DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1

by B. M. Allsopp

  ~

  In memory of my friend

  Louise Esther Vakamocea

  Contents

  The Principal Islands of Fiji

  Guide to Fijian Pronunciation

  PROLOGUE

  SUNDAY

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  MONDAY

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  TUESDAY

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  WEDNESDAY

  28

  29

  30

  31

  THURSDAY

  32

  33

  FRIDAY

  34

  35

  36

  37

  SATURDAY

  38

  39

  SUNDAY

  40

  MONDAY

  41

  42

  43

  44

  TUESDAY

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgments

  About the author

  Before you go…

  Copyright

  The Principal Islands of Fiji

  Guide to Fijian Pronunciation

  Guide to Fijian Pronunciation

  Readers may wish to know how to pronounce the Fijian names and basic greetings included in the book.

  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. Adi = a-ndee

  g = ng as in singer eg. liga = li-nga

  q = ngg as in stronger eg. Beqa = mbe-ngga

  c = th as in mother eg. moce = mo-thay

  PROLOGUE

  SATURDAY

  A crested tern swooped down to the edge of the fringing reef, attracted by the flutter of white in the water lapping the exposed coral. But the tern flew away disappointed, for this was no fish, just a scrap of cloth. The cloth was torn from the uniform worn by all the Paradise Island staff for the marine reserve celebrations: tailored white tunic patterned with black coconut palms and rugby balls, worn with a black sulu, the Fijian wraparound skirt.

  If the tern investigated the white flapping further, it would find the cloth scrap still partly attached to the tunic and the girl wearing it. She had washed in from the sea and was caught by the jagged shelf below the coral overhang. The delicate coral was merciless, abrading her golden-brown skin as the waves tossed her back and forth until the tide retreated.

  So it was a small hermit crab who first discovered the dead body of Akanisi Leletaku, who had so proudly arranged the floral decorations for the festivities. The crab picked its way over her uniform and scuttled into her open mouth, where it began to feed on the soft tissue.

  SUNDAY

  1

  SUVA

  Detective Sergeant Josefa Horseman gazed down from the Twin Otter aircraft heading to Suva, Fiji’s capital, from Nadi. At 7.30 am, the deep valleys were giving birth to clouds; white wisps growing as they rose. Some, reluctant to let go, clung just below the mountain peaks. The plane cleared the highlands, descended towards the broad patchwork of the Rewa Valley and the floodplain smallholdings, whose inhabitants were already going about their work.

  Now he could see the silver meanderings of the Rewa river, his thoughts descended to life at ground level. The new bridge at Nausori, already overdue when he left Fiji a year ago, was still not in use, although it looked like the roadway was finished. Traffic was still crossing the rickety old bridge. As the plane banked before straightening up for the runway approach, dread of returning to the routine frustrations of police work gripped him.

  The eight passengers stepped down from the plane. Horseman’s body violently protested against his native climate. He was suffocating, drowning in steam. But a few laboured breaths seemed to jog his lungs’ memory and he limped across the tarmac to the small run-down terminal. A few minutes later he had his luggage, was through the exit gate. A gleeful welcome party of relatives rushed him.

  ‘Oi le! Joe, Joe! Bula!’

  Huge smiles and wet eyes greeted him. His bags were taken from his hands. He embraced his mother and bent his head to accept the sweet-smelling salusalu garland she tied around his neck. Hands reached out to pat him, checking he was really there in the flesh. He was wearing six salusalu when they’d finished, and on his face tears mingled with sweat. His mother took his arm.

  ‘Now Josefa, I’ll tell you what we’ve planned. If we leave now, we’ll get to the village in good time for church at eleven. The boys are preparing the lovo pit and the whole clan’s busy with the feast. It’ll be extra special, all your favourites! How much leave have you got?’

  He wanted to do what they all expected, he really did. ‘Probably none, Mum. I assume I’ll be reporting for duty tomorrow. I’ll call headquarters from the airport police post before we leave.’

  ‘What? I can’t believe you haven’t got leave after your long journey, all your study, and surgery, rehab. . .’

  ‘Mum, as far as everyone in the Force is concerned, I’ve had a very privileged holiday, and I owe them heaps.’

  Mrs Horseman drew herself up, ready to battle the entire Fiji Police Force, if necessary. He recalled with a smile how formidable she had been in his childhood when confronting wrongdoing, usually his own. His easy-going father had left her to it.

  ‘Excuse me, I beg to differ, Josefa. You wrecked your leg bringing honour on the Police rugby team. Not to mention our national team, the Sevens and two World Cup tournaments. If that’s not the line of duty I don’t know what is. Five premierships in a row! The commissioner was basking in glory as if he’d scored all those tries himself! How’s your knee now, by the way?’ She cast her professional nurse’s eye at the right leg of his jeans. ‘I’ll need to have a proper look at that later.’

  ‘Coming along well, Mum. I should be fine for next season.’

  ‘Wait a bit, now. Didn’t the specialist say—

  ‘Detective Sergeant Horseman. Bula, sir. Sorry to interrupt, sir.’ A sweating uniformed constable stood at attention.

  Horseman turned to him with relief. ‘Bula vinaka, Constable. He glanced at the badge. ‘Peni Dau. Stand easy, Peni.’

  ‘Message from the Deputy-Commissioner, sir.’ He handed Horseman an official brown envelope.

  He read the message. Once again he was going to disappoint his family, and there was nothing he could do about it

&n
bsp; ‘Mum, everyone, I’m so sorry, but I’ve been ordered to report immediately to the Deputy Commissioner at CID. I haven’t a clue what my orders will be after that, but I’m afraid I can’t go back with you now.’

  His mother’s mouth trembled for an instant, then clenched in a straight line. ‘And what right has that young Rusiate to destroy your homecoming? Why, I was at school with his sister. He was ten years our junior—always sneaking off to our secondary school compound to hide behind his sister and tell tales on his own classmates!’

  Her righteous indignation made them all smile again.

  ‘Mum, I’ve told you that as far as the Force is concerned, I’ve had a whole year off.’

  ‘Well, we’ll all go to Suva, and I’ll give young Rusi my opinion about that! Your cousin Seru brought the twin-cab utility. We’ll all go in that. After this meeting with Rusi, there’ll still be time for us to get to the village for lunch.’

  ‘I’m afraid the boss has sent the constable to drive me. I’d better go with him or he’ll be in trouble. Whether I’ll have free time after the debriefing, I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  ‘We’ll wait outside HQ until you come out of this meeting, Joe.’ There was a hint of a twinkle in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll try not to embarrass you, son.’ The return of her playful tone was a relief. He patted her shoulder.

  Horseman waved to the constable, who was standing a discreet distance from them. He immediately returned. ‘Ready to go now, sir? I’ll bring the vehicle around.’

  ‘No need, Peni, I’ll walk with you.’

  They got in the car but Constable Dau made no move to start the car. He looked as if he was steeling himself for an unpleasant duty.

  ‘Anything wrong?’ Horseman asked.

  Constable Dau’s gaze was on the steering wheel. ‘No, sir. Just wanted to say, sir, it’s an honour to meet you. You know, me and my friends are so sorry you won’t be playing rugby any more.’

  ‘Where did you hear that, Peni? I expect to be back next season, or maybe the one after. Now let’s get going. We can’t keep the Deputy Commissioner waiting on a Sunday morning.’

  It was still only 9.30 a.m. when Horseman arrived at the CID headquarters on a hill high above central Suva. The building looked just the same, but across the road, the expanse of bitumen car park had disappeared. The footpath was now fenced in plywood sheeting, behind which scaffolding rose a good twenty metres skywards. The caged structure within looked to be about four stories, already taller than most buildings in Suva. To his astonishment, work was in progress on a Sunday. A towering crane slowly hoisted a concrete panel and swung it to the waiting workers who eased it into position. Dangerous work, even with the flimsy-looking helmets, and work most builders in Fiji would not be much experienced in.

  ‘They’re getting on very fast with the hotel, aren’t they?’ Constable Dau commented. ‘They say it’ll be finished by Christmas, all ten stories, and the ground floor shops and cafe will open in August.’

  Horseman watched for a moment, wondering where the workers had come from. Perhaps returned from working overseas, lured by big bonuses? It did happen, but few citizens who departed for greener pastures ever returned permanently, except in defeat. ‘This way, sir.’ The constable led the way to the stairs.

  ‘Is the Deputy Commissioner still on the third floor, Peni?’

  ‘Io, sir.’

  ‘Then I know my way. Why don’t you let the duty sergeant know you’re back.’

  Constable Dau looked unhappy, but he’d have to wear it. Horseman wanted to tackle the stairs unobserved. He climbed to the second floor without difficulty, but his reconstructed knee rebelled against the last flight. He used the balustrade for support and maintained an even tread, weight equally balanced on both legs, as the American therapists had taught him. He paused at the top to catch his breath before approaching the only door to the right of the landing. It was open. He tapped on the glass panel in the door. His superior rose from his desk and strode across.

  ‘Ah, Detective Inspector Horseman, come in, come in. Bula vinaka. Welcome home.’

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu sir.’ Horseman ignored what could only be a slip of the tongue regarding his rank.

  ‘How are you, Joe, how are you? Knee must be improved, eh? Listening to you coming up the stairs, your steps sounded quite normal. Perhaps a bit slow, eh? We’ve had reports from the rehabilitation people in Oregon, of course. They think you can be returned to the front, as long as you follow the instructions they’ve given you and keep up the exercises. You know all about that.’

  ‘Yes sir. Surgery was successful, and I’ve trained hard with the rehab team since. Hope to make more progress here.’

  ‘An athlete like you, no stranger to training, eh? I have no doubt at all you’ll stick to it and make a full recovery.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I can’t wait to return to the field for Police.’

  The DC nodded and smiled, a paternal, indulgent smile. Irritating. ‘All in God’s good time eh? But I’m advised the new knee should do fine for police work. All our glory days come to an end, eh? But you’re still young and can expect a good career ahead of you in the force, Detective Inspector. No doubt your family met you this morning?’

  What was it with the DC? Getting senile? He’d not have been confused about anyone’s rank a year ago. ‘Yes sir, quite a crowd came, ready to whisk me back to my mother’s village for church and a lovo. They were pretty cut up when Constable Dau arrived to bring me straight here. As a matter of fact, they’ll be waiting outside now, hoping I’ll be free to go back with them after our meeting.’

  The DC frowned. ‘I’m sorry about that Joe, but my letter to you last week expressly stated you’d be required on duty as of today. Usual shortage of officers, eh?’

  ‘Sir, I’m sorry, but I didn’t receive your letter before I left. I had to leave Portland the day before yesterday in order to catch the morning Air Pacific flight from L.A. Perhaps that’s the reason.’

  More paternal nods. ‘Ah, that may be. My secretary followed up with an email when I didn’t hear from you. Surely you got that?’

  ‘No sir. My temporary account through the Oregon Police server was closed the day before I left—security protocol. So it must have been flicked back to you, or. . .’ Horseman trailed off lamely, thinking through the possibilities.

  ‘Never mind, Joe, I don’t care about the technicalities, I have no ambition to understand IT, that’s one reason you were sent to the Portland course.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘In that case, you won’t have seen the latest Gazette, either, eh.’ This was a statement.

  ‘No sir, I, er, was wondering. . .’

  The DC interrupted. ‘Why I’m addressing you as Detective Inspector? And I was wondering why you didn’t acknowledge your promotion. Do you realise this mix up wouldn’t have happened in the days of telegrams?’

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu sir. I’m taken by surprise, and honoured.’ This was an extremely bad time to beg for the rest of the day off, but he owed it to his family. He tried for a light-hearted tone. ‘Sir, this will give them even more cause to celebrate. I’m afraid my mother simply will not hear ‘no’ about today. If it’s at all possible for me to resume duty tomorrow, or even this evening. . .’

  The DC puffed his round cheeks out, let the air out very slowly. ‘Joe, you don’t seem to realise the extent of the privileges you’ve been granted in your career so far, because we needed you on the rugby field, winning the premierships for Police. We’re always pleased to free up any officer selected for the national team too—goes without saying. You’ve been protected from the real life of policing because of that, to an extent. All in our self-interest, I know—’

  ‘Sir, this is too much. One player can’t win any match on his own.’

  ‘
Let me be frank, Joe. Plenty of brilliant players in Fiji, but few can be relied on for a whole season, much less year after year. You’re consistent, strategic, determined to win. You were the one we all wanted to be. You’re a leader. Now it’s time for you to direct those qualities to your career. You’re a good detective, otherwise you wouldn’t have been promoted. But you can be a much better one now you’re off the field. I expect you will be.’

  ‘I’ll do my best for the job, sir. When I’m back on the field, too.’

  Horseman thought further remonstration would be less than helpful at this point. Strategic? The DC was the master of strategy—manipulative old fox! He waited. The DC opened a slim file.

  ‘Call came in last night from the manager of the resort on Vula Island. They’re calling the resort Paradise Island now—did you know that? So silly! Surely the name Vula is easy enough for any foreigner to pronounce? Anyway, the manager there’s a Kiwi. Big day there yesterday, lots of pomp and circumstance for the opening of a marine reserve. Chiefs, press, scientists, the lot. Body of a young maid found on the reef at low tide. Probably misadventure, but keep an open mind. Ratu Ezekaia’s a mate of the Commissioner, they’ve already talked, so there’s a bit of pressure to clear it up. Couldn’t get anyone from CID out there last night—humiliating.’

  ‘Do we know who discovered the body, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Dr Vijay Chakra, guest for the ceremonies who stayed overnight. D’you know him? He’s got a private practice here in Suva. My wife’s a patient of his. What we’ve got so far is in the file.’

  He handed over a large official envelope.

  ‘Your promotion notification, new ID, mobile phone, et cetera. Sign these papers and you’re away. The rest of the paperwork can wait.’

  Horseman signed.

  ‘You’ll be driven to Navua. The Paradise resort boat will pick you up at 11.30—none of our boats are available. Another embarrassment. Detective Sergeant Singh will be waiting for you at the landing. Two constables went over to Vula or Paradise at first light. I’m trying to get a detective constable assigned to you also, but no luck so far. Expect him when you see him. Be prepared to stay the night, if you need to. The resort will look after you—it’s in their interest to help the police, after all.’