DEATH ON PARADISE ISLAND: Fiji Islands Mysteries 1

by B. M. Allsopp

  They headed for what was already becoming known as the police bure. ‘I’ve had enough of the sea view for today,’ Pat declared brightly. ‘Can we speak inside?’

  Pat settled herself on the cane sofa and Singh took one of the matching chairs opposite her. With a shock, she noticed the upholstery for the first time. What she’d seen as muted aqua and white swirls were actually banded sea kraits, winding sinuously through sea foliage. Did they want to spook the guests? Maybe it was some sort of desensitising process. Her own panic attack made her cringe now. The boss had handled it really well, she had to give him that. Somehow she knew he’d neither hold it against her nor gossip about it to the others.

  ‘Please, I’m dying for a drink, surely you are, too?’ Pat McKenzie raised her Campari and soda, probably not her first for the day. ‘Let’s drink to clearing this bloody disaster up quickly, so Nisi can rest in peace.’

  Singh raised her own icy Chapman soda and took a sip. ‘I’m glad we both want the same thing, Mrs McKenzie. So far, Nisi’s death remains a mystery. I expect the post-mortem will tell us something definite, but in the meantime, the more we can find out about Nisi herself and her actions over the last few days, the more likely we are to discover how she died.’

  Pat bowed her dark curly head over her glass, her slight body slumped, as if divining the girl’s death in the rosy liquid. When she looked up, she was solemn, blue eyes steady.

  ‘How well did you know Nisi, Mrs McKenzie?’

  ‘I wasn’t close to her, no. I couldn’t be, could I? I’m old enough to be her mother and I’m the boss’s wife, and a bloody foreigner, a kaivalagi. That’s a triple gap—the generation gap, the management gap and the race gap.’ Her lip trembled. Then she went over to the house phone. ‘Sai? Campari and soda and a Chapman to the owner’s bure, please.’ She went back to the sofa, sat directly opposite Singh and looked at her appealingly. ‘I bet you understand, though. You’re an outsider too, aren’t you?’

  Singh wasn’t insulted. She didn’t need reminding about the second-class status of the Indian population. ‘Despite the gaps, I think you cared about Nisi, Mrs McKenzie. Was she also an outsider, in some way?’

  ‘Well, it was her age, obviously. She was eighteen. The next youngest woman on the staff is thirty two, that’s Litia. Some of the boys are in their early twenties, so. . . and she was so lovely, not just pretty, but a shining spirit. She had no idea the effect she had on others, whatever their sex or age.’

  ‘Do you mean she was flirtatious, Mrs McKenzie?’

  ‘I think that’s how men could interpret her behaviour. But I think she was more childish than that. She came here straight from the village you know. She had two years as a secondary school boarder on the Viti Levu mainland, then returned to Delanarua at the age of fifteen to a life of repression and boredom. She teased and laughed at people, yes, but she was just playful, like a village child.’

  ‘Any man in particular misinterpret her behaviour?’

  ‘Again, I’m not the best person to tell you, Sergeant.’

  A knock on the wall beside the veranda door was followed by a drenched and smiling Sai. He whisked away their empty glasses and replaced them with full ones.

  Mrs McKenzie took her Campari and soda. ‘Vinaka, Sai.’

  ‘I added a dash of fresh rainwater, Ovisa, just for you. You should charge extra for that, Pat.’ He grinned at Mrs McKenzie and strode out into the pelting squall.

  They sipped their drinks for a few moments, then Sergeant Singh resumed the interview.

  ‘Mrs McKenzie, I believe you are one of the best people to tell us about Nisi. Being an outsider, as you put it, has its advantages.’

  ‘Well, one man who misinterpreted her behaviour was her uncle, Jona. Self-righteous, self-satisfied Bible-basher of the worst type, if you ask me. Did you hear about his performance at the lunch yesterday?’ She shook her head in disbelief, and drank some more.

  ‘What happened?’ Sergeant Singh asked.

  ‘Jona asked if he could say grace at the special lunch, as a staff representative—he acts as a sort of lay preacher to the staff. There was no need, Rev. Mosese from Delanarua was to say grace. Ian knew Jona was a risk—he only agreed to show respect to the staff. Well, I wouldn’t have paid any attention, but Jona sounded so angry, I looked straight at him. He glared around the room as if he hated all of us, switched to English, which could only have been directed at the foreigners, and declaimed that ghastly text from the Bible. You know, from Genesis—

  ‘And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth and over every creeping thing upon the earth. Genesis Chapter 1, verse 26. Amen.’ Mrs McKenzie affected a deep, ponderous voice that made Singh smile. ‘Imagine opposing his chief and the Methodist minister like that!’

  ‘I don’t understand. I take it Jona’s not happy about the marine reserve, then?’

  ‘Of course he’s not happy. God’s personally given him dominion over the lot, with a licence to kill—that was his message. He’s so arrogant, I’d put nothing past him, including deliberately sabotaging the blessing ceremony by running the boat aground.

  Singh was confused. ‘Mrs McKenzie, you didn’t mention any of these incidents with Jona in your statement.’

  She frowned. ‘No, because Nisi wasn’t involved.’

  ‘You may be right, Mrs McKenzie, but we need your full account of yesterday’s events nevertheless. I’d be grateful if you could write a supplementary statement.’

  ‘I’ll be glad to. It’s time someone grounded that hot air balloon.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Jona’s so proud of being Paradise’s head boatman and staff lay preacher—the latter position entirely self-appointed, I assure you. He sees himself as top banana of Paradise. To be fair, Nisi’s parents would have asked him to watch her, I don’t doubt that. But when he was around her, she was a different person—cowed, anxious. She shrank somehow. No wonder, d’you know the bully actually beat her?’

  Singh hoped her alarm didn’t show on her face. ‘No, Mrs McKenzie. Please tell me about it.’

  ‘It happened several times, I’m sure. At least. I noticed bruises on her arms and legs and made some silly joke about it one day. Nisi blushed, hung her head and muttered something about being thrown about in a boat in rough seas. It was plain enough who threw her about! When Jona was around her, he was always glowering. Like a vicious guard dog. In my opinion, and of course, that’s all it is. . .’ She took another drink, then continued, impassioned. ‘In my opinion, he was simply jealous—jealous that she attracted so much attention from both staff and guests, that she was loved for herself, that she was happy and carefree. The staff certainly respect Jona, but I doubt anyone likes him much.’

  ‘Have you spoken about your suspicions to anyone?’

  ‘Yes, I have. I spoke to Ledua, who as good as admitted it. She explained to me that Jona would see it as his duty to chastise Nisi for behaviour he saw as immoral, sinful. When I asked what behaviour that could be, Ledua told me that Jona would think her teasing ways were sexually provocative—not that Ledua put it quite like that.’

  ‘Do you think Jona was sexually jealous?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s possible. I must admit, the thought did cross my mind now and then.’

  ‘When?’

  Mrs McKenzie drained her glass and put it down. She leaned closer to Singh, confidential. ‘For example, once I came across the two of them arguing near the beach at the southern end of the island, behind the staff quarters. I was walking around the rock pools at low tide. I was about ten metres away, maybe more, and the wind was onshore, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Jona was shouting and waving his fist. I thought he was going to strike her, but he didn’t while I was there. Nisi j
ust stood there, her back to me, shoulders hunched, head bowed, while her uncle ranted. So submissive. I did wonder.’

  ‘Did they see you?’

  ‘Not at first. I was walking roughly parallel to the beach and Jona was facing me, but he didn’t notice me until I crossed his line of sight. I think I gave him a shock.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing. I pretended to be looking in the nearest rock pool as if I hadn’t seen them. Then I looked at him, gave him a wave and continued on, minding my own business. Nisi didn’t move. They were gone when I came back.’

  ‘Why do you think there was a sexual element to the confrontation?’ Sergeant Singh asked, matter-of-fact.

  ‘I don’t know, and I’m not claiming there was. You asked me and I said I sometimes got a funny feeling about Nisi and her uncle, that’s all. They could have been arguing about anything—the turtles, even. It was about that time, I think.’

  Sergeant Singh was confused again. ‘The turtles?’

  ‘Oh, haven’t you heard?’ Mrs McKenzie leaned forward eagerly. ‘Well, the story of Jona and the turtles is not so outlandish as Jona and the whale, but in these boring islands it’s quite a tale. The staff, until yesterday that is, were allowed to fish, gather crustaceans and so on, in their spare time, for fun or profit, mainly fun, I think. That catch included turtles from time to time. Turtles are definitely for profit—they can be kept alive for a long time until the price is right at the mainland markets. As you would know, the wildlife protection laws here, such as they are, are largely ignored, but all turtles are legally protected during the breeding season from December to February. Well, at the beginning of December, Ian found three turtles tied up in a pen covered with palm fronds in the staff quarters, and released them into the sea. You must have seen how passionate he is about the marine reserve—well, he was incensed. You see, they’re feast food, so the idea’s to catch them legally in November and keep them alive for the high profits at Christmas. But you know all that, I’m sure.’

  ‘Did Jona catch the turtles?’

  ‘Who knows? Nobody claimed them. Nothing was said. But for a while there was a simmering resentment brewing beneath all that bloody bula courtesy that made Ian and me quite uneasy. Mainly from Jona and the boat crew. We both could feel it. Hard to put your finger on.’ She slumped back in the sofa again and gazed sadly at her empty glass. ‘Then, one night a few weeks ago the main dive boat’s motor disappeared. A Yamaha 200 costing over $20,000 to replace. U.S. dollars! That’s if there was another to be had in Fiji, which of course there wasn’t. Ian’s getting one second-hand from New Zealand. The general mood among the men lightened after that. They all became cheerful and friendly again.’

  ‘Did you report the theft to the police?’ Sergeant Singh asked.

  ‘No, you’d better ask Ian about that. He suspects some involvement by the staff, particularly Jona, but he can’t be sure. How could anything be proved?’

  Singh was a bit offended. ‘You’d be surprised, Mrs McKenzie. We often find stolen outboards. Even the thieves too.’ Pat McKenzie smiled weakly and folded her arms across her front.

  ‘Let’s get back to Nisi’s effect on the men here, shall we? Any boyfriends?’

  ‘As I’ve said, the staff are very skilled at hiding things from me, and from each other too, I think. Maybe Maika—they’re great friends, I don’t know if there’s anything more. I’ve sometimes wondered about Guy Dawson, too. I’ve seen him gazing at her often enough, but that means nothing. You’ll think I’m an idle expat with nothing better to do than gossip about the staff.’ She shook her curly head, rejecting the image. ‘I don’t want to be like that, but these islands. . . I’d better go back now and write that statement for you on my laptop. Much quicker. I’ll bring it over when I’m done.’

  The downpour had eased to a steady rain. Sergeant Singh stood on the veranda watching Pat walk away. Under the turquoise golf umbrella, the slight woman looked like a vulnerable child herself, although she must be over forty. She walked slowly along the beach under the leaden sky, paused, looked at the dark green sea for a while, then shrugged. She turned and walked with purpose up the terrace steps and into the bar.

  9

  PARADISE ISLAND

  At five thirty Horseman made his way through dripping gardens, bound for the office and Adi Litia.

  He rounded the pool and saw Constable Waqatabu hurrying along the path from the jetty, accompanied by a very thin Fijian man in a grey sulu and white short-sleeved shirt. A visiting pastor, perhaps? When they got closer he recognised his colleague of ten years ago, Detective Constable Kelepi Taleca, a diligent and loyal officer who had never sought promotion, never had it thrust upon him and now never would, as he was nearly fifty. Horseman rushed forward and seized his hand.

  ‘Keli, man, I can’t believe they had the good sense to send you to help us!’

  ‘Ah, Joe, it’s Detective Inspector Horseman now, I hear. Very good to see you, even if you’re not as fast on your feet as you used to be.’

  Horseman turned to Constable Waqatabu. ‘Glad you’re back, Epeli. Please take DC Taleca’s bag and arrange an extra bed for our bure with Mrs Marama.’

  ‘Io, sir.’ The constable moved off smartly.

  Detective Constable Kelepi Taleca took Horseman’s hand in both his. ‘Josefa, I’ve followed your career with the greatest interest. I’ve even heard occasional news of your police work! Congratulations.’

  ‘Vinaka vakalevu. Can’t wait to catch up, Keli. But come with me now to interview Adi Litia. You can take notes, eh? I suppose Epeli Waqatabu’s filled you in?’

  Taleca laughed. ‘As much as he’s able, I think, Joe.’

  A bell clanged as the office door closed behind them. An internal glass door opened and Adi Litia came out to meet them at the empty reception counter. Her tall, athletic figure was just slightly on the heavy side, her square jawline just a little softened by increasing flesh. A mole above her right eyebrow gave her a permanently enquiring expression and distracted attention from her wide brown eyes. Sea creatures in royal blue swam on her cream bula blouse. She appraised Taleca in a glance, then addressed Horseman in English. Horseman was surprised—Fijians together usually spoke Fijian. She must want to keep her distance.

  ‘Hello Inspector. I hope you and your team are being well looked after.’ Her low voice was as cool and crisp as her appearance. She didn’t wait for a response. ‘We’re so pleased the police sent you to Paradise, you know. All of us are passionate followers of our national team. My father is quite envious of us at the resort. Will you need to interview him? He’d be delighted, you know.’

  Horseman nodded, embarrassed. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll need to trouble your father, but thank you, Adi Litia.’

  ‘Litia, please, I’ve told you already.’

  Horseman felt uncomfortable, but he obeyed. ‘Litia, this is Detective Constable Taleca. He’s just arrived on the boat with Constable Waqatabu.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Detective Constable Taleca. I take it Nisi’s body is in the morgue now?’

  ‘I haven’t checked yet, ma’am, but the hospital van was waiting at the Navua public wharf when the Paradise boat arrived. I saw it leave for Suva with the deceased before I embarked to come here.’

  Adi Litia’s eyebrows shot up, together with the mole. Horseman suppressed a smile. Keli had always been painstakingly logical and made no assumptions. That was his great strength, which should check Horseman’s own tendency to leap too far ahead of the evidence.

  ‘If you’d like to come into my office, I can certainly spare you fifteen minutes.’ She led the way into a spotless white room similar to Mr McKenzie’s office. Standard grey office furniture and equipment. No bula touches here. She gestured vaguely towards a visitor’s chair in front of the desk before seating herself in the high-backed executive chair behi
nd it. The desk was clear, apart from a glass vase of red anthuriums and a wire tray holding a single manila file.

  He smiled at her. ‘I’m sure you’ve had sporting success yourself, Litia. Let me guess, was it netball? Perhaps at Adi Cakobau school at Naitasiri?’

  An unexpectedly carefree smile lit Adi Litia’s face. ‘Yes, how did you know? I played goal attack in the senior school team, then for Fiji Institute of Technology in Suva while I did the two-year Office Management diploma. But I didn’t get as far as you, Inspector. Still, I made the Fiji team for the South Pacific Games in Noumea.’ She leaned forward, confiding. ‘We won the silver medal, I’m sure you remember!’ I must admit I had great hopes for the Commonwealth Games but the selection committee had other ideas.’ She leaned back in her chair again. ‘I didn’t maintain my peak fitness, I admit.’

  Horseman shrugged, smiling. ‘Who does? I’m sure you’d make a valuable coach, or administrator. All sports are short of good administrators.’

  ‘What an appealing idea, yes. In the future, perhaps. I’m rather out of touch here.’ Her wistful voice clashed with her strong, square face.

  Horseman did not want to delve further into the politics of Adi Litia’s position at Paradise, but sensed it was more of a duty than a pleasure. It was time to get cracking. He glanced at Kelepi, whose notebook was on his knee, his pen poised.

  ‘I see in your statement that the last time you saw Akanisi was at the buffet lunch yesterday.’

  ‘That’s right. Nisi was serving,’ Adi Litia answered.

  ‘Was she still around when you left the dining room?’

  ‘Let me think. Well, all I can say is I don’t recall seeing her then, but she may very well have been there, or in the kitchen. I was at the official table with my father, and we were among the first to leave. The room was very crowded.’