Death of a Hero

  Fiji Islands Mysteries: How it all began

  B.M. Allsopp

  Exclusive to My Readers

  It’s wonderful getting to know my readers. One of the best things I’ve learned is that you are just as fascinated by the lovely islands of Fiji as I am. If you enjoy this book, I invite you to join B.M. Allsopp’s Readers.

  As a welcome gift, I’ll present you with something new (and free) to read that you won’t find in any book store. I’ll tell you more after you’ve finished Death of a Hero.

  Glossary and Guide to Fijian Pronunciation

  I use a few basic Fijian greetings and polite expressions in my books to give readers a taste of an intrinsic part of Fijian culture. You may also be interested to know how to pronounce the names of people and places in the stories.

  bula — hello

  moce — goodbye or goodnight

  io — yes

  vakalevu — very much

  vinaka — thank you

  yaqona — kava (the plant piper methysticum: its roots, ground powder and drink)

  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 = ndi-na

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

  q = ngg as in stronger eg. yaqona = ya-nggo-na

  c = th as in mother eg. yaco = ya-tho

  Table of Contents

  MONDAY 1

  2

  3

  4

  TUESDAY 5

  6

  7

  8

  WEDNESDAY 9

  10

  11

  12

  THURSDAY 13

  14

  15

  16

  FRIDAY 17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  SATURDAY 22

  Exclusive gift for my readers

  Acknowledgements

  Enjoy this book? You can make a big difference.

  About the author

  Also by B.M. Allsopp

  MONDAY

  1

  Josefa Horseman ripped the team’s training singlets from the washing line, gave the orange tree a good shake, tossed the fallen fruit into the kit bag with the other gear and took off. He dashed down the steep shortcut from the student dormitories to the rugby field. Seru would not be happy if he was late with the gear. Neither would Horseman himself. He was honoured Seru had entrusted him with this job for the team.

  Relieved to be the first to arrive for training, he went to the water tap stand first and filled the containers, leaving two beside the tap. He took the other two over to the changing shed, which for some reason was positioned on the opposite side of the field from the tap. You’d think the administrators of the University of the South Pacific, all rugby devotees, would provide more taps for their own teams, wouldn’t you?

  Horseman dumped the kit bag and water containers beside the door, went back to the tap and returned with the remaining two. He opened the door, pushed back an ill-fitting wooden shutter and looked for the coconut broom which he’d left leaning in a corner. Instead of a broom, a tall man was sitting there, his face slumped to his chest. Seru had got here first after all. This was either a trick or he’d gone to sleep.

  ‘Bula, hello Seru.’ Horseman wanted to save his captain embarrassment. He repeated his greeting more loudly. He went up to Seru, touched his arm, shook his shoulder gently, then more firmly, calling his captain’s name again and again. But Seru’s big, handsome head rolled further forward. Alarm seized Horseman but he remembered his first aid training. He raised Seru’s legs, propped them up against the wall, and lowered his body to the cement floor, willing him to come out of his faint. Seru was still, too still. When Horseman realised Seru wasn’t breathing, he checked his wrist, then his neck, for a pulse. Was he imagining the faintest, uneven beat? The pounding of his own heart against his rib cage distracted him.

  He had to get help. No one else had arrived yet. He’d better run up to the dormitory to call an ambulance on the public phone. He was nearly there when he realised USP’s own medical clinic was only fifty metres further. He must calm down and think coolly.

  He barged into the clinic, yelling ‘Emergency!’ to the receptionist, who froze. He banged on the doctor’s door, then flung it wide. Dr Koroi leapt to her feet.

  ‘You can’t just…’

  ‘Just come! The captain’s collapsed at the rugby field. No breathing, no pulse. Please!’

  Dr Koroi took one sharp look at him and grabbed a bag. She turned to her patient, ‘Sorry, it’s an emergency. I must go’.

  As they hurried out, she shouted to the receptionist, ‘Call an ambulance to the rugby field, please. Reschedule my appointments.’ Hope surged through Horseman as he led her down the slope.

  By the time Dr Koroi shook her head regretfully at Horseman, half the players had turned up for training. Dr Koroi forbade anyone but Horseman to enter the shed so they milled about outside, anxious and baffled.

  ‘We must wait for the ambulance,’ she said to Horseman.

  Thank God, those faint, spasmodic pulses hadn’t been imagination. His own heart raced again. ‘Seru’s unconscious then, Doctor? He’ll recover in hospital?’

  Her wide brown eyes looked directly into his, sympathetic. ‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, Seru has already died.’

  ‘How? Why? What happened?’ Horseman clutched his head to stop it spinning.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know yet, but we’ll find the answer, I assure you.’

  Horseman staggered out the door, away from her words. ‘Seru’s dead,’ he blurted.

  The players moved in, linking arms, forming a circle. Some rubbed tears away, others let them run freely, yet others, dry-eyed, looked blank. A baritone started singing softly, then other voices joined in four-part natural harmonies. They all knew the 23rd Psalm. When they reached “I will fear no evil”, their young voices strengthened in a crescendo of confidence.

  2

  The ambulance team had called the police and now stood back while the blue uniforms shooed the rugby players away, staked out an area around the shed, and wound blue and white tape around it. Their coach, Professor Lakepi Hau’ofa of the Fiji School of Medicine, had already joined Dr Koroi and been permitted to remain in the shed with her. The officers now raised the tape for a lanky sandy-haired European man carrying a toolbox. Three more Fijian men with an air of authority about them unhooked the tape and joined the others in the shed.

  Horseman was dizzy. Who were all these people? Of course, he recognised the police and ambulance uniforms, but the others? Now four more, all in sky blue overalls, were admitted to the enclosure but waited outside the shed, talking among themselves. Horseman turned to the team-mate next to him.

  Before he could ask, his friend explained. ‘They’re SOCOs, scene-of-crime officers.’

  ‘Crime? What crime?’

  ‘None, I hope! When there’s a sudden unexplained death, the police call the SOCOs in to collect any clues, like fingerprints, if they’re suspicious.’

  ‘Suspicious of what?’

  ‘Well, that the death is not natural. Haven’t you seen any cop shows on TV? Wait, here’s Coach now. And Dr Koroi.’

  Their coach walked into the circle. Professor Hau’ofa had played for Tonga in more than a hundred rugby internationals over 15 years. All the USP team were proud he was their coach.

  ‘Boys, boys, what can I say? However much we wish it were not so, our much-esteemed first grade captain, Seru Namata, has passed away quite unexpectedly. I thank our youngest and newest team member, Joe Horseman, who found Seru and quite correctly fetched Dr Koroi. Tragically, Joe was too late.’

  Half the team turned to stare at Horseman. Did he imagine some suspicious faces? Surely Coach had not implied Horseman was to blame for Seru’s death. If he’d arrived ten minutes earlier, would Seru have lived?

  ‘Yes, I know all of us are experiencing shock, so I’ll cancel training this afternoon. However, our Seru would want us to win Saturday’s game against Police. So we’ll meet tomorrow at the same time for an extra session and Thursday training as normal, no matter how sad we’re feeling.’

  Horseman nodded, others muttered their agreement. Two of the men came out of the shed and approached them. Coach turned as he noticed the team’s attention was distracted.

  ‘Ah, Detective Sergeant, have you something to say to the boys?’

  The shorter of the two men nodded and stepped forward. His round face made him look younger than he probably was, an impression reinforced by his camouflage cargo pants and baseball cap.

  ‘I am Detective Sergeant Ratini. This is my colleague Detective Constable Taleca.’ He indicated his tall, skinny companion, who nodded to them in a friendly way. ‘He’ll speak to all of you students, then you should leave and let us get on with our job. Except for the boy who discovered the body.’ Horseman winced at the officer’s casual use of the word body. He raised his hand.

  Coach intervened, beckoning Horseman forward with his chin. ‘Detective Sergeant, this is Josefa Horseman, my youngest player. You will understand he’s somewhat shocked.’

  DS Ratini’s smile was a grim stretch of his mouth. ‘Aha, your latest prodigy, Professor? You’ll understand there’s no special treatment for anyone in this sort of investigation. Come with me, Josefa Horseman.’

  DC Taleca, armed with a clipboard, led the other boys to the shade of trees bordering the field. Horseman wished he could go with them, then dismissed his nervousness as irrational. What could he possibly have to fear? All he had to do was tell this detective what had happened.

  3

  ‘Sit here.’ DS Ratini pointed to the wooden benches behind the goal posts.

  Horseman sat down, dazed. Seru, his mentor and captain, had taught him so much just by being the brilliant player he was. He sat at the officer’s direction, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun with his hand.

  ‘Sir, how could Seru die so suddenly? No one could be fitter or stronger.’

  DS Ratini let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Look here, it’s my job to ask the questions and yours to answer them. Understand?’

  ‘Io, yes, sir. When I opened the shed door, I thought there was no one there. Then, when I opened the shutters, I saw Seru slumped over in the corner. I thought he was asleep, but—

  ‘Did you hear me? I ask the questions!’

  ‘But I thought—‘

  DS Ratini leaned forward, jabbing his finger at Horseman. ‘Don’t think! Just answer! What is it with you USP students? You’re supposed to be bright, but you can’t follow a simple instruction, eh.’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘What sort of a name’s Horseman anyway? You look Fijian, but that’s an English name.’

  Horseman often enjoyed explaining the origin of his surname, but this was not one of those times. The short version, then. ‘I have a European ancestor sir, who survived a shipwreck on Vanua Levu, along with a horse. He adopted the name Horseman, which has been passed down the generations.’

  ‘Hmm, really?’ Horseman wondered if DS Ratini would regard all his answers so sceptically.

  ‘What are you studying here?’

  ‘Business and Computer Studies, sir.’

  ‘Hmm. Have you managed to pass? So far, that is.’

  The detective’s hostility was wearing Horseman down. Was that Ratini’s purpose? If so, he was succeeding. Horseman expected questions about his discovery of Seru, but until now, Ratini had avoided the only topic that could possibly help them in their investigation. And more than anything, Horseman needed to know how his hero had died. Seru’s family needed to know even more. His only choice was to cooperate with the hostile Ratini to get answers for them all.

  ‘Io, I did pass my first semester, sir. I’m only in first year, but I hope I can keep on passing. My scholarship depends on it.’

  ‘Scholarship eh? But you part-European families have plenty of money, don’t you?’

  Horseman knew the detective was baiting him, but he couldn’t imagine why and he wouldn’t rise. ‘My father’s a book keeper and my mother’s a nurse, so we’re lucky our income’s regular. We get by comfortably enough, but we don’t have plenty of money.’

  Ratini shrugged. ‘Lucky to be playing for USP 1st grade just out of school, aren’t you?’ His sneer implied Horseman’s position in the team must be due to some trickery, or possibly bribery.

  ‘Io, very lucky, sir. It’s beyond my wildest dreams. Especially to have men like Seru and Coach encouraging me.’

  Ratini again looked sceptical. ‘Well, Josefa Horseman, tell me about what you did this afternoon. In detail.’

  After Horseman had recounted the events, Ratini’s mouth turned down in disapproval.

  ‘So you’re the team’s dogsbody, Josefa. Is that right?’

  Shocked by the man’s rudeness, Horseman counted to five before replying. ‘That’s not how I look at it, sir. I’m the most junior team member, an apprentice I guess. I’m happy to carry out any jobs I’m given. I’m proud to be trusted.’

  ‘And where’s the kit bag you described?’

  Finally, a fair point. Horseman had completely forgotten about his bag. He remembered carrying the water containers to the shed. Had he brought the bag as well? He shut his eyes, mentally retracing his steps. ‘Io, I carried the bag and water containers from the tap over there to the shed. I don’t think I took them inside. All those things should be somewhere near the door.’

  ‘Let’s take a look then, shall we?’ Ratini said.

  Horseman trailed Ratini to the police tape in front of the shed. ‘There it is, sir, just around the corner from the shed door. Maybe it was in the way and one of the police shifted it.’

  ‘Seems to me you couldn’t remember where you’d put it,’ Ratini said with a smirk.

  ‘True, but now it’s come back to me. I did leave it beside the door.’

  Ratini snorted. ‘I’ll take the bag. It’s police evidence for now. You can go, but I’ll be talking with you again. Got a phone number?’

  ‘Just the dormitory public phone, sir. Let me write it down for you, my dorm and room number too.’ Ratini glowered, then turned to a fresh page in his notebook and handed the book and a pen to Horseman. When Horseman handed it back, Ratini turned and ducked under the tape.

  ‘Sir!’ Horseman called out.

  Ratini stopped, paused, then returned to the tape. ‘What now?’ he asked in an exasperated tone which was hard to understand since it was the detective who’d kept Horseman from his work, not the other way. Ratini was either perpetually irritated and grumpy, or something in Horseman had set him off.

  ‘Sir, perhaps I could help by visiting Seru’s family. Do you know whether they’ve been told of his death yet? His parents may well want to talk to me, since I found their son.’

  Ratini drew his brows together to form one thick black line. He wagged his finger at Horseman once more. ‘Just don’t interfere in police business, boy! You think we’d forget to inform the deceased’s family? The arrogance of you students!’ The detective turned again and headed for the abandoned kit bag, shaking his head.

  4

  Seru might have lived if only he, Horseman, had arrived earlier for training. The thought nagged at him, but speculation about what might have been could rarely be settled one way or the other. He’d learned that in endless rugby post mortems. Beating himself up about it now could not help Seru.

  But the Suva police were something else. His local police post on the island of Ovalau housed a few friendly constables in blue uniforms: one propping up the doorpost exchanging pleasantries with passing citizens, another typing laboriously on an old black typewriter and a couple in a back corner mellowing at the kava bowl. Although the officers came from other islands, the community welcomed their willing help when accidents, storms and fights threatened the sleepy villages. Sometimes a constable drove Horseman’s mother, district nurse Sala Horseman, to deliver a stubborn baby or transported the ill to her clinic in the tiny town of Levuka. Homesickness washed through him just remembering the Ovalau constables.

  Like everything else in Suva, the police were different here. Of course, Horseman had heard of detectives, but he’d never seen one before. Surely DS Ratini could not be typical. His casual dress, bad temper and undisguised hostility to Horseman were baffling. Forbidding Horseman to seek out Seru’s family—why? His captain was a giant, or had been. Not only a talented and skilled player, an outstanding athlete, but a charismatic leader. All the USP teams followed Seru, aimed to emulate him, were devoted to him. Whatever Coach said, how could they survive his loss?

  Horseman rubbed the tears from his cheeks. Rugby training usually lasted until six o’clock. He had to do something.

  Maybe a punishing workout at the gym would help. He jogged in a beeline to the weatherboard and corrugated iron relic from World War 2. Here, on a rare piece of flat land, New Zealand officers had established the Fiji Defence Force compound. The remaining few rows of rectangular buildings now housed the Mathematics Department and the gym.

  Catchy upbeat music blared through an open door. Twenty or so women bounded rhythmically to the shouted orders of their aerobics instructor. Horseman paused by the door, his eye caught by the bouncing red curls in the front row. Bindi! Only last week, turquoise streaks had animated her long black hair. Did she know about Seru? He must catch her after aerobics. As a close friend of Loa, Seru’s girlfriend, Bindi needed to know.

 

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