He went back to his village most weekends, he went to evening classes at FIT and had to study, But maybe you could speak to Samuela, they both went to FIT and stayed in the staff hostel.’