Death off camera, p.5
Death Off Camera, page 5
Horseman blew his whistle for the break before the twenty-minute practice game that ended every training session. The boys made for the taps again and stretched out on the grass.
‘That was a good hard session, Joe,’ Lemeki said. ‘Those young DCs of yours are coming on as coaches, but they like having fun too much. Not tough enough.’
‘The boys like fun too, but you’re right, Lemeki. They won’t win unless they sharpen up their ball skills. Let’s get them back on the field now.’
‘Io. Is Dr Pillai coming with their dinner tonight?’
‘Sure is. It’ll be great to have him back after three months. Even though he got the training meals delivered while he was in New Zealand, I think the boys will be pleased to see him in person.’
‘Io, the Shiners are the only junior team to have their own doctor—they’re proud of that privilege.’ Lemeki laughed. ‘Grateful for the meals, too.’
Dr Pillai’s car pulled up two minutes before the end of the practice game. The diminutive doctor ran to the centre line, from where he scrutinised the play with concentration. When Lemeki blew the final whistle, the boys noticed their team doctor and rushed over to him, shouting.
‘Bula Doctor, Doctor, you came back!’
‘Did you see me score the try, Dr Pillai?’
‘What are we going to eat today?’
Dr Pillai clapped and laughed. A humble man, he always seemed surprised that the boys even recognised him.
‘My goodness, boys, it’s so nice to be back home. I need a few of you to carry our dinner from the car. Do we still have the trestle table?’
Dr Pillai had no shortage of helpers. The boys washed, then lined up at the old trestle from the grandstand. Dr Pillai presented each Shiner with a paper bag containing slices of dalo, the dense root crop they all loved, and some boiled chicken pieces. They sat on the grass and ate in contented silence, then returned to break bananas off the large bunch on the trestle and take a carton of milk from Dr Pillai’s cool box.
‘My goodness, it feels like I’ve never been away, Joe,’ Dr Pillai said, a broad smile on his face as he watched the boys eating.
‘They got fed while you were away, but they missed you, Raj. So many of these boys’ families have let them down badly. You’re here, week after week, just because you care about their welfare. Having you back means a lot to them.’
‘They mean a lot to me, too, Joe. My word, yes. And I want to get cracking on our hostel project. Thanks for keeping me up to date by email while I was away. I’m not clear what you think of the charity model proposed by our Action for Children office. You were rather enigmatic if I may say so, Joe.’
‘That’s because I’m not sure if their procedure is right for us or not. I want to get a hostel for the boys up and running soon. I thought that a boarding house for teenage boys would be simpler than a home for young children, like the Sunshine Home. But every single aspect is so much more complicated than I imagined. I need your advice, Raj.’
‘Our hostel could be a legal minefield, Joe. I think Action for Children’s advice to set up a charity along the lines of the Sunshine Home is good. I also understand and share your frustration. If you agree, I’ll brief a lawyer I know who can give us independent advice. Can we meet tomorrow to talk more fully?’
‘Today I was called to a death out of Suva that may be suspicious. Would tomorrow night after dinner suit you? It’s probably the only time I could get away.’
‘Great, I’ll be in touch and see if Shiv can join us. I know he’ll help pro bono.’
Horseman pulled a fat document folder from his backpack. ‘I copied everything I got from Action for Children for you. I’m relieved you want to speed things up too.’
Dr Pillai flipped through the documents while Horseman watched the boys drift away from training: some singly, others in twos or threes. Some had a mat on the floor in a relative’s house, but many would sleep in their own secret nooks between alleys and buildings, under the museum verandah, in abandoned packing cases, beneath this very grandstand. They needed safe places to sleep urgently. But Horseman dared hope for more: a home.
10
Detective Sergeant Susila Singh closed her door with relief. She went through her usual routine on autopilot: opened the balcony door and the windows of her flat, put her backpack on a dining chair and unpacked all her work files onto the table. She’d go through the mass of statements from Champion staff while she ate. But what would she eat? She needed to go to the supermarket but not tonight. The day at the Champion set had exhausted her.
The landline phone rang as she opened the fridge door. It didn’t ring often, but she’d kept it when she leased the flat, the extra cost well worth the better security it gave her. She reached for the handset on the kitchen wall.
‘Susie, it’s Joe. You’re back home. Good. How’d it go?’
‘Has something happened?’
‘Not as far as I know. Have you eaten yet?’
‘No, just looking in the fridge now.’
‘I’d like to go through the Champion statements with you. If you’re up for that. How about I get some take-away? You could bring the statements up here and we could eat while we read them.’
It was six months since they’d both moved into Seaview Apartments, but never before had Horseman asked her to work at home with him. There must be something more on his mind than the statements.
‘Of course. sir—um—Joe. Great idea.’
‘Pizza, curry, fish and chips…what would you like?’
‘Um, I feel more like curry tonight.’
‘Curry it is. I’ll buzz you when I’m back home.’
Happy she had time to shower and put on fresh clothes, she was ready and sorting the statements when Horseman rang. The security system demanded she buzz his flat from the ground floor, so she squeezed everything she needed into her backpack and went down in the lift. Although there could be a better system, she felt thankful that it wasn’t easy to get into the flats.
When she arrived, Horseman opened the plastic boxes on his table—far too many for two people. As he lifted each lid, a unique spicy aroma wafted up to blend with the others.
‘Smells amazing. Who else is coming?’ Singh asked.
‘No one. Is that okay?’ He looked puzzled.
‘Fine, Joe. Just that it looks like a banquet for six! Is it from Hare Krishna’s?’
‘Yep, they’re the best. Unless you wanted meat, of course.’
‘Not at all. You know I love Hare Krishna’s food. Why don’t we eat first? The table’s too full to spread the papers out.’
‘Good idea.’
He passed her a Fiji Bitter, a plate and a bowl, put a spoon in each box and sat down. She was relieved he lost his awkwardness within moments of tucking in. They were both hungry and made a sizeable dent in all the dishes before pausing.
‘Susie, look at this photo. I found some fishing line today near the steps to the spirit-house where Mili found Ken yesterday morning. I gave it to Ash, of course. I didn’t get time to tell you about it. More important to interview all the finalists right away. What’s your first reaction?’
She peered up close then zoomed in until the coil stood out from the dark stone, moss, and creepers.
‘The mound's well in from the shore, so an odd place to be cutting fishing line. Maybe it blew from the beach and landed there. But I guess you’ve got another idea.’
‘As soon as I spotted it, I saw it as part of a discarded tripline, I don’t know why. Someone could have easily tied it across the steps. With malign intent.’
Singh was surprised. It wasn’t like the boss to come up with far-fetched scenarios when simpler ones were obvious. She’d tell him straight; he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want her opinion.
‘That’s possible but a bit unlikely. Murder rather than an accident?’
‘Possibly the culprit didn’t intend that Ken die. Just put him out of action for a while. Even with a sprained ankle, he’d have to retire from the game. All four of the remaining finalists would benefit from that outcome.’
She couldn’t disagree. ‘No doubt about that. Even loyal pal Duane. So, let’s get this straight. Another finalist arranges a dawn meeting with Ken at the spirit-house platform and sets up a tripline. Whether he or she turns up for the meeting doesn’t really matter, does it? Ken goes up to wait or look around. Either on the way up or down, he trips and falls.’
He nodded. ‘Io, that’ll do. Whoever set the booby trap, he or she was watching, removed the fishing line after Ken fell, leaving him unconscious and went back to bed. All this in the dark, so it would be hard to notice a small piece of line had dropped onto the stone wall. The booby-trapper stayed in bed until Mili got up, found Ken, and ran back to the shelter to get help. As everyone agrees about what happened next, we’ll accept their version for now.’
‘I wonder if two of them could have been in on it.’ Singh was warming to the theory.
‘Possible, but given the Champion ethos of plotting and betrayal, it would be a huge risk, wouldn’t it?’
Singh tore a piece of naan bread and mopped up the dregs of various curries and condiments. For her, this was a highlight of an Indian meal, second only to the intoxicating fusion of aromas as the lids on the array of dishes were lifted.
Horseman helped himself from the half full containers. ‘I hope I’m wrong, Susie. The last thing I need now is a murder case. I’m actually quite worried by the direction the Shiners’ hostel project is taking, or not taking. The experts agree that the best way is to establish a charity. But it’s getting all too complicated. I need time to get to grips with the legal documents.’
‘I understand you’re frustrated by the delays, Joe. But surely this project is too important to hurry. You and any other partners need legal protection.’
Horseman looked at her. ‘Everyone agrees on that, but it’s back to front, upside down or something. Those boys need protection, not me. All I want is to provide a roof over their heads.’
For the first time, she saw his sadness. She wondered about his trip to the States, six months ago now. He had said nothing about it at work. Had he suffered two blows while he was there: losing his rugby future and losing Melissa, his American girlfriend? That could explain his impatience with red tape on the Shiners’ hostel.
‘The statements can wait till the morning if you’ve got legal documents to read, sir.’
‘No, I’d rather sort the statements. That way we can plan a timetable for tomorrow.’ He stopped. ‘Sorry Susie. If you’d rather call it a night that’s fine. I’m happy to skim through them myself.’
‘Not at all. I agree with you—let’s get them done!’
Horseman quickly cleared the remnants of the meal away. Singh laid her laptop and folders out on the table, together with small notepads and a zippered bag of highlighters, coloured pens, pencils, and paper clips.
‘We divided them roughly by status: those whose job took them to Motu Island, those who worked with the contestants at the barracks, and those who never worked with them directly but still may have observed them about the place.’
‘Makes good sense, Susie. I guess your third group is the biggest.’
‘By far.’
‘Then I’ll check those first. They’re the least suspicious and possibly the frankest. I’ll pull out any who saw Ken last Saturday for the timeline. Then we’ll compare what we’ve got.’
‘Okay, I’ve got a timeline template on my laptop. I’ll add incidents directly there.’
‘Sure, but let’s lay it out physically too, until we get to the office whiteboard. My brain works better this way.’ Looking a little guilty, he got a box of index cards from his desk and put them in the centre of the table.
‘No excuse now! Let’s get started.’
His handsome face cleared of worry lines as he skimmed each page before putting it either to the right or the left. Maybe he forgot his problems when he worked. She wouldn’t be surprised as she was a bit like that herself. Or maybe his purposeful, business-like expression was a mask put on for colleagues.
When she’d reviewed the statements of staff whose work sometimes took them to Motu Island, made notes and added just two incidents to her computer timeline, she glanced at Horseman. His pile of statements was almost gone, and five index cards were lined up in the middle of the table.
‘Looks more doable now, doesn’t it? You can add these five to your computer timeline if you make index cards for your sightings.’
‘Already made them. Only two of this lot saw Ken on Saturday.’ She handed the cards to Horseman then turned to her laptop to enter his incidents.
‘Would you like to call it a night?’ Horseman asked.
She’d seen him exhausted by pain before, but he didn’t look like that now. Rather, he looked energised.
‘Not unless you do. I’d rather process all the statements if we can.’
He smiled. ‘So would I. Let’s divide the final lot—the ones who work with the contestants at the barracks. Then we can decide which staff to interview tomorrow. After what I’ve seen so far, I’m optimistic the number will be manageable.’
Singh enjoyed most aspects of her job but especially working alone with Horseman like this. He looked on her as an equal partner in a joint endeavour. That meant a lot. When she made inspector rank, she might never experience that again. Absolutely not with someone like Ratini, and there were plenty of senior officers like him. Was it possible she might regret that promotion which had been her goal since she joined the police?
She glanced at him and he held her gaze, intense and warm. If he made a move, what would she do? He put his hands on the table and pushed himself up.
‘How about a cup of tea while we demolish the rest? I’ll put the kettle on,’ he suggested.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
TUESDAY
11
At 8 o’clock next morning Horseman faced the eager junior detectives: Tanielo Musudroka, Apolosi Kau and probationer Lili Waqa.
‘Sergeant Singh and I sorted the statements you gathered yesterday. Several Champion crew sometimes worked on Motu Island. We’ve got statements from a set decorator, props builder, and sound recordist as well as camera crew and production assistants. More than I was expecting. But I found out they shoot the swimming challenges on Motu because the water’s clearer. There’ve been five so far, but none in this final round.’
‘Sorta fake, isn’t it? On TV it looks like the contestants are isolated at their camp. But they’re not really,’ Musudroka said.
‘Tani, they can’t be if you think about it. For every scene you see on the island, there’s got to be a cameraman there pointing the camera! And others, too,’ Kau explained.
‘I kinda imagined they gave the contestants video cameras, and they shot those scenes themselves,’ Musudroka said.
To save time, Horseman butted in. ‘That sounds like a good idea, but maybe the quality of the do-it-yourself footage wouldn’t be professional enough. The upshot is that this morning, while we’re waiting for Dr Young’s postmortem report, we’ll interview all crew who worked on Motu. After that, we’ll talk to some who worked with Ken Johnson at the arena or who saw him anywhere on Saturday.’
‘When will the PM report come, sir?’ Kau asked.
‘Dr Young will ring me as soon as he can. I hope soon, but in the meantime, we’ve got potential witnesses to talk to. I’ve got two vehicles to give us some flexibility. Detective Sergeant Singh’s waiting in the car park now. Apo and Lili, you go with her. The SOCOs should already be on Motu with the speedboat.’
The phone rang. Horseman grabbed the receiver.
‘Bula mate, your friendly pathologist at your service.’
‘About time too. Better make it quick, Matt. We’re about to leave for the Champion location.’
‘I’ve got something to show you first. Can you bring Susie along?’
‘I’d like to, but the DCs can’t manage the interviews we’ve got lined up by themselves. If what you’ve got for us really can’t wait, Singh and the DCs will go on ahead and make a start.’
‘Okay, see you soon.’
Horseman signed out the vehicle and drove up the hill to the Colonial War Memorial Hospital. Matt wasn’t one for unnecessary secrecy; there must be a reason for him wanting Horseman to come to the hospital.
The pathology department was at the back, down a steep driveway. There was a roller-shutter with a discreet sign Deliveries. Horseman opened the narrow door beside it and went through to the reception desk. As usual, no one was in sight, so he rang the bell. Dr Young opened the door and smiled a welcome.
‘That was quick. Come through.’
As his assistant folded back the sheet the pathologist’s smile disappeared and his grey eyes clouded. ‘Ken Johnson’s the fittest, healthiest corpse I’ve ever examined. Such a waste. A reminder we’re all vulnerable. See the head wound here? A hard blow on the right temple, or pterion to us doctors. Generally, the most susceptible part of the head because three bones come together here.’ The scalp now covered the incision Dr Young had made in the skull. Horseman’s stomach lurched at the puckered skin.
‘Fatal?’
‘Probably, but he survived for twenty-four hours. You should speak to his treating doctor, Manny Satush. Although it was a severe wound, Manny expected he would survive. I’ll postpone my conclusions about the cause of death until I get the results of a full toxicology screen. I’ve put top priority on the samples, but you know that doesn’t mean a lot to the lab.’
