Death off camera, p.7
Death Off Camera, page 7
The boatman was getting such a wonderful reaction now he went on before being asked.
‘Well now, I hear it all because I’m the first person from the outside world the players see every morning, so they’ve got to get it off their chests. I try to calm them down and tell them it’s not such a big deal. None of these tricks or jokes was dangerous.’
‘Have there been any others, to your knowledge?’
‘Oh, there was another one. I think it was the first. The pit toilet’s about 50 metres from the shelter for obvious reasons. The men don’t bother going there when it’s dark, but the ladies want privacy. Mili opened the door early one morning and a bucket of sea water tipped over her head. The trickster must have set it up during the night, but couldn’t have known who’d be the first to open the door. The sudden shock scared her senseless but again, no harm done.’
‘I’m interested to know about your boats’ security, Zak.’
‘There are always people about in daylight, so we just leave the small boats pulled up above the high-water mark after use. At night, we store them in the boatshed, which we always lock. We’re lucky this is a military base because the boatshed’s well equipped. The launch is kept in the shed on its trailer. When we need it, we launch it off the ramp and then leave it tied up at the jetty for the rest of the day. We winch it in before dark. There’re floodlights on the shed that light up the ramp and the jetty.’
‘Vinaka vakalevu. Zakaraia. You’ve been most helpful. If you do recall any more incidents or rumours of them, please get in touch straight away, either to Sergeant Singh or myself.’ They both handed the boatman their cards, which he placed with care in a zip pocket.
14
‘ Oi lei, that was a bit of luck!’
‘No, a bit of method, sir.’ Her eyes shone.
‘You asked him about contestants fighting and he revealed there’s a prankster stalking Motu Island? I’m the first to call you a star interviewer, Susie, but if that wasn’t lucky…’ He stopped, realising he wouldn’t have teased her like that six months ago, hoping she wouldn’t mind.
Singh grinned. ‘Could Steve Duke know about it?’
‘I’d be surprised if he doesn’t. But then, I’ve been surprised before.’
‘Should we tell him?’ Singh asked.
‘Yes, let’s see his response to what we’ve found. Any reason we shouldn’t tell him?’
‘Not really. Do you think there’s only one prankster?’
‘I don’t know. I guess the first prank would provide a model and could easily provoke others. There’re two kinds of incidents: those directed against a particular person and those that are random. The millipede was aimed at Desi, the rotting octopus at the food hoarder, whereas the bucket of water could have landed on anyone. We’ve been assuming the tripline targeted Ken, even that he was lured to the spirit-house. But what if it was random, what if he was there by chance?’
Singh frowned while she thought. ‘It’s an escalation of danger, though, isn’t it? The culprit tried to remove all trace of the line.’
‘Yes, the other pranks weren’t hidden at all. And Zak wouldn’t be the only one who took them rather lightly. Sort of schoolboy pranks, really. But a tripline strung across steep, uneven steps several metres high is criminally dangerous. Hard to believe that wasn’t aimed at an individual. If it was random, the perpetrator is seriously unhinged.’
‘Which may well be the case. On balance, I still think whoever set the tripline lured Ken to the steps.’
‘Me too. But we’ll keep our minds open, especially about whether there’s one prankster or more among the five finalists. Both Mili and Desi have been victims of pranks. My mind boggles at the whole Champion setup.’
‘Couldn’t an outsider be responsible, sir? Like one of the crew who come to the island for their job, or at night in secret?’
‘It’s possible, Susie. But it would be much easier for a contestant to set up any of the pranks. There were only five left when Ken Johnson tripped and fell. We’re investigating Ken’s death, not the pranks, unless they provide us with leads. His four co-finalists all had means and opportunity to set that booby trap. All four share the motive of wanting to get rid of their strongest competitor. I’m horrified by such ruthless ambition. But Desi, Mili, Bobby and Duane must be our top suspects.’
‘Agreed, sir. Let’s hope—’
There was a knock on the door. DC Kau entered, his round, cheerful face a welcome sight. He closed the door behind him.
‘Excuse me for interrupting, sir. I think you may be interested in talking to Eroni Nemi, from the Props Department. He claims there was an attempt to sabotage the set for one of the challenges.’
Horseman and Singh looked at each other. Singh’s eyes were wide with surprise.
‘Vinaka, Apo. We’ve just listened to another story of pranks played on contestants. We definitely want to talk with Mr Nemi now. Well done.’
Kau blushed. ‘Vinaka, Here’s his statement. I’ll bring him in sir.’
Eroni Nemi was lean and wiry, with a bony face and prominent nose. His hair hung in tight black ringlets to his shoulders. He may have worn it long to hide his large protruding ears which nevertheless were visible through the strands of hair. Visible but camouflaged, so the tactic was successful.
Introductions made, Kau left the room and Nemi sat at the table opposite Horseman and Singh.
‘Tell us a bit about your job here, Mr Nemi,’ Horseman said.
‘Sir, I love my job. It’s my first season on Champion, but I hope not my last. The Art Department took me on as standby props man. That means I’m on set during filming, moving props around and tweaking them if the director changes his mind about what he wants.’
‘Does that happen often?’ Singh asked.
Nemi clicked his tongue. ‘Often, ma’am. The props master promoted me. After all, I’m a qualified carpenter. My boss gets plans from the art director for each challenge and we discuss them, sometimes decide on modifications before we start. It’s a creative job too.’
‘Do you ever work on Motu Island?’ Singh asked.
‘Io, several times. We set up the day before because Mr Duke likes the morning light.’ His voice was high-pitched and pleasant when you got used to it.
‘Tell us about the incident you suspect was sabotage, please.’
Again, Nemi clicked his tongue. Horseman guessed it must be a nervous habit.
‘Not suspect, I know it was. It was a relay about ten days ago, maybe two weeks, the running sheets will tell you. Here at the base, in the arena. There were two sets of apparatus, side by side, one for each tribe. The players had to fetch slam balls, take them under a scramble net, run with them to a ladder, pass the balls to their partners, who climbed to the top, dropped the ball down a chute then descended by a zip-line. That player picked up the ball and ran back to the start, passed the ball to the next team player. Man, it was tough for most of them.’
Nemi was enjoying himself, glancing bright-eyed from one detective to the other. Horseman wished he’d get to the point, but knew it was better to allow a witness to tell his story in his own way.
Another tongue click. ‘Man, what a good thing I checked everything again just before the shoot. A shackle on one zipline wasn’t fastened properly. It would have given way as soon as the player stepped off the platform at the top of the ladder. He or she would have dropped to the ground and suffered a serious injury.’
‘Are you sure the shackle was properly fixed on your first check?’
‘Io, I’m sure. We not only examined all components, but two of us ran through the course ourselves. I actually descended on that zipline the afternoon before the challenge and landed safe and sound!’
‘Who did you report your discovery to, Mr Nemi?’ Singh asked,
‘The props master, my immediate boss. That’s Jack Owens. He’s from the States. But I don’t know if he took the matter any higher. It was like he hushed it up. He told me I’d done well, and we’d had a reminder to check, recheck and then check again, which is like his motto.’
‘Do you know who tampered with the shackle?’
‘No, but I’ve thought about it. Prayed about it too. But so far God hasn’t revealed the scoundrel to me. But it can’t have been a contestant.’
‘Why not?’
‘They hadn’t left Motu Island for two days before that challenge.’ There was a note of triumph in his voice.
‘Have you heard talk of any other sabotage attempts, or pranks?’
‘Io. I heard about Desi and the millipede.’ He grinned and slapped his thigh. ‘Man, that was funny. They’re harmless creatures, as you know. And Mili and the bucket of water. Those two got frights, that’s all. Not in the same league as the shackle.’
‘I agree with you there, Mr Nemi.’
‘Anyway, everyone thinks the contestants played those other pranks against each other. But as I said, a contestant couldn’t have sabotaged the zip-line.’
‘Who do you mean by everyone?’
Nemi shrugged. ‘Who? The crew. Anyone I talk to, at least.’
‘Including the contestants?’
‘Mr Duke doesn’t like crew and contestants mixing, so I don’t. But I’ve overheard a few comments when I’ve been on Motu. Two of them wondering if it was one of the rival team or one of their own.’
‘Do you know who perpetrated any of the pranks or sabotage.’
‘No, only God knows.’
‘And the perpetrators themselves,’ Horseman said.
Eroni Nemi nodded slowly.
‘Do you suspect anyone?’
‘Everyone, sir.’
15
Steve Duke wore his fifty-three years well. His grey hair was cut fashionably short, like his designer-stubble beard. He stood tall and confident in his expensive casual clothes, holding his office door open wide.
‘Good afternoon, detectives. I appreciate your courtesy in reporting to me first.’ He didn’t smile. He ushered them to the white plastic chairs.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Duke.’ Horseman did not encourage civilians he met on the job to use his first name, so preferred to use formal titles himself. Not only was it proper for the police to show respect to the public, but his official title and badge constituted the only authority he possessed, as Fiji Police detectives wore neither uniforms nor guns.
‘Please call me Steve. Is the autopsy report completed yet?’
‘Not yet. The pathologist briefed me this morning. The condition of Ken’s body raised some questions that only a full analysis of tissue samples can answer. As it does everywhere, this analysis takes time and inevitably labs have a queue. However, Dr Young has classified the Johnson case as top priority and is following up with the lab manager.’
‘Disappointing but not surprising. I had a tough call with Ken’s dad, offered to make all the arrangements for Ken’s repatriation back home. But Mr Johnson wants to see where Ken passed. Both he and Ken’s Mom want to create their personal memories of the place where he pursued his dream. Mrs Johnson doesn’t want to leave their two teenage girls at this time so Mr Johnson will come by himself. They’re a family of modest means. The production company will pay any costs not covered by Champion’s insurance policies. It’s the least we can do. However, his visit is going to be very tough. How could it be any other way?’
‘Yes, it will be difficult. We will also need to talk to Mr Johnson, so I’d be grateful if you could let me know his flight and accommodation details when you’ve made them. Probably email will be most convenient for you, but you’re most welcome to phone as well.’
Horseman placed another card in front of the director. He may well have ripped the first one in half and flung it in the bin for all he knew. The director took the card and read it.
‘Where does the name Horseman come from? Forgive me for getting personal, but you look Fijian.’
‘Most of my ancestors are Fijian. Except for one, who was shipwrecked here in the early nineteenth century. He and a terrified horse were the only survivors. When the locals inspected their surprise bounty, the chief fell in love with the horse’s beauty and desired the animal beyond all else. But Fijians had never seen an animal bigger than a pig, so were afraid to approach the creature. My ancestor soothed the horse and put on a riding display that convinced the chief to spare him from the cannibal ovens and give him a privileged position as his personal riding instructor, the horse-man. That title became his name, passed down to his descendants in the English style. Or perhaps he was American. We’ll never know.’
The director was still, transfixed by the tale. After some moments, he thumped the table. ‘Wow, what a story! Crying out to be on the screen!’
Singh smiled. ‘It’s quite a legend in Fiji.’
Their exchange seemed to have softened his attitude toward the police, so it didn’t surprise Horseman when Duke offered to order hot or cold drinks. He glanced at Singh, before accepting with thanks.
‘It’s not my business, so don’t feel obliged to answer, Mr Duke. But I’m curious about the future of the show. Of course, whatever happens will impact our investigation. Have you come to a decision yet?’
The director stiffened, then let this impertinence pass. ‘The executives and I have thrashed out some alternatives, but all of them are distasteful. You will have noticed there’s no shooting today, out of respect for Ken and to allow us all to process his sudden death. However, we need to decide on a plan for the show when we meet again this evening.’
An assistant wearing the Champion tee-shirt entered, with another close on her heels. They smiled and placed two trays on the table: one with a glass jug of tea tinkling with ice, lemon slices and tall glasses; the other with a plunger of aromatic hot coffee, mugs, sugar sachets and a jug of milk. Another mug held four red hibiscus flowers. They smiled again and left. Horseman and Singh eyed the trays.
‘Why not have both?’ Duke asked. ‘That’s what I’m going to do. A cold glass of lemon tea followed by hot coffee. You two up for that?’
‘Yes, please,’ Singh replied with a smile.
The director served them with a friendly smile and Horseman saw a hint of the charm that must be mandatory for a producer-director to solicit finance, organise staff and locations for the production including the myriad formalities and permissions he imagined the Fiji government required.
‘Now it’s my turn, Inspector. I have a question you may choose not to answer.’
‘Fair enough. Go ahead.’ He sipped the iced tea, which was the best he’d tasted.
‘You mentioned the condition of Ken’s body raised questions. Can you be specific?’
‘Yes, I can. The most critical were fine incisions on his lower legs, most likely made by fishing line. They indicate Ken probably ran into a tripline stretched across the steps to the spirit-house. He fell onto rock and was knocked unconscious. This means both Dr Young and ourselves need to conduct a more detailed investigation.’
The director blanched beneath his tan. He carefully lowered his tea glass to the table, staring at them. ‘I see,’ he said, after a long silence.
Horseman looked at Singh.
‘Mr Duke, we’ve discovered only this morning that there have been several incidents which some of your crew have called pranks or dirty tricks. All these so-called pranks could have been the work of one person or more. It’s interesting that none of the staff mentioned them in their statements yesterday. We interviewed all four finalists yesterday and not one of them mentioned these incidents, even though two of them were victims. I find it strange that not a single person connected Ken’s head injury with these pranks. What do you think is going on here?’
The director propped his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. Horseman signalled to Singh that they should wait. They both finished their tea and returned their glasses to the tray. Horseman took time and care over pouring three mugs of coffee, leaving plenty of space for milk. He placed one mug in front of each of them. He waited for half a minute, then spoke.
‘Coffee, Mr Duke?’
The director dragged his head off his hands like it was a ball of lead. He gulped down the rest of his tea.
‘Yes, thanks.’ Duke helped himself to milk and stirred the coffee slowly.
‘I knew about the pranks. I hoped we could keep that knowledge within the family, as it were. I asked the department managers to be vigilant but to ask their teams not to gossip. Most people believed the culprit was a contestant, especially as all the incidents occurred on Motu.’
‘Except for the sabotage attempt on a zip-line apparatus here on base camp,’ Singh said.
‘What? I didn’t hear about that!’ Duke’s annoyed surprise sounded genuine.
‘Our informant claimed on the morning of a challenge he found a shackle which had been tampered with. He reported it to the props master and he fixed the problem. Naturally, we can’t vouch for the truth of his statement.’
Duke wrote a note. ‘I’ll check. What was the date?’
‘He estimated ten days to two weeks ago.’
‘That’s easily checked. We don’t use zip-lines every day.’
‘Getting back to the pranks, have you any suspects in mind?’ Singh asked.
The director seemed to consider his answer while he drank his coffee. ‘The executives have speculated, but there’s not a shred of evidence against anyone. Not a single person has admitted seeing anything suspicious at the relevant times.’
‘Why didn’t you report these incidents to the police?’ Singh asked, a puzzled look on her face.
‘We didn’t think they were serious enough and also we didn’t want to feed our problems to the media machine.’
‘I think Ken Johnson’s death is probably linked to the pranks. Whoever set that tripline is guilty of sabotage, a serious crime. Steve, this is no time to be suppressing embarrassing information. I appeal to you to be open with us. Please share your suspicions and any rumours you hear so we can find out the truth about what happened to Ken Johnson. We’ll stop now, but if we don’t hear from you, we’ll be back tomorrow.’
