Death off camera, p.1
Death Off Camera, page 1
Contents
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PROLOGUE
MONDAY
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
TUESDAY
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
WEDNESDAY
18
19
20
21
THURSDAY
22
23
24
25
FRIDAY
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
SATURDAY
33
SUNDAY
34
35
36
MONDAY
37
38
39
TUESDAY
40
41
42
43
44
WEDNESDAY
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
THURSDAY
52
53
54
55
56
FRIDAY
57
58
59
60
61
62
EPILOGUE
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Fiji Map
Glossary and Guide to Fijian Pronunciation
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Fiji Islands Mysteries
Acknowledgements
Copyright
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Finding Fiji Volume II
When you finish Death Off Camera, click the link at the end to download the second book in the Finding Fiji series.
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PROLOGUE
Ken Johnson paced down the path to the beach for the third time. Already the eastern horizon was lightening, and those darned seabirds were shrieking at each other. Seemed to him that they started the din a bit earlier every morning, when his exhausted body craved an extra hour’s sleep. In his lowest moments, he envied the Champion players who hadn’t made the finals. He trudged back through the tangled bushes to the spirit-house. When would his mysterious ally show?
The spirit-house wasn’t genuine, of course. The last one vanished well over a century ago, left to decay when Fijians became Christians. But the three-metre high base had survived here on Motu Island. A fake temple of reed and thatch, built by Champion’s Props department, now topped the ancient stones. He knew it was fake, but it still unnerved him. Maybe it was the long ridge pole protruding from its soaring roof like artillery. The whole thing reminded him of a prison watchtower. Mouldering ruins should be left to moulder, in Ken Johnson’s opinion.
This time, as he got closer and looked up to the platform, he made out a dim figure. At last!
He waved. The figure beckoned. Used to the darkness, Ken ran up the familiar steep steps, striving to identify the person above him. He tripped, flailing through the blackness, heard the crunch of his head on stone. What a dumbass! What did the prize matter? Scrabbling at the air, he tumbled down the coral rocks to lie senseless at the bottom.
MONDAY
1
Detective Inspector Josefa Horseman whistled to Tina, who was fossicking among the debris at low tide. The mongrel looked in his direction, but just for a moment. A scuttling crab making for a heap of seaweed caught her attention. Tina bounded after the crab and pawed through the tangle, barking in excitement.
It was seven-thirty and time to get to work. Horseman whistled again, then called ‘Tina!’
He got up from the seawall and walked away. In a flash, Tina was by his side. As he clipped on her lead, she shook herself, spraying him with sand and water infused with the briny scent of the beach, always overlaid with decay.
They passed the bowling club on their way to Victoria Parade. The white-haired keeper rolling the green waved. He was a retired cop who’d want to discuss the weekend rugby games, but Horseman waved back and pointed to his watch.
Horseman’s mobile blared the Fiji national anthem as they were heading up the hill behind Albert Park. Tina’s ears swivelled.
‘Yadra, good morning, Matt. Just five minutes away from yours. Tina’s ready for a snooze on your verandah.’ Horseman’s one regret about his new flat was that Tina had to lodge with Matt, his former landlord.
‘I’m already at the hospital. I’ve got a death that will need a police investigation, so I thought I’d give you the heads-up before I notify your boss.’
‘Appreciate it. What have you got?’
‘Head injury. Patient was admitted unconscious yesterday and died an hour ago without regaining consciousness. I’ll do the postmortem later today.’
‘That’s quick. What’s suspicious?’
‘Don’t know yet. No, it’s who the dead man is that’s speeding up the process.’
‘Come on! Spill the beans.’
‘The poor guy is one of the Champion contestants.’
‘You mean that American TV show? What do they call it—a reality show?’
Dr Young sighed heavily. ‘Yeah, mate. Don’t you know they’re filming the next series out at the Bay of Islands? They’ve been there for weeks now.’
‘Yep, I heard about it,’ Horseman lied.
‘Yeah? So you should, it’s a money-spinner for Fiji. They’ve only been making Champion here for seven years.’ Dr Young’s voice was laced with irony.
‘You know me. What little time I have for TV I don’t waste on game shows. That time’s reserved for watching rugby. Now that’s a proper game.’
‘Can’t disagree there. But you’re sounding defensive, mate!’
‘You got me. Better tell me everything you know because the boss isn’t likely to.’
‘Righto. His name’s Ken Johnson, aged twenty-two, American from Tennessee. The Champion set nurse who brought him in reported that he was found at the foot of some rock steps at sunup yesterday. It looked like he’d fallen in the dark, knocking himself out. She said he was quite an athlete, seemed perfectly healthy.’
Horseman imagined the scene. He shook his head at the unnecessary loss of a young life.
‘Does his family know yet?’
‘I’m not sure. Imagine how proud of him they’d be, being selected for the show. And now…’
‘Io, yes, it’s tragic.’
‘Well, he’ll arrive in my lab soon, so I’d better crack on. I’ll call Superintendent Ratini next.’
‘Okay. We’re almost at your house now. I’ll fill Tina’s water bowl and leave her on the verandah.’
‘Good, Joe. I’ll call you when I have something.’
Horseman hoped that the young contestant’s postmortem would suggest nothing other than a tragic accident. It would be easier for Ken Johnson’s family.
It wasn’t just concern for the Johnson family that made his heart sink, though. The success of his personal project demanded his presence in Suva. If he failed to meet commitments because he was working round the clock on a murder case, then the project could well fail, too. But what could he do?
Well, he wouldn’t volunteer for anything. He’d recommend that another inspector lead the initial investigation. If the postmortem found cause for suspicion, he’d argue in favour of that same detective continuing as senior investigation officer. But how likely was Superintendent Ratini to follow Horseman’s suggestions? Not very.
Still, it was Monday and Junior Shiners rugby training started at half past four. He’d be there whatever happened and could talk about the project with the team doctor.
***
Detective Superintendent Ratini entered the detectives’ open-plan office and stopped at Horseman’s desk. Even at nine in the morning, the boss looked dishevelled. His cotton trousers were unpressed and his shirt faded. He hadn’t shaved and his grizzled black stubble mottled his face like a skin disease. Tidiness was not the most important characteristic for a detective, Horseman acknowledged. But what confidence would the public place in plain-clothes police who looked like they’d spent the night in a gutter? Especially a senior detective?
‘Yadra, sir,’ Horseman said.
Ratini nodded and handed him a paper. ‘This could be a tricky one, Horseman. One of the Champion contestants admitted to hospital with a head injury just died. United States citizen. Most likely his family will want to repatriate his body quickly, so the PM’s jumped the queue. As the deceased was young and healthy, protocol requires a thorough police investigation of the circumstances. I’m allocating the case to you. Try to avoid publicity, try to be quick, try not to irritate Fiji’s distinguished foreign guests at the Champion location.’
‘Sir, I don’t want to irritate anyone. I’m happy for you to give the case to a more diplomatic detective.’
‘Decision’s made, Horseman! DI Vula’s got the Forestry corruption case. You collared that serial rapist last week and your team’s freed up. Your ongoing cases are minor. This takes priority.’
Ratini turned on his worn-down heel and walked away.
2
After crawl ing through the Suva wharf area clogged with traffic and salt-laden diesel fumes, Horseman accelerated along Marine Drive, heading west. Detective Sergeant Susila Singh sat beside him, peering out the window. Her disciplined ponytail hung over her crisp orange blouse. He was confident she would not irritate the foreign film crew.
Singh turned to him. ‘I’m glad we’ve got this case, sir. I’ve often wondered how the Champion set works.’ She sounded eager.
‘Do you watch the show?’ If someone as clever as Singh was a fan, maybe he should reserve his judgement.
‘I wouldn’t miss it. Though I sometimes do, of course. Work gets in the way.’ She smiled.
‘Don’t you watch Champion, sir?’ Detective Constable Tanielo Musudroka piped up from the back seat of the LandCruiser. He sounded incredulous.
‘I caught an episode a few years ago. Couldn’t see much reality, myself. But I’m interested to see how it all works if we can.’
‘Do you think they’ll let us look around, sir?’ Musudroka asked.
‘I don’t know, Tani. Now the director knows about Ken Johnson’s death, he might have cancelled today’s filming.’
‘You really should try to catch it. The challenges are way cool, and the contestants find their own food and build shelters. They’re foreigners, so they don’t know how. And no phones! They plot to bring their rivals down. Oh, this year there’s a Fijian contestant—the singer, Mili. She’d be pretty useful to her team—she’d keep them from starving, at least.’
‘I thought she’d been living in the States for years,’ Singh said. ‘She mightn’t have learned village skills.’
Musudroka’s enthusiasm was undaunted. ‘But isn’t it great Mili’s in the show? Runner-up on The Voice? Just imagine if she wins! Ta-da! What a boost for Fiji! Why don’t you like it, sir?’
Horseman hated to prick the young DC’s balloon. ‘I’m sceptical, that’s all. Let’s keep our minds open and sharpen our wits.’
As the road climbed, a wide bay came into view beyond the deep fringe of mangroves. The British had dubbed the protected waters the Bay of Islands. Even on a cloudy day, the scatter of coral islands was a special sight.
After another few minutes, Singh spoke up.
‘Next turn on the left, sir. About five hundred metres.’
The side road through military land was sealed only as far as the old gun battery. Erected during World War II to protect Suva from Japanese warships, now the place was an official historic site. Horseman pulled up at a boom gate across a gravelled road. The guard, wearing a yellow Champion tee-shirt, came out of his tiny booth. Horseman held out his police ID.
‘Bula, hello. Suva detectives here to see Mr Duke.’
The guard ignored the badge and stared at Horseman. He thrust out his hand. ‘Bula, bula sir. Wow, I didn’t expect they’d send Josefa Horseman himself! It’s an honour to meet you in person. I’m Simi.’
Horseman smiled and shook the guard’s hand through the window. ‘Were you on duty when Mr Johnson was taken to hospital?’
‘Io, I was. The poor guy was lying on the back seat. Barbara the nurse was beside him.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Yesterday morning. Let me get the book for you.’
He dashed back to his booth and returned with a ring binder. He flipped it open, running his finger down the entries.
‘Here,’ Simi said, handing the file to Horseman. ‘Ken and Barbara were driven by Charlie, Mr Duke’s driver, in a company vehicle.’
‘Vinaka, thank you, Simi. Do you log all traffic coming and going?’
‘Io, sir. I’ll radio to let Mr Duke know you’ve arrived.’
The boom rose and the detectives crossed Champion’s threshold. The track wound down the scrub-covered slope to reveal a cluster of corrugated iron roofs.
‘Looks like an army barracks, sir,’ Musudroka said.
‘I think it is,’ Horseman replied. ‘This whole peninsula’s military land.’
‘Is Champion leasing it, then?’ Singh asked.
‘Don’t know. Let’s focus on what happened to Ken Johnson.’
Another bend of the track and they were almost back at sea level. A wide fringe of coconut palms and hibiscus hid the barracks from the beach. The grey buildings lined up in straight rows, military fashion. Horseman pulled up in a bitumen car park beside a white utility with the Champion logo.
‘Better back out and straighten up, sir. Don’t you think? Don’t want to sink the Police Force’s reputation, do we?’ Musudroka said.
Horseman chuckled. He enjoyed Musudroka’s irreverent banter, but the young DC needed reining in sometimes. ‘Enough, Tani. We’re at work now. Remember, one of the Champion contestants has just died.’
About a dozen crew stood on the huts’ verandahs, talking in twos and threes. At least, he supposed they were crew. Many wore the yellow Champion tee-shirt. Horseman approached the nearest huddle. ‘I’m looking for Mr Duke. Can you tell me where he is, please?’
‘Sure, he’s on the challenge set. But he’s shooting. You can’t disturb him on set.’
Horseman smiled. ‘We can wait till he’s ready. Which way’s the set?’
The young woman looked doubtful. Horseman showed her his ID. ‘I’ll take you there. Steve would be furious if you blundered into camera view. I’m Deepika, by the way.’ Deepika was young and shared Singh’s serious business-like manner.
Horseman smiled. ‘We’ll stay where you tell us, Deepika, I promise.’
‘You’d better.’ She flashed a smile.
They followed Deepika through the barracks huts, then an open area filled with shipping containers. The young woman waved her hand. ‘Most of these are used for storing equipment and set props. They’ve converted a few to workshops.’
‘They must be like ovens!’ Singh said.
‘Yes. Steve brought in portable air conditioners, but the guys prefer working where they used to, in the open-sided shelter sheds next to the car park.’
They followed Deepika through the container park, hedged by tall pines and a tangle of undergrowth.
She lowered her voice. ‘The arena’s on the other side. It’s safe to come through this way. Follow me.’
A track led through the dark pines and brought them to what must be the barracks parade ground-cum-rugby field. Horseman stared, dumbfounded. Scores of people surrounded the field, wielding cameras and equipment he could not name. Some were up ladders, while others lay on their bellies. Scores more hovered or ran between positions.
At last Horseman spoke. ‘Oi lei! Wow! I had no idea.’
‘How many crew do you have?’ Singh asked.
‘It varies. We only need some people occasionally. Today we have 210. I’m a staff clerk, so I know. There are ten of us in the personnel office alone.’
Singh’s eyes widened.
Deepika clearly enjoyed astonishing the detectives. ‘Champion’s a medium-sized business for Fiji. Except it’s temporary. But that only makes it more complicated on the organisational side and so we need extra staff. They have to set up everything, run it efficiently, then dismantle and close it down three months later. Then the army moves back.’
Musudroka’s mouth hung open. ‘Wow!’ he finally uttered.
Deepika pointed. ‘Steve’s over there, up on the platform. Not a good time to disturb him,’
‘What’s happening?’ Horseman asked.
‘We’re up to the finals—only five contestants left in the game. They’re filming a challenge. Do you watch the show?’
‘No, I’m sorry. Only time for rugby, I’m afraid.’ She lifted her eyebrows in recognition. He was grateful she didn’t want to talk about his current rugby status.
‘Okay, there’s a challenge in every episode. It’s a physical competition, usually between teams, but only between pairs or individuals in the finals. Sporting skills count but also problem solving. Each challenge is unique, and the winning team gets something valuable, like food or equipment, to make life on the island camp easier.’
‘Right, I don’t have a clue what the island camp is. I think I should watch a few episodes for homework.’
Deepika grinned. ‘Definitely, Inspector. You’ll soon get the hang of how it works.’
‘Don’t worry, sir. Musudroka and I can fill you in.’ Singh sounded amused.
Bamboo fenced off half the flat parade ground on three sides. The unfenced side faced the beach. A woman picked up breadfruit piled near the fence, tossed them into a wheelbarrow, then ran to the next pile, while her partner handled the wheelbarrow. Another pair of players sped along the opposite fence. When they’d got all the breadfruit, they raced to a bin and dumped them. Not bad, but a simple kids’ game, wasn’t it?
